At age 14, my life was divided in two. On one hand, the life that I left in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico, and on the other hand, my life that started four years ago in the United States.
The question, “Where are you from?” makes me wonder, do they want to know where I live or where I am from?
Many times, I feel like I do not belong to a place. Sometimes, my Spanish may not be the best and other times, my English may not be the most perfect.
I was only 14 years old when my life changed overnight. The music on my radio stopped being reggaeton and began to be Tejano music.
On my first day of school, I realized that what I saw in the movies about American schools was not how it was. I always imagined that my first day of school would be like “High School Musical,” but I was wrong.
On my first day of classes, a classmate asked me why I was studying in the United States if I did not know how to speak English.
I saw the language as a barrier that prevented me from being myself, that prevented me from communicating with other people.
Immigrating to the United States made me adapt to new customs and traditions.
I was used to celebrating the independence of Mexico in September and here, I celebrate the independence of the United States in July.
I went from celebrating Mother’s Day on May 10 to celebrating it on the second Sunday in May.
No one told me that to celebrate how grateful I was to have my family and other people I had to eat turkey on the fourth Thursday in November.
I never understood the holidays in the United States, and I think I still don’t.
I may be in a different place with different people but will never forget where I came from and what it took for me to get to where I am now.
My parents decided to immigrate to the United States so that my brother and I could have a better life and a better education.
There were many nights when I cried for not having anyone, for not having friends, and for not feeling like I fit in with the other people at my school.
But I never thought about my parents. They left their jobs, their lives, basically, already made. They left everything so that my brother and I could have a better life.
I will always be grateful to my parents for teaching me and my brother Mexican traditions.
Although we do not live in Mexico anymore, I will always keep each Mexican tradition in mind.
Mexico is much more than the song “Despacito.” Mexico is made up of its food, its music, its traditions, its people, its customs. Mexico is much more than what people think.
Everything I know, my mom taught me, but what she forgot to teach me is how to not miss the life I left.
Among the things I miss about not being in Mexico are eating tacos every Sunday, the flour tortillas my granny used to make in the mornings and family gatherings. I miss everything.
I never understood why when you want to be someone in life and pursue your dreams, you have to give up all the things that make you happy.
It is said that whoever does not take risks does not win, and I think that phrase is true.
Each goal requires a sacrifice, and in this case, my parents, my brother and I had to sacrifice our lives in Mexico.
I am proud to know that each year Americans celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month from Sept. 15 to Oct. 15 to celebrate the culture and contributions of Americans whose ancestors came from different parts of Mexico.
