Personal Narrative: Moving To The Dominican Republic

I moved from the United States to the Dominican Republic at the age of thirteen with my parents. Living in the Dominican Republic as a young American came with many challenges. One of the biggest threats against foreigners was corruption and violence, and in that first year, I had an encounter that would forever change my life. Just one week before I was to start school, I was mugged by two assailants: one man on a motorcycle and another on foot. This day forever resounds in my memory because it was the first chance I had to go sightseeing becomes familiar with my new neighborhood. What was supposed to be a day filled with me acclimating myself to this new environment in a positive way, quickly became a life-altering and tragic moment. It was …show more content…
This helped me to handle such adversity with determination and to move on following tragedy. After the incident, I was sensitive, but I used school and study became my safe haven - as a channel for fostering positive thoughts where I did not have to think about my personal safety. I worked hard and my strong academic performance reflected this deep focus I had developed. School work was more than a task - it was a reprieve from the stresses of a dangerous new home environment. Even in this safe haven I was again affected when my parents divorced. I felt stuck in the Dominican Republic living with my father alone. I was a senior in high school and I could not move with my mother back to New York City. Despite this inability to get back to my homeland, I remained calm during yet another transition and prepared for another set of new changes that were …show more content…
Late in my senior year, I was once again accosted. This time it was a home invasion. My father was not home that afternoon. I remember walking in from school and before I could turn around to lock the door, there was a gun to my head. I was pushed to the floor and tied down with phone cables. The assailant quickly ripped my shirt off to cover my face. I was rendered helpless on the floor while a group of men stormed in and took everything they could. After they finally left, I untied myself, ran through the back door and climbed over the wall to get into my next door neighbor’s yard. My neighbor noticed me and called the police from her cell phone. I was in utter shock. I recall standing in her living room while the police officers were questioning me, but I could not remember anything that had transpired until later that night. By then, it was too late. After a few weeks the police investigation went cold. At this point I was severely sleep deprived and emotionally shattered. I wanted to stop being a victim, gain empowerment, and return to that place of focus I had come to know so well during my earlier years in