In order to progress, one cannot remain stagnant. It’s a chasing game full of deception, regret, fear, power and excitement. When I stepped onto a plane at the age of 9 in the Dominican Republic, I simply could not explain how anxious I felt. I was nervous and energize by the sight of a new world, little did I know that my future was going to be stacked with struggles that forged me into the individual I am today. The realizations of this came into fruition in the first few weeks in New York City. I found myself with no friends. I felt alienated by my relatives, and frankly learning a new language was extremely frustrating. I look back at those days with high regards. I had little to nothing when I arrived, yet it is in these days where my most profound memories are found. Here I am now, sitting on a train at the mere age of 19, still dreaming and willing to explore, but today it is all about reflection because this is my story.
I vividly remember my first day of school. I stood inches above my peers. I was extremely afraid to speak and everyone around me spoke in words I couldn’t correlate. Soon I became the latest topic of gossip; “Did you see that stupid kid in class today?” “I swear, he better go back across the border”. The stares began to burn a hole into my innocence. Every time I was asked to read an excerpt at loud in class, I heard the giggles and mockery going around the room. At first, the tears drained the anger out of me; I wondered why I wasn’t accepted by these kids. I kept questioning myself, to see where I had gone wrong. I wanted to belong, I wanted to excel, I wanted be like them. This was my assimilation struggle, one that many foreigners experience. Assimilating otherwise known as adapting is really interactive with location, which includes culture, ethics, laws and behavior. In my case, NYC is the most diverse city in the world but what people forget is that diversification doesn’t completely equate to inclusion. I was bullied by the children of immigrants who felt entitle to discriminate against me because of internalize racism they had experience. Most of them were though by their parents to cut their roots, to become more “white” more Americanized, what this translates to is an essence of entitlement and superiority that made it okay for them to bully me. My proficiency in the English languages wasn’t completely grasped till middle school.
Fast-forward a few years, let’s just say that the devils children which I encounter in elementary school grew up and discover that words can hurt but fist were better at it. This is where I became more aware that my school had a few issues when it came to management. During this time, there were warning signs that were easily identifiable if someone just payed attention. The bruises in my arm, my silence, the loneliness, the accidental falls that miraculously happens a few times a week. The sign were there but no one took action to help me. I felt enclosed in a deep hole full torment yet I sucked it up when I got home because I knew why dad would be to exhausted. He worked extremely long hours in order to pay for the immigration fees to bring the rest of my family to the United States. I never wanted to feel like a bother and believe it or not this still is one of the best lessons I learned because it though me how to be independent.
This is an excerpt of my life, one of many to come.
