I have heard many stories from my mother about life in the United States. I was born and raised in Puerto Rico. Yes it is part of the United States, but anyone from there could tell you it’s not the same. My brother and I dreamt every day what it would be like to go to the mainland, even if it were just a visit. Every Saturday, we watched the Disney channel to see how life was over there. We wondered if the school was really like how it was on television. We both knew English because we were raised with it, but it wasn’t the same. Each day we were mocked, bullied, and harassed by the Puerto Ricans who did not knew English just because we knew another language.
In elementary school, I was one of five people out of the whole school who actually knew how to read, speak, and understand English. My friends and I talked about everything, and if I needed to say something to them in private I just spoke English. A lot of people got really mad it and said, “This is Puerto Rico. We speak only Spanish over here!”
I said to them, “Last time I checked this is a free country. We can do whatever we want!” This caused for me to get in a lot of fights, Most of the time I lost because I was small. Elementary school was rough, but in the end, I still had some friends, and we helped each other out. My brother, on the other hand, did not have it as rough. He just pretended he did not know English, but that did not last for too long.
My brother and I were talking once in English, and people found and jumped us. They said, “Puerto Rico is no place for bilinguals. It’s only for us PURES!” My brother and I fought them off. Since then, I wanted to move to the United States even more. My brother and I wanted to move to New York, the place my mom and almost half my family kept describing, because they lived there. I wanted a new life so badly.
In middle school, it was no different. I craved to move from this island of...