immigrant personal essay

18 Essays About The Immigrant Experience You Need To Read

These stories illuminate what it takes, and what it means, to uproot your life in one country and begin it again in a new one.

BuzzFeed Staff

Growing Up American In Gaza Taught Me What We Owe To Refugees — Rebecca Peterson Zeccola

"In Palestine, we could so easily have been treated as the enemy, but we were welcomed like family."

I’m Not OK With Being One Of The Lucky Muslims — Romaissaa Benzizoune

"This weekend’s immigration order doesn’t apply to me or my family; I’ll be fine. But so many others I know and love will not."

I Grew Up In The Rust Belt, But I'm Not In Any Of The Stories About It — Alia Hanna Habib

"It’s strange to see the media turn its attention to places like my hometown in coal-country Pennsylvania and find that my experience there, as part of the non -white working class, is still invisible."

Here’s What I’m Telling My Brown Son About Trump’s America — Mira Jacob

"Sometimes I wish I could ask America when, exactly, it made its mind up about us. The myth, of course, is that it hasn’t, that there is still a chance to mollify those who dictate the terms of our experience here, and then be allowed to chase success unfettered by their paranoia. To live, as it’s more commonly known, the American dream."

There’s No Recipe For Growing Up — Scaachi Koul

"My mom’s Kashmiri cooking has always tethered me to home. So it’s no wonder she won’t give me (all) the secrets to doing it myself."

How I Learned That Beauty Doesn’t Have To Hurt — Sonya Chung

"Growing up in a Korean American family, I absorbed the idea that any feeling of pleasure comes at a cost. But as I get older, I’m realizing it doesn’t have to work that way."

Why Brexit Has Broken My Heart — Bim Adewunmi

"As a child of immigrants, I am deeply ashamed that this is who we are."

I Found A Home In Clubs Like Pulse, In Cities Like Orlando — Rigoberto González

"I cherish the time I have spent in clubs like Pulse in cities like Orlando, where gay Latinos — the immigrants, the undocumented, and the first-generation Americans alike — gravitate because we love men and we love our homelands, and that’s one of the places our worlds converge."

Making Great Pho Is Hard, But Making A Life From Scratch Is Harder — Nicole Nguyen

"After fleeing Vietnam, my parents turned to food to teach us about what it means to be Vietnamese."

When Home Is Between Different Countries And Genders — Meredith Talusan

"I moved to the U.S. from the Philippines when I was 15, where I had been raised as a boy. About a decade later, I started to live as a woman and eventually transitioned. I think of migration and transition as two examples of the same process – moving from one home, one reality, to another."

I Found The House My Grandparents Abandoned in 1947 — Ahmed Ali Akbar

"So many Americans go to India to find themselves. But I went to find the history my family lost in the subcontinent’s Partition."

How I Became A Southern-Fried Nigerian — Israel Daramola

"I once felt torn between Nigeria and Florida, between jollof rice and fried alligator, but there is no real me without both."

Learning To Mourn In My Father's Country — Reggie Ugwu

"After my brother died and my father was partially paralyzed, my family traveled 7,000 miles in search of an old home, a new house, and the things we’d lost on the road in between."

How To Get Your Green Card In America — Sarah Mathews

"When you perform the act of audacity that is consolidating an entire life into a couple of suitcases and striking out to make your way, what is not American about that? When you leave the old country so that your daughters can have a good education and walk down their streets without fear, what is not American about that? When you flee violence and poverty to come to a land of plenty, when you are willing to learn new languages, to haul ass, to do twice as much work, what is not American about that?"

A Childhood Spent Inside A Chinese Restaurant — Susan Cheng

"Being one of the few Asians in my school was hard enough. Working at my parents’ Chinese restaurant didn’t make it any easier."

How I Learned To Celebrate Eid Al Adha In America — Zainab Shah

"I bent over backward to explain myself. 'From Pakistan,' I would say. 'Not a terrorist,' I almost added. But I didn’t — the joke would only be funny if racial profiling didn’t exist."

Texts From My Parents: What It Was Like To Leave Vietnam — Nicole Nguyen

"They did it for us, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make the most of it."

What It’s Like Speaking A Different Language From Your Parents — Zakia Uddin

"My parents and I communicate in an incomplete mash-up of Bengali and English. I sometimes wonder what we are missing."

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• Immigration

Study Like a Boss

Personal Statement: My Life As An Immigrant Essay

I was four years old when my family immigrated to the United States from Ukraine. It was a crazy experience and a big life change for all of us. There were many obstacles to be faced living a life completely far away from what we used to call home. It was very difficult to leave my grandparents back in Ukraine. They were a significant source of encouragement for me especially my grandfather. He was my hero. He was the main nurturer who provided a lot of encouragement and support for me in the very hard times of my life.

In times of crisis when life elt like a crashing wave, he was the one I always ran to for guidance. Like most immigrants, we didn’t know any English, therefore it was extremely hard to communicate with anyone. During this major life transition, my parents struggled a lot. It was hard for them to find a job because of the language barrier. They were overcome with the feeling of helplessness and uncertainty in a country that was foreign to them. They struggled greatly to adapt. Yet, they strived to give us a better life filled with opportunities and achievements that they didn’t have when they were growing up.

I remember their struggle was so real that one day they were contemplating to go back home. However, a few months later some very kind hearted people stepped in and offered to help us out financially so that my parents would be able to get up on their feet, find a job, and provide a living for us. From that point on, going back home wasn’t an option anymore. Both of my parents were raised in Christian homes . Their cultural beliefs in God led them to many hardships in their lives. They couldn’t go to college after high school because of religious persecutions that were happening in

Ukraine at that time. The people that believed in God weren’t allowed to get any higher education . There were also massive food shortages where they lived and many families suffered greatly. Despite these hardships, they didn’t let anything stop them from believing in God. They valued and cherished their faith and weren’t ashamed of it. Since culture is learned, my parents have taught and disciplined me the same way they were raised. The beliefs, values, norms and social practices that they have passed onto me shaped me into the person I am today.

My own cultural history enriched me greatly to pursue education and endeavor my goals in life. Knowing the fact that my parents couldn’t get any higher level education made me value the education that I have so much more, and the knowledge that I can gain without being persecuted for my Christian cultural beliefs in God . Life in this unfamiliar country went on for us. Before we even knew it, we had adapted very well in this country and became permanent residents. We learned English fairly quickly in school. My parents got good jobs and we were living fairly well.

There were many highs and lows that I faced in life. School years felt like eternity. I remember waking up on some days and thinking when will I be done. Despite my complaints, my parents continued to encourage me to keep going. Their hard life situations taught me to value education and knowledge. They’ve taught me to value it not just because it can make me successful in life with a good paying job, but because having an education will open up many doors for me in life. My junior year in high school was life changing . My dad had gotten very sick.

The doctors found a tumor in his large ntestine. Hearing that, I felt like my whole life crashed before my eyes. My dad was such a good man that sometimes I thought why something so bad, would happen to such a good person. Doctors told him he needs surgery immediately, so dad had no other choice. He went into surgery and my mom and I were there by his side the whole time. Dad needed to stay in the hospital for a full week after surgery so we each took turns staying with him. I would come from school and go to dad, and mom would leave to work. We would take turns.

This hardship was difficult for me to bare. My dad didn’t really speak any good English yet at that time, so I had to be there for him and translate everything. I knew I had to help him out. Hospital days were long. I remember sitting in a chair near my dad’s hospital bed and seeing all the nurses come in and out of his room. They were all so sweet and caring. They were all trying their best to get my dad to heal faster and get better. I remember sitting there and thinking to myself, how exhilarating it is to work as a nurse and make a difference in someone’s life every single day.

From that day on, I have always wanted to become a nurse. I decided that I was going to study nursing so that I would be able to make a difference in people’s lives one day. Ever since I was a little girl, I have always enjoyed helping people. Whether it was helping my classmates with homework, helping my mom around the house, or helping my dad with translating. I always did it from the heart. I truly think that serving others is my passion and my calling in life. I went to my counselor in high school and told her that I wanted to do running start. She gladly signed me up for it.

I did it for two years by taking prerequisites or the nursing program at Everett Community College . Today, I am still in EVCC finishing my last prerequisites. I’m working very hard to earn my pre nursing transfer degree so that I would be able to transfer. While in college, I was working at a teriyaki place six days a week. I was a first generation college student with a fulltime job. This job had a significant negative impact on my academic performance. I needed the money, but I came to a consensus that doing well in school was a higher priority. I decided to quit my job and solely focus on college.

I saw a great change in my grades. In addition, I had the opportunity to volunteer at a hospital and job shadow many nurses. I loved watching them do what they do. It fascinated me and encouraged me to work even harder. I was glad I got the opportunity to serve my community and job shadow at the same time. After I graduate, I want to leave EVCC and transfer to a University. Something just tells me to strive higher and challenge myself and not just stay in a community college forever. I believe I’m fully equipped with the knowledge that I’ve gained in my perquisite courses to enter my intended nursing major.

I’m strongly convinced that UW will help me reach my ultimate academic goal of becoming a nurse. Another personal goal of mine is to meet new people and make new friends. I love meeting new people. Life is just more interesting that way. It would be an amazing opportunity to be able to attend here and make new friends who will impact my life in a good way in the long run. I believe the passion that I have for nursing makes me well suited in fulling this ambition. But most importantly, a University of Washington degree will officially and uniquely prepare me to help others efficaciously.

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Waking Up from the American Dream

By Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

If you are an undocumented person anywhere in America, some of the things you do to make a dignified life for yourself and your loved ones are illegal. Others require a special set of skills. The elders know some great tricks—crossing deserts in the dead of night, studying the Rio Grande for weeks to find the shallowest bend of river to cross, getting a job on their first day in the country, finding apartments that don’t need a lease, learning English at public libraries, community colleges, or from “Frasier.” I would not have been able to do a single thing that the elders have done. But the elders often have only one hope for survival, which we tend not to mention. I’m talking about children. And no, it’s not an “anchor baby” thing. Our parents have kids for the same reasons as most people, but their sacrifice for us is impossible to articulate, and its weight is felt deep down, in the body. That is the pact between immigrants and their children in America: they give us a better life, and we spend the rest of that life figuring out how much of our flesh will pay off the debt.

I am a first-generation immigrant, undocumented for most of my life, then on DACA , now a permanent resident. But my real identity, the one that follows me around like a migraine, is that I am the daughter of immigrants. As such, I have some skills of my own.

You pick them up young. Something we always hear about, because Americans love this shit, is that immigrant children often translate for their parents. I began doing this as a little girl, because I lost my accent, dumb luck, and because I was adorable in the way that adults like, which is to say I had large, frightened eyes and a flamboyant vocabulary. As soon as doctors or teachers began talking, I felt my parents’ nervous energy, and I’d either answer for them or interpret their response. It was like my little Model U.N. job. I was around seven. My career as a professional daughter of immigrants had begun.

In my teens, I began to specialize. I became a performance artist. I accompanied my parents to places where I knew they would be discriminated against, and where I could insure that their rights would be granted. If a bank teller wasn’t accepting their I.D., I’d stroll in with an oversized Forever 21 blazer, red lipstick, a slicked-back bun, and fresh Stan Smiths. I brought a pleather folder and made sure my handshake broke bones. Sometimes I appealed to decency, sometimes to law, sometimes to God. Sometimes I leaned back in my chair, like a sexy gangster, and said, “So, you tell me how you want my mom to survive in this country without a bank account. You close at four, but I have all the time in the world.” Then I’d wink. It was vaudeville, but it worked.

My parents came to America in their early twenties, naïve about what awaited them. Back in Ecuador, they had encountered images of a wealthy nation—the requisite flashes of Clint Eastwood and the New York City skyline—and heard stories about migrants who had done O.K. for themselves there. But my parents were not starry-eyed people. They were just kids, lost and reckless, running away from the dead ends around them.

My father is the only son of a callous mother and an absent father. My mother, the result of her mother’s rape, grew up cared for by an aunt and uncle. When she married my father, it was for the reasons a lot of women marry: for love, and to escape. The day I was born, she once told me, was the happiest day of her life.

Soon after that, my parents, owners of a small auto-body business, found themselves in debt. When I was eighteen months old, they left me with family and settled in Brooklyn, hoping to work for a year and move back once they’d saved up some money. I haven’t asked them much about this time—I’ve never felt the urge—but I know that one year became three. I also know that they began to be lured by the prospect of better opportunities for their daughter. Teachers had remarked that I was talented. My mother, especially, felt that Ecuador was not the place for me. She knew how the country would limit the woman she imagined I would become—Hillary Clinton, perhaps, or Princess Di.

My parents sent loving letters to Ecuador. They said that they were facing a range of hardships so that I could have a better life. They said that we would reunite soon, though the date was unspecified. They said that I had to behave, not walk into traffic—I seem to have developed a habit of doing this—and work hard, so they could send me little gifts and chocolates. I was a toddler, but I understood. My parents left to give me things, and I had to do other things in order to repay them. It was simple math.

They sent for me when I was just shy of five years old. I arrived at J.F.K. airport. My father, who seemed like a total stranger, ran to me and picked me up and kissed me, and my mother looked on and wept. I recall thinking she was pretty, and being embarrassed by the attention. They had brought roses, Teddy bears, and Tweety Bird balloons.

Getting to know one another was easy enough. My father liked to read and lecture, and had a bad temper. My mother was soft-spoken around him but funny and mean—like a drag queen—with me. She liked Vogue . I was enrolled in a Catholic school and quickly learned English—through immersion, but also through “Reading Rainbow” and a Franklin talking dictionary that my father bought me. It gave me a colorful vocabulary and weirdly over-enunciated diction. If I typed the right terms, it even gave me erotica.

Meanwhile, I had confirmed that my parents were not tony expats. At home, meals could be rice and a fried egg. We sometimes hid from our landlord by crouching next to my bed and drawing the blinds. My father had started out driving a cab, but after 9/11, when the governor revoked the driver’s licenses of undocumented immigrants, he began working as a deliveryman, carrying meals to Wall Street executives, the plastic bags slicing into his fingers. Some of those executives forced him to ride on freight elevators. Others tipped him in spare change.

My mother worked in a factory. For seven days a week, sometimes in twelve-hour shifts, she sewed in a heat that caught in your throat like lint, while her bosses, also immigrants, hurled racist slurs at her. Some days I sat on the factory floor, making dolls with swatches of fabric, cosplaying childhood. I didn’t put a lot of effort into making the dolls—I sort of just screwed around, with an eye on my mom at her sewing station, stiffening whenever her supervisor came by to see how fast she was working. What could I do to protect her? Well, murder, I guess.

Our problem appeared to be poverty, which even then, before I’d seen “Rent,” seemed glamorous, or at least normal. All the protagonists in the books I read were poor. Ramona Quimby on Klickitat Street, the kids in “Five Little Peppers and How They Grew.” Every fictional child was hungry, an orphan, or tubercular. But there was something else setting us apart. At school, I looked at my nonwhite classmates and wondered how their parents could be nurses, or own houses, or leave the country on vacation. It was none of my business—everyone in New York had secrets—but I cautiously gathered intel, toothpick in mouth. I finally cracked the case when I tried to apply to an essay contest and asked my parents for my Social Security number. My father was probably reading a newspaper, and I doubt he even looked up to say, “We don’t have papers, so we don’t have a Social.”

It was not traumatic. I turned on our computer, waited for the dial-up, and searched what it meant not to have a Social Security number. “Undocumented immigrant” had not yet entered the discourse. Back then, the politically correct term, the term I saw online, was “illegal immigrant,” which grated—it was hurtful in a clinical way, like having your teeth drilled. Various angry comments sections offered another option: illegal alien . I knew it was form language, legalese meant to wound me, but it didn’t. It was punk as hell. We were hated , and maybe not entirely of this world. I had just discovered Kurt Cobain.

Obviously, I learned that my parents and I could be deported at any time. Was that scary? Sure. But a deportation still seemed like spy-movie stuff. And, luckily, I had an ally. My brother was born when I was ten years old. He was our family’s first citizen, and he was named after a captain of the New York Yankees. Before he was old enough to appreciate art, I took him to the Met. I introduced him to “S.N.L.” and “Letterman” and “Fun Home” and “Persepolis”—all the things I felt an upper-middle-class parent would do—so that he could thrive at school, get a great job, and make money. We would need to armor our parents with our success.

We moved to Queens, and I entered high school. One day, my dad heard about a new bill in Congress on Spanish radio. It was called the DREAM Act, and it proposed a path to legalization for undocumented kids who had gone to school here or served in the military. My dad guaranteed that it’d pass by the time I graduated. I never react to good news—stoicism is part of the brand—but I was optimistic. The bill was bipartisan. John McCain supported it, and I knew he had been a P.O.W., and that made me feel connected to a real American hero. Each time I saw an “R” next to a sponsor’s name my heart fluttered with joy. People who were supposed to hate me had now decided to love me.

But the bill was rejected and reintroduced, again and again, for years. It never passed. And, in a distinctly American twist, its gauzy rhetoric was all that survived. Now there was a new term on the block: “Dreamers.” Politicians began to use it to refer to the “good” children of immigrants, the ones who did well in school and stayed off the mean streets—the innocents. There are about a million undocumented children in America. The non-innocents, one presumes, are the ones in cages, covered in foil blankets, or lost, disappeared by the government.

I never called myself a Dreamer. The word was saccharine and dumb, and it yoked basic human rights to getting an A on a report card. Dreamers couldn’t flunk out of high school, or have D.U.I.s, or work at McDonald’s. Those kids lived with the pressure of needing a literal miracle in order to save their families, but the miracle didn’t happen, because the odds were against them, because the odds were against all of us. And so America decided that they didn’t deserve an I.D.

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The Dream, it turned out, needed to demonize others in order to help the chosen few. Our parents, too, would be sacrificed. The price of our innocence was the guilt of our loved ones. Jeff Sessions, while he was Attorney General, suggested that we had been trafficked against our will. People actually pitied me because my parents brought me to America. Without even consulting me.

The irony, of course, is that the Dream was our inheritance. We were Dreamers because our parents had dreams.

It’s painful to think about this. My mother, an aspiring interior designer, has gone twenty-eight years without a sick day. My dad, who loves problem-solving, has spent his life wanting a restaurant. He’s a talented cook and a brilliant manager, and he often did the work of his actual managers for them. But, without papers, he could advance only so far in a job. He needed to be paid in cash; he could never receive benefits.

He often used a soccer metaphor to describe our journey in America. Our family was a team, but I scored the goals. Everything my family did was, in some sense, a pass to me. Then the American Dream could be mine, and then we could start passing to my brother. That’s how my dad explained his limp every night, his feet blistered from speed-running deliveries. It’s why we sometimes didn’t have money for electricity or shampoo. Those were fouls. Sometimes my parents did tricky things to survive that you’ll never know about. Those were nutmegs. In 2015, when the U.S. women’s team won the World Cup, my dad went to the parade and sent me a selfie. “Girl power!” the text read.

My father is a passionate, diatribe-loving feminist, though his feminism often seems to exclude my mother. When I was in elementary school, he would take me to the local branch of the Queens Public Library and check out the memoir of Rosalía Arteaga Serrano, the only female President in Ecuador’s history. Serrano was ousted from office, seemingly because she was a woman. My father would read aloud from the book for hours, pausing to tell me that I’d need to toughen up. He would read from dictators’ speeches—not for the politics, but for the power of persuasive oratory. We went to the library nearly every weekend for thirteen years.

My mother left her factory job to give me, the anointed one, full-time academic support. She pulled all-nighters to help me make extravagant posters. She grilled me with vocabulary flash cards, struggling to pronounce the words but laughing and slapping me with pillows if I got something wrong. I aced the language portions of my PSATs and SATs, partly because of luck, and partly because of my parents’ locally controversial refusal to let me do household chores, ever, because they wanted me to be reading, always reading, instead.

If this all seems strategic, it should. The American Dream doesn’t just happen to cheery Pollyannas. It happens to iconoclasts with a plan and a certain amount of cunning. The first time I encountered the idea of the Dream, it was in English class, discussing “The Great Gatsby.” My classmates all thought that Gatsby seemed sort of sad, a pathetic figure. I adored him. He created his own persona, made a fortune in an informal economy, and lived a quiet, paranoid, reclusive life. Most of all, he longed. He stood at the edge of Long Island Sound, longing for Daisy, and I took the train uptown to Columbia University and looked out at the campus, hoping it could one day be mine. At the time, it was functionally impossible for undocumented students to enroll at Columbia. The same held for many schools. Keep dreaming, my parents said.

I did. I was valedictorian of my class, miraculously got into Harvard, and was tapped to join a secret society that once included T. S. Eliot and Wallace Stevens. I was the only Latina inducted, I think, and I was very chill when an English-Spanish dictionary appeared in our club bathroom after I started going to teas. When I graduated, in 2011, our country was deporting people at record rates. I knew that I needed to add even more of a golden flicker to my illegality, so that if I was deported, or if my parents were deported, we would not go in the middle of the night, in silence, anonymously, as Americans next door watched another episode of “The Bachelor.” So I began writing, with the explicit aim of entering the canon. I wrote a book about undocumented immigrants, approaching them not as shadowy victims or gilded heroes but as people, flawed and complex. It was reviewed well, nominated for things. A President commended it.

But it’s hard to feel anything. My parents remain poor and undocumented. I cannot protect them with prizes or grades. My father sobbed when I handed him my diploma, but it was not the piece of paper that would make it all better, no matter how heavy the stock.

By the time I was in grad school, my parents’ thirty-year marriage was over. They had spent most of those years in America, with their heads down and their bodies broken; it was hard not to see the split as inevitable. My mom called me to say she’d had enough. My brother supported her decision. I talked to each parent, and helped them mutually agree on a date. On a Tuesday night, my father moved out, leaving his old parenting books behind, while my mom and brother were at church. I asked my father to text my brother that he loved him. I think he texted him exactly that. Then I collapsed onto the floor beneath an open drawer of knives, texted my partner to come help me, and convulsed in sobs.

After that, my mom became depressed. I did hours of research and found her a highly qualified, trauma-informed psychiatrist, a Spanish speaker who charged on a sliding scale I could afford. My mom got on Lexapro, which helped. She also started a job that makes her very happy. In order to find her that job, I took a Klonopin and browsed Craigslist for hours each day, e-mailing dozens of people, being vague about legal status in a clever but truthful way. I impersonated her in phone interviews, hanging off my couch, the blood rushing to my head, struggling not to do an offensive accent.

You know how, when you get a migraine, you regret how stupid you were for taking those sweet, painless days for granted? Although my days are hard, I understand that I’m living in an era of painlessness, and that a time will come when I look back and wonder why I was such a stupid, whining fool. My mom’s job involves hard manual labor, sometimes in the snow or the rain. I got her a real winter coat, her first, from Eddie Bauer. I got her a pair of Hunter boots. These were things she needed, things I had seen on women her age on the subway, their hands bearing bags from Whole Foods. My mom’s hands are arthritic. She sends me pictures of them covered in bandages.

My brother and I now have a pact: neither of us can die, because then the other would be stuck with our parents. My brother is twenty-two, still in college, and living with my mom. He, too, has some skills. He is gentle, kind, and excellent at deëscalating conflict. He mediated my parents’ arguments for years. He has also never tried to change them, which I have, through a regimen of therapy, books, and cheesy Instagram quotes. So we’ve decided that, in the long term, since his goal is to get a job, get married, have kids, and stay in Queens, he’ll invite Mom to move in with him, to help take care of the grandkids. He’ll handle the emotional labor, since it doesn’t traumatize him. And I’ll handle the financial support, since it doesn’t traumatize me.

I love my parents. I know I love them. But what I feel for them daily is a mixture of terror, panic, obligation, sorrow, anger, pity, and a shame so hot that I need to lie face down, in my underwear, on very cold sheets. Many Americans have vulnerable parents, and strive to succeed in order to save them. I hold those people in the highest regard. But the undocumented face a unique burden, due to scorn and a lack of support from the government. Because our parents made a choice—the choice to migrate—few people pity them, or wonder whether restitution should be made for decades of exploitation. That choice, the original sin, is why our parents were thrown out of paradise. They were tempted by curiosity and hunger, by fleshly desires.

And so we return to the debt. However my parents suffer in their final years will be related to their migration—to their toil in this country, to their lack of health care and housing support, to psychic fatigue. They were able, because of that sacrifice, to give me their version of the Dream: an education, a New York accent, a life that can better itself. But that life does not fully belong to me. My version of the American Dream is seeing them age with dignity, being able to help them retire, and keeping them from being pushed onto train tracks in a random hate crime. For us, gratitude and guilt feel almost identical. Love is difficult to separate from self-erasure. All we can give one another is ourselves.

Scholars often write about the harm that’s done when children become caretakers, but they’re reluctant to do so when it comes to immigrants. For us, they say, this situation is cultural . Because we grow up in tight-knit families. Because we respect our elders. In fact, it’s just the means of living that’s available to us. It’s a survival mechanism, a mutual-aid society at the family level. There is culture, and then there is adaptation to precarity and surveillance. If we are lost in the promised land, perhaps it’s because the ground has never quite seemed solid beneath our feet.

When I was a kid, my mother found a crystal heart in my father’s taxi. The light that came through it was pretty, shimmering, like a gasoline spill on the road. She put it in her jewelry box, and sometimes we’d take out the box, spill the contents onto my pink twin bed, and admire what we both thought was a heart-shaped diamond. I grew up, I went to college. I often heard of kids who had inherited their grandmother’s heirlooms, and I sincerely believed that there were jewels in my family, too. Then, a few years ago, my partner and I visited my mom, and she spilled out her box. She gave me a few items I cherish: a nameplate bracelet in white, yellow, and rose gold, and the thick gold hoop earrings that she wore when she first moved to Brooklyn. Everything else was costume jewelry. I couldn’t find the heart.

I realized that, when my mother found the crystal, she was around the same age I am now. She had probably never held a diamond, and she probably wanted to believe that she had found one in America, a dream come true. She wanted me to believe it, and then, as we both grew up, alone, together, she stopped believing, stopped wanting to believe, and stopped me from wanting to believe. And she probably threw that shit out. I didn’t ask. Some things are none of our business. ♦

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By Zach Williams

By Souvankham Thammavongsa

By Mohammed Naseehu Ali

Home — Essay Samples — Social Issues — Immigrants — Interview with an Immigrant: Personal Experiences and Perspectives

Interview with an Immigrant: Personal Experiences and Perspectives

• Categories: Immigrants Interview

About this sample

Words: 659 |

Published: Sep 12, 2023

Words: 659 | Page: 1 | 4 min read

Table of contents

A personal journey of immigration, reasons for immigration, challenges faced as an immigrant, lessons learned and future aspirations.

• Economic Opportunities: Seeking better job prospects, higher wages, and improved living standards in the host country.
• Education: Pursuing higher education and academic opportunities not available in their home country.
• Family Reunification: Reuniting with family members who have already immigrated to the host country.
• Escape from Conflict: Fleeing political instability, violence, or persecution in their home country.
• Quality of Life: Seeking improved healthcare, safety, and overall quality of life.
• Cultural Adjustment: Adapting to a new culture, language, and way of life can be challenging and sometimes isolating.
• Legal Hurdles: Navigating the complex immigration system, obtaining the necessary visas or permits, and complying with immigration laws can be daunting.
• Economic Struggles: Finding stable employment and financial stability in the host country can be a significant challenge for immigrants.
• Social Integration: Building a sense of belonging and establishing a support network in the new community may take time and effort.
• Emotional Toll: Being separated from loved ones and coping with homesickness can have emotional consequences.

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At Home with Harvard | 6.30.2020

At Home with Harvard: The Immigrant Experience

A selection of harvard magazine 's writing on immigration, displacement, and the global refugee crisis.

This round-up is part of  Harvard Magazine ’s series “At Home with Harvard,” a guide to what to read, watch, listen to, and do while social distancing. Read the previous selections, featuring articles about income inequality, racial justice, Pride month, and more,  here .

Migration is as old as humankind, yet it’s also newly urgent and contentious across the world—and will surely be made more so by the acceleration of  climate change . Here, we’ve compiled a range of nuanced and humane perspectives on immigration and displacement covered in  Harvard Magazine  in recent years, including a  new feature  on undocumented young people that’s particularly vital in light of the U.S. Supreme Court’s recent ruling on DACA. The selections below represent disciplines from economics to the visual arts, all essential to a full picture of the immigrant experience. 

Ethnographer Roberto Gonzales spent 12 years following the lives of undocumented young people.

Photograph by Adam Glanzman

For the  July-August 2020 issue, I wrote  "From Neither Here Nor There,"  a profile of Harvard sociologist Roberto Gonzales, who for nearly three decades—first as a youth worker and later as a scholar—has studied the lives of undocumented people who arrived in the United States as young children, and has chronicled what happens as they grow up and become adults. And this is what he’s found: that, beginning in adolescence, their illegal immigration status takes on increasing importance in their identity, exerting a powerful downward force on their lives. “A lead weight that eventually drags you down,” Gonzales calls it. Illegality shapes their futures more strongly than anything else—talent, personality, family, work ethic, education. College graduates and high-school dropouts often find themselves working side by side in the same dead-end jobs. 

A couple of weeks ago, when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled against the Trump administration’s attempt to terminate DACA, I thought not only of the program recipients I’d spoken to for the story and the ones whom Gonzales had surveyed, but also of the young people in his first study. For nearly all of them, DACA came too late. “They were the poster children of the DREAM Act,” he told me, meaning the 2001 legislation, never passed, that would have offered them a path to citizenship. Instead, year after year, their lives unfolded without it. By 2012, when DACA was created, “They were no longer the fresh-faced picture of open possibility that policymakers want to craft a narrative around,” Gonzales says. Many were by then too old for the program, or otherwise ineligible, or they couldn’t afford the $500 filing fee. They had kids of their own, they were working often physically taxing jobs, struggling financially. “In many senses, they are a lost generation,” Gonzales told me. “I think this is a really important point. It’s important for thinking about what policies we might implement going forward, and the very serious impacts on real people’s lives.” 

~Lydialyle Gibson,  Associate Editor

The stunning  photos  in “In Flight” document a humanitarian crisis at a level of immediacy and closeness that is so difficult to capture and rare to see. The pictured refugees rejoice in the help they receive as they enter Greece, fleeing endless wars, fear, and poverty in their home countries. But their struggles are far from over, as described by the collection’s photographer, Nieman Fellow Maciek Nabrdalik: “For at least several weeks, these people will become a shapeless migration mass, associated by European Union countries with ‘imposed quota policies,’ a dangerous, foreign wave of immigrants flooding Europe. They will face weeks of waiting, arduous journeys on foot, by train, bus. They will experience bleak conditions, uncertainty, humiliation and pain. But their persistence will endure.”

Homi Bhabha (left), Masha Gessen (center), and Jacqueline Bhabha (right)

Photograph by Tia Ann Chapman

In the first of two lectures at Harvard, Russian-American journalist and author Masha Gessen shared a flurry of 57 stories of immigration, narrated in just under an hour.  The presentation , like the examples themselves, was destabilizing. Based on Gessen’s reporting, the stories of immigration and displacement stretched back to Gessen’s reporting on the Kosovo War in the 1990s and covered those displaced for their ethnicity, sexuality, and politics. The stories were presented back to back, each read from an individual notecard. Language, Gessen argued, has a powerful effect on how immigration is understood. Words like “illegals,” “undocumented,” “hordes,” “caravans,” even the word “migrant” itself, shape how displaced people  are viewed, Gessen said, urging journalists to take a more careful look at the language they use to describe immigration. This account, by associate editor Marina Bolotnikova, gets at the heart of Gessen’s presentations with grace and focus. 

~Jacob Sweet,  Staff writer/editor

In “ When Water Is Safer than Land ,” Jacqueline Bhabha, professor of the practice of public health and human rights, writes brilliantly about the 2015 refugee crisis (remember that?). “We need a new paradigm for thinking about twenty-first-century  ‘ distress migration,’ because the post-World War II framework that still governs our laws and procedures is, in practice, defunct,” she asserts. She explains the dichotomy that underlies modern immigration law, separating “real” refugees from “economic migrants” in search of prosperity—and argues for a new migration system that transcends it. There is so much in this insightful piece, and it will help you understand the limits of international refugee law.  

Adál Maldonado’s  The Passport,  1995, from the series  The Spirit Republic of Puerto Rico.

Transfer from the David Rockefeller Center for Latin American Studies, Harvard University, Gift of the artist, 2012.178. © ADзL. Image courtesy of Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum

Though our immigration conversation takes place mostly in news headlines, the immigrant experience lends itself particularly well to art. In “ Made Visible ,” I wrote about a recent Harvard Art Museums exhibit exploring migration, displacement, and the in-between questions of identity and assimilation and home, all too often missing from our acrimonious immigration discourse. 

Choi and supporters gathered at the New York state capitol last year to urge passage of new driver’s license legislation.

Photograph courtesy of the New York Immigration Coalition

In “ Rallying Cries ,”  Harvard Magazine  writer Nell Porter Brown profiles Steven Choi, J.D. ’04, the fierce immigrant advocate who directs the New York Immigration Coalition. “We need to rebuild a new, expansive, forward-facing vision for what  we  think a strong immigration system should be,” he says, “engaging with presidential candidates, figuring out what leverage we can use to get them to align with us—all while responding to the continued distortion of an immigration system designed by white supremacist Stephen Miller and the Trump administration.” For more background on some of the policies Choi is criticizing, I wrote “ Crimmigration ,” a story on the criminalization of immigrants—a growing issue of research and advocacy at Harvard Law School. 

~Marina Bolotnikova,  Associate Editor

An outsized proportion of innovation in the United States comes from high-skilled immigrants, who cluster in areas where specialized industries have sprung up, but bring benefits to the entire country. One-third of the nation’s Nobel laureates since 1901 have been immigrants. Forty percent of doctoral degrees in the U.S. are awarded to noncitizens. More than a quarter of U.S. entrepreneurs were born overseas, according to one estimate, and immigrants appeared to account for just under a third of all U.S. patents in 2017. “ The Innovation Engine ,” explains D’Arbeloff-Class of 1955 professor of business administration William R. Kerr, could be made even better through immigration reforms, such as “guaranteed work visas for non-citizen graduates of U.S. colleges, an increased H-1B minimum wage, better allocation of scarce visas through wage-ranking (prioritizing those immigrants who will receive the highest wages from their sponsoring companies), and a preference for immigrant entrepreneurs.”  (The Trump administration recently suspended entry into the United States of H-1B visa holders through the end of this year.)

~Jonathan Shaw,  Managing Editor

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• Harvard in the Movies : Our favorite stories about Harvardians on screen
• The Literary Life : Our best stories about the practice and study of literature 
• Night at the Museum : Our coverage of Harvard’s rich museums and collections
• Nature Walks : Walking, running, and biking in Greater Boston’s green spaces, even while social distancing
• Supporting Local Businesses : Our extensive coverage of local restaurants and retailers, and how you can support them during this time of crisis
• Medical Breakthroughs : Our best stories going deep into the ideas and personalities that will shape the medical care of tomorrow
• Rewriting History :  From race and colonization to genetics and paleohistory, our favorite stories about the people reshaping the study of history
• The Climate Crisis : Highlights from our wide-ranging coverage of the environment
• Crimson Sports Illustrated : With 2020 winter sports ending early and the spring collegiate season wiped out almost entirely, we look back at Crimson highlights from past years. 
• The Real History of Women at Harvard : Stories covering the admission of women, the Harvard-Radcliffe merger, the rise of women in the faculty ranks, Harvard’s first woman president, and more
• The Undergraduate : Our favorite student essays on the undergraduate experience
• The Secret Lives of Animals : From zoology and evolutionary science to animal-rights law to the joys of local wildlife, a selection of our favorite animal stories
• Harvard on the Small Screen : Our coverage of the creators, writers, and actors in your favorite TV shows
• Extraordinary Lives : From our “Vita” section, extraordinary profiles of authors, artists, activists, and more
• Great Legal Minds : Our favorite stories on the  minds reshaping American law
• Harvard History through a New Lens : Some of our most notable stories about obscure, dark, or surprising episodes in Harvard’s history
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July 27, 2022

5 Tips on Writing About the Immigrant Experience for Law School

Many applicants are recent immigrants or have parents who are immigrants and plan to write about this aspect of their life in a personal statement or diversity statement . Certainly, having this life experience makes you distinctive and can add to your appeal at any school . But, often these essays fall flat. 

First, you must decide if you are going to write your immigrant narrative in the personal statement or diversity statement or both. How do you decide? The personal statement is the opportunity to answer the questions, why law school and why now. If your immigrant story is part of the answer, then introduce the narrative here. If you hope to become a tax attorney, your immigrant story may be best told in your diversity statement. Each statement should stand alone. They should complement each other and not duplicate each other. For those applicants using both opportunities to tell aspects of your family history, don’t repeat. Tell unique stories and provide unique insight in each essay.

Here are 5 tips to help you improve:

• Show. Don’t Tell . Just telling the reader that you and/or your family assimilated or learned English isn’t always enough. You need to show the admissions committee – paint a scene . Give a specific example. You need an arresting image to get their attention. Did you learn English watching cartoons? Immersed in an elementary school classroom? Are you still maintaining cultural aspects of your country of origin, and if so what are they and why? How do they impact your law school decisions or how will they impact the law school community?
• Show grit. In your essays, focus on how you solved the problem rather than the problem itself. For example, if you moved to the U.S. and didn’t speak any English, what did you do? How did you learn the language? How did you make friends, form a new community? Are you still observing certain holidays or traditions from your native country? If so, what are they and why? How do they influence you today?
• Avoid clich é s . “Fish out of water.” “Cultural differences.” “Breaking down barriers.” “Pulled up by their bootstraps.” These are phrases that are repeated often. That repetition has made them, well, cliched. You are trying to set yourself apart from the applicant pool; don’t employ overused phrases that cause you to blend in. You are better off explaining your situation with specificity than turning to hackneyed, overused, boring clichés.
• Don’t make Mom the focus. Often, applicants write about people they admire – usually a parent or grandparent. It’s great to love your family, but don’t make them the focus of your essay. You need to show the admissions committee that you are a good fit , not your father, mother, or other relative. Set a scene, but make yourself the lead character.
• Make a point. Going through an experience – good or bad – means nothing if you haven’t gained insight into yourself. Law schools want people who can think critically and examine the world around them. Your essay needs to show what you learned and how you can apply that skill to your studies and work. How have you grown from this experience? How does your experience help other people?

Remember that most basic failures of imagination in essay writing occur because applicants don’t want to spend time brainstorming, thinking, and writing . All that preparation is an important part of the process that will produce a quality finished product worthy of pride.

Work one-on-one with an Accepted advisor to devise an admissions strategy that will help you present a compelling story and produce an application that will stand out and get you accepted. Check out our  Law School Admissions Consulting Services  for more information. 

Related Resources:

• 5 Summer Experiences That Could Enhance Your Law School Profile
• The Paul & Daisy Soros Fellowships for New Americans Application Essay Tips
• 7 Simple Steps to Writing an Excellent Diversity Essay

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My Family’s American Dream Didn’t Go Quite as Planned — But Here’s How I Succeeded Anyway

This article was originally written for freshu.io by Miguel Paulo Flores . It has been given minor edits before re-posting.

Just like any other immigrant family that comes to the United States, we have hopes and dreams of living a happy and successful life. I came to the United States to fulfill my dream of becoming a computer engineer, to have my own home, my own family, and my own business. Amidst the joy that I felt when I stepped on the soil of this foreign land, my family wasn’t prepared for the worst. All they knew was that once we set foot on the U.S. life will be alright and our lives will be moving forward. Two to three months of living in the U.S., my mom was unemployed with no flowing income, just the money she saved before coming here. I can tell by mother’s face that she needed help. Fortunately, she found a part-time job at a clothing retail store and a full-time job as a cashier at our local grocery store – she got paid minimum wage which is better than not having a job! Realizing the financial burden we have, I helped her by working as a tutor at a local middle school while balancing my duties and responsibilities as a freshman honor student, a section leader of our high school marching band, and a secretary of the Student Council. That was the time I realized that life here in the U.S. wasn’t going to be easy.

Sophomore year in high school, my mom had asked me to quit my job so I can focus on my schooling. The school that I went to was very diverse in terms of student population; however, there are some instances that I got stereotyped. Sometimes I would cry at night thinking what did I do wrong, or do I deserve to be treated like this? Once, I broke down in front of my teacher after a classroom presentation. I was feeling sorry for myself, pitying myself, and asking myself why I get treated like a piece of trash that always gets kicked around. My teacher comforted me and told me to keep my head up high because in the end no matter how terrible are the people around you, you always have yourself — don’t be afraid to stand out. And that’s exactly what I did.

Junior year in high school, things got better. I remained a consistent member of the National Honor Society, held several leadership positions at various school clubs and organizations, and was a distinguished student at our school. I got an internship at the State Capitol and I was awarded as an outstanding student of the year. My family finally got some financial assistance; we receive SNAP/EBT benefits monthly, my brother and I are listed as free and reduced lunch students (we don’t have to worry about not having money in our school lunch accounts), we also get waivers for school dues on exams or tests, and my mom found a better job. All of these happened in one year and without my teacher’s motivation I wouldn’t have the drive to succeed in that short amount of time.

Senior year was the best year I had. I felt like a burden was lifted off of my shoulders when I found out that I was a Dell Scholar. I can now go to college without worrying about paying for my tuition or for my books. At graduation, I was ranked 1st in our class and I graduated as a valedictorian. I got accepted to over 30 schools and they all offered me scholarships. At graduation day, my smile was from ear to ear because my family and I know that I finally made it, despite of all the hardships we went through.

Today, I am currently attending the University of California Davis on a partial scholarship and I am majoring in computer engineering. I am also a high school mentor where my aim is to empower and encourage students to have hope and trust in themselves that whatever they’re going through, they’ll surpass it in the end. I learned a lot from the experiences that I had in high school and I hope that experience will strengthen and motivate me in the years to come.

Through all the obstacles I’ve been through, there are a few things I want to share to everyone: don’t be afraid to stand out. Ignore all the negativity and absorb all the positivity in your life. Laugh from time to time, be humble, and always thank the people who made a difference in your life. Remember that in every beginning of any journey there’ll be always challenges, but if you persevere and work hard toward your goals, nothing’s impossible.

Related: A High School Valedictorian Just Used Her Graduation Speech to Come Out as an Undocumented Immigrant

By Nadra Nittle, The 19th

By Julie Su

By Ash Judd

By Karla Méndez

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Follow YES! For Teachers

Eight brilliant student essays on immigration and unjust assumptions.

Read winning essays from our winter 2019 “Border (In)Security” student writing contest.

For the winter 2019 student writing competition, “Border (In)Security,” we invited students to read the YES! Magazine article “Two-Thirds of Americans Live in the “Constitution-Free Zone” by Lornet Turnbull and respond with an up-to-700-word essay. 

Students had a choice between two writing prompts for this contest on immigration policies at the border and in the “Constitution-free zone,” a 100-mile perimeter from land and sea borders where U.S. Border Patrol can search any vehicle, bus, or vessel without a warrant. They could state their positions on the impact of immigration policies on our country’s security and how we determine who is welcome to live here. Or they could write about a time when someone made an unfair assumption about them, just as Border Patrol agents have made warrantless searches of Greyhound passengers based simply on race and clothing.

The Winners

From the hundreds of essays written, these eight were chosen as winners. Be sure to read the author’s response to the essay winners and the literary gems that caught our eye.

Middle School Winner: Alessandra Serafini

High School Winner: Cain Trevino

High School Winner: Ethan Peter

University Winner: Daniel Fries

Powerful Voice Winner: Emma Hernandez-Sanchez

Powerful Voice Winner: Tiara Lewis

Powerful Voice Winner: Hailee Park

Powerful Voice Winner: Aminata Toure

From the Author Lornet Turnbull

Literary Gems

Middle school winner.

Alessandra Serafini

Brier Terrace Middle School, Brier, Wash.

Broken Promises

“…Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

These words were written by Emma Lazarus and are inscribed on the base of the Statue of Liberty. And yet, the very door they talk about is no longer available to those who need it the most. The door has been shut, chained, and guarded. It no longer shines like gold. Those seeking asylum are being turned away. Families are being split up; children are being stranded. The promise America made to those in need is broken.

Not only is the promise to asylum seekers broken, but the promises made to some 200 million people already residing within the U.S. are broken, too. Anyone within 100 miles of the United States border lives in the “Constitution-free zone” and can be searched with “reasonable suspicion,” a suspicion that is determined by Border Patrol officers. The zone encompasses major cities, such as Seattle and New York City, and it even covers entire states, such as Florida, Massachusetts, and New Jersey. I live in the Seattle area, and it is unsettling that I can be searched and interrogated without the usual warrant. In these areas, there has been an abuse of power; people have been unlawfully searched and interrogated because of assumed race or religion.

The ACLU obtained data from the Customs and Border Protection Agency that demonstrate this reprehensible profiling. The data found that “82 percent of foreign citizens stopped by agents in that state are Latino, and almost 1 in 3 of those processed are, in fact, U.S. citizens.” These warrantless searches impede the trust-building process and communication between the local population and law enforcement officers. Unfortunately, this lack of trust makes campaigns, such as Homeland Security’s “If You See Something, Say Something,” ineffective due to the actions of the department’s own members and officers. Worst of all, profiling ostracizes entire communities and makes them feel unsafe in their own country.

Ironically, asylum seekers come to America in search of safety. However, the thin veil of safety has been drawn back, and, behind it, our tarnished colors are visible. We need to welcome people in their darkest hours rather than destroy their last bit of hope by slamming the door in their faces. The immigration process is currently in shambles, and an effective process is essential for both those already in the country and those outside of it. Many asylum seekers are running from war, poverty, hunger, and death. Their countries’ instability has hijacked every aspect of their lives, made them vagabonds, and the possibility of death, a cruel and unforgiving death, is real. They see no future for their children, and they are desperate for the perceived promise of America—a promise of opportunity, freedom, and a safe future. An effective process would determine who actually needs help and then grant them passage into America. Why should everyone be turned away? My grandmother immigrated to America from Scotland in 1955. I exist because she had a chance that others are now being denied.

Emma Lazarus named Lady Liberty the “Mother of Exiles.” Why are we denying her the happiness of children? Because we cannot decide which ones? America has an inexplicable area where our constitution has been spurned and forgotten. Additionally, there is a rancorous movement to close our southern border because of a deep-rooted fear of immigrants and what they represent. For too many Americans, they represent the end of established power and white supremacy, which is their worst nightmare. In fact, immigrants do represent change—healthy change—with new ideas and new energy that will help make this country stronger. Governmental agreement on a humane security plan is critical to ensure that America reaches its full potential. We can help. We can help people in unimaginably terrifying situations, and that should be our America.

Alessandra Serafini plays on a national soccer team for Seattle United and is learning American Sign Language outside of school. Her goal is to spread awareness about issues such as climate change, poverty, and large-scale political conflict through writing and public speaking.

  High School Winner

Cain Trevino

North Side High School, Fort Worth, Texas

Xenophobia and the Constitution-Free Zone

In August of 2017, U.S. Border Patrol agents boarded a Greyhound bus that had just arrived at the White River Junction station from Boston. According to Danielle Bonadona, a Lebanon resident and a bus passenger, “They wouldn’t let us get off. They boarded the bus and told us they needed to see our IDs or papers.” Bonadona, a 29-year-old American citizen, said that the agents spent around 20 minutes on the bus and “only checked the IDs of people who had accents or were not white.” Bonadona said she was aware of the 100-mile rule, but the experience of being stopped and searched felt “pretty unconstitutional.”

In the YES! article “Two-Thirds of Americans Live in the ‘Constitution-Free Zone’” by Lornet Turnbull, the author references the ACLU’s argument that “the 100-mile zone violates Fourth Amendment protections against unreasonable search and seizure.” However, the Supreme Court upholds the use of immigration checkpoints for inquiries on citizenship status. In my view, the ACLU makes a reasonable argument. The laws of the 100-mile zone are blurred, and, too often, officials give arbitrary reasons to conduct a search. Xenophobia and fear of immigrants burgeons in cities within these areas. People of color and those with accents or who are non-English speakers are profiled by law enforcement agencies that enforce anti-immigrant policies. The “Constitution-free zone” is portrayed as an effective barrier to secure our borders. However, this anti-immigrant zone does not make our country any safer. In fact, it does the opposite.

As a former student from the Houston area, I can tell you that the Constitution-free zone makes immigrants and citizens alike feel on edge. The Department of Homeland Security’s white SUVs patrol our streets. Even students feel the weight of anti-immigrant laws. Dennis Rivera Sarmiento, an undocumented student who attended Austin High School in Houston, was held by school police in February 2018 for a minor altercation and was handed over to county police. He was later picked up by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and held in a detention center. It is unfair that kids like Dennis face much harsher consequences for minor incidents than other students with citizenship.

These instances are a direct result of anti-immigrant laws. For example, the 287(g) program gives local and state police the authority to share individuals’ information with ICE after an arrest. This means that immigrants can be deported for committing misdemeanors as minor as running a red light. Other laws like Senate Bill 4, passed by the Texas Legislature, allow police to ask people about their immigration status after they are detained. These policies make immigrants and people of color feel like they’re always under surveillance and that, at any moment, they may be pulled over to be questioned and detained.

During Hurricane Harvey, the immigrant community was hesitant to go to the shelters because images of immigration authorities patrolling the area began to surface online. It made them feel like their own city was against them at a time when they needed them most. Constitution-free zones create communities of fear. For many immigrants, the danger of being questioned about immigration status prevents them from reporting crimes, even when they are the victim. Unreported crime only places more groups of people at risk and, overall, makes communities less safe.

In order to create a humane immigration process, citizens and non-citizens must hold policymakers accountable and get rid of discriminatory laws like 287(g) and Senate Bill 4. Abolishing the Constitution-free zone will also require pressure from the public and many organizations. For a more streamlined legal process, the League of United Latin American Citizens suggests background checks and a small application fee for incoming immigrants, as well as permanent resident status for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) and Temporary Protected Status (TPS) recipients. Other organizations propose expanding the green card lottery and asylum for immigrants escaping the dangers of their home countries.

Immigrants who come to the U.S. are only looking for an opportunity to provide for their families and themselves; so, the question of deciding who gets inside the border and who doesn’t is the same as trying to prove some people are worth more than others. The narratives created by anti-immigrant media plant the false idea that immigrants bring nothing but crime and terrorism. Increased funding for the border and enforcing laws like 287(g) empower anti-immigrant groups to vilify immigrants and promote a witch hunt that targets innocent people. This hatred and xenophobia allow law enforcement to ask any person of color or non-native English speaker about their citizenship or to detain a teenager for a minor incident. Getting rid of the 100-mile zone means standing up for justice and freedom because nobody, regardless of citizenship, should have to live under laws created from fear and hatred.

Cain Trevino is a sophomore. Cain is proud of his Mexican and Salvadorian descent and is an advocate for the implementation of Ethnic Studies in Texas. He enjoys basketball, playing the violin, and studying c omputer science. Cain plans to pursue a career in engineering at Stanford University and later earn a PhD.  

High School Winner

Ethan Peter

Kirkwood High School, Kirkwood, Mo.

I’m an expert on bussing. For the past couple of months, I’ve been a busser at a pizza restaurant near my house. It may not be the most glamorous job, but it pays all right, and, I’ll admit, I’m in it for the money.

I arrive at 5 p.m. and inspect the restaurant to ensure it is in pristine condition for the 6 p.m. wave of guests. As customers come and go, I pick up their dirty dishes, wash off their tables, and reset them for the next guests. For the first hour of my shift, the work is fairly straightforward.

I met another expert on bussing while crossing the border in a church van two years ago. Our van arrived at the border checkpoint, and an agent stopped us. She read our passports, let us through, and moved on to her next vehicle. The Border Patrol agent’s job seemed fairly straightforward.

At the restaurant, 6 p.m. means a rush of customers. It’s the end of the workday, and these folks are hungry for our pizzas and salads. My job is no longer straightforward.

Throughout the frenzy, the TVs in the restaurant buzz about waves of people coming to the U.S. border. The peaceful ebb and flow enjoyed by Border agents is disrupted by intense surges of immigrants who seek to enter the U.S. Outside forces push immigrants to the United States: wars break out in the Middle East, gangs terrorize parts of Central and South America, and economic downturns force foreigners to look to the U.S., drawn by the promise of opportunity. Refugees and migrant caravans arrive, and suddenly, a Border Patrol agent’s job is no longer straightforward.

I turn from the TVs in anticipation of a crisis exploding inside the restaurant: crowds that arrive together will leave together. I’ve learned that when a table looks finished with their dishes, I need to proactively ask to take those dishes, otherwise, I will fall behind, and the tables won’t be ready for the next customers. The challenge is judging who is finished eating. I’m forced to read clues and use my discretion.

Interpreting clues is part of a Border Patrol agent’s job, too. Lornet Turnbull states, “For example, CBP data obtained by ACLU in Michigan shows that 82 percent of foreign citizens stopped by agents in that state are Latino, and almost 1 in 3 of those processed is, in fact, a U.S. citizen.” While I try to spot customers done with their meals so I can clear their part of the table, the Border Patrol officer uses clues to detect undocumented immigrants. We both sometimes guess incorrectly, but our intentions are to do our jobs to the best of our abilities.

These situations are uncomfortable. I certainly do not enjoy interrupting a conversation to get someone’s dishes, and I doubt Border Patrol agents enjoy interrogating someone about their immigration status. In both situations, the people we mistakenly ask lose time and are subjected to awkward and uncomfortable situations. However, here’s where the busser and the Border Patrol officer’s situations are different: If I make a mistake, the customer faces a minor inconvenience. The stakes for a Border Patrol agent are much higher. Mistakenly asking for documentation and searching someone can lead to embarrassment or fear—it can even be life-changing. Thus, Border Patrol agents must be fairly certain that someone’s immigration status is questionable before they begin their interrogation.

To avoid these situations altogether, the U.S. must make the path to citizenship for immigrants easier. This is particularly true for immigrants fleeing violence. Many people object to this by saying these immigrants will bring violence with them, but data does not support this view. In 1939, a ship of Jewish refugees from Germany was turned away from the U.S.—a decision viewed negatively through the lens of history. Today, many people advocate restricting immigration for refugees from violent countries; they refuse to learn the lessons from 1939. The sad thing is that many of these immigrants are seen as just as violent as the people they are fleeing. We should not confuse the oppressed with the oppressor.

My restaurant appreciates customers because they bring us money, just as we should appreciate immigrants because they bring us unique perspectives. Equally important, immigrants provide this country with a variety of expert ideas and cultures, which builds better human connections and strengthens our society.

Ethan Peter is a junior. Ethan writes for his school newspaper, The Kirkwood Call, and plays volleyball for his high school and a club team. He hopes to continue to grow as a writer in the future. 

University Winner

Daniel Fries

Lane Community College, Eugene, Ore.

Detained on the Road to Equality

The United States is a nation of immigrants. There are currently 43 million foreign-born people living in the U.S. Millions of them are naturalized American citizens, and 23 million, or 7.2 percent of the population, are living here without documentation (US Census, 2016). One in seven residents of the United States was not born here. Multiculturalism is, and always has been, a key part of the American experience. However, romantic notions of finding a better life in the United States for immigrants and refugees don’t reflect reality. In modern history, America is a country that systematically treats immigrants—documented or not—and non-white Americans in a way that is fundamentally different than what is considered right by the majority.

The Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment states,“No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” When a suspected undocumented immigrant is detained, their basic human rights are violated. Warrantless raids on Greyhound buses within 100 miles of the border (an area referred to by some as the “Constitution-free zone”) are clear violations of human rights. These violations are not due to the current state of politics; they are the symptom of blatant racism in the United States and a system that denigrates and abuses people least able to defend themselves.

It is not surprising that some of the mechanisms that drive modern American racism are political in nature. Human beings are predisposed to dislike and distrust individuals that do not conform to the norms of their social group (Mountz, Allison). Some politicians appeal to this suspicion and wrongly attribute high crime rates to non-white immigrants. The truth is that immigrants commit fewer crimes than native-born Americans. In fact, people born in the United States are convicted of crimes at a rate twice that of undocumented non-natives (Cato Institute, 2018).

The majority of immigrants take high risks to seek a better life, giving them incentive to obey the laws of their new country. In many states, any contact with law enforcement may ultimately result in deportation and separation from family. While immigrants commit far fewer crimes, fear of violent crime by much of the U.S. population outweighs the truth. For some politicians, it is easier to sell a border wall to a scared population than it is to explain the need for reformed immigration policy. It’s easier to say that immigrants are taking people’s jobs than explain a changing global economy and its effect on employment. The only crime committed in this instance is discrimination.

Human rights are violated when an undocumented immigrant—or someone perceived as an undocumented immigrant—who has not committed a crime is detained on a Greyhound bus. When a United States citizen is detained on the same bus, constitutional rights are being violated. The fact that this happens every day and that we debate its morality makes it abundantly clear that racism is deeply ingrained in this country. Many Americans who have never experienced this type of oppression lack the capacity to understand its lasting effect. Most Americans don’t know what it’s like to be late to work because they were wrongfully detained, were pulled over by the police for the third time that month for no legal reason, or had to coordinate legal representation for their U.S. citizen grandmother because she was taken off a bus for being a suspected undocumented immigrant. This oppression is cruel and unnecessary.

America doesn’t need a wall to keep out undocumented immigrants; it needs to seriously address how to deal with immigration. It is possible to reform the current system in such a way that anyone can become a member of American society, instead of existing outside of it. If a person wants to live in the United States and agrees to follow its laws and pay its taxes, a path to citizenship should be available.

People come to the U.S. from all over the world for many reasons. Some have no other choice. There are ongoing humanitarian crises in Syria, Yemen, and South America that are responsible for the influx of immigrants and asylum seekers at our borders. If the United States wants to address the current situation, it must acknowledge the global factors affecting the immigrants at the center of this debate and make fact-informed decisions. There is a way to maintain the security of America while treating migrants and refugees compassionately, to let those who wish to contribute to our society do so, and to offer a hand up instead of building a wall.

Daniel Fries studies computer science. Daniel has served as a wildland firefighter in Oregon, California, and Alaska. He is passionate about science, nature, and the ways that technology contributes to making the world a better, more empathetic, and safer place.

Powerful Voice Winner

Emma Hernandez-Sanchez

Wellness, Business and Sports School, Woodburn, Ore.

An Emotion an Immigrant Knows Too Well

Before Donald Trump’s campaign, I was oblivious to my race and the idea of racism. As far as I knew, I was the same as everyone else. I didn’t stop to think about our different-colored skins. I lived in a house with a family and attended school five days a week just like everyone else. So, what made me different?

Seventh grade was a very stressful year—the year that race and racism made an appearance in my life. It was as if a cold splash of water woke me up and finally opened my eyes to what the world was saying. It was this year that Donald Trump started initiating change about who got the right to live in this country and who didn’t. There was a lot of talk about deportation, specifically for Mexicans, and it sparked commotion and fear in me.

I remember being afraid and nervous to go out. At home, the anxiety was there but always at the far back of my mind because I felt safe inside. My fear began as a small whisper, but every time I stepped out of my house, it got louder. I would have dreams about the deportation police coming to my school; when I went to places like the library, the park, the store, or the mall, I would pay attention to everyone and to my surroundings. In my head, I would always ask myself, “Did they give us nasty looks?,” “Why does it seem quieter?” “Was that a cop I just saw?” I would notice little things, like how there were only a few Mexicans out or how empty a store was. When my mom went grocery shopping, I would pray that she would be safe. I was born in America, and both my parents were legally documented. My mom was basically raised here. Still, I couldn’t help but feel nervous.

I knew I shouldn’t have been afraid, but with one look, agents could have automatically thought my family and I were undocumented. Even when the deportation police would figure out that we weren’t undocumented, they’d still figure out a way to deport us—at least that was what was going through my head. It got so bad that I didn’t even want to do the simplest things like go grocery shopping because there was a rumor that the week before a person was taken from Walmart.

I felt scared and nervous, and I wasn’t even undocumented. I can’t even imagine how people who are undocumented must have felt, how they feel. All I can think is that it’s probably ten times worse than what I was feeling. Always worrying about being deported and separated from your family must be hard. I was living in fear, and I didn’t even have it that bad. My heart goes out to families that get separated from each other. It’s because of those fears that I detest the “Constitution-free zone.”

Legally documented and undocumented people who live in the Constitution-free zone are in constant fear of being deported. People shouldn’t have to live this way. In fact, there have been arguments that the 100-mile zone violates the Fourth Amendment, which gives people the right to be protected from unreasonable searches and seizures of property by the government. Unfortunately, the U.S. Supreme Court has consistently upheld these practices.

One question that Lornet Turnbull asks in her YES! article “Two-Thirds of Americans Live in the ‘Constitution-Free Zone’” is, “How should we decide who is welcome in the U.S and who is not?” Instead of focusing on immigrants, how about we focus on the people who shoot up schools, rape girls, exploit women for human sex trafficking, and sell drugs? These are the people who make our country unsafe; they are the ones who shouldn’t be accepted. Even if they are citizens and have the legal right to live here, they still shouldn’t be included. If they are the ones making this country unsafe, then what gives them the right to live here?

I don’t think that the Constitution-free zone is an effective and justifiable way to make this country more “secure.” If someone isn’t causing any trouble in the United States and is just simply living their life, then they should be welcomed here. We shouldn’t have to live in fear that our rights will be taken away. I believe that it’s unfair for people to automatically think that it’s the Hispanics that make this country unsafe. Sure, get all the undocumented people out of the United States, but it’s not going to make this country any safer. It is a society that promotes violence that makes us unsafe, not a race.

Emma Hernandez-Sanchez is a freshman who is passionate about literature and her education. Emma wan ts to inspire others to be creative and try their best. She enjoys reading and creating stories that spark imagination. 

  Powerful Voice Winner

Tiara Lewis

Columbus City Preparatory Schools for Girls,

Columbus, Ohio

Hold Your Head High and Keep Those Fists Down

How would you feel if you walked into a store and salespeople were staring at you? Making you feel like you didn’t belong. Judging you. Assuming that you were going to take something, even though you might have $1,000 on you to spend. Sometimes it doesn’t matter. This is because people will always judge you. It might not be because of your race but for random reasons, like because your hair is black instead of dirty blonde. Or because your hair is short and not long. Or just because they are having a bad day. People will always find ways to bring you down and accuse you of something, but that doesn’t mean you have to go along with it.

Every time I entered a store, I would change my entire personality. I would change the way I talked and the way I walked. I always saw myself as needing to fit in. If a store was all pink, like the store Justice, I would act like a girly girl. If I was shopping in a darker store, like Hot Topic, I would hum to the heavy metal songs and act more goth. I had no idea that I was feeding into stereotypes.

When I was 11, I walked into Claire’s, a well-known store at the mall. That day was my sister’s birthday. Both of us were really happy and had money to spend. As soon as we walked into the store, two employees stared me and my sister down, giving us cold looks. When we went to the cashier to buy some earrings, we thought everything was fine. However, when we walked out of the store, there was a policeman and security guards waiting. At that moment, my sister and I looked at one another, and I said, in a scared little girl voice, “I wonder what happened? Why are they here?”

Then, they stopped us. We didn’t know what was going on. The same employee that cashed us out was screaming as her eyes got big, “What did you steal?” I was starting to get numb. Me and my sister looked at each other and told the truth: “We didn’t steal anything. You can check us.” They rudely ripped through our bags and caused a big scene. My heart was pounding like a drum. I felt violated and scared. Then, the policeman said, “Come with us. We need to call your parents.” While this was happening, the employees were talking to each other, smiling. We got checked again. The police said that they were going to check the cameras, but after they were done searching us, they realized that we didn’t do anything wrong and let us go about our day.

Walking in the mall was embarrassing—everybody staring, looking, and whispering as we left the security office. This made me feel like I did something wrong while knowing I didn’t. We went back to the store to get our shopping bags. The employees sneered, “Don’t you niggers ever come in this store again. You people always take stuff. This time you just got lucky.” Their faces were red and frightening. It was almost like they were in a scary 3D movie, screaming, and coming right at us. I felt hurt and disappointed that someone had the power within them to say something so harsh and wrong to another person. Those employees’ exact words will forever be engraved in my memory.

In the article, “Two-Thirds of Americans Live in the ‘Constitution-Free Zone’,” Lornet Turnbull states, “In January, they stopped a man in Indio, California, as he was boarding a Los Angeles-bound bus. While questioning this man about his immigration status, agents told him his ‘shoes looked suspicious,’ like those of someone who had recently crossed the border.” They literally judged him by his shoes. They had no proof of anything. If a man is judged by his shoes, who else and what else are being judged in the world?

In the novel  To Kill a Mockingbird , a character named Atticus states, “You just hold your head high and keep those fists down. No matter what anybody says to you, don’t you let’em get your goat. Try fighting with your head for a change.” No matter how much you might try to change yourself, your hairstyle, and your clothes, people will always make assumptions about you. However, you never need to change yourself to make a point or to feel like you fit in. Be yourself. Don’t let those stereotypes turn into facts.

Tiara Lewis is in the eighth grade. Tiara plays the clarinet and is trying to change the world— one essay at a time. She is most often found curled up on her bed, “Divergent” in one hand and a cream-filled doughnut in the other.

Hailee Park

 Wielding My Swords

If I were a swordsman, my weapons would be my identities. I would wield one sword in my left hand and another in my right. People expect me to use both fluently, but I’m not naturally ambidextrous. Even though I am a right-handed swordsman, wielding my dominant sword with ease, I must also carry a sword in my left, the heirloom of my family heritage. Although I try to live up to others’ expectations by using both swords, I may appear inexperienced while attempting to use my left. In some instances, my heirloom is mistaken for representing different families’ since the embellishments look similar.

Many assumptions are made about my heirloom sword based on its appearance, just as many assumptions are made about me based on my physical looks. “Are you Chinese?” When I respond with ‘no,’ they stare at me blankly in confusion. There is a multitude of Asian cultures in the United States, of which I am one. Despite what many others may assume, I am not Chinese; I am an American-born Korean.

“Then… are you Japanese?” Instead of asking a broader question, like “What is your ethnicity?,” they choose to ask a direct question. I reply that I am Korean. I like to think that this answers their question sufficiently; however, they think otherwise. Instead, I take this as their invitation to a duel.

They attack me with another question: “Are you from North Korea or South Korea?” I don’t know how to respond because I’m not from either of those countries; I was born in America. I respond with “South Korea,” where my parents are from because I assume that they’re asking me about my ethnicity. I’m not offended by this situation because I get asked these questions frequently. From this experience, I realize that people don’t know how to politely ask questions about identity to those unlike them. Instead of asking “What is your family’s ethnicity?,” many people use rude alternatives, such as “Where are you from?,” or “What language do you speak?”

When people ask these questions, they make assumptions based on someone’s appearance. In my case, people make inferences like:

“She must be really good at speaking Korean.”

“She’s Asian; therefore, she must be born in Asia.”

“She’s probably Chinese.”

These thoughts may appear in their heads because making assumptions is natural. However, there are instances when assumptions can be taken too far. Some U.S. Border Patrol agents in the “Constitution-free zone” have made similar assumptions based on skin color and clothing. For example, agents marked someone as an undocumented immigrant because “his shoes looked suspicious, like those of someone who had recently crossed the border.”

Another instance was when a Jamaican grandmother was forced off a bus when she was visiting her granddaughter. The impetus was her accent and the color of her skin. Government officials chose to act on their assumptions, even though they had no solid proof that the grandmother was an undocumented immigrant. These situations just touch the surface of the issue of racial injustice in America.

When someone makes unfair assumptions about me, they are pointing their sword and challenging me to a duel; I cannot refuse because I am already involved. It is not appropriate for anyone, including Border Patrol agents, to make unjustified assumptions or to act on those assumptions. Border Patrol agents have no right to confiscate the swords of the innocent solely based on their conjectures. The next time I’m faced with a situation where racially ignorant assumptions are made about me, I will refuse to surrender my sword, point it back at them, and triumphantly fight their ignorance with my cultural pride.

Hailee Park is an eighth grader who enjoys reading many genres. While reading, Hailee recognized the racial injustices against immigrants in America, which inspired her essay. Hailee plays violin in her school’s orchestra and listens to and composes music. 

Aminata Toure

East Harlem School, New York City, N.Y.

We Are Still Dreaming

As a young Muslim American woman, I have been labeled things I am not: a terrorist, oppressed, and an ISIS supporter. I have been accused of planning 9/11, an event that happened before I was born. Lately, in the media, Muslims have been portrayed as supporters of a malevolent cause, terrorizing others just because they do not have the same beliefs. I often scoff at news reports that portray Muslims in such a light, just as I scoff at all names I’ve been labeled. They are words that do not define me. 

In a land where labels have stripped immigrants of their personalities, they are now being stripped of something that makes them human: their rights. The situation described in Lornet Turnbull’s article, “Two-Thirds of Americans are Living in the ‘Constitution-Free Zone’,” goes directly against the Constitution, the soul of this country, something that asserts that we are all equal before the law. If immigrants do not have protection from the Constitution, is there any way to feel safe?

Although most insults are easy to shrug off, they are still threatening. I am ashamed when I feel afraid to go to the mosque. Friday is an extremely special day when we gather together to pray, but lately, I haven’t been going to the mosque for Jummah prayers. I have realized that I can never feel safe when in a large group of Muslims because of the widespread hatred of Muslims in the United States, commonly referred to as Islamophobia. Police surround our mosque, and there are posters warning us about dangerous people who might attack our place of worship because we have been identified as terrorists.

I wish I could tune out every news report that blasts out the headline “Terrorist Attack!” because I know that I will be judged based on the actions of someone else. Despite this anti-Muslim racism, what I have learned from these insults is that I am proud of my faith. I am a Muslim, but being Muslim doesn’t define me. I am a writer, a student, a dreamer, a friend, a New Yorker, a helper, and an American. I am unapologetically me, a Muslim, and so much more. I definitely think everyone should get to know a Muslim. They would see that some of us are also Harry Potter fans, not just people planning to bomb the White House.

Labels are unjustly placed on us because of the way we speak, the color of our skin, and what we believe in—not for who we are as individuals. Instead, we should all take more time to get to know one another. As Martin Luther King Jr. said in his “I Have a Dream” speech, we should be judged by the content of our character and not the color of our skin. To me, it seems Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream is a dream that should be a reality. But, for now, we are dreaming.

Aminata Toure is a Guinean American Muslim student. Aminata loves spoken-word poetry and performs in front of hundreds of people at her school’s annual poetry slam. She loves writing, language, history, and West African food and culture. Aminata wants to work at the United Nations when she grows up.

From the Author 

Dear Alessandra, Cain, Daniel, Tiara, Emma, Hailee, Aminata and Ethan,

I am moved and inspired by the thought each of you put into your responses to my story about this so-called “Constitution-free zone.” Whether we realize it or not, immigration in this country impacts all of us— either because we are immigrants ourselves, have neighbors, friends, and family who are, or because we depend on immigrants for many aspects of our lives—from the food we put on our tables to the technology that bewitches us. It is true that immigrants enrich our society in so many important ways, as many of you point out.

And while the federal statute that permits U.S. Border Patrol officers to stop and search at will any of the 200 million of us in this 100-mile shadow border, immigrants have been their biggest targets. In your essays, you highlight how unjust the law is—nothing short of racial profiling. It is heartening to see each of you, in your own way, speaking out against the unfairness of this practice.

Alessandra, you are correct, the immigration system in this country is in shambles. You make a powerful argument about how profiling ostracizes entire communities and how the warrantless searches allowed by this statute impede trust-building between law enforcement and the people they are called on to serve.

And Cain, you point out how this 100-mile zone, along with other laws in the state of Texas where you attended school, make people feel like they’re “always under surveillance, and that, at any moment, you may be pulled over to be questioned and detained.” It seems unimaginable that people live their lives this way, yet millions in this country do.

You, Emma, for example, speak of living in a kind of silent fear since Donald Trump took office, even though you were born in this country and your parents are here legally. You are right, “We shouldn’t have to live in fear that our rights will be taken away.”

And Aminata, you write of being constantly judged and labeled because you’re a Muslim American. How unfortunate and sad that in a country that generations of people fled to search for religious freedom, you are ashamed at times to practice your own. The Constitution-free zone, you write, “goes directly against the Constitution, the soul of this country, something that asserts that we are all equal before the law.”

Tiara, I could personally relate to your gripping account of being racially profiled and humiliated in a store. You were appalled that the Greyhound passenger in California was targeted by Border Patrol because they claimed his shoes looked like those of someone who had walked across the border: “If a man is judged by his shoes,” you ask, “who else and what else are getting judged in the world?”

Hailee, you write about the incorrect assumptions people make about you, an American born of Korean descent, based solely on your appearance and compared it to the assumptions Border Patrol agents make about those they detain in this zone.

Daniel, you speak of the role of political fearmongering in immigration. It’s not new, but under the current administration, turning immigrants into boogiemen for political gain is currency. You write that “For some politicians, it is easier to sell a border wall to a scared population than it is to explain the need for reformed immigration policy.”

And Ethan, you recognize the contributions immigrants make to this country through the connections we all make with them and the strength they bring to our society.

Keep speaking your truth. Use your words and status to call out injustice wherever and whenever you see it. Untold numbers of people spoke out against this practice by Border Patrol and brought pressure on Greyhound to change. In December, the company began offering passengers written guidance—in both Spanish and English—so they understand what their rights are when officers board their bus. Small steps, yes, but progress nonetheless, brought about by people just like you, speaking up for those who sometimes lack a voice to speak up for themselves.

With sincere gratitude,

Lornet Turnbull

Lornet Turnbull is an editor for YES! and a Seattle-based freelance writer. Follow her on Twitter  @TurnbullL .

We received many outstanding essays for the Winter 2019 Student Writing Competition. Though not every participant can win the contest, we’d like to share some excerpts that caught our eye:

After my parents argued with the woman, they told me if you can fight with fists, you prove the other person’s point, but when you fight with the power of your words, you can have a much bigger impact. I also learned that I should never be ashamed of where I am from. —Fernando Flores, The East Harlem School, New York City, N.Y.

Just because we were born here and are privileged to the freedom of our country, we do not have the right to deprive others of a chance at success. —Avalyn Cox, Brier Terrace Middle School, Brier, Wash.

Maybe, rather than a wall, a better solution to our immigration problem would be a bridge. —Sean Dwyer, Lane Community College, Eugene, Ore.

If anything, what I’ve learned is that I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to change our world. I don’t know how to make a difference, how to make my voice heard. But I have learned the importance of one word, a simple two-letter word that’s taught to the youngest of us, a word we all know but never recognize: the significance of ‘we.’ —Enna Chiu, Highland Park High School, Highland Park, N.J.

Not to say the Border Patrol should not have authorization to search people within the border, but I am saying it should be near the border, more like one mile, not 100. —Cooper Tarbuck, Maranacook Middle School, Manchester, Maine.

My caramel color, my feminism, my Spanish and English language, my Mexican culture, and my young Latina self gives me the confidence to believe in myself, but it can also teach others that making wrong assumptions about someone because of their skin color, identity, culture, looks or gender can make them look and be weaker. —Ana Hernandez, The East Harlem School, New York City, N.Y.

We don’t need to change who we are to fit these stereotypes like someone going on a diet to fit into a new pair of pants. —Kaylee Meyers, Brier Terrace Middle School, Brier, Wash.

If a human being with no criminal background whatsoever has trouble entering the country because of the way he or she dresses or speaks, border protection degenerates into arbitrariness. —Jonas Schumacher, Heidelberg University of Education, Heidelberg, Germany

I believe that you should be able to travel freely throughout your own country without the constant fear of needing to prove that you belong here . —MacKenzie Morgan, Lincoln Middle School, Ypsilanti, Mich.

America is known as “the Land of Opportunity,” but this label is quickly disappearing. If we keep stopping those striving for a better life, then what will become of this country? —Ennyn Chiu, Highland Park Middle School, Highland Park, N.J.

The fact that two-thirds of the people in the U.S. are living in an area called the “Constitution-free zone” is appalling. Our Constitution was made to protect our rights as citizens, no matter where we are in the country. These systems that we are using to “secure” our country are failing, and we need to find a way to change them. —Isis Liaw, Brier Terrace Middle School, Brier, Wash.

I won’t let anyone, especially a man, tell me what I can do, because I am a strong Latina. I will represent where I come from, and I am proud to be Mexican. I will show others that looks can be deceiving. I will show others that even the weakest animal, a beautiful butterfly, is tough, and it will cross any border, no matter how challenging the journey may be. —Brittany Leal, The East Harlem School, New York City, N.Y.

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My Immigrant Parents Wanted A Better Life For Me. This Is Why I Chose My Path Over Theirs.

Guest writer

My father’s family left Greece and emigrated to the United States when he was a teenager. As many come to learn when pursuing the American dream, it wasn’t all rainbows and white picket fences. My grandparents, who didn’t speak English at the time, struggled to adjust to their new life far from friends and family. While they spent 12 to 14 hours a day working toward the better life that they had dreamed of, my dad skipped out on his high school classes. A nonconformist at heart — a trait I clearly inherited — he refused to go to school in protest of his new life. In lieu of studying, he started working in restaurants owned by other immigrants in New England.

At the age of 21, my rebellious father somehow convinced his parents to help him open his own restaurant. Although he had rejected the life they’d envisioned for him, they wanted to support him on his quest to create his own version of happiness. They moved down the coastline in search of a new home, eventually settling in a small town in South Carolina. A few years after successfully establishing his business, my dad met my mom during a trip back home to Greece.

My mom grew up in poverty, working on farms with her parents. She also hadn’t gone to high school, but in her case, she had made that choice to help her family earn an income. Though she was only 19 when she met my dad, she was already considered too old to find a suitable husband, according to the norms of a small Greek village in the 1980s. When a successful Greek businessman living in America showed interest in her, everyone encouraged her to seize this opportunity for a better life. My parents eventually got married, my mom joined my dad in the U.S., and I was born shortly after.

“I associated my dad’s restaurant with a sense of immense pride, security and connection. But as I got older, that transformed into feelings of anxiety and being overwhelmed.”

Growing up, my father’s restaurant played a central role in my life. I remember playing songs on the old jukebox we used to have many years ago. When Hurricane Hugo devastated the coast of South Carolina in 1989, we sought shelter in the back of the building. I sometimes had my birthday parties there. People in town knew me by my father’s business. Customers sometimes came from other states to eat our food. I associated my dad’s restaurant with a sense of immense pride, security and connection.

But as I got older, that transformed into feelings of anxiety and being overwhelmed. My father intended for me to eventually take over the business, but I had no interest in following in his footsteps. While working there as a teenager, I would sometimes lock myself in the bathroom and cry. I wanted to do something that fulfilled a sense of purpose, and running a restaurant didn’t feel meaningful to me.

Throughout high school, I desperately tried to find other jobs over my summer breaks so I wouldn’t have to run the register or wait tables. I started to drop not-so-subtle hints that I wasn’t interested in taking over the business. My dad eventually realized that I intended to live my life on my own terms. He understood why it was important for me to pursue my own dreams, because he had made the same decision despite what had been expected of him. I think he could see himself reflected in me, and he started to encourage me to do what would make me happy.

Even though I was determined to forge my own path, I continued to feel stifled and limited by my mother’s unrealistically high expectations. I felt immense pressure to make her proud, which meant being involved in every possible extracurricular activity while also maintaining an excellent academic record. When I graduated third in my high school class, my mom expressed disappointment that I didn’t make salutatorian or valedictorian. No matter what degree of success I achieved, I felt like I could never do or be enough.

“Even though I was determined to forge my own path, I continued to feel stifled and limited by my mother’s unrealistically high expectations.”

I had always been a very creative child. I loved reading, writing and creating art. I tried to funnel my artistic passions into a profession my mom would approve of — architecture. But after the suicide of a close friend, I started to think about pursuing a career as a therapist instead. My mom was supportive of architecture because she thought it was respectable and financially lucrative. When I started talking about my interest in the social sciences, she perceived that as a downgrade and questioned why I would be willing to give up security and stability.

I felt obligated to please her, especially after rejecting my father’s business, so I applied to a school with one of the best architecture programs in the country and was accepted. But I couldn’t stop thinking about pursuing a career that would allow me to cultivate meaningful human connection. I had never really bought into traditional definitions of success, and purpose meant far more to me than money. Just a few days before the start of my freshman year, I filed the paperwork to change my areas of study to sociology and psychology.

As children of immigrants, we want to make our parents proud, and we want them to feel that their sacrifice was worth whatever they might have given up. But what does that mean, really? Do we carry on their legacy, or do we create our own? The dilemma we face is usually further complicated by cultural differences. Most of our parents come from regions with collectivist cultures, whether it’s Cuba, Mexico, India, Iran, or in my case, Greece. These are societies that place an emphasis on community — inheriting a family business is the expected norm, and the pursuit of individual dreams is not encouraged. But we find ourselves in the United States, a highly individualistic culture that emphasizes choice, freedom and personal fulfillment. We’re torn between who we want to be and who we are expected to be.

I made the decision to pave my own path because I would have become resentful and miserable if I had forced myself to take over my dad’s business out of a sense of expectation or obligation. I often worry that my parents think I don’t appreciate them because I chose my desires over theirs, but nothing could be further from the truth. I didn’t always agree with their perspectives or reasoning, but I was always grateful for everything they did to provide for me.

“As children of immigrants, we want to make our parents proud, and we want them to feel that their sacrifice was worth whatever they might have given up. But what does that mean, really?”

But maybe choosing my own dreams is the ultimate expression of my gratitude. I have a choice because of the sacrifices they made for me. The ability to define my future is possible because they made it so. Am I really supposed to follow in their footsteps when everything they did was to make sure I could make choices for myself?

We so often ignore the desires of our hearts, give up on our dreams and betray ourselves in order to please our immigrant parents. They want us to choose “safe” paths that lead to “guaranteed” success. They push us hard and expect a lot from us because they don’t want us to struggle in the same ways they did. They just want what’s best for us, but they unintentionally stifle our spirits in the process. If their sacrifices were made in order to create space for our happiness, shouldn’t we be the ones to decide what that happiness looks like?

My personal journey as the daughter of immigrants has taught me a critical life lesson — only I can give myself the approval and worth I so desperately seek from others. I could have spent my whole life doing what I thought would please my parents, and they would have always expected me to go one step further. I could deny what was in my heart and strive to live up to impossibly high expectations, or I could choose a life that would bring me joy.

“My personal journey as the daughter of immigrants has taught me a critical life lesson — only I can give myself the approval and worth I so desperately seek from others.”

I chose the latter, and I’ve created a fulfilling life that I love. I didn’t end up pursuing therapy in the long term. During my undergraduate studies, I lived in housing designed to cultivate cross-cultural relationships between international and domestic students. This experience had a profound impact on me and shifted my professional path. I went on to get my master’s degree in cultural anthropology and dedicated myself to a career in intercultural education. I now travel the world full-time as a location-independent intercultural consultant and coach, and I spend every day doing work that gives me purpose.

Not everyone, including my parents, is able to comprehend the value of my work or the life I’ve created for myself, but I do. And I’ve come to realize that has to be enough for me. Not everyone will understand or appreciate what I have to offer. Not everyone will support me or the choices I make. But it’s not my responsibility to mold who I am to fit into a box built out of someone else’s expectations. And it’s not my job to fulfill someone else’s dreams. I am here to live out my purpose, and that’s what I intend to do.

Have a compelling first-person story or experience you want to share? Send your story description to [email protected].

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College Essay: My Parents’ Sacrifice Makes Me Strong

After living in Texas briefly, my mom moved in with my aunt in Minnesota, where she helped raise my cousins while my aunt and uncle worked. My mom still glances to the building where she first lived. I think it’s amazing how she first moved here, she lived in a small apartment and now owns a house. 

My dad’s family was poor. He dropped out of elementary school to work. My dad was the only son my grandpa had. My dad thought he was responsible to help his family out, so he decided to leave for Minnesota   because  of  many  work opportunities .   

My parents met working in cleaning at the IDS  C enter during night shifts. I am their only child, and their main priority was not leaving me alone while they worked. My mom left her cleaning job to work mornings at a warehouse. My dad continued his job in cleaning at night.   

My dad would get me ready for school and walked me to the bus stop while waiting in the cold. When I arrived home from school, my dad had dinner prepared and the house cleaned. I would eat with him at the table while watching TV, but he left after to pick up my mom from work.   

My mom would get home in the afternoon. Most memories of my mom are watching her lying down on the couch watching her  n ovelas  –  S panish soap operas  – a nd falling asleep in the living room. I knew her job was physically tiring, so I didn’t bother her.  

Seeing my parents work hard and challenge Mexican customs influence my values today as a person. As a child, my dad cooked and cleaned, to help out my mom, which is rare in Mexican culture. Conservative Mexicans believe men are superior to women; women are seen as housewives who cook, clean and obey their husbands. My parents constantly tell me I should get an education to never depend on a man. My family challenged  machismo , Mexican sexism, by creating their own values and future.  

My parents encouraged me to, “ ponte  las  pilas ” in school, which translates to “put on your batteries” in English. It means that I should put in effort and work into achieving my goal. I was taught that school is the key object in life. I stay up late to complete all my homework assignments, because of this I miss a good amount of sleep, but I’m willing to put in effort to have good grades that will benefit me. I have softball practice right after school, so I try to do nearly all of my homework ahead of time, so I won’t end up behind.  

My parents taught me to set high standards for myself. My school operates on a 4.0-scale. During lunch, my friends talked joyfully about earning a 3.25 on a test. When I earn less than a 4.25, I feel disappointed. My friends reacted with, “You should be happy. You’re extra . ” Hearing that phrase flashbacks to my parents seeing my grades. My mom would pressure me to do better when I don’t earn all 4.0s  

Every once in  awhile , I struggled with following their value of education. It can be difficult to balance school, sports and life. My parents think I’m too young to complain about life. They don’t think I’m tired, because I don’t physically work, but don’t understand that I’m mentally tired and stressed out. It’s hard for them to understand this because they didn’t have the experience of going to school.   

The way I could thank my parents for their sacrifice is accomplishing their American dream by going to college and graduating to have a professional career. I visualize the day I graduate college with my degree, so my  family  celebrates by having a carne  asada (BBQ) in the yard. All my friends, relatives, and family friends would be there to congratulate me on my accomplishments.  

As teenagers, my parents worked hard manual labor jobs to be able to provide for themselves and their family. Both of them woke up early in the morning to head to work. Staying up late to earn extra cash. As teenagers, my parents tried going to school here in the U.S .  but weren’t able to, so they continued to work. Early in the morning now, my dad arrives home from work at 2:30 a.m .,  wakes up to drop me off at school around 7:30 a.m . , so I can focus on studying hard to earn good grades. My parents want me to stay in school and not prefer work to  head on their  same path as them. Their struggle influences me to have a good work ethic in school and go against the odds.  

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Your chance of acceptance, your chancing factors, extracurriculars, writing a college essay as a first generation immigrant - any advice.

Hi all, I'm a first-generation immigrant, and I believe it has played a significant role in my life. I want to convey this in my college essay, but I don't want to come across as clichéd or repetitive. Any tips on how to approach this topic convincingly and authentically?

Hi there! It's great that you recognize the importance of sharing your unique experience as a first-generation immigrant in your college essay. Here are some tips to help you approach this topic while avoiding clichés and maintaining authenticity:

1. Focus on a specific moment or experience that encapsulates your journey as a first-generation immigrant. This can help create a vivid picture for the admissions officer reading your essay. For example, you could talk about a time when you had to navigate through a challenging situation as a newcomer or when you embraced a cultural tradition from both your native and adopted countries.

2. Show, don't tell. Instead of simply stating how being a first-generation immigrant has impacted your life, share engaging anecdotes that demonstrate this influence. Make sure to use vivid language and sensory details to bring your story to life.

3. Reflect on your growth. Discuss how embracing and overcoming the challenges of being a first-generation immigrant has shaped your character and inspired you to pursue your goals. Highlight the strengths and skills you've developed as a result of your experiences.

4. Don't be afraid to showcase your unique perspective. Colleges appreciate diverse perspectives and experiences that contribute to their campus community. Emphasize the ways in which your background as a first-generation immigrant has influenced your worldview and the value you can bring to the college environment.

Best of luck with your essay and college applications!

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Apr 10, 2023

How To Write Essays About Immigration (With Examples)

Immigrants bring diverse perspectives and skills that can enrich our societies and economies. If you want to gain insight into the impact of immigration on society and culture, keep reading!

Immigration, a subject deeply woven into the fabric of global discussions, touches on political, economic, and social nuances. As globalization propels many to seek new horizons, understanding the multifaceted impacts of migration is crucial. Crafting a compelling essay on such a vast topic requires more than just research; it demands the delicate weaving of insights into a coherent narrative. For those keen on delivering a polished essay on immigration, considering assistance from a reliable essay writing tool can be a game-changer. This tool not only refines the craft of writing but ensures your perspectives on immigration are articulated with clarity and precision.

Here are our Top 5 Essay Examples and Ideas about Immigration:

The economic impact of immigration on host countries, introduction.

In many nations, immigration has been a hotly debated issue, with supporters and opponents disputing how it would affect the home nation. The economic impact of immigration on host countries is one of the essential components of this discussion. Immigration's economic effects may be favorable or harmful, depending on many circumstances.

This article will examine the economic effects of immigration on the receiving nations, examining both the advantages and disadvantages that immigration may have. You will better know how immigration impacts a nation's economy and the variables that influence it after this article.

Immigration's effects on labor markets

An essential component of the total economic impact of immigration is how it affects labor markets. Immigration may affect labor markets, including shifting labor supply and demand, opening new job possibilities, and perhaps affecting local employees' earnings and prospects. This section will examine how immigration affects labor markets in receiving nations.

The shift in the labor supply is one of immigration's most apparent effects on labor markets. When more employees are available in the host nation due to immigration, there may be more competition for open positions. In fields that serve immigrant populations, such as ethnic food shops or language schools, immigrants can also generate new jobs.

Another significant impact of immigration on labor markets is its effect on wages and income distribution. Some studies have suggested that immigration can reduce wages for native workers, particularly those who are less educated or have lower skill levels. 

Immigrants can also contribute to economic growth and innovation, which can positively impact labor markets. Immigrants often have unique skills, experiences, and perspectives that can help drive innovation and create new job opportunities in the host country. Furthermore, immigrants are often more entrepreneurial and more likely to start businesses, which can generate new jobs and contribute to economic growth.

The effect of immigration on wages and income distribution

The effect of immigration on wages and income distribution is a crucial area of concern in the overall economic impact of immigration. Immigration can affect wages and income distribution in various ways, which can have significant implications for both native workers and immigrants. In this section, we will explore the effect of immigration on wages and income distribution in host countries.

One of the primary ways that immigration can impact wages and income distribution is by changing the supply and demand of labor. With an influx of immigrants, the labor supply increases, which can lead to increased competition for jobs. Some studies suggest that immigration harms wages for native workers, while others offer no significant effect.

Another way that immigration can impact wages and income distribution is through its effect on the composition of the workforce. Immigrants often fill low-skilled jobs in industries such as agriculture, construction, and hospitality, which tend to pay lower wages. 

Immigration can also impact income distribution by contributing to the overall level of economic inequality in a host country. While immigration can lead to lower wages for some native workers, it can also lead to higher wages and increased economic mobility for some immigrants. Furthermore, immigrants may face various barriers to upward mobility, such as discrimination or lack of access to education and training. This can lead to increased income inequality between native and immigrant workers.

The contribution of immigrants to economic growth and innovation

Immigrants have historically played a significant role in driving economic growth and innovation in host countries. In this section, we will explore the contribution of immigrants to economic growth and innovation and the factors that enable them to do so.

One of the primary ways that immigrants contribute to economic growth is through their entrepreneurial activities. Immigrants are often more likely to start their businesses than native-born individuals, and these businesses can create jobs and drive economic growth. Immigrant entrepreneurs have contributed to developing industries such as technology, healthcare, and hospitality. Additionally, immigrants are often overrepresented in STEM fields, which is critical to driving innovation and economic growth.

Another way that immigrants contribute to economic growth is through their impact on the labor force. Immigrants tend to be more mobile than native-born individuals, which can lead to a more flexible and adaptable workforce. Immigrants also tend to fill critical roles in industries such as healthcare and agriculture, which are essential to maintaining the functioning of the economy. By filling these roles, immigrants contribute to the overall productivity and growth of the economy.

The costs and benefits of social welfare programs for immigrants

The issue of social welfare programs for immigrants has been a controversial topic in many host countries. In this section, we will explore the costs and benefits of social welfare programs for immigrants and the policy implications.

One of the primary benefits of social welfare programs for immigrants is that they can help reduce poverty and promote social inclusion. Immigrants often face significant barriers to economic mobility, such as language barriers and discrimination. Social welfare programs can help provide a safety net for those struggling to make ends meet and promote social cohesion by reducing inequalities.

However, social welfare programs for immigrants also come with costs. One concern is that these programs may attract immigrants primarily seeking to access social welfare benefits rather than contributing to the economy. This can strain public finances and create resentment among native-born individuals who feel their tax dollars are being used to support immigrants.

Another concern is that social welfare programs may create disincentives for immigrants to work and contribute to the economy. If the benefits of social welfare programs are too generous, some immigrants may choose to rely on them rather than seek employment. This can create long-term dependence and reduce overall economic productivity.

The impact of immigration on public finances and fiscal policies

The effect of immigration on public finances and fiscal policies is a topic of significant interest and debate. This section will explore how immigration affects public finances and how host countries can implement budgetary policies to manage the impact.

One way that immigration can impact public finances is through taxes. Immigrants who are employed and pay taxes can contribute to the tax base of the host country, which can provide additional revenue for public services and infrastructure. However, immigrants who are not employed or earn low wages may contribute fewer taxes, which can strain public finances. 

Fiscal policies can be used to manage the impact of immigration on public finances. One guideline is to increase taxes on immigrants to offset the costs of public services they use. However, this can create a disincentive for highly skilled and educated immigrants to migrate to the host country. Another policy is to increase spending on public services to accommodate the needs of immigrants. However, this can strain public finances and lead to resentment among native-born individuals who feel their tax dollars are being used to support immigrants.

In conclusion, the economic impact of immigration is a complex issue with both costs and benefits for host countries. Immigration can impact labor markets, wages and income distribution, economic growth and innovation, social welfare programs, public finances, and fiscal policies. 

The social and cultural implications of immigration

Immigration has social and cultural implications that affect both immigrants and host countries. The movement of people from one place to another can result in a blending of cultures, traditions, and ideas. At the same time, immigration can also result in social and cultural tensions as different groups struggle to integrate and adjust to new environments. 

The social and cultural implications of immigration have become increasingly important in today's globalized world as the movement of people across borders has become more common. In this article, we will explore the various social and cultural implications of immigration and how they impact immigrants and host communities.

The impact of immigration on social cohesion and integration

Immigration has a significant impact on social cohesion and integration in host countries. Social cohesion refers to the degree to which members of a society feel connected and share a sense of belonging. In contrast, integration refers to the process by which immigrants become a part of the host society. Immigration can either enhance or hinder social cohesion and integration, depending on how it is managed and perceived by the host society.

Another factor that can impact social cohesion and integration is the level of diversity within the host society. Increased diversity can lead to greater cultural exchange and understanding but also social tensions and the formation of segregated communities. Promoting social interaction and cooperation among diverse groups can help mitigate these tensions and promote social cohesion.

The perception of immigrants by the host society also plays a significant role in social cohesion and integration. Negative stereotypes and discriminatory attitudes can hinder integration and create barriers to social cohesion. On the other hand, positive attitudes towards immigrants and their contributions to society can facilitate integration and promote social cohesion.

The role of language and communication in the integration of immigrants

Language and communication play a crucial role in integrating immigrants into host societies. Immigrants may need the ability to communicate effectively with others to overcome significant barriers to social and economic integration. Language and communication skills are essential for accessing education, finding employment, and participating in civic life.

Language is one of the primary barriers immigrants face when integrating into a new society. Without proficiency in the host country's language, immigrants may struggle to understand instructions, participate in conversations, and access essential services. This can lead to social isolation and hinder economic opportunities.

Language training programs are one way to address this issue. Effective language training programs can help immigrants learn the host country's language and develop the communication skills necessary for successful integration. These programs can also give immigrants the cultural knowledge and understanding essential to navigate the host society.

The effect of immigration on cultural diversity and identity

Immigration can significantly impact the cultural diversity and identity of both host societies and immigrant communities. The cultural exchange resulting from immigration can enrich societies and provide opportunities for learning and growth. However, immigration can also pose challenges to preserving cultural identities and maintaining social cohesion.

One of the primary ways in which immigration affects cultural diversity and identity is through the introduction of new customs, traditions, and beliefs. Immigrant communities often bring unique cultural practices, such as food, music, and art, that can enhance the cultural landscape of the host society. Exposure to new cultures can broaden the perspectives of individuals and communities, leading to greater tolerance and understanding.

The challenges and benefits of multiculturalism in host countries

Multiculturalism refers to the coexistence of different cultural groups within a society. It is a concept that has become increasingly important in modern societies characterized by race, ethnicity, religion, and language diversity. 

Multiculturalism is often promoted to promote tolerance, social cohesion, and the celebration of diversity. 

Challenges of multiculturalism

Multiculturalism presents a range of challenges that can impact host societies. These challenges include social division, discrimination, language barriers, and cultural clashes. For example, when immigrants share different values or traditions than the host society, this can lead to misunderstandings and conflict. Similarly, language barriers can limit communication and make it difficult for immigrants to integrate into the host society.

Benefits of multiculturalism

Multiculturalism can also bring a range of benefits to host societies. These benefits include increased cultural awareness and sensitivity, economic growth, and exchanging ideas and perspectives. For example, cultural diversity can provide opportunities for host societies to learn from different cultural practices and approaches to problem-solving. This can lead to innovation and growth.

Social cohesion

Social cohesion refers to the ability of a society to function harmoniously despite differences in culture, ethnicity, religion, and language. Multiculturalism can pose a challenge to social cohesion, but it can also promote it. Host societies can foster social cohesion by promoting the acceptance and understanding of different cultural groups. This can be achieved through policies and programs that promote intercultural dialogue, education, and community-building.

Discrimination and prejudice

Multiculturalism can also increase the risk of discrimination and prejudice. Discrimination can take many forms, including racial, religious, and cultural bias. Host societies can combat discrimination by implementing anti-discrimination laws and policies and promoting diversity and inclusion.

Economic benefits

Multiculturalism can also bring economic benefits to host societies. The presence of a diverse range of skills and talents can lead to innovation and economic growth. Immigrants can also get various skills and experiences contributing to the host society's economic development.

In conclusion, immigration has significant social and cultural implications for both host countries and immigrants. It affects social cohesion, integration, cultural diversity, and identity. Host countries face challenges and benefits of multiculturalism, including economic growth, innovation, and social change.

The role of immigration in shaping national identity

Immigration has always been a significant driver of cultural and social change, with immigrants often bringing their unique identities, values, and traditions to their new homes. As a result, immigration can play a crucial role in shaping national identity, as it challenges existing cultural norms and values and introduces new ideas and perspectives. 

In this article, we will explore the role of immigration in shaping national identity, including its effects on cultural diversity, social cohesion, and political discourse. We will also discuss the challenges and opportunities presented by immigration to national identity and the importance of embracing a diverse and inclusive national identity in today's globalized world.

Immigration and the evolution of national identity

The relationship between immigration and national identity is complex, as immigration can challenge and reinforce existing national identities. As immigrants bring new cultural practices and values, they challenge the existing norms and values of the host society, prompting a re-evaluation of what it means to be part of that society. This can create a more inclusive and diverse national identity as different cultural traditions and practices are recognized and celebrated.

At the same time, the influx of new immigrants can also create a sense of fear and anxiety among some members of the host society, who may view the changes brought about by immigration as a threat to their cultural identity. This can lead to calls for stricter immigration policies and a more limited definition of national identity, which can exclude or marginalize certain groups.

The role of immigrants in shaping cultural diversity

Immigrants have played a significant role in shaping cultural diversity in many countries. Their arrival in a new land brings their customs, traditions, beliefs, and practices, which contribute to society's richness and vibrancy. 

One of the key ways in which immigrants have shaped cultural diversity is through their contributions to the local community. Immigrants bring a wealth of knowledge, skills, and talents that can benefit the societies they move to. For example, they may introduce new cuisines, music, art, and literature that add to the cultural landscape of their new home. This can create a more diverse and inclusive society where different cultures are celebrated and appreciated.

Another important aspect of cultural diversity is the challenges immigrants face when adapting to a new culture. Moving to a new country can be a daunting experience, especially if the culture is vastly different from one's own. Immigrants may struggle with language barriers, cultural norms, and social customs that are unfamiliar to them. This can lead to feelings of isolation and exclusion, which can negatively impact their mental health and well-being.

The challenges of maintaining social cohesion amidst diversity

Strengthening social cohesion amidst diversity is a complex challenge many societies face today. Cultural, ethnic, religious, and language diversity can lead to tensions and conflicts if managed poorly. 

One of the main challenges of maintaining social cohesion amidst diversity is the need to balance the interests of different groups. This involves recognizing and respecting the cultural, religious, and linguistic diversity of society while also promoting a sense of shared identity and common values. This can be particularly challenging in contexts with competing interests and power imbalances between different groups.

Another challenge is the need to address discrimination and prejudice. Discrimination can take many forms, including unequal access to education, employment, housing, hate speech, and violence. Prejudice and stereotypes can also lead to social exclusion and marginalization of certain groups. Addressing these issues requires a concerted effort from the government, civil society, and individuals to promote tolerance and respect for diversity.

Promoting inclusive policies is another crucial factor in maintaining social cohesion amidst diversity. This includes policies promoting equal opportunities for all, regardless of background. This can involve affirmative action programs, targeted social policies, and support for minority groups. Inclusive policies can also create a sense of belonging and ownership among different groups, which helps foster social cohesion.

In conclusion, immigration profoundly influences the formation of national identity. As individuals from various backgrounds merge into a new country, they not only introduce their distinct cultural and ethnic traits but also embark on a journey of personal growth and adaptation. This process mirrors the development of key skills such as leadership, character, and community service, essential for thriving in diverse environments. These attributes are not only vital for immigrants as they integrate into society but are also exemplified in successful National Honor Society essays , where personal growth and societal contribution are celebrated. Thus, the experiences of immigrants significantly enrich the societal tapestry, reflecting in our collective values, beliefs, and practices.

To sum it all up:

To recapitulate writing a five-paragraph essay about immigration can be challenging, but with the right approach and resources, it can be a rewarding experience. Throughout this article, we have discussed the various aspects of immigration that one can explore in such an essay, including the economic impact, social and cultural implications, and the evolution of national identity. 

If you're looking for an AI-powered writing assistant to help you with your next writing project, sign up for Jenni.ai today. With its advanced language models and intuitive interface, Jenni.ai can provide you with personalized suggestions and feedback to improve your writing. Give it a try, Sign up for free and take your writing to the next level!

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10 Personal Statement Essay Examples That Worked

What’s covered:, what is a personal statement.

• Essay 1: Summer Program
• Essay 2: Being Bangladeshi-American
• Essay 3: Why Medicine
• Essay 4: Love of Writing
• Essay 5: Starting a Fire
• Essay 6: Dedicating a Track
• Essay 7: Body Image and Eating Disorders
• Essay 8: Becoming a Coach
• Essay 9: Eritrea
• Essay 10: Journaling
• Is Your Personal Statement Strong Enough?

Your personal statement is any essay that you must write for your main application, such as the Common App Essay , University of California Essays , or Coalition Application Essay . This type of essay focuses on your unique experiences, ideas, or beliefs that may not be discussed throughout the rest of your application. This essay should be an opportunity for the admissions officers to get to know you better and give them a glimpse into who you really are.

In this post, we will share 10 different personal statements that were all written by real students. We will also provide commentary on what each essay did well and where there is room for improvement, so you can make your personal statement as strong as possible!

Please note: Looking at examples of real essays students have submitted to colleges can be very beneficial to get inspiration for your essays. You should never copy or plagiarize from these examples when writing your own essays. Colleges can tell when an essay isn’t genuine and will not view students favorably if they plagiarized. 

Personal Statement Examples

Essay example #1: exchange program.

The twisting roads, ornate mosaics, and fragrant scent of freshly ground spices had been so foreign at first. Now in my fifth week of the SNYI-L summer exchange program in Morocco, I felt more comfortable in the city. With a bag full of pastries from the market, I navigated to a bus stop, paid the fare, and began the trip back to my host family’s house. It was hard to believe that only a few years earlier my mom was worried about letting me travel around my home city on my own, let alone a place that I had only lived in for a few weeks. While I had been on a journey towards self-sufficiency and independence for a few years now, it was Morocco that pushed me to become the confident, self-reflective person that I am today.

As a child, my parents pressured me to achieve perfect grades, master my swim strokes, and discover interesting hobbies like playing the oboe and learning to pick locks. I felt compelled to live my life according to their wishes. Of course, this pressure was not a wholly negative factor in my life –– you might even call it support. However, the constant presence of my parents’ hopes for me overcame my own sense of desire and led me to become quite dependent on them. I pushed myself to get straight A’s, complied with years of oboe lessons, and dutifully attended hours of swim practice after school. Despite all these achievements, I felt like I had no sense of self beyond my drive for success. I had always been expected to succeed on the path they had defined. However, this path was interrupted seven years after my parents’ divorce when my dad moved across the country to Oregon.

I missed my dad’s close presence, but I loved my new sense of freedom. My parents’ separation allowed me the space to explore my own strengths and interests as each of them became individually busier. As early as middle school, I was riding the light rail train by myself, reading maps to get myself home, and applying to special academic programs without urging from my parents. Even as I took more initiatives on my own, my parents both continued to see me as somewhat immature. All of that changed three years ago, when I applied and was accepted to the SNYI-L summer exchange program in Morocco. I would be studying Arabic and learning my way around the city of Marrakesh. Although I think my parents were a little surprised when I told them my news, the addition of a fully-funded scholarship convinced them to let me go.

I lived with a host family in Marrakesh and learned that they, too, had high expectations for me. I didn’t know a word of Arabic, and although my host parents and one brother spoke good English, they knew I was there to learn. If I messed up, they patiently corrected me but refused to let me fall into the easy pattern of speaking English just as I did at home. Just as I had when I was younger, I felt pressured and stressed about meeting their expectations. However, one day, as I strolled through the bustling market square after successfully bargaining with one of the street vendors, I realized my mistake. My host family wasn’t being unfair by making me fumble through Arabic. I had applied for this trip, and I had committed to the intensive language study. My host family’s rules about speaking Arabic at home had not been to fulfill their expectations for me, but to help me fulfill my expectations for myself. Similarly, the pressure my parents had put on me as a child had come out of love and their hopes for me, not out of a desire to crush my individuality.

As my bus drove through the still-bustling market square and past the medieval Ben-Youssef madrasa, I realized that becoming independent was a process, not an event. I thought that my parents’ separation when I was ten had been the one experience that would transform me into a self-motivated and autonomous person. It did, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t still have room to grow. Now, although I am even more self-sufficient than I was three years ago, I try to approach every experience with the expectation that it will change me. It’s still difficult, but I understand that just because growth can be uncomfortable doesn’t mean it’s not important.

What the Essay Did Well

This is a nice essay because it delves into particular character trait of the student and how it has been shaped and matured over time. Although it doesn’t focus the essay around a specific anecdote, the essay is still successful because it is centered around this student’s independence. This is a nice approach for a personal statement: highlight a particular trait of yours and explore how it has grown with you.

The ideas in this essay are universal to growing up—living up to parents’ expectations, yearning for freedom, and coming to terms with reality—but it feels unique to the student because of the inclusion of details specific to them. Including their oboe lessons, the experience of riding the light rail by themselves, and the negotiations with a street vendor helps show the reader what these common tropes of growing up looked like for them personally. 

Another strength of the essay is the level of self-reflection included throughout the piece. Since there is no central anecdote tying everything together, an essay about a character trait is only successful when you deeply reflect on how you felt, where you made mistakes, and how that trait impacts your life. The author includes reflection in sentences like “ I felt like I had no sense of self beyond my drive for success, ” and “ I understand that just because growth can be uncomfortable doesn’t mean it’s not important. ” These sentences help us see how the student was impacted and what their point of view is.

What Could Be Improved

The largest change this essay would benefit from is to show not tell. The platitude you have heard a million times no doubt, but for good reason. This essay heavily relies on telling the reader what occurred, making us less engaged as the entire reading experience feels more passive. If the student had shown us what happens though, it keeps the reader tied to the action and makes them feel like they are there with the student, making it much more enjoyable to read. 

For example, they tell us about the pressure to succeed their parents placed on them: “ I pushed myself to get straight A’s, complied with years of oboe lessons, and dutifully attended hours of swim practice after school.”  They could have shown us what that pressure looked like with a sentence like this: “ My stomach turned somersaults as my rattling knee thumped against the desk before every test, scared to get anything less than a 95. For five years the painful squawk of the oboe only reminded me of my parents’ claps and whistles at my concerts. I mastered the butterfly, backstroke, and freestyle, fighting against the anchor of their expectations threatening to pull me down.”

If the student had gone through their essay and applied this exercise of bringing more detail and colorful language to sentences that tell the reader what happened, the essay would be really great. 

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Essay Example #2: Being Bangladeshi-American

Life before was good: verdant forests, sumptuous curries, and a devoted family.

Then, my family abandoned our comfortable life in Bangladesh for a chance at the American dream in Los Angeles. Within our first year, my father was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. He lost his battle three weeks before my sixth birthday. Facing a new country without the steady presence of my father, we were vulnerable — prisoners of hardship in the land of the free. We resettled in the Bronx, in my uncle’s renovated basement. It was meant to be our refuge, but I felt more displaced than ever. Gone were the high-rise condos of West L.A.; instead, government projects towered over the neighborhood. Pedestrians no longer smiled and greeted me; the atmosphere was hostile, even toxic. Schoolkids were quick to pick on those they saw as weak or foreign, hurling harsh words I’d never heard before.

Meanwhile, my family began integrating into the local Bangladeshi community. I struggled to understand those who shared my heritage. Bangladeshi mothers stayed home while fathers drove cabs and sold fruit by the roadside — painful societal positions. Riding on crosstown buses or walking home from school, I began to internalize these disparities. During my fleeting encounters with affluent Upper East Siders, I saw kids my age with nannies, parents who wore suits to work, and luxurious apartments with spectacular views. Most took cabs to their destinations: cabs that Bangladeshis drove. I watched the mundane moments of their lives with longing, aching to plant myself in their shoes. Shame prickled down my spine. I distanced myself from my heritage, rejecting the traditional panjabis worn on Eid and refusing the torkari we ate for dinner every day. 

As I grappled with my relationship with the Bangladeshi community, I turned my attention to helping my Bronx community by pursuing an internship with Assemblyman Luis Sepulveda. I handled desk work and took calls, spending the bulk of my time actively listening to the hardships constituents faced — everything from a veteran stripped of his benefits to a grandmother unable to support her bedridden grandchild.

I’d never exposed myself to stories like these, and now I was the first to hear them. As an intern, I could only assist in what felt like the small ways — pointing out local job offerings, printing information on free ESL classes, reaching out to non-profits. But to a community facing an onslaught of intense struggles, I realized that something as small as these actions could have vast impacts. Seeing the immediate consequences of my actions inspired me. Throughout that summer, I internalized my community’s daily challenges in a new light. I began to stop seeing the prevalent underemployment and cramped living quarters less as sources of shame. Instead, I saw them as realities that had to be acknowledged, but could ultimately be remedied. I also realized the benefits of the Bangladeshi culture I had been so ashamed of. My Bangla language skills were an asset to the office, and my understanding of Bangladeshi etiquette allowed for smooth communication between office staff and its constituents. As I helped my neighbors navigate city services, I saw my heritage with pride — a perspective I never expected to have.

I can now appreciate the value of my unique culture and background, and of living with less. This perspective offers room for progress, community integration, and a future worth fighting for. My time with Assemblyman Sepulveda’s office taught me that I can be a change agent in enabling this progression. Far from being ashamed of my community, I want to someday return to local politics in the Bronx to continue helping others access the American Dream. I hope to help my community appreciate the opportunity to make progress together. By embracing reality, I learned to live it. Along the way, I discovered one thing: life is good, but we can make it better.

This student’s passion for social justice and civic duty shines through in this essay because of how honest it is. Sharing their personal experience with immigrating, moving around, being an outsider, and finding a community allows us to see the hardships this student has faced and builds empathy towards their situation. However, what really makes it strong is that they go beyond describing the difficulties they faced and explain the mental impact it had on them as a child: Shame prickled down my spine. I distanced myself from my heritage, rejecting the traditional panjabis worn on Eid and refusing the torkari we ate for dinner every day. 

The rejection of their culture presented at the beginning of the essay creates a nice juxtaposition with the student’s view in the latter half of the essay and helps demonstrate how they have matured. They use their experience interning as a way to delve into a change in their thought process about their culture and show how their passion for social justice began. Using this experience as a mechanism to explore their thoughts and feelings is an excellent example of how items that are included elsewhere on your application should be incorporated into your essay.

This essay prioritizes emotions and personal views over specific anecdotes. Although there are details and certain moments incorporated throughout to emphasize the author’s points, the main focus remains on the student and how they grapple with their culture and identity.  

One area for improvement is the conclusion. Although the forward-looking approach is a nice way to end an essay focused on social justice, it would be nice to include more details and imagery in the conclusion. How does the student want to help their community? What government position do they see themselves holding one day? 

A more impactful ending might look like the student walking into their office at the New York City Housing Authority in 15 years and looking at the plans to build a new development in the Bronx just blocks away from where the grew up that would provide quality housing to people in their Bangladeshi community. They would smile while thinking about how far they have come from that young kid who used to be ashamed of their culture. 

Essay Example #3: Why Medicine

I took my first trip to China to visit my cousin Anna in July of 2014. Distance had kept us apart, but when we were together, we fell into all of our old inside jokes and caught up on each other’s lives. Her sparkling personality and optimistic attitude always brought a smile to my face. This time, however, my heart broke when I saw the effects of her brain cancer; she had suffered from a stroke that paralyzed her left side. She was still herself in many ways, but I could see that the damage to her brain made things difficult for her. I stayed by her every day, providing the support she needed, whether assisting her with eating and drinking, reading to her, or just watching “Friends.” During my flight back home, sorrow and helplessness overwhelmed me. Would I ever see Anna again? Could I have done more to make Anna comfortable? I wished I could stay in China longer to care for her. As I deplaned, I wondered if I could transform my grief to help other children and teenagers in the US who suffered as Anna did.

The day after I got home, as jet lag dragged me awake a few minutes after midnight, I remembered hearing about the Family Reach Foundation (FRF) and its work with children going through treatments at the local hospital and their families. I began volunteering in the FRF’s Children’s Activity Room, where I play with children battling cancer. Volunteering has both made me appreciate my own health and also cherish the new relationships I build with the children and families. We play sports, make figures out of playdoh, and dress up. When they take on the roles of firefighters or fairies, we all get caught up in the game; for that time, they forget the sanitized, stark, impersonal walls of the pediatric oncology ward. Building close relationships with them and seeing them giggle and laugh is so rewarding — I love watching them grow and get better throughout their course of treatment.

Hearing from the parents about their children’s condition and seeing the children recover inspired me to consider medical research. To get started, I enrolled in a summer collegelevel course in Abnormal Psychology. There I worked with Catelyn, a rising college senior, on a data analysis project regarding Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). Together, we examined the neurological etiology of DID by studying four fMRI and PET cases. I fell in love with gathering data and analyzing the results and was amazed by our final product: several stunning brain images showcasing the areas of hyper and hypoactivity in brains affected by DID. Desire quickly followed my amazement — I want to continue this project and study more brains. Their complexity, delicacy, and importance to every aspect of life fascinate me. Successfully completing this research project gave me a sense of hope; I know I am capable of participating in a large scale research project and potentially making a difference in someone else’s life through my research.

Anna’s diagnosis inspired me to begin volunteering at FRF; from there, I discovered my desire to help people further by contributing to medical research. As my research interest blossomed, I realized that it’s no coincidence that I want to study brains—after all, Anna suffered from brain cancer. Reflecting on these experiences this past year and a half, I see that everything I’ve done is connected. Sadly, a few months after I returned from China, Anna passed away. I am still sad, but as I run a toy truck across the floor and watch one of the little patients’ eyes light up, I imagine that she would be proud of my commitment to pursue medicine and study the brain.

This essay has a very strong emotional core that tugs at the heart strings and makes the reader feel invested. Writing about sickness can be difficult and doesn’t always belong in a personal statement, but in this case it works well because the focus is on how this student cared for her cousin and dealt with the grief and emotions surrounding her condition. Writing about the compassion she showed and the doubts and concerns that filled her mind keeps the focus on the author and her personality. 

This continues when she again discusses the activities she did with the kids at FRF and the personal reflection this experience allowed her to have. For example, she writes: Volunteering has both made me appreciate my own health and also cherish the new relationships I build with the children and families. We play sports, make figures out of playdoh, and dress up.

Concluding the essay with the sad story of her cousin’s passing brings the essay full circle and returns to the emotional heart of the piece to once again build a connection with the reader. However, it finishes on a hopeful note and demonstrates how this student has been able to turn a tragic experience into a source of lifelong inspiration. 

One thing this essay should be cognizant of is that personal statements should not read as summaries of your extracurricular resume. Although this essay doesn’t fully fall into that trap, it does describe two key extracurriculars the student participated in. However, the inclusion of such a strong emotional core running throughout the essay helps keep the focus on the student and her thoughts and feelings during these activities.

To avoid making this mistake, make sure you have a common thread running through your essay and the extracurriculars provide support to the story you are trying to tell, rather than crafting a story around your activities. And, as this essay does, make sure there is lots of personal reflection and feelings weaved throughout to focus attention to you rather than your extracurriculars. 

Essay Example #4: Love of Writing

“I want to be a writer.” This had been my answer to every youthful discussion with the adults in my life about what I would do when I grew up. As early as elementary school, I remember reading my writing pieces aloud to an audience at “Author of the Month” ceremonies. Bearing this goal in mind, and hoping to gain some valuable experience, I signed up for a journalism class during my freshman year. Despite my love for writing, I initially found myself uninterested in the subject and I struggled to enjoy the class. When I thought of writing, I imagined lyrical prose, profound poetry, and thrilling plot lines. Journalism required a laconic style and orderly structure, and I found my teacher’s assignments formulaic and dull. That class shook my confidence as a writer. I was uncertain if I should continue in it for the rest of my high school career.

Despite my misgivings, I decided that I couldn’t make a final decision on whether to quit journalism until I had some experience working for a paper outside of the classroom. The following year, I applied to be a staff reporter on our school newspaper. I hoped this would help me become more self-driven and creative, rather than merely writing articles that my teacher assigned. To my surprise, my time on staff was worlds away from what I experienced in the journalism class. Although I was unaccustomed to working in a fast-paced environment and initially found it burdensome to research and complete high-quality stories in a relatively short amount of time, I also found it exciting. I enjoyed learning more about topics and events on campus that I did not know much about; some of my stories that I covered in my first semester concerned a chess tournament, a food drive, and a Spanish immersion party. I relished in the freedom I had to explore and learn, and to write more independently than I could in a classroom.

Although I enjoyed many aspects of working for the paper immediately, reporting also pushed me outside of my comfort zone. I am a shy person, and speaking with people I did not know intimidated me. During my first interview, I met with the basketball coach to prepare for a story about the team’s winning streak. As I approached his office, I felt everything from my toes to my tongue freeze into a solid block, and I could hardly get out my opening questions. Fortunately, the coach was very kind and helped me through the conversation. Encouraged, I prepared for my next interview with more confidence. After a few weeks of practice, I even started to look forward to interviewing people on campus. That first journalism class may have bored me, but even if journalism in practice was challenging, it was anything but tedious.

Over the course of that year, I grew to love writing for our school newspaper. Reporting made me aware of my surroundings, and made me want to know more about current events on campus and in the town where I grew up. By interacting with people all over campus, I came to understand the breadth of individuals and communities that make up my high school. I felt far more connected to diverse parts of my school through my work as a journalist, and I realized that journalism gave me a window into seeing beyond my own experiences. The style of news writing may be different from what I used to think “writing” meant, but I learned that I can still derive exciting plots from events that may have gone unnoticed if not for my stories. I no longer struggle to approach others, and truly enjoy getting to know people and recognizing their accomplishments through my writing. Becoming a writer may be a difficult path, but it is as rewarding as I hoped when I was young.

This essay is clearly structured in a manner that makes it flow very nicely and contributes to its success. It starts with a quote to draw in the reader and show this student’s life-long passion for writing. Then it addresses the challenges of facing new, unfamiliar territory and how this student overcame it. Finally, it concludes by reflecting on this eye-opening experience and a nod to their younger self from the introduction. Having a well-thought out and sequential structure with clear transitions makes it extremely easy for the reader to follow along and take away the main idea.

Another positive aspect of the essay is the use of strong and expressive language. Sentences like “ When I thought of writing, I imagined lyrical prose, profound poetry, and thrilling plot lines ” stand out because of the intentional use of words like “lyrical”, “profound”, and “thrilling” to convey the student’s love of writing. The author also uses an active voice to capture the readers’ attention and keep us engaged. They rely on their language and diction to reveal details to the reader, for instance saying “ I felt everything from my toes to my tongue freeze into a solid block ” to describe feeling nervous.

This essay is already very strong, so there isn’t much that needs to be changed. One thing that could take the essay from great to outstanding would be to throw in more quotes, internal dialogue, and sensory descriptors.

It would be nice to see the nerves they felt interviewing the coach by including dialogue like “ Um…I want to interview you about…uh…”.  They could have shown their original distaste for journalism by narrating the thoughts running through their head. The fast-paced environment of their newspaper could have come to life with descriptions about the clacking of keyboards and the whirl of people running around laying out articles.

Essay Example #5: Starting a Fire

Was I no longer the beloved daughter of nature, whisperer of trees? Knee-high rubber boots, camouflage, bug spray—I wore the garb and perfume of a proud wild woman, yet there I was, hunched over the pathetic pile of stubborn sticks, utterly stumped, on the verge of tears. As a child, I had considered myself a kind of rustic princess, a cradler of spiders and centipedes, who was serenaded by mourning doves and chickadees, who could glide through tick-infested meadows and emerge Lyme-free. I knew the cracks of the earth like the scars on my own rough palms. Yet here I was, ten years later, incapable of performing the most fundamental outdoor task: I could not, for the life of me, start a fire. 

Furiously I rubbed the twigs together—rubbed and rubbed until shreds of skin flaked from my fingers. No smoke. The twigs were too young, too sticky-green; I tossed them away with a shower of curses, and began tearing through the underbrush in search of a more flammable collection. My efforts were fruitless. Livid, I bit a rejected twig, determined to prove that the forest had spurned me, offering only young, wet bones that would never burn. But the wood cracked like carrots between my teeth—old, brittle, and bitter. Roaring and nursing my aching palms, I retreated to the tent, where I sulked and awaited the jeers of my family. 

Rattling their empty worm cans and reeking of fat fish, my brother and cousins swaggered into the campsite. Immediately, they noticed the minor stick massacre by the fire pit and called to me, their deep voices already sharp with contempt. 

“Where’s the fire, Princess Clara?” they taunted. “Having some trouble?” They prodded me with the ends of the chewed branches and, with a few effortless scrapes of wood on rock, sparked a red and roaring flame. My face burned long after I left the fire pit. The camp stank of salmon and shame. 

In the tent, I pondered my failure. Was I so dainty? Was I that incapable? I thought of my hands, how calloused and capable they had been, how tender and smooth they had become. It had been years since I’d kneaded mud between my fingers; instead of scaling a white pine, I’d practiced scales on my piano, my hands softening into those of a musician—fleshy and sensitive. And I’d gotten glasses, having grown horrifically nearsighted; long nights of dim lighting and thick books had done this. I couldn’t remember the last time I had lain down on a hill, barefaced, and seen the stars without having to squint. Crawling along the edge of the tent, a spider confirmed my transformation—he disgusted me, and I felt an overwhelming urge to squash him. 

Yet, I realized I hadn’t really changed—I had only shifted perspective. I still eagerly explored new worlds, but through poems and prose rather than pastures and puddles. I’d grown to prefer the boom of a bass over that of a bullfrog, learned to coax a different kind of fire from wood, having developed a burn for writing rhymes and scrawling hypotheses. 

That night, I stayed up late with my journal and wrote about the spider I had decided not to kill. I had tolerated him just barely, only shrieking when he jumped—it helped to watch him decorate the corners of the tent with his delicate webs, knowing that he couldn’t start fires, either. When the night grew cold and the embers died, my words still smoked—my hands burned from all that scrawling—and even when I fell asleep, the ideas kept sparking—I was on fire, always on fire.

This student is an excellent writer, which allows a simple story to be outstandingly compelling. The author articulates her points beautifully and creatively through her immense use of details and figurative language. Lines like “a rustic princess, a cradler of spiders and centipedes, who was serenaded by mourning doves and chickadees,” and “rubbed and rubbed until shreds of skin flaked from my fingers,” create vivid images that draw the reader in. 

The flowery and descriptive prose also contributes to the nice juxtaposition between the old Clara and the new Clara. The latter half of the essay contrasts elements of nature with music and writing to demonstrate how natural these interests are for her now. This sentence perfectly encapsulates the contrast she is trying to build: “It had been years since I’d kneaded mud between my fingers; instead of scaling a white pine, I’d practiced scales on my piano, my hands softening into those of a musician—fleshy and sensitive.”

In addition to being well-written, this essay is thematically cohesive. It begins with the simple introduction “Fire!” and ends with the following image: “When the night grew cold and the embers died, my words still smoked—my hands burned from all that scrawling—and even when I fell asleep, the ideas kept sparking—I was on fire, always on fire.” This full-circle approach leaves readers satisfied and impressed.

There is very little this essay should change, however one thing to be cautious about is having an essay that is overly-descriptive. We know from the essay that this student likes to read and write, and depending on other elements of her application, it might make total sense to have such a flowery and ornate writing style. However, your personal statement needs to reflect your voice as well as your personality. If you would never use language like this in conversation or your writing, don’t put it in your personal statement. Make sure there is a balance between eloquence and your personal voice.

Essay Example #6: Dedicating a Track

“Getting beat is one thing – it’s part of competing – but I want no part in losing.” Coach Rob Stark’s motto never fails to remind me of his encouragement on early-morning bus rides to track meets around the state. I’ve always appreciated the phrase, but an experience last June helped me understand its more profound, universal meaning.

Stark, as we affectionately call him, has coached track at my high school for 25 years. His care, dedication, and emphasis on developing good character has left an enduring impact on me and hundreds of other students. Not only did he help me discover my talent and love for running, but he also taught me the importance of commitment and discipline and to approach every endeavor with the passion and intensity that I bring to running. When I learned a neighboring high school had dedicated their track to a longtime coach, I felt that Stark deserved similar honors.

Our school district’s board of education indicated they would only dedicate our track to Stark if I could demonstrate that he was extraordinary. I took charge and mobilized my teammates to distribute petitions, reach out to alumni, and compile statistics on the many team and individual champions Stark had coached over the years. We received astounding support, collecting almost 3,000 signatures and pages of endorsements from across the community. With help from my teammates, I presented this evidence to the board.

They didn’t bite. 

Most members argued that dedicating the track was a low priority. Knowing that we had to act quickly to convince them of its importance, I called a team meeting where we drafted a rebuttal for the next board meeting. To my surprise, they chose me to deliver it. I was far from the best public speaker in the group, and I felt nervous about going before the unsympathetic board again. However, at that second meeting, I discovered that I enjoy articulating and arguing for something that I’m passionate about.

Public speaking resembles a cross country race. Walking to the starting line, you have to trust your training and quell your last minute doubts. When the gun fires, you can’t think too hard about anything; your performance has to be instinctual, natural, even relaxed. At the next board meeting, the podium was my starting line. As I walked up to it, familiar butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Instead of the track stretching out in front of me, I faced the vast audience of teachers, board members, and my teammates. I felt my adrenaline build, and reassured myself: I’ve put in the work, my argument is powerful and sound. As the board president told me to introduce myself, I heard, “runners set” in the back of my mind. She finished speaking, and Bang! The brief silence was the gunshot for me to begin. 

The next few minutes blurred together, but when the dust settled, I knew from the board members’ expressions and the audience’s thunderous approval that I had run quite a race. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough; the board voted down our proposal. I was disappointed, but proud of myself, my team, and our collaboration off the track. We stood up for a cause we believed in, and I overcame my worries about being a leader. Although I discovered that changing the status quo through an elected body can be a painstakingly difficult process and requires perseverance, I learned that I enjoy the challenges this effort offers. Last month, one of the school board members joked that I had become a “regular” – I now often show up to meetings to advocate for a variety of causes, including better environmental practices in cafeterias and safer equipment for athletes.

Just as Stark taught me, I worked passionately to achieve my goal. I may have been beaten when I appealed to the board, but I certainly didn’t lose, and that would have made Stark proud.

This essay effectively conveys this student’s compassion for others, initiative, and determination—all great qualities to exemplify in a personal statement!

Although they rely on telling us a lot of what happened up until the board meeting, the use of running a race (their passion) as a metaphor for public speaking provides a lot of insight into the fear that this student overcame to work towards something bigger than themself. Comparing a podium to the starting line, the audience to the track, and silence to the gunshot is a nice way of demonstrating this student’s passion for cross country running without making that the focus of the story.

The essay does a nice job of coming full circle at the end by explaining what the quote from the beginning meant to them after this experience. Without explicitly saying “ I now know that what Stark actually meant is…” they rely on the strength of their argument above to make it obvious to the reader what it means to get beat but not lose. 

One of the biggest areas of improvement in the intro, however, is how the essay tells us Stark’s impact rather than showing us: His care, dedication, and emphasis on developing good character has left an enduring impact on me and hundreds of other students. Not only did he help me discover my talent and love for running, but he also taught me the importance of commitment and discipline and to approach every endeavor with the passion and intensity that I bring to running.

The writer could’ve helped us feel a stronger emotional connection to Stark if they had included examples of Stark’s qualities, rather than explicitly stating them. For example, they could’ve written something like: Stark was the kind of person who would give you gas money if you told him your parents couldn’t afford to pick you up from practice. And he actually did that—several times. At track meets, alumni regularly would come talk to him and tell him how he’d changed their lives. Before Stark, I was ambivalent about running and was on the JV team, but his encouragement motivated me to run longer and harder and eventually make varsity. Because of him, I approach every endeavor with the passion and intensity that I bring to running.

Essay Example #7: Body Image and Eating Disorders

I press the “discover” button on my Instagram app, hoping to find enticing pictures to satisfy my boredom. Scrolling through, I see funny videos and mouth-watering pictures of food. However, one image stops me immediately. A fit teenage girl with a “perfect body” relaxes in a bikini on a beach. Beneath it, I see a slew of flattering comments. I shake with disapproval over the image’s unrealistic quality. However, part of me still wants to have a body like hers so that others will make similar comments to me.

I would like to resolve a silent issue that harms many teenagers and adults: negative self image and low self-esteem in a world where social media shapes how people view each other. When people see the façades others wear to create an “ideal” image, they can develop poor thought patterns rooted in negative self-talk. The constant comparisons to “perfect” others make people feel small. In this new digital age, it is hard to distinguish authentic from artificial representations.

When I was 11, I developed anorexia nervosa. Though I was already thin, I wanted to be skinny like the models that I saw on the magazine covers on the grocery store stands. Little did I know that those models probably also suffered from disorders, and that photoshop erased their flaws. I preferred being underweight to being healthy. No matter how little I ate or how thin I was, I always thought that I was too fat. I became obsessed with the number on the scale and would try to eat the least that I could without my parents urging me to take more. Fortunately, I stopped engaging in anorexic behaviors before middle school. However, my underlying mental habits did not change. The images that had provoked my disorder in the first place were still a constant presence in my life.

By age 15, I was in recovery from anorexia, but suffered from depression. While I used to only compare myself to models, the growth of social media meant I also compared myself to my friends and acquaintances. I felt left out when I saw my friends’ excitement about lake trips they had taken without me. As I scrolled past endless photos of my flawless, thin classmates with hundreds of likes and affirming comments, I felt my jealousy spiral. I wanted to be admired and loved by other people too. However, I felt that I could never be enough. I began to hate the way that I looked, and felt nothing in my life was good enough. I wanted to be called “perfect” and “body goals,” so I tried to only post at certain times of day to maximize my “likes.” When that didn’t work, I started to feel too anxious to post anything at all.  

Body image insecurities and social media comparisons affect thousands of people – men, women, children, and adults – every day. I am lucky – after a few months of my destructive social media habits, I came across a video that pointed out the illusory nature of social media; many Instagram posts only show off good things while people hide their flaws. I began going to therapy, and recovered from my depression. To address the problem of self-image and social media, we can all focus on what matters on the inside and not what is on the surface. As an effort to become healthy internally, I started a club at my school to promote clean eating and radiating beauty from within. It has helped me grow in my confidence, and today I’m not afraid to show others my struggles by sharing my experience with eating disorders. Someday, I hope to make this club a national organization to help teenagers and adults across the country. I support the idea of body positivity and embracing difference, not “perfection.” After all, how can we be ourselves if we all look the same?

This essay covers the difficult topics of eating disorders and mental health. If you’re thinking about covering similar topics in your essay, we recommend reading our post Should You Talk About Mental Health in College Essays?

The short answer is that, yes, you can talk about mental health, but it can be risky. If you do go that route, it’s important to focus on what you learned from the experience.

The strength of this essay is the student’s vulnerability, in excerpts such as this: I wanted to be admired and loved by other people too. However, I felt that I could never be enough. I began to hate the way that I looked, and felt nothing in my life was good enough. I wanted to be called “perfect” and “body goals,” so I tried to only post at certain times of day to maximize my “likes.”

The student goes on to share how they recovered from their depression through an eye-opening video and therapy sessions, and they’re now helping others find their self-worth as well. It’s great that this essay looks towards the future and shares the writer’s goals of making their club a national organization; we can see their ambition and compassion.

The main weakness of this essay is that it doesn’t focus enough on their recovery process, which is arguably the most important part. They could’ve told us more about the video they watched or the process of starting their club and the interactions they’ve had with other members. Especially when sharing such a vulnerable topic, there should be vulnerability in the recovery process too. That way, the reader can fully appreciate all that this student has overcome.

Essay Example #8: Becoming a Coach

”Advanced females ages 13 to 14 please proceed to staging with your coaches at this time.” Skittering around the room, eyes wide and pleading, I frantically explained my situation to nearby coaches. The seconds ticked away in my head; every polite refusal increased my desperation.

Despair weighed me down. I sank to my knees as a stream of competitors, coaches, and officials flowed around me. My dojang had no coach, and the tournament rules prohibited me from competing without one.

Although I wanted to remain strong, doubts began to cloud my mind. I could not help wondering: what was the point of perfecting my skills if I would never even compete? The other members of my team, who had found coaches minutes earlier, attempted to comfort me, but I barely heard their words. They couldn’t understand my despair at being left on the outside, and I never wanted them to understand.

Since my first lesson 12 years ago, the members of my dojang have become family. I have watched them grow up, finding my own happiness in theirs. Together, we have honed our kicks, blocks, and strikes. We have pushed one another to aim higher and become better martial artists. Although my dojang had searched for a reliable coach for years, we had not found one. When we attended competitions in the past, my teammates and I had always gotten lucky and found a sympathetic coach. Now, I knew this practice was unsustainable. It would devastate me to see the other members of my dojang in my situation, unable to compete and losing hope as a result. My dojang needed a coach, and I decided it was up to me to find one.

I first approached the adults in the dojang – both instructors and members’ parents. However, these attempts only reacquainted me with polite refusals. Everyone I asked told me they couldn’t devote multiple weekends per year to competitions. I soon realized that I would have become the coach myself.

At first, the inner workings of tournaments were a mystery to me. To prepare myself for success as a coach, I spent the next year as an official and took coaching classes on the side. I learned everything from motivational strategies to technical, behind-the-scenes components of Taekwondo competitions. Though I emerged with new knowledge and confidence in my capabilities, others did not share this faith.

Parents threw me disbelieving looks when they learned that their children’s coach was only a child herself. My self-confidence was my armor, deflecting their surly glances. Every armor is penetrable, however, and as the relentless barrage of doubts pounded my resilience, it began to wear down. I grew unsure of my own abilities.

Despite the attack, I refused to give up. When I saw the shining eyes of the youngest students preparing for their first competition, I knew I couldn’t let them down. To quit would be to set them up to be barred from competing like I was. The knowledge that I could solve my dojang’s longtime problem motivated me to overcome my apprehension.

Now that my dojang flourishes at competitions, the attacks on me have weakened, but not ended. I may never win the approval of every parent; at times, I am still tormented by doubts, but I find solace in the fact that members of my dojang now only worry about competing to the best of their abilities.

Now, as I arrive at a tournament with my students, I close my eyes and remember the past. I visualize the frantic search for a coach and the chaos amongst my teammates as we competed with one another to find coaches before the staging calls for our respective divisions. I open my eyes to the exact opposite scene. Lacking a coach hurt my ability to compete, but I am proud to know that no member of my dojang will have to face that problem again.

This essay begins with an in-the-moment narrative that really illustrates the chaos of looking for a coach last-minute. We feel the writer’s emotions, particularly her dejectedness, at not being able to compete. Starting an essay in media res  is a great way to capture the attention of your readers and build anticipation for what comes next.

Through this essay, we can see how gutsy and determined the student is in deciding to become a coach themselves. She shows us these characteristics through their actions, rather than explicitly telling us: To prepare myself for success as a coach, I spent the next year as an official and took coaching classes on the side.  Also, by discussing the opposition she faced and how it affected her, the student is open and vulnerable about the reality of the situation.

The essay comes full circle as the author recalls the frantic situations in seeking out a coach, but this is no longer a concern for them and their team. Overall, this essay is extremely effective in painting this student as mature, bold, and compassionate.

The biggest thing this essay needs to work on is showing not telling. Throughout the essay, the student tells us that she “emerged with new knowledge and confidence,” she “grew unsure of her own abilities,” and she “refused to give up”. What we really want to know is what this looks like.

Instead of saying she “emerged with new knowledge and confidence” she should have shared how she taught a new move to a fellow team-member without hesitation. Rather than telling us she “grew unsure of her own abilities” she should have shown what that looked like by including her internal dialogue and rhetorical questions that ran through her mind. She could have demonstrated what “refusing to give up” looks like by explaining how she kept learning coaching techniques on her own, turned to a mentor for advice, or devised a plan to win over the trust of parents. 

Essay Example #9: Eritrea

No one knows where Eritrea is.

On the first day of school, for the past nine years, I would pensively stand in front of a class, a teacher, a stranger  waiting for the inevitable question: Where are you from?

I smile politely, my dimples accentuating my ambiguous features. “Eritrea,” I answer promptly and proudly. But I  am always prepared. Before their expression can deepen into confusion, ready to ask “where is that,” I elaborate,  perhaps with a fleeting hint of exasperation, “East Africa, near Ethiopia.”

Sometimes, I single out the key-shaped hermit nation on a map, stunning teachers who have “never had a student  from there!” Grinning, I resist the urge to remark, “You didn’t even know it existed until two minutes ago!”

Eritrea is to the East of Ethiopia, its arid coastline clutches the lucrative Red Sea. Battle scars litter the ancient  streets – the colonial Italian architecture lathered with bullet holes, the mosques mangled with mortar shells.  Originally part of the world’s first Christian kingdom, Eritrea passed through the hands of colonial Italy, Britain, and  Ethiopia for over a century, until a bloody thirty year war of Independence liberated us.

But these are facts that anyone can know with a quick Google search. These are facts that I have memorised and compounded, first from my Grandmother and now from pristine books  borrowed from the library.

No historical narrative, however, can adequately capture what Eritrea is.  No one knows the aroma of bushels of potatoes, tomatoes, and garlic – still covered in dirt – that leads you to the open-air market. No one knows the poignant scent of spices, arranged in orange piles reminiscent of compacted  dunes.  No one knows how to haggle stubborn herders for sheep and roosters for Christmas celebrations as deliberately as my mother. No one can replicate the perfect balance of spices in dorho and tsebhi as well as my grandmother,  her gnarly hands stirring the pot with ancient precision (chastising my clumsy knife work with the potatoes).  It’s impossible to learn when the injera is ready – the exact moment you have to lift the lid of the mogogo. Do it too  early (or too late) and the flatbread becomes mangled and gross. It is a sixth sense passed through matriarchal  lineages.

There are no sources that catalogue the scent of incense that wafts through the sunlit porch on St. Michael’s; no  films that can capture the luminescence of hundreds of flaming bonfires that fluoresce the sidewalks on Kudus  Yohannes, as excited children chant Ge’ez proverbs whose origin has been lost to time.  You cannot learn the familiarity of walking beneath the towering Gothic figure of the Enda Mariam Cathedral, the  crowds undulating to the ringing of the archaic bells.  I have memorized the sound of the rains hounding the metal roof during kiremti , the heat of the sun pounding  against the Toyota’s window as we sped down towards Ghinda , the opulent brilliance of the stars twinkling in a  sky untainted by light pollution, the scent of warm rolls of bani wafting through the streets at precisely 6 o’clock each day…

I fill my flimsy sketchbook with pictures from my memory. My hand remembers the shapes of the hibiscus drifting  in the wind, the outline of my grandmother (affectionately nicknamed a’abaye ) leaning over the garden, the bizarre architecture of the Fiat Tagliero .  I dice the vegetables with movements handed down from generations. My nose remembers the scent of frying garlic, the sourness of the warm tayta , the sharpness of the mit’mt’a …

This knowledge is intrinsic.  “I am Eritrean,” I repeat. “I am proud.”  Within me is an encyclopedia of history, culture, and idealism.

Eritrea is the coffee made from scratch, the spices drying in the sun, the priests and nuns. Eritrea is wise, filled with ambition, and unseen potential.  Eritrea isn’t a place, it’s an identity.

This is an exceptional essay that provides a window into this student’s culture that really makes their love for their country and heritage leap off the page. The sheer level of details and sensory descriptors this student is able to fit in this space makes the essay stand out. From the smells, to the traditions, sounds, and sights, the author encapsulates all the glory of Eritrea for the reader. 

The vivid images this student is able to create for the reader, whether it is having the tedious conversation with every teacher or cooking in their grandmother’s kitchen, transports us into the story and makes us feel like we are there in the moment with the student. This is a prime example of an essay that shows , not tells.

Besides the amazing imagery, the use of shorter paragraphs also contributes to how engaging this essay is. Employing this tactic helps break up the text to make it more readable and it isolates ideas so they stick out more than if they were enveloped in a large paragraph.

Overall, this is a really strong essay that brings to life this student’s heritage through its use of vivid imagery. This essay exemplifies what it means to show not tell in your writing, and it is a great example of how you can write an intimate personal statement without making yourself the primary focus of your essay. 

There is very little this essay should improve upon, but one thing the student might consider would be to inject more personal reflection into their response. Although we can clearly take away their deep love and passion for their homeland and culture, the essay would be a bit more personal if they included the emotions and feelings they associate with the various aspects of Eritrea. For example, the way their heart swells with pride when their grandmother praises their ability to cook a flatbread or the feeling of serenity when they hear the bells ring out from the cathedral. Including personal details as well as sensory ones would create a wonderful balance of imagery and reflection.

Essay Example #10: Journaling

Flipping past dozens of colorful entries in my journal, I arrive at the final blank sheet. I press my pen lightly to the page, barely scratching its surface to create a series of loops stringing together into sentences. Emotions spill out, and with their release, I feel lightness in my chest. The stream of thoughts slows as I reach the bottom of the page, and I gently close the cover of the worn book: another journal finished.

I add the journal to the stack of eleven books on my nightstand. Struck by the bittersweet sensation of closing a chapter of my life, I grab the notebook at the bottom of the pile to reminisce.

“I want to make a flying mushen to fly in space and your in it” – October 2008

Pulling back the cover of my first Tinkerbell-themed diary, the prompt “My Hopes and Dreams” captures my attention. Though “machine” is misspelled in my scribbled response, I see the beginnings of my past obsession with outer space. At the age of five, I tore through novels about the solar system, experimented with rockets built from plastic straws, and rented Space Shuttle films from Blockbuster to satisfy my curiosities. While I chased down answers to questions as limitless as the universe, I fell in love with learning. Eight journals later, the same relentless curiosity brought me to an airplane descending on San Francisco Bay.

“I wish I had infinite sunsets” – July 2019

I reach for the charcoal notepad near the top of the pile and open to the first page: my flight to the Stanford Pre-Collegiate Summer Institutes. While I was excited to explore bioengineering, anxiety twisted in my stomach as I imagined my destination, unsure of whether I could overcome my shyness and connect with others.

With each new conversation, the sweat on my palms became less noticeable, and I met students from 23 different countries. Many of the moments where I challenged myself socially revolved around the third story deck of the Jerry house. A strange medley of English, Arabic, and Mandarin filled the summer air as my friends and I gathered there every evening, and dialogues at sunset soon became moments of bliss. In our conversations about cultural differences, the possibility of an afterlife, and the plausibility of far-fetched conspiracy theories, I learned to voice my opinion. As I was introduced to different viewpoints, these moments challenged my understanding of the world around me. In my final entries from California, I find excitement to learn from others and increased confidence, a tool that would later allow me to impact my community.

“The beauty in a tower of cans” – June 2020

Returning my gaze to the stack of journals, I stretch to take the floral-patterned book sitting on top. I flip through, eventually finding the beginnings of the organization I created during the outbreak of COVID-19. Since then, Door-to-Door Deliveries has woven its way through my entries and into reality, allowing me to aid high-risk populations through free grocery delivery.

With the confidence I gained the summer before, I took action when seeing others in need rather than letting my shyness hold me back. I reached out to local churches and senior centers to spread word of our services and interacted with customers through our website and social media pages. To further expand our impact, we held two food drives, and I mustered the courage to ask for donations door-to-door. In a tower of canned donations, I saw the value of reaching out to help others and realized my own potential to impact the world around me.

I delicately close the journal in my hands, smiling softly as the memories reappear, one after another. Reaching under my bed, I pull out a fresh notebook and open to its first sheet. I lightly press my pen to the page, “And so begins the next chapter…”

The structuring of this essay makes it easy and enjoyable to read. The student effectively organizes their various life experiences around their tower of journals, which centers the reader and makes the different stories easy to follow. Additionally, the student engages quotes from their journals—and unique formatting of the quotes—to signal that they are moving in time and show us which memory we should follow them to.

Thematically, the student uses the idea of shyness to connect the different memories they draw out of their journals. As the student describes their experiences overcoming shyness at the Stanford Pre-Collegiate Summer Institutes and Door-to-Door Deliveries, this essay can be read as an Overcoming Obstacles essay.

At the end of this essay, readers are fully convinced that this student is dedicated (they have committed to journaling every day), thoughtful (journaling is a thoughtful process and, in the essay, the student reflects thoughtfully on the past), and motivated (they flew across the country for a summer program and started a business). These are definitely qualities admissions officers are looking for in applicants!

Although this essay is already exceptionally strong as it’s written, the first journal entry feels out of place compared to the other two entries that discuss the author’s shyness and determination. It works well for the essay to have an entry from when the student was younger to add some humor (with misspelled words) and nostalgia, but if the student had either connected the quote they chose to the idea of overcoming a fear present in the other two anecdotes or if they had picked a different quote all together related to their shyness, it would have made the entire essay feel more cohesive.

Where to Get Your Personal Statement Edited

Do you want feedback on your personal statement? After rereading your essays countless times, it can be difficult to evaluate your writing objectively. That’s why we created our free Peer Essay Review tool , where you can get a free review of your essay from another student. You can also improve your own writing skills by reviewing other students’ essays. 

If you want a college admissions expert to review your essay, advisors on CollegeVine have helped students refine their writing and submit successful applications to top schools. Find the right advisor for you to improve your chances of getting into your dream school!

Next Step: Supplemental Essays

Essay Guides for Each School

How to Write a Stellar Extracurricular Activity College Essay

4 Tips for Writing a Diversity College Essay

How to Write the “Why This College” Essay

Related CollegeVine Blog Posts

How to Write a Standout College Essay about Immigrant Parents

Kate Sliunkova

AdmitYogi, Stanford MBA & MA in Education

If you're a high school student, chances are you've been asked to write an essay before. Writing about your immigrant parents can be a daunting task, but it can also be a beautiful opportunity to share your unique perspective. With the right strategies and mindset, you can craft an essay that not only showcases your writing skills but also honors the sacrifices and experiences of your immigrant parents.

Acknowledge the Significance of Your Parents' Journey

Before delving into writing your essay, it's crucial to acknowledge and appreciate the significance of your parents' immigration journey. Recognize the sacrifices they made, leaving behind their home country, family, and familiar surroundings, to provide a better life for you and your family. This appreciation will help you approach your essay with a deeper understanding and empathy. To explore successful college essays that highlight the importance of family sacrifices, visit AdmitYogi for inspiring examples.

Use Their Story as a Springboard for Self-Reflection

Your parents' immigration story serves as a powerful springboard for self-reflection. Reflect on the impact their journey has had on you - your identity, values, and aspirations. Consider how growing up in a multicultural household has shaped your worldview and influenced the choices you've made. This self-reflection allows you to connect your personal growth to your parents' experiences, providing a rich and compelling narrative. AdmitYogi can provide additional guidance on how to effectively incorporate self-reflection into your essay.

Choose a Meaningful Essay Topic

Selecting the right essay topic is crucial to capturing the attention of college admissions officers. Instead of focusing solely on your parents' story, choose a topic that reflects your own experiences and values, while weaving in elements of their journey. For example, you can explore moments where you grappled with language barriers and how those challenges fostered your determination to excel academically and embrace diverse perspectives.

Consider discussing the cultural differences you navigated while transitioning to the United States. Highlight the lessons you've learned about cultural diversity and your ability to adapt and thrive in new environments. This demonstrates your resilience and adaptability, qualities that colleges value in their applicants.

Infuse Your Essay with Personal Anecdotes

To make your essay engaging and memorable, infuse it with personal anecdotes that illustrate key moments or lessons from your own journey. Share specific stories that demonstrate your growth, resilience, and unique perspective. For instance, you can write about a time when you bridged a cultural gap between your parents' native traditions and American customs, showcasing your ability to navigate cultural complexities with sensitivity and openness.

By incorporating personal anecdotes, you showcase your individual experiences and emphasize how you have been shaped by your parents' immigration story, while maintaining the focus on you.

Reflect on the Intersection of Your Identity and Values

Colleges are interested in understanding who you are as an individual and the values you hold dear. Reflect on how your parents' immigration journey has influenced your own identity and values. Discuss the lessons you've learned about perseverance, determination, and the importance of education.

Highlight the ways in which your parents' sacrifices have motivated you to seize educational opportunities and strive for excellence. Emphasize how their story has instilled in you a deep appreciation for the value of education and the pursuit of knowledge.

Showcase Your Personal Growth and Aspirations

A compelling college essay should demonstrate personal growth and aspirations. Reflect on how your parents' experiences have influenced your own aspirations and goals for the future. Discuss the career paths, community involvement, or social initiatives that you are passionate about, and how they align with your values and the experiences you've had growing up as a child of immigrants.

Craft a Narrative That Captivates Admissions Officers

To make your essay truly standout, craft a narrative that captivates admissions officers. Start with a powerful and attention-grabbing opening. This could be a personal anecdote, a thought-provoking question, or a vivid description that draws the reader in from the very beginning.

Throughout your essay, use descriptive language and storytelling techniques to paint a vivid picture of your experiences and the impact of your parents' journey on your life. Engage the reader's senses and emotions, allowing them to connect with your story on a deeper level.

Writing a college application essay about your immigrant parents is an opportunity to celebrate your unique perspective and honor their experiences. By focusing on you and infusing your personal growth, values, and aspirations into the essay, you create a compelling narrative that highlights your individuality.

Remember to reflect on the intersection of your identity and values, choose a meaningful topic, and craft a narrative that captivates admissions officers. AdmitYogi , a trusted resource for successful college essays, offers a wealth of examples and guidance to help you throughout your writing journey. With these strategies and the support of AdmitYogi, you can write a standout essay that makes colleges eager to admit you and the incredible journey you represent.

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Paul Krugman

Are immigrants the secret to america’s economic success.

By Paul Krugman

Opinion Columnist

When we accuse a politician of dehumanizing some ethnic group, we’re usually being metaphorical. The other day, however, Donald Trump said it straight out : Some migrants are “not people, in my opinion.”

Well, in my opinion, they are people. I’d still say that even if the migrant crime wave Trump and his allies harp on were real, and not a figment of their imagination (violent crime has in fact been plummeting in many cities). And I’d say it even if there weren’t growing evidence that immigration is helping the U.S. economy — indeed, that it may be a major reason for our surprising economic success.

But as it happens, there is a lot of evidence to that effect.

Some background here: When Covid struck, there were widespread concerns that it might lead to long-term economic “ scarring .” Millions of workers were laid off; how many of them would either depart the labor force permanently or lose valuable skills? Investment and new business formation fell. It seemed plausible that even after the worst of the pandemic was behind us, America would have a smaller, less productive work force than previously expected.

None of that happened. If we compare the current state of the U.S. economy with Congressional Budget Office projections made just before the pandemic, we find that real G.D.P. has risen by about a percentage point more than expected, while employment exceeds its projected level by 2.9 million workers.

How did we do that? American workers and businesses turned out to be more resilient and adaptable than they were given credit for. Also, our policymakers didn’t make the mistakes that followed the 2008 financial crisis, when an underpowered fiscal stimulus was followed by a premature turn to austerity that delayed a full recovery for many years. Instead, the Biden administration went big on spending, probably contributing to a temporary burst of inflation but also helping to ensure rapid recovery — and at this point the inflation has largely faded away while the recovery remains.

Beyond that, the very surge in immigration that has nativists so upset has played a big role in increasing the economy’s potential.

The budget office recently upgraded its medium-term economic projections, largely because it believes that increased immigration will add to the work force. It estimates that the immigration surge will add about 2 percent to real G.D.P. by 2034.

But are immigrants taking jobs away from native-born Americans? No. A recent analysis by Goldman Sachs contains this really interesting chart:

In case you’re wondering, “SA by GS” refers to the fact that official data aren’t adjusted for seasonal fluctuations, so Goldman Sachs has done its own seasonal adjustment.

This chart shows no rise in native-born unemployment during the immigration surge. It does show a rise in foreign-born unemployment, which I’ll come back to. But for now let’s just note that there is no good evidence that immigrants are taking away jobs from workers born in America.

Still, doesn’t immigration put downward pressure on wages? That sounds as if it could be true — in particular, you might think that immigrants with relatively little formal education compete with less educated native-born workers. I used to believe this myself.

But many (although not all) academic studies find that immigration has little effect on the wages of native-born workers, even when those workers have similar education levels. Instead of being substitutes for native-born workers, immigrants often seem to complement them, bringing different skills and concentrating in different occupations.

In some ways the current immigration surge, probably consisting mainly of less educated workers (especially among the undocumented), is a test case. Have wages for lower-wage workers declined? On the contrary, what we’ve seen recently is a surprising move toward wage equality, with big gains at the bottom :

Overall, then, immigration appears to have been a big plus for U.S. economic growth, among other things expanding our productive capacity in a way that reduced the inflationary impact of Biden’s spending programs.

It’s also important to realize that immigration, if it continues (and if a future Trump administration doesn’t round up millions of people for deportation), will help pay for Social Security and Medicare. C.B.O. expects 91 percent of adult immigrants between 2022 and 2034 to be under 55, compared with 62 percent for the overall population. That means a substantial number of additional workers paying into the system without collecting retirement benefits for many years.

Finally, let me return to that Goldman Sachs chart on unemployment rates, which shows no rise in unemployment among the native-born but a significant rise among the foreign-born. Believe it or not, that’s probably good news.

Goldman argues that the rise in foreign-born unemployment reflects a longstanding tendency for recent immigrants to have relatively high unemployment, presumably because it takes some time for many of them to get settled into sustained employment; unemployment is much lower among immigrants who have been here three years or more.

Why is this probably good news? The overall U.S. unemployment rate has crept up recently — not enough to trigger the Sahm rule , which links rising unemployment to recessions, but enough to make me and others a bit nervous .

Goldman argues, however, that this time is different. All of the rise in unemployment is among foreign-born workers — and this, they suggest, means that we aren’t seeing the kind of weakening in demand for labor that presages recessions. What we’re seeing instead, they argue, is an increase in labor supply, with many of the new workers taking some time to find their feet. If so, the Sahm rule, which has been spectacularly successful in the past, may currently be misleading.

I hope they’re right.

The bottom line is that while America’s immigration system is dysfunctional and really needs more resources — resources it would be getting if Republicans, pushed by Trump, hadn’t turned their backs on a bill they helped devise — the recent surge in immigration has actually been good for the economy so far, and gives us reason to be more optimistic about the future.

A summary of that Goldman Sachs study.

Another time dark-skinned immigrants (that is, Italians) were accused of fostering violent crime .

There are more bad economists — in the sense of being bad people — than I would ever have suspected.

New business creation is surging .

Facing the Music

“Dune: Part Two” is terrific, but I wanted more Sardaukar chanting .

Paul Krugman has been an Opinion columnist since 2000 and is also a distinguished professor at the City University of New York Graduate Center. He won the 2008 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences for his work on international trade and economic geography. @ PaulKrugman

College essay about immigrant experience

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