I hate being an immigrant, I hate the disgusting look on my classmates’ faces when I open my Tupperware, and I hate folding mountains of laundry every Sunday. Seeing pigeons colonize my balcony, knowing my friends are “closer to Earth” because they live in a house, and I live on the 9th floor of an apartment building. I hate being so different from the rest. Growing up in a new country, I gradually became aware of my parents' profound sacrifices to secure a better future for our family. Yet, in the innocence of childhood, I failed to comprehend the magnitude of their struggles fully. As I unravel my life-changing story of “changing-life”, I go through the torn pages of my life and open the important, yet suppressed, emotions. My dad, like any
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My aim was twofold: to validate my parents’ sacrifices and to adapt to the new identity thrust upon me. Despite my efforts to assimilate, I still faced discrimination from both immigrants and native Canadians. For so long, I’ve been gaslit into thinking that financial, immigrant status, where I live, and what my parents do for a living, would define my worth. “Normal” teenagers are worried about their looks, hair, boys, and relationships. I felt excluded, instead of having struggles that a normal kid would have, I was insecure about struggles that an adult would have, about getting the cheapest option at a grocery store, about being afraid to eat my lunch, about bussing to school each morning and seeing friends pass by in their Honda Civic, about realizing that my classmates are not actually in the same “class” as …show more content…
Without those “ugly” emotions, and those deep cuts, internal cancerous growth could’ve never been discovered. It was important to me to recover after a big fall, but it was also important that I stayed on the ground for a bit, making sure that I could get up, and that I reflected on why I tripped in the first place. Ensuring that the same thing won’t knock me down again once I get up. So, when I say, “I hate being an immigrant”, a part of me has accepted that I don’t feel 100% comfortable about something, and that’s okay. I hate living in an apartment” and that’s okay. When facing discomfort, I find a deeper resilience and understanding of myself. My parents, a continual reminder of all the difficulties I’ve faced, have fostered in me the strength to face whatever comes. I’m grateful for my darker days, just as much as my brighter
My aim was twofold: to validate my parents’ sacrifices and to adapt to the new identity thrust upon me. Despite my efforts to assimilate, I still faced discrimination from both immigrants and native Canadians. For so long, I’ve been gaslit into thinking that financial, immigrant status, where I live, and what my parents do for a living, would define my worth. “Normal” teenagers are worried about their looks, hair, boys, and relationships. I felt excluded, instead of having struggles that a normal kid would have, I was insecure about struggles that an adult would have, about getting the cheapest option at a grocery store, about being afraid to eat my lunch, about bussing to school each morning and seeing friends pass by in their Honda Civic, about realizing that my classmates are not actually in the same “class” as …show more content…
Without those “ugly” emotions, and those deep cuts, internal cancerous growth could’ve never been discovered. It was important to me to recover after a big fall, but it was also important that I stayed on the ground for a bit, making sure that I could get up, and that I reflected on why I tripped in the first place. Ensuring that the same thing won’t knock me down again once I get up. So, when I say, “I hate being an immigrant”, a part of me has accepted that I don’t feel 100% comfortable about something, and that’s okay. I hate living in an apartment” and that’s okay. When facing discomfort, I find a deeper resilience and understanding of myself. My parents, a continual reminder of all the difficulties I’ve faced, have fostered in me the strength to face whatever comes. I’m grateful for my darker days, just as much as my brighter