HONORABLE MENTION: Trabaja Duro (Work Hard); Everett Entry in ILC Essay Contest

By Katerin C.

Everett High School

Why do immigrants leave behind their homes? The war that’s brewing in their country? The poverty? The failed education system? The hopes the Statue of Liberty brings?

My parents left El Salvador to have something more for themselves. On their backs through deserts and rainforests, they carried their Catholic religion, their hopes of being successful and their motivation to live a life without showering in lakes and sleeping cramped in a room with 12 siblings.

They had 5 kids–all girls; one in college majoring in dental, another almost 13 in the constant attitude phase, one who loved Spiderman and Stitch, one who prompts mini heart attacks from a love of climbing everything, and one writing this essay on the impact of immigrants to our society.

What does a hammock look like to you? I’m assuming it’s something modern and expensive material, sold on Amazon. My hamaca all the colors you could think of, handwoven by the veiny freckled hands of my grandmother. Whenever anyone in my family visits our country, they always bring back a hamaca – it’s more than just a place to take the best nap ever. It’s a reminder of how far we’ve come.

On every trip to the lake we’ve ever taken, we always brought a hamaca. The first thing my dad would do was tie the knots he learned to tie from his father. If that was being used, we would lay a towel on the bare ground and let the sun dry us up. Looking around, I’d see American families with a whole crib out on the sand for their babies. We had our hamaca. It may not be as sturdy but it brings us a sense of our home. I believe many Hispanic immigrants find comfort when they go to the lakes. It’s a place where they reminisce about their

homeland.

My parent’s migration to America has brought me the best of both worlds. I live in the typical Hispanic household but with typical American traditions. Sometimes they even say I’m whitewashed since over the years I have begun to lose my Spanish and my appetite for frijoles. But I will always choose a hamaca over an American beach chair.

My family embraces many different cultures. At our birthday parties, there is agua fresca de fruta with mango, strawberry, apples, and melon. There is Portuguese chicken that would be left with clean bones.

Have you realized how you’ll occasionally pass by a small hidden market that sells Hispanic ingredients? It would be named Los Primos or Supermercado Latino. There are thousands of stores in the world that bring their cultural food that becomes a feeling of home to immigrants or it becomes a bridge to the community between other Americans. We are all connected by an invisible string and we don’t even realize it. What makes America special is that in every turn you take, you’ll see a market selling foods from a different culture. If you love spice and you need some good peppers and spices, go to a Mexican market. The beauty is that you’ll find whatever you need.

My family doesn’t celebrate their Independence Day but we sure do celebrate July 4th by buying fireworks, cooking a barbeque, and hot dogs for the children all day. All the older cousins get together and secretly go to the corner store without the younger cousins knowing. The dads play cards, except for the one flipping the steak and hot dogs. The moms talk about the latest chisme. We would get together like all the other American families.

My mom and dad built their way up to where we are now. They had dreams and accomplished them. My 17-year-old parents provided for themselves all while learning a new language. They didn’t have their parents to rely on, only themselves. So, they worked jobs that Americans wouldn’t. Cleaning the scraps of food from the sink as they wash the dishes, cleaning the clinics you go to, working the night shifts everyone didn’t, including them, but what could they do? They took every opportunity that landed in their hands.

I remember the new burns and cuts my dad would show little 8-year-old me when he’d get home on school nights. I didn’t realize that these cuts and burns were the reason I was fed each day. The reason that I slept soundly at night. The reason I got light-up Skechers. The reason is that I didn’t live with any fear.

Immigrants are the hard workers of our nation who share the same dream of better lives for their families. Immigrant parents raise diligent children who become successful nurses, entrepreneurs, police officers, teachers – all while patiently waiting years for their legal papers, staying silent when they know they are taken advantage of. They endure the cuts, burns, and blisters for their first-gen children to get into colleges, and their children work just as hard to make them proud.

Society today is versatile and diverse due to the great impact of immigrants who’ve made our nation beautiful and strong. Try to picture America without immigrants – that nation would cease to be America. It would not be a better place.

My name is Katerin and I am glad to have been raised by two dedicated parents who have allowed me to flourish. Who have allowed me to become a person of gratitude, respect, integrity, and most of all a person of hard work. Every day is a day where they give their all. They have taught me to give my all in my academics and sports. At every falling moment of mine, they say, “trabaja duro,” even as the tiredness shows in their eyes and they look so drained when they come home at night. For them, I work hard. Because of them, I will be successful.

Immigrants are the face of this nation through their diversity, hard work, and their undying will to keep going. Thank you, immigrants. You make this country great.