It’s easy to take life for granted. Everything you have and need is provided for you with the touch of a button or the swipe of a card. My parents have made life so easy for me when their life was nothing close to the luxurious life I am currently living and think will always be there for me.
My parents have always told me to work hard; to make something of myself. To use the opportunities that America has given me at getting a great education, and becoming successful in the future. They didn’t always have this opportunity and had to work hard hours, sometimes in the sun, walking miles and miles to their jobs so that one day that could make something of themselves and rise out of the poverty that surrounded them as children.
Often, my dad likes to tell me of his story; of how he immigrated to the U.S. from Jamaica at age 17 and had to work in the hot sun delivering mail for the post office while he was in high school, giving him little time to study and get good grades. Yet, somehow, he made it through, and today, he’s a physician. This makes me think: what’s my excuse? I had a rough freshman year? Please.
Recently, we were driving through the country, and my dad points out the sugarcane fields to me. He tells me of how his uncle had to do back breaking work cutting down the sugarcane, to make a living. Me, with my privileged life, who can barely stand to make my bed some mornings, could never imagine having to do that kind of labor intensive work all day, only to make minimum wage or less.
Again, I ask myself, what is my excuse? I go to an excellent university where all I have to do is study; my food, A/C, and living is all provided for me. I don’t have to do any labor-intensive work, and I don’t have to worry about where my tuition is going to come from. I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams; I have all these opportunities laid out for me, and yet I would rather hang with friends or sleep, instead of working hard and doing my homework.
As the child of immigrant parents, I should be unstoppable. Knowing the sacrifices that my family has gone through just to make a life in America and provide for my cousins and I should be enough for us to work our tails off so that we can achieve even greater things than our parents, who started off with little. I have been given more than my parents have had in their entire lifetime, and I have squandered it so. I almost feel disgusted at myself for not doing more. And while I have been quite successful in my life, it does not equate to what has been handed to me.
America is the land of second chances, of revival. This great nation allows people to start over, my family included. As a child of immigrant parents, it is my role to do as well as I can, not only for them and their legacy, but for myself and my future family. I also owe it to the African-Americans before me who died so that I could go to a prestigious school, among other things. This is something that I can no longer take lightly.
I have concluded that the excuses I gave in the past are no longer applicable. No child of immigrant parents born and raised in America, who has had life handed to them, has any excuse. We can all do better not only for ourselves but for all those who are counting on us to be superior. When we look back on it years later, we should be able to say that we made the most of what we were given and that we made our parents and family members proud.
So, the next time I feel lazy and just want to sleep or watch Netflix when I have work to do, I hope to be reminded of the struggle of my parents and family members and to never stop achieving and working tirelessly until I reach my goals.
This much we owe to our parents, don't you agree?
