My family migration started with a sixteen-year-old kid. With the goal to step foot in the Big Apple and make enough bank to send back home, Mexico. The boy traveled with a group of people with similar goals and together, they traveled in harsh terrains, mostly in foot with limited food, water and having to cross multiple rivers. With many struggles and some losing some people along the way, he managed to see Lady Liberty greeting him here in Manhattan. He managed to stay with some cousins in a one-bedroom apartment here in Astoria, Queens and quickly found his way in kitchen, bussing tables, cleaning dishes and sending half his paycheck back home. Couple years later, three sisters would also travel to the Big Apple with the hopes of joining him and making something of themselves. While still experiencing the same struggles, they did encounter a band of robbers, stripping them down naked, taking all of their valuable possessions on the spot while being pointed at basically gunpoint. Leaving them with vary limited food and resources, no one was harm. Thankfully, they made their way to Queens with one hell of a story to tell. Later on, some other family members made their way here, but I believe that my uncle’s and three aunts were the highlights of our migration story. Although they couldn’t carry a significant object in their journey, they still managed to grab something that reminded them of home years later. 

– AA

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