After binge watching Aziz Ansari’s brilliant show Master of None, I have done a lot of thinking about my experiences as a child of two immigrants. Being a first generation American implies different things for everyone. My experience is in many ways different compared to children of Asian, Latin/Central American, African immigrants but our lives can be universal in other aspects which has resonated with me when watching Ansari’s new series.
My parents moved to America in the 70’s and were 17 years old at the time trying to pursue a life of success and happiness (better known as the American dream). My mother worked in countless factories and had many jobs as a maid at hotels. My father went to trade school and eventually received a license to become an electrician and eventually start his own company. Their story is similar to the story of many of the kids that I went to high school with. Our parents made it from virtually nothing to only later encourage us to pursue careers that would mirror even greater success and happiness.
I admire immigrant parents for their hard work and giving their children the lives that they never had. Sometimes I do take for granted all that I have been given and that my parent’s humble beginnings escape me almost always. As a fully assimilated American, I have adjusted to fast paced Western culture that many times shifts the focus on the importance of family to work and school. By the same token, I have such great admiration for immigrant children as well who are patient with their parents who may not understand or speak English and the way they show their love by translating for them. Being assimilated into a culture that is vastly different from your parents can cause both a disconnect and dysphoria of immigrant children. This is more often experienced at a younger age when your peers don’t quite understand your family situation and culture. Simple daily activities such as eating lunch at school and having friends over is different because of the cultural differences and misinterpretations that exists. Some children don’t understand why your parents have an accent and speak poor English and make fun of the food you eat or clothes you wear because it is unfamiliar. This leads to an even greater desire for first generation children to become less involved with their family background and more like the average American child.
First generation children who aren’t connected to the culture in which their parents experienced have to deal with living up to the expectations of other non-first generation children. Not every first generation child knows how to speak their parent’s native language or know much about pop culture in that country. This creates the same effect as previously mentioned in the reverse manner. There is a dysphoria between the child because of what is assumed by others as what it’s like to be an immigrant child versus the reality of being more American than not.
Traditional Croatian Folklore
For me, I have always wanted to remain close to my Croatian roots and have consciously set out to never lose sight of where my parents and ancestors have come from. Visiting Croatia has been a perplexing experience because it is the dream of many people to become an American and live life like in the movies with a big house, swimming pool, and dogs (this is the perception Croatian children have of the average American life and asked me if I have those things). For a child of two Croatian parents, I wish I could have been more connected to what it’s like being a native Croatian. If my parents had never moved to America, I would probably see America as portrayed in the media and see it as the greatest place in the world. With my cultural identity, I have experienced a sense of not belonging as an American and wanting to belong more so as a Croatian. Growing older has helped me come to terms with being both American and not. Being American has in many ways helped me want to understand my roots better while being a child of immigrants has given me a refreshing perspective on what being American is and the imperfections that we must understand and reconcile.
Being a child of immigrant has made my life enriched with tales of my ancestors, endless laughter due to broken English, and growing up in the crossroads of two vastly different cultures. I embrace my nationality as a Croatian-America and feel extreme pride, mainly for being a part of the dream my parents set out to achieve. When I speak with my friends whose parents came to America, they seem to have their unique stories pertaining to their cultural experiences, but we are still held by the similar thread of living in the shadow of our parent’s immigration that influenced almost every aspect of our childhood into our adult life.