My parents and grandparents came to New York from Mexico Puebla  in search of opportunities for a better life for the next generations to come. When they first arrived they knew nothing, they knew no English and had no idea how to use the train station. They felt like outsiders, like they didn't belong. They were scared of being in a big city when they were so used to knowing everyone. Until they reached a family member's apartment and saw a familiar item. An item that brought comfort while being miles away from home. While the picture may show nothing more than a white chair, it holds countless memories in the lives of many families, not just hispanic ones. I’ve slept on it, eaten on it, sat on it, laughed on it, and cried on it. These chairs have witnessed generations of families accomplishments, celebrations, and the lowest moments of life and they will continue to witness many more. They are the chairs where Latino children gathered with their uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents. We would all sit together as stories were shared. Some might call it “chisme,” but I call it wisdom. As children sitting on those simple plastic chairs, we learned so much about life. We learned who to trust and how to handle grown up situations by listening to the experiences of past generations. Those moments spent sitting in a simple plastic chair helped shape who we are today. While people may be divided by culture, many of us will always be united by something as simple as a plastic chair.

– EC

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