Being in America is something that kind of muddies people's perceptions of what they are since most identities are usually clumped together based on skin color or stereotypes. Actual heritages are tossed out in the grand scheme of things and I along with other people have been grouped into groups that I wasn't a part of. Before all of that though, I immigrated to America (New York City) when I was maybe a little older than an infant as an adoptee. During the process which took place during the late summer-early fall of 2008 that my parents went through they had to visit me and my birth mother a few times before I was able to leave my home country to come to America. While this was going on, of course, I was present with my first foster mom and she would bring me to meet my current parents while I was wrapped in a small little blanket, at least to me now. This blanket was something that I've kept throughout my life as a small reminder of where I was born and that it still is something that while I may not keep in my mind all the time it's still a part of me. This blanket is the only item I have left from my home country and birth mother, and while it can seem melancholy Im just happy to have something left over.

 

– Micah Finkelstein

Relationship:  Im/migrant who arrived as a child Im/migrant who arrived as a child