My great-grandfather was a doctor who lived in Philadelphia. During the Great Depression work was hard to find, so, in 1935, he took a job at a Native American Reservation in New Mexico. It was at the reservation that my grandmother was born. When she was still an infant, her father brought her a pair of baby shoes from a Hopi artisan. My grandmother was very proud of them, as they were a reminder of the time her family spent living with the Hopi tribe. When she was old enough to go to school, the family moved back to Philadelphia. My grandmother’s mother was a harsh, unforgiving woman. In her mother’s eyes, my grandmother was never thin enough, her grades were never good enough, and her room was never clean enough. With no siblings, her father was my grandmother’s only ally. He died of a heart attack when my grandmother was only 20. The Hopi shoes are one of my family’s most sacred items, even more so in recent years, ever since my grandmother passed away in 2018. They represent her migration across the country from the enclosed culture of a Hopi reservation to a densely populated metropolitan area. This drastic change in culture is a familiar theme among Americans, as many families have had to relocate due to persecution, economic factors, or just the search for opportunity. It is this shared experience that brings us all together, as Americans.

– Evan Haddican

Relationship:  Grandchild of im/migrant Grandchild of im/migrant