My Family History

Grandmother Rokeya Sultana grew up in the urban area of ​​Bangladesh, has two sisters and three brothers. Her father, my grandfather, was the chief executive of the area. She goes to school by motorcycle, car, helicopter or goes to school. She is living a dreamlike life. But my grandfather was suffering from diabetes and was discovered one month before his death. This is a big shock to my grandmother 's family. Because they have to move from the city to the country community.

As far as I can remember, I was always interested in family history. I will join together the pieces of the parents and family members I heard. Until recently, I was able to compile the details of family history. This is a complicated process - from China to 4 generations in Africa and Canada. As the big family is still in Africa, I was able to fill many gaps, but soon I discovered that the missing part is the origin of my ancestors in China - the village. I need to find these places and see them with my own eyes. I need to follow the story of my origin

My position as an American is what I am fighting for. My family history does not fit on a yellow-brown picture of Ellis Island. We have not entered the new world for a long time. I need to find a genealogy to find my history. I know exactly what it is. My family came to America with big hair and bell jar in the late 1970s. For this reason people all over the world have repeatedly told me that this country is not mine or mine. The roots in my Europe, and the placement of the first generation family I was born here has exempted me to a certain extent. But these things do not conflict with my identity as an American. They just confirmed that. My family consists of immigrants. My mother walked here for the first time and received a lot of suffering from me. My father stepped into this country for the first time when he was a child After having been in camp for a refugee in Germany for a while, he just came out of the boat. My friend is talking the same way. This is what Americans mean.

When I wrote this history of America as the history of my family, my heart is broken. The vast majority of broken hearts comes from the government's deep humiliation against the entire population, completely based on race. My father's family is no exception. Shame, economic destruction, sadness to lost things - human relations, their work, and pride - influenced the generation. Just as my father was forced to destroy his favorite donut shop in our town during the Gulf War of the 1990s. A donut shop is owned by a man from the Middle East When my father saw someone broke all the windows and sprayed the majority of the room in a local newspaper, he would have to say a loud voice did not become. Please come out. He saw parents' grocery shops taken from them; he saw a person trying to lead an honest life in a small town. This man's shop is decorated with the American flag, for him, this is his country he is very proud of being here.