I was born in a different country and came to America when I was six years old. In the years that followed I adapted to american culture as I made friends and immersed myself in social activities.  Growing older into my teens I made return trips to my native country of Peru to visit family. In all the trips I have taken  I learned more about my native country and went to visit more places than when I was a child. Every trip was a new experience that I felt brought me closer to my culture. The trips became more infrequent as the years passed by. When I would return the sensation of kinship to my culture was replaced by distant detached experience. I began to realize that it was not jut from my own experiences  but the family members that I would visit would point the gradual cultural drift that was happening.  For my memoir paper I will mt experience with the gradual separation of the culture that I was born into and my transition to the culture that I grew up and matured into. I will use the trips that I took to Peru my native country as reference points to the changes I experienced how that affected the interaction of my family members.

For my memoir I would like to write about my experience of coming to America legally as a baby with my mother and the frustrating process of living as an illegal immigrants for 18 years due to what I find to be very insufficient immigration laws. I began the process of becoming a permanent resident when I was 17 and it took me 5 years to finally become legal. I could not believe that people, especially children, could even be considered “illegal.”  The whole situation was very inconvenient to say the least and had many negative effects on different parts of my life ranging from insurance, job opportunities, internships, schools, travel, getting a driver’s license, etc. I became very dissatisfied with American immigration policies and the ordeal shaped a very negative view of America for me. I started to believe that I hated America and because I could not leave the country I often thought anywhere else would be so much better and I often fantasized about going to Europe or South America. Once I became legal again I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to travel around Europe for a month and meet with my mother’s side of the family in Poland  for the first time in my life. I learned a lot of things about my mother’s family and where she came from and I learned “the real meaning of America” as my cousin put it.

Being a visitor from America was a huge deal and most people assumed that you live in a big house with a big yard and all the luxuries you could ever dream of all at affordable prices that everyone can afford because of all the job opportunities. Just being American meant you were spoiled no matter what conditions you lived under. Many people said they would rather be poor in America than middle class in Europe. A lot of people told stories about gum and other luxuries they never had and how scarce it was when the Soviets were in charge; how things still haven’t changed enough. American music and other cultural influences were everywhere. While their views of America were no more correct than my views of Europe, they weren’t completely off. My view of America and myself changed during that trip. I realized I was very lucky. While there are numerous injustices in this country and many laws and values that need to be updated and changed, it is very much still the land of opportunity and security and I never thought I would find such a feeling of safety and security as I did when I came back from Europe.

Two years ago, I was lucky enough to help plan my cousin wedding. It was very nerve wrecking and happy experience because Indian traditional wedding can be very hard to plan. Indian wedding celebration can be longer than 2 weeks and carries out many fun activities to engage in. I, also, remember my uncle’s wedding which took place in India when I was 9 years old which was a bit different from my cousin wedding because in america we are not able to get the permit we might need to carry one of the main event of the wedding which is barat (the groom rides up on the horse with bunch of people from the groom side dancing and marching till they reach destination of the wedding). But in India, it is common to do everything that indian wedding needs without getting any permission or permit. So I wanted to share my experience of planning and attending a indian traditional wedding.

In 2009 I was privileged to take a trip to El Salvador with my family. I was there previously in 1998 and can barely remember anything about that trip when I was a child. The reason that I will be using this trip to El Salvador is because of the differences in culture between it and the United States. I really stuck out while visiting different places and was noticeably out of place. People would speak to me in English even though my roots are from El Salvador. It was extremely interesting looking at a completely different way of life. Checking out the places that my parents grew up in really changed the way I thought about my own life and how different it is to grow up in a completely different environment. This experience was unique and something I had never experienced before. I was able to learn a lot about my own culture. The most interesting thing to me was the way people approached me that were not my family. People didn’t expect me to speak Spanish and I felt as though I was being treated much differently then everyone else. From the way that I spoke to the way I looked, I completely stood out from the general crowd. Hopefully I will be able to travel there again in the near future.

For my memoir topic i wanted to write about my transition from private school to the New York City public school system. Although I changed from private school to public at a very young age, it was such a major transition in my life and for that reason I remember it very clearly. I was going into the third grade at the time and i was only 8 years old, leaving the only school that had known along with all of my friends and familiar teachers, was extremely difficult for me. To this day it stands as one of my hardest challenges that i faced. Along with my personal struggles, the transition also had a lot of cultural differences as well. Eventually i think the change was definitely for the better as i learned and grew from my experiences along the way.

Reading Vassilis Alexakis’  Foreign Words, I got inspired to talk about my experience with a language similar to Sango : Creole, Haitian Creole precisely. Growing up, I have been taught to ban Creole, although it is one out of the two official languages of the country. In certain parts of Haiti, Creole was seen (is still seen) as a vulgar language compared to French. It was most preferable to express oneself in French in school, at Church, at social gathering, even at home. For many, Creole did not meet the requirements to be a language, many Haitians reprimanded the use of Creole. As I became more aware of the Haitian culture, I gained a deeper understanding of how the language is essential and central to both the culture and to the people.For example, telling a Haitian folktale in French seems absurd to me, and most people tell stories of the folklore in Creole.  although most Haitian speak Creole and not French, Creole was never recognized as valuable language. Creole was a language that I grew to love passionately despite all of the society’s efforts in making me denying as a beautiful language. I wish to recover a lot of my childhood memories to tell this story, the story of a battle between two native languages that I particularly cherish.

The topic that I have chosen for my memoir is my experience growing up in a household of two religions; Islam and Christianity.  When I was a child, my mother and I lived in my Nana’s (great grandmother) house. We shared this house with my aunt, my grandmother and her siblings, as well as their children.  Most of the household was Christian, however, my grandmother’s sister had met and married a Muslim man.  She converted to Islam soon after and raised her children to be Muslim as well, while still remaining under the same roof as the rest of the family.

Even as a child I could see the differences between myself and my Muslim cousins.  Of course, a lot of my thoughts were minuscule in nature.  They were the sort of thoughts a little girl might have upon seeing another child with a prettier, or more elaborate doll.  I only saw the aesthetic value of the religion.  Being quite young, that was one of the few things I had to concern myself with.  As I got older, and began learning more about religion in general, as well as the rifts that religious tension can create, I started deeply contemplating what my family’s religious differences really meant.  It made me question everything about religion; what was the right thing to believe in, and, if that’s right, then is everything and everyone else wrong?

Now that I’ve really thought about it, growing up in that household is probably the sole cause of my openness towards the unknown.  The first answer I ever gave to someone who asked about me and my cousin’s difference in religion was, “There is only one God.  He just chose to come to everyone in a different way. Maybe in a way that  they would be more accepting of it.”  I believe I was in elementary school at that time.  From there, I have just been on a whirlwind of a ride trying to figure out what I really believe.