The First-generation Immigrant in America

When something bothers her, my grandmother has a certain appearance in her eyes. I know something that people can not see, something we do not know. It is in these moments, and at these moments she seems to be far from us. She never said this, but I know, and deeply, I think they will do the same.

I introduced it to Emilija through a colleague who was keen to share her story as the first generation of American immigrants. Emilija is preparing for the first semester of Ohio State University in fall. Located in the center of the election battlefield, this campus will be the backdrop for two presidential candidates in October and November. Emilijia was born in Germany and her parents were protected during ethnic cleansing of the Balkans. Her parents left Yugoslavia as the country was crushed under the guidance of a nationalist leader. Her family moved to America when she was two years old. And it made Emilija feel the deep history of her Balkan roots and the American culture she grew up in China.

We are not the first generation of immigrants. My grandparents came in the early 20th century and my parents were born in America. My mother told me that her mother and father were in a hurry to America as my grandmother Fanny was a small daughter of her family. Years later, when I grew up, the story told me that it sounded like "a violinist on the roof." But my grandmother and grandfather 's DID must go to America to peacefully marry. Ironically, in order to survive, my other relatives in Romania did not go well under the rule of the Nazis.

My grandmother moved from Venezuela to the United States 75 years ago and became a nurse, seeking a better life. When my grandfather married her in the early 1950s he decided to marry a non white Venezuelan immigrant who made many of his circle unhappy. She was bullied, called name and endured racial discrimination - but my grandmother was brave and courageous, she held high and lived a better life for herself and her family It was. When the Korean War broke out in the 1950s, my Korean grandmother had to live with my brother and sisters. Sadly, not all brothers and sisters were able to survive the war. She came to America in the 1970s, so she could build a better life for herself and her daughter. In this way they have the opportunity, freedom and hope for a better tomorrow. When her young teenager emigrated to America, my Korean mother was not fully accepted. She endured bullying, abuse, racial discrimination