“Do you know how hard we worked to get you to this country and give you these opportunities?” These were the words my brother and I have always heard whenever we got bad grades in school or decided not to obey our parents. It was expected that my brother and I displayed a diligent work ethic like my parents developed when they first came to America. My mom and dad both had to work hard in order to break the language barrier and assimilate into the American culture. Since America was known as the land of opportunity, my parents always tried to push me past my limits so that they can be assured that I would have a better life than they had in India.
Throughout the thirty-five years my dad has lived in America, he has worked multiple jobs as a chef, hotel manager, and convenience store owner in order to provide for his family. He was the first in his family to come to America from Vadodara, India even though he was the youngest out of twelve children and he started off by having only $20 to spend each week.
My dad when he first came to America with his sister and her husband.
Ten years later, he married my mom in India and brought her to America, however she didn’t know any English and wasn’t ready to assimilate into the American culture. In fact, on her first job interview, she ended up running home in tears because she had not understood any of the words that were exchanged. Eventually she started making friends with people who lived in the same apartment building as her in Elmhurst, Queens, a rather diverse neighborhood. With these new interactions, my mom built up her English vocabulary, went back to college, and moved her way up at her workplace. She started off by checking blood samples as a lab technician and twelve years later, she now inspects the labs (where those lab technicians work) as a lab consultant. She obtained a highly respected job where people from her former job were falling over their own feet to try and impress her.
A wedding picture of my mom.
Before my mom went back to college and my parents bought a four-bedroom house in the suburbs of Queens, they lived in a two-bedroom apartment where my brother and I shared a bunk bed and slept in the same room as our parents. I remember that although my parents didn’t have much at the time, their lack of money never stopped them from trying to help others. Whenever someone new from my mom’s or dad’s family would come to America, my parents would offer them a place to stay for a few months while they searched for a job and a place of their own. My mom would work double shifts at the hospital to make sure she was making enough money for a comfortable living as well as some extra money for savings.
Although my parents started off with little to nothing, that never stopped them from giving me and my brother the things we wanted. Obviously we weren’t spoiled, but once in a while, we would get toys we had been asking for. The best gift my parents gave me, however, was not the endless supply of toys, but rather the many family vacations we went on. My parents were too poor in India to travel outside the country, but once they started to save up money, vacations became a once or twice a year event where we would go to different states in America as well as different countries, such as England, Italy, Egypt, multiple trips to India, etcetera. This not only transformed me into a more cultured individual, but it also made me become more comfortable embracing my American and Indian identity. It allowed me to broaden my horizons so that I could reach out to people who came from different backgrounds and who had parents come from different countries and religions, an essential skill needed when living in a place as diverse as New York City.
My mom and I traveling to the Taj Mahal in India.
As a first generation American, the immigration stories of my family as well as the cultures my parents have passed down to me have had a great impact on the way I was brought up. I can even say that it has made me the person I am today. Although I have heard about my parent’s hardships when they first came to America ad nauseam, it has taught me to respect my parents more and it has motivated me to work harder to make them proud. I always have an urge to make them happy since they worked so hard to make me happy. My parents’ generosity also has inspired me to always try to help people even if you don’t have a lot to offer. The phrase “a little goes a long way” applies here because my parents helped settle more than a handful of families into America with the little amount of money they had. Lastly, my parents taught me to appreciate the more meaningful things in life instead of being materialistic. Even though they did buy me toys I wanted, once we started going on family vacations, I realized that spending time with the family and exploring a new country is a great experience. I cherished these trips and I would love to travel with my own kids in the future.
