My father began roller skating in Mexico and brought his passion to the United States. Sometime in his teenage years, he got pink hand-me-down roller skates from his cousin. . Though at the time, he would have never guessed that roller skating would become his main form of transportation. He loved them like you love a pet or a car. His dad gave him a choice, "Estudias o te pongas a trabajar." So when school wasn’t working in his favor, he decided to immigrate to the US at the age of 19. With very little money in his pocket and a gallon of water, he began the treacherous voyage of crossing the border. Not only did this take a physical toll on his body, but also took a mental toll on his brain. Of course, he got deported and went through the whole process all over again. Finally, he made it to New York City, a city of many different cultures, people, and foods. As he worked as a busboy, waiter, dishwasher, cab driver, security, and now a bartender, getting around the city wasn’t easy. So he went back to his roots and bought a pair of roller blades with the money he earned. After years of rollerblading, it became embedded his personality. Naturally, he showed me all around the city the second I learned how to bike. Eating mangos in the messiest way possible after a long summer-day bike ride was a moment I’ll never forget. I also won’t forget how heavy they felt after he made me carry them. As of today, he rollerblades from Harlem, all the way to my school, just to pick me up.

– Gabriel Esquivel-Berkman

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant