"When I was 26, I had a chance to move to the United States through my father who had permanent residency there. He was allowed to claim me and my 2 year old daughter in order for us to obtain visas. Unfortunately, 2 weeks prior to presenting myself to the American embassy in Ecuador, my father passed away. When I went to the American embassy, they told me that my daughter and I were no longer eligible to obtain a visa since my father was now deceased. His record of permanent residency was no longer valid. I was devastated. I lost my father and the opportunity to start a new life for my little girl and I all in the same month. I took some time to mourn my father but after a couple of months, I pulled myself together and made the decision that I was going to cross the Mexican border into the United States illegally."
"Growing up, people at first glance would think I was African-American. I'd get so upset. It was drilled in me to get upset about people's 'incorrect' observations. I was taught that my Dominican ethnicity must always dominate my race. My father used to always say, 'Nosotros no somos negros. Somos Dominicanos!' (We are not black. We are Dominican). He wanted us to represent our culture and letting everyone know that we were Dominican. I don't have anything against black people. I just don't think we're the same. We're of the same descent, but my race has been mixed with Spaniard and Taino blood as well so I'm not just African or black. Any Dominican would agree. We do not like to be called "negro" but rather "moreno" because 'negro' is a derogatory term to us and is something you hear the Dominicans back in D.R. calling the Haitians. Back in high school, my father saw one of my friends, an African-American girl, hug me after school when he came to pick me up one day. He wasn't too pleased with what he saw because I remember him saying, 'Oye, no te metas con ninguna negra. Hay que mejorar la raza.' (Listen, don't get involved with any black girl. We must improve the race)."
I'm a Puerto Rican, born and raised in the Bronx, New York, just like my parents. My grandparents migrated to New York in the late 60's. I'm proud to be Puerto Rican and I'm proud to be American. "Nuyorican" is what Boricuas from the Island call me because I am a New York-born person of Puerto Rican descent. I understand Spanish but I don't speak it that well. You see, my parents were afraid I'd have difficulty learning English in school, so they taught me English off the bat. Growing up, school was the most important priority in our household and nothing else. After high school, I went on to study nursing at New York University. For the most part, I enjoyed my experience at NYU. The only thing I didn't like was being placed in a program that was basically for minorities, called HEOP. They give you money for books and tuition but you must go to tutoring for an entire year, even if you were a straight A student and on the Dean's List (like I was). That was an insult to me because I had a very high GPA and was born in the United States with English being my primary language. As a result, I couldn't work at my job as many hours in order to help my parents with bills because I had to attend these tutoring sessions that I didn't need. I felt it was unfair to minorities at the school. It was as though NYU was telling us, "We know you're not as bright as our rich Caucasian students, so we'll help you take some of that financial load off of your shoulders while teaching you to be just as intelligent as them."