88 Quotes About Immigrant-experience

After 15 years in America, I learned just two things for sure about America. One, they give you three meals a day in jail, no exceptions. Two, the only real way to make a living in this place is to be a bullshit artist. After 20+ years in America including 8 years of AA meetings, I decided that I finally have an American Dream. My american dream is to drink beer all day and host overtalkers anonymous meetings. Please vote for Andrew Yang.

Immigrant parents, when they first move to North America, push towards whiteness, towards assimilation, to survive and thrive. Naturally, their children do too for the first half of their lives. This usually tips the other way, but before we're taught anything, we're taught to hide.

For people like us, home doesn't exist.

And in fact, I am a foreigner everywhere in the world: as soon as I leave my home, I step into a void.

Hakujin don't know when a smile is an insult." Hakujin were white people. She always said her experience showed that if you hated white people, they would just hate you back, and nothing would change in the world; and if you didn't hate them after the way they treated you, you would end up hating yourself, and nothing would change that way, either. So it was no good to hate them, and it was no good not to hate the. So nothing changed.

You know, I just... I just feel like it's unfair, that my whole life is unfair, like I was born into the wrong place and family. I never belong anywhere. My parents don't understand anything about me. And my sister is gone. Sometimes I watch those stupid TV shows, you know? The ones where mothers and daughters talk about feelings and fathers take their kids to play baseball or get ice cream or some shit like that, and I wish it were me. It's so stupid, I know, to want your life to be a sitcom.

I stop at hi. Because what if he asks other questions? I won't have the replies ready, and I'll be staring at him like a frozen booger. I can't possibly prepare all the questions and all the answers. The number of questions he could ask is infinite. My English is very, very finite.

No object is in a constant relationship with pleasure, wrote Barthes. For the writer, however, it is the mother tongue. But what if the mother tongue is stunted? What if that tongue is not only the symbol of a void, but is itself a void, what if the tongue is cut out? Can one take pleasure in loss without losing oneself entirely? The Vietnamese I own is the one you gave me, the one whose diction and syntax reach only the second-grade level.

An ocean could not explain the distance we have traveled.