It was the 29th of November in 1989, to be exact— when my mother stepped off of the plane and onto the New York pavement hand in hand with my eldest sister, Annjannette, who was only 8 years old at the time. My mother left the comfort of the warm, humid Jamaica air in a dress and was in for a shock because, unbeknown to her, it was a cold and snowy that November day. The biggest adjustment my mother had to make was to the weather.
Hopping off the plane after a three-hour flight, my mother found herself exhausted but nonetheless excited to be in the States. Her first impression was Wow! This is so different from home! She marveled at things as simple as the width of the street—they were much bigger in the States, along with the houses. She was amazed at the amount of levels the houses had. For the most part, the houses back in Jamaica typically had one level, so that was what she had become accustomed to. Small differences like that were a big shock to her.
As soon as she got settled down with my sister and my father, she set out to find work, which did not take long at all. Back home in Jamaica, she had worked as a secretary for the Energy Center and then as a secretary for the Students’ Union at the College of Art, Science and Technology, which was originally named the Jamaica Institute of Technology. Once in the States, however, her sister-in-law was able to find her a job at Alexander’s, which was a major retail store at the time. She worked there for a year or so as a receiving clerk, dealing with inventory. Around January of 1990, my mother enrolled my sister into a school where she began the 3rd grade. In the fall of 1991, my mother set out to get her GED and enrolled in a certificate course in Office Information Systems at LaGuardia Community College in Long Island City, NY. She did this while working at Burlington Coat Factory. Finally she was able to settle down fully with my sister and my father in their own place in Far Rockaway, Queens where, years later, my other sister and I were born.
I asked my mother what hardships she had to endure with her transition to living in New York and there was not a single thing she could think of. Not to make it seem like this was a fairytale transition, but everything, for the most part, ran smoothly for my mother when she finally came to New York. She didn’t miss the culture back home. She was here with her husband, child, and mother, so she had everything she needed. At 20-something years old, she oozed excitement. She was definitely looking forward to the change and now fully embraces her US citizenship but still acknowledges her Jamaican heritage.
