my family did not pursue the american dream for me to sit on my a**

a personal essay

first generation.

first to be born in this nation.

my parents precious creation.

forced to suffer through inflation.

the foundations, the origin of our american dream

The weight that a first-generation, child of immigrants is forced to carry… is immense.

You not only carry the hopes and dreams of those who came before you, but you also hold the sacrifice and trauma it took to make it to a new country. You not only carry the idealistic promise of a new start, but you are forced to reckon with how the world, specifically this new country has changed since your parents made that sacrifice.

My mom came this country by way of Venezuela, her mother a native Venezuelan from San Cristobal, who fell in love with a hunky, ginger-haired Italian man from Bari who came to her country after the war. She stared into those baby blue eyes and the rest is history. Or rather…They fell in love, had three children, and immigrated, legally to the United States in pursuit of the American Dream.

My father is from Mexico, our neighbor to the south, here in the states. At one point, my father was an undocumented immigrant, and was sent back to the homeland. His desire for a life here in the U.S., is what drove him to pursue a legal path toward citizenship, and here he is today…living his American dream. In a career he worked hard to pursue, a home that hew owns, and building a life for his children to live a life less strife-filled than the uncertainty of his youth. He built his version of the American dream with blood, sweat, and tears.

I am a product of immigrants who believed in this country. The glorious USA. Immigrants, who sought this country out as a place where their wildest dreams could come true.

And for most of my life, I too believed in this concept of the American dream.

But I can’t help but think…

is the American dream is dead?

american assimilation

While my parents and grandparents did the best they could to instill a rootedness in our homeland cultures, respectively.

They also encouraged us to assimilate toward American ideals from a young age.

We did not speak Italian or Spanish at home…and I still don’t speak fluently. It’s a crime.

We were also encouraged to “follow the path” toward the American dream:

good education, more education, good job, wife, kids, own a home, white picket fence, retire old, enjoy the little bit left…

But…

the formula does NOT work

This good education and more education has me paying student loans for the rest of my life…or at the very least, the next 15 years according to my shoddy math.

I have a Master’s degree, and 50k to pay back, why would I incur more?

This good job, has had me burnout more times than I can imagine.

Wife…NO thanks, not interested. I’m gay.

Kids…in this economy?

Own a home? Where, the middle of nowhere?

If only I could afford a home, then maybe the white picket fence might sound more plausible.

Retire old? So I can travel Europe with arthritis and the ailments of a hard life?

I don’t want to retire when I am 70 years old.

I want to enjoy my life!

My late Nonno, used to say “enjoy your life!” This was his way of saying “goodbye” every time we parted…how profound…

but how can I enjoy my life, when the american dream has become the american nightmare?

There is a rising anti-immigrant sentiment that grows in this country, festering and bubbling and rearing its ugly head.

There are so many “Americans” that are caught up on the removal of immigrants from this country. This concept is so stupid to me. This country was founded on immigrants! The only people that were here were indigenous peoples…and look what happened to them!!

Completely wronged in every which way. Casualties of the pursuit of colonialism and expansion, and for lack of better words, ethnic cleansing.

It’s so crazy to me, how there are many people in this country that support ICE and care more about a piece of paper than human dignity.

These are our neighbors.

These were my parents.

Children taken from school, and placed in a cage.

Citizens by birthright, forced into a cruel system because their parents are undocumented, yet contributing to society…

it’s impossible to not bring politics into this equation.

And all this 'pro-life' hypocrisy? Give me a f—ing break. 'Pro-life' my ass. More like 'pro-white, cis-het life!' It's 'pro-life' unless it's a queer child. 'Pro-life' unless it's an expectant mother who needs an emergency abortion. 'Pro-life' unless it's someone non-white or poor. What in the actual hell.

I grew up Catholic. I’ve read the Bible. I still believe in God.

The biggest takeaway for me was “let all that you do be done in love” and “treat others with kindness” or the golden rule “treat others how you would like to be treated.”

Where in the Bible does it say: be a cruel and judgmental b*tch?

I’ve got plenty of feelings at this moment in time, but don’t get me wrong…I am still grateful for my family’s decision to make a home in this country. both things can be true.

I am grateful.

How can I not be?

My late mother loved me deeply, that love has kept me alive.

My grandparents saved me, gave me a roof over my head and food to nourish me during a rough time in my life.

Their sacrifice, bought me privilege.

& I can’t sit idly by and not use it.

What in the hell would that be good for?

They imparted rich culture through cinema, television, literature, tradition, values, and food.

My tribe, my ancestors, my loved ones…made an investment, not in themselves, but for the future generations to come, myself included.

I am forever grateful for that…

while the American dream may be dead, my dreams are very much alive.

There is still a fire in my belly, the torch I carry for those who came before me.

There is an ember that seeks justice for those treated unfairly and inhumanely.

I still have ambitions and desires, goals and dreams.

I am seeking a life lived to the fullest, and I am just scratching the surface.

What I’ve learned is that the “copy + paste” american dream that was attainable, or even tangible when my family immigrated here, is now gone, and I need to figure out what that means for me and my peers.

I’m not disillusioned or depressed, I am seeking a way forward for those of us who work hard, do things the right way, and still feel overwhelmed by the lies and promises we were sold as first-generation proud children of immigrant parents.

what does that look like?

I have no clue.

I’m figuring it out.

I am just getting used to using my voice, in a way that opens my words to criticism and difference of opinion, but I can’t stay silent.

Words are my weapons, words are my olive branches, words help me to connect and have much larger conversations, from a place of love and a vision for a brighter future.