In Response to RaisinBran

Thank you Brandon for helping me understand the struggles of Latinos in America. After reading and researching the topic I have written my own blog post in response. Please feel free to check it out:


Friday - June 12th
Day 1


We woke up just as the sun was rising over the horizon line. My mind focused on the warm red sun, but I couldn’t ignore the pulsating pain in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed with much strain and could taste the morning breath still lingering on my tongue. Gazing out at the vast desert before me, all I could think about was how tiny I am in this world. It was a scary thought. But then as if I needed an extra push forward – like a newborn embarking into daunting new world – memories of my life in Mexico surged through my body all at once. This is my birthplace; it is my homeland. As much as I loved my country – the soil, the air, the people – I needed to push through for a better life for myself, and even more importantly, my family. I know the burden lies on my shoulders; I’m willing to accept that. With anything I could carry on my back, I glanced passed our pickup towards Juan Carlos. Hair matted, eyelids heavy, nose running. He’s too young to understand what’s going on now. Maybe in a few years this will be a faint memory. But Mexico is his blood. It’s who he is. No matter what happens at the border, I will never allow him to forget his homeland. I then soaked up every last bit of my prior life with a breath of the passing breeze. And we trudged on.


Monday – June 15th
Day 4


The midday sun beat down upon my face. The desert seemed endless. It was almost as if I were imaging the vast region of emptiness before me. The days had become a blur; all had been forgotten. All we had was our number one goal: survival. Juan Carlos would cry himself to sleep ever y night. His whimpering silenced the coyotes and made the wind howl. Worst of all, his sobs made the hair on my skin rise. The scorching sun consumed our days and the bitter cold of the night chilled the bones in our bodies. Last night there was a thunderstorm. All the animals went back to their homes. Safe and dry – a place to escape the rain. All we had were each other. No one else in this world could care if we live or die. Combined with the harsh climate conditions and our instincts to remain alive, the visceral feelings made us feel one with nature. This opportunity gave us time to reflect on our lives in Mexico. It will always be a part of me and I miss it everyday. I could taste America with every drop of sweat that trickled down my face. Each step, as hard as it was, got me one step closer to a new life.


Wednesday – June 17th
Day 6


America is my country of hope. As of now it is only a distant dream, but it is a dream shared by many. America has always been a haven for people in need. It is a country built on the immigrants looking for a new start, looking for a better life. People think that we are coming over to steal their land or to abuse their laws. If only they really knew the hardship we go through just to make it to America – the danger and the sacrifices. I do it to protect my children. Maybe one day, in America, they can be successful. At least there’s a chance and that’s all I’m asking for: a chance at the American Dream. I am in no place to judge, but have Americans forgotten what has built this country?
I am not the American Dream. No such dreams can ever be reached in my lifetime. These dreams will not even be imagined in my lifetime. We know that. All the other people like me. The fathers and mothers and grandparents. We come to America so our families will one day have a chance at the American Dream. I will work manual labor. Hands callused. Jeans ripped. I will do anything for that job, I promise you that. It’s not the most glorious job, and luckily for us, no one else will take these jobs. Although we start at the bottom of the ladder, at least my children will have an opportunity to climb it.


Friday – June 19th
Day 8


The moment of truth. As much as my feet throbbed from walking for days, I felt compelled with fear to turn back and forget about the whole idea. The physical pain was bearable. It was the rush of emotions that would kill me. Most people don’t even make it this far, and look at me now; I wanted to turn away. I am just a small nothing about to get lost in a big new world. Out of nerves, I vomited onto my shoes. I didn’t think twice about it because my mind was frozen out of fear of our future. John Carlos didn’t question it either. Of course he didn’t understand what we embarking on and he will never comprehend what we left behind. He just knew what I was feeling. It took me a while to realize that he clasped his tiny hand around my index finger. As soon as my brain registered the steady, but faint, beating of his pulse through my nerves, I felt safe. We were in this together.


Wednesday – August 19th
Living in America


America is not what it is made out to be. It is not the country that welcomes people in need of a better life. Yes I am thankful to be here in this country because I will do whatever it takes to give Juan Carlos a better life. But people cannot see passed my skin color. I am from Mexico. More importantly, I am a person too. I have made it passed the border. I don’t want to break any more laws. Why do people call me such terrible things? My clothing is ragged and my shelter is minimal. This doesn’t bother me because they are only material things. With time and with an opportunity I can acquire such things. With this opportunity I can do better things. As of now, I do the job that Americans don’t want, the jobs they can’t do. I cannot learn English over night but I am trying my hardest to fit in. As much as I try to assimilate, Mexico will always be a part of me. Will that ever be accepted here in America?