May Esperanza Losloso: Immigrant Stories

Transcription
My name is May Esperanza Losloso. Growing up in the Philippines, I was raised by my mom
and her sister, Tita Menchi. who I called Ma. My dad went to the U.S. when I was one because
he was in the army and he visited the Philippines once a year. My mom would keep my dad
updated by sending him photos with stories written on the back of them. This photo was taken
right before my dad was about to leave for the U.S. again. On the back, my mom wrote “It’s like
I didn’t want us to be separated again, but I knew that you had to go back to the army.” It was
clear that this separation was difficult for my family. There were countless birthdays and
holidays that my dad missed. But my mom documented every single one of them without fail.
She worked at a travel agency and my aunt lived with us and took care of me while my mom
worked. I’m not really sure if I understood why my dad didn’t live with us, but I definitely wished
he was there. In this photo, I’m actually holding up a picture my dad sent us. I wanted him to be
included in the photo with me and my mom. In 1988, my mom and I got tourist visas and were
able to spend some time with my dad in California. I got to experience Halloween and Christmas
in America for the first time. But more importantly, I was able to be with both of my parents. My
mom and I knew that our stay was limited and that we had to go back to the Philippines. My dad
continued to visit us once a year. I started attending St. John’s Academy, a private Catholic
school, and I got involved in various school events. I had my first communion and received
honors and yearly recognition ceremonies. While photos and letters kept coming from my mom,
they couldn’t replace the feeling of actually experiencing these moments as a family. It took nine
years for us to finally be reunited, but the immigration system hasn’t improved. Families are still
being torn apart like mine was because they are still waiting in the visa backlogs.

Ariana Yang Transcription

“Our Family’s Immigration Story”
My name is Ariana Yang, and I’m a second-generation Hmong American woman. I grew up on
the East Side of St. Paul, Minnesota in the heart of the Hmong community in the Twin Cities.
Although I was born in the United States, my story always begins with the journey that family
undertook.
My parents grew up in the rural mountains of Xiangkhoang province in Laos. Like many Hmong
families in Laos, their lives were disrupted with the turmoil of the Secret War, and when the
persecution of Hmong people began by the local militia, my parents and their families were
forced to flee into the eastern jungles. After living in the refugee camps in Thailand, my family
was granted entry into the United States. Their first stop in the United State was New York City.
I remember my father recalling their first meal in the United States. They were all directed to a
McDonald’s in the airport to order food. None of my family members knew how to speak
English. Even more, although they were starving, they had no idea what a cheeseburger was.
By a stroke of luck, my father overheard one of the workers in the back speaking Thai. My father
was able to communicate with him, and the worker was able to prepare a meal that seemed
vaguely familiar to my family. My father said that he was even able to get them rice.
It was a rough welcome to the strange land they had come to, but my father remembers that
moment with a sense of warmth. I think about the story often. I think about the heavy hearts my
parents carried as they left family and their old lives in Southeast Asia. I think about the fear and
shock they must have felt upon arriving in America, and the uncertainty they held as they moved
from city to city. But I also think about the hopes and dreams they carried as they raised their
family of fifteen. I think about my mother working third shift every night so that she could send
us off to school each morning. I think about my father, who encouraged us to inquisitive instead
of docile. I think about how all of these experiences and stories continue to shape and frame the
world that I live in. Although I was born nearly fifteen years after the war ended, I now know that
the memories and dreams of my people continue to live in me. As a second-generation
immigrant, it is a responsibility and an honor of mine to pass these stories along to future
Hmong children in hopes that we will continue to remember.

Saengmany Ratsabout
Narrator

Immigrant Stories
Immigration History Research Center

Minneapolis, MN

The year was 1986, Space shuttle Challenger exploded minutes after takeoff, killing all
seven crew members. The catastrophic nuclear accident at Chernobyl and its fallout
killed at least 4000 people and over 350000 people were displaced. Microsoft became a
publicly traded company and its founder, Bill Gates became an instant billionaire. The
Gates Millennium Scholarship has provided over 1.5 Billion dollars of scholarships to
high achieving minority students. The Statue of Liberty celebrated its Centennial. Lady
Liberty has for over a century become a symbol of freedom; she opens her arms and
greeted immigrants onto Ellis Island, her torch lit a new path for immigrants seeking the
American dreams. These are events I learned in high school and college.
However, something was missing: the narratives and experiences of my family’s
immigration story and stories of countless more refugees from Laos. 1986 was also the
year that my family arrived to the United States. We had escaped the aftermaths of the
civil war, one that the US Central Intelligence Agency covertly intervened as part of their
fight against the spread of communism. We would become a product of a complex
immigration system, one that allows families like mine access to the US as refugees,
when a century earlier excluded Chinese immigrants and had barred immigration
entirely from much of Asia. Unlike European immigrants who arrived on boats onto the
open arms of Lady Liberty, my family arrived as refugees aboard Northwest Orient
Airline flight number 020. Our journey spanned two and a half years in refugee camps
and countless medical exams. I was a four year old malnourished child weighing 11.1
kilograms, or roughly 24.5 pounds. “The heart and lungs are within normal limits”, reads
the x-ray; a sign of final approval for entrance to the United States. Much of this history
is not well known, let alone taught in classrooms. It was not until college that I became
interested in my family’s experience and journey. My parents once told me that the day
we left Laos, my name was written on the sandy shore of the Mekong river, reminding
me that Laos would always be a part of me.
We continue to pave our path in this land and begin to tell our stories in hope to inspire
others to tell theirs. What’s your immigrant story?
Transcription
Mary Fray: Immigrant Stories
Transcription
My grandmother, Mary Fray or “Be-Ma” as we called her, spent the last sixty years of her life in
a small western suburb of Chicago. She was far away from where she was born in Italy as Anna
Maria DiMillo. “Maree,” as she was called by most of her family, was born on July 23, 1925 in
Roccamarice, in the Pescara province of Italy. She was the first-born of five children. Her
parents, Rosalia and Giovanni, adored her and she had a wonderful young childhood in her
small town. Her father was a musician, barber, and tailor, while her mother stayed at home to
care for the family.
My grandmother’s family decided to leave Italy when the Fascist government of Benito
Mussolini took control of the country. A part of the family had their ski resort taken over by
government agents and life was difficult for people in small towns like Roccamarice. This was a
scary time for many families in Italy. A better life was to be found in the United States for both
economic and social reasons.
When my grandma was six, she, her mother, and little sister were admitted to the United States
via Ellis Island. A year earlier, they were denied entry because of an eye problem my
grandmother had, but after a year of treatment and healing back in Italy, they were finally
admitted to the U.S. and settled in Portland, Maine.
Growing up as an Italian immigrant in the 1930s and 40s had its challenges. Learning English,
being Catholic, and getting good jobs was not easy for everyone. Being young though, my
grandmother picked up English quickly and did very well in school. After she graduated from
Portland High School in 1942, she decided to leave her family and move to Chicago. She was
admitted to the Art Institute of Chicago, where she studied fabric and design. She also worked
at the USO as a hostess during World War II. She loved her free and exciting new life with her
new friends. Her traditional Italian family back in Portland did not always know what to think!
In Chicago, my grandmother met William Fray whose mother was a Swedish immigrant. They
were married in the early 1950s, and different cultures and religions came together. Anne Maria
DiMillo was now Mary Fray of Geneva, Illinois, but her Italian roots were always in her. She
loved opera, Italy, and, most of all, her family. She had two brothers serve in the U.S. Army
during World War II. Her children lived good lives, and she always wanted her grandchildren to
bring her back to Roma, the Eternal City. Her spirit and love are forever in both countries.

Nancy Fong Transcription

My name is Nancy Fong. My Chinese name is Kong Y Yee. I was born in Kowloon Hong Kong. I
grew up in Chicago Chinatown. And my family moved to the U.S. in 1962. We came for a better
life because there was no jobs in Hong Kong. My father came to the U.S. first. He came in
February 1960, and he had to work a couple of years to afford the plane tickets, for 6 of us. Also
he had to apply for us to come, so that took a while.

The one in the center is of my mother and father at the airport on the day that my father was
leaving to come to the US. This picture is when my mother and my siblings and I were at the
airport. That was when we came to the U.S. There was an article in the paper when we arrived
here of when we were getting off the plane.

When I came I was almost five years old. And as a child in Hong Kong we were all just very
excited because of course this is how my mother presented it to us, that we are going to
America to reunite with our father again. So that was very exciting, but then when we came
here, life was not easy.

So my parents worked very hard. They did whatever they could do to earn some money. The
wages were very low. Coming to the U.S. after we got here, it was not fun because my father
worked. My mother worked whenever she found a job. She worked in factories, she worked in a,
what she calls a bobby pin factory. My brother and my two older sisters were in school. I was
not old enough to go to school yet, so it was just me and my younger sister at home. In Hong
Kong, I had my siblings around, my mother, and my grandmother around. My grandmother was
always doting on me and carried me on her back because we didn’t have strollers, so we had
something called an ‘ai’- what people call slings here. So, I always had attention. Coming here, I
was left alone. With me and my younger sister.

At the time of migration, my mother was everything because she had to take charge and care
for us, and she worked very hard, she worked whenever she could. She tried to learn English by
looking at books on her own, so it was very hard for her to learn English because she was doing
it on her own. She was reading out loud, sounding words out, and for something like learning a
language it’s just very difficult trying to do it on your own. You need to have somebody give you
some guidance.

This picture here is of us kids. We lived on the south side of Chicago, and this is the same year.
This is a few months after we arrived here.

They are very special because of the place and time that they were taken. These are old black
and whites and at the time it’s quite a luxury to be able to go to a photographer, which we
couldn’t afford but we had to take pictures to document this, to give to, to send to my father.

Okay, these photos are special because they’re the family, and there’s nothing more special
than a family.

Thiago Heilman Transcription

“DREAMER”

On-screen text: The following is a true story based on actual events…

On April 27, 1996 I boarded a plane from Belo Horizonte, Brazil headed for New York City. This
was intended to be a temporary trip, long enough for my mother to save some money and then
return to our native land and live the life of a promised dream. We wanted to own our own home
and live life comfortably.
I still remember the first time I saw the World Trade Center and the beautiful New York City
skyline. It transcended any expectations I ever had. This was the new world, and the new world
was shiny, big, and full of endless opportunities. As a child growing up in the United States, this
became my country.
My dream was no longer to go back, but to remain here with the new life I had forged for myself.
My family’s plans, however, remained intact and eventually they all returned except for me. I
stayed behind and continued striving for the American Dream. I wanted to have an education
and eventually a stable family. There was only one thing holding me back – my status in the
country. Because my family had originally come to the US with visitors’ visas and we had
overstayed those visas, we were now out of status and were undocumented. Many things like
health insurance, going to college, getting a proper ID, and so forth were unattainable. All the
dreams and drive to succeed were there, but the opportunities to achieve those were all locked
behind closed doors. I was like 11 million other undocumented immigrants in the U.S.
Everything seemed so simple yet unattainable, that is until June 15, 2012 when President
Barack Obama announced an executive action that gave me, and hundreds of thousands more
like me, the key to open those doors and become a new type of resident: DREAMERS.
After collecting all the data necessary my first legal U.S. document arrived in the mail – my
employment authorization card and social security card. The feeling was beyond ecstatic. It felt
like this giant rubber band that had been stretched across my chest snapped and I catapulted to
achieving my dreams.
It took a while, but my American dream is finally coming true. Many things that natural born
citizens take for granted are finally happening to me. I didn’t get my driver’s license when I was
16, but getting it at 30 makes me feel like a teenager all over again. My time is now, and I’m
enjoying this freedom every day, and every day I am grateful that it’s finally come true.
On-screen text: My story didn’t end there.
On May 14, 2013 Minnesota became the 12th State to recognize same-sex Marriages. On June
26, 2013, The US Supreme Court struck down DOMA. Same sex couples now have equal
immigration rights.
Dedicated to my grandparents – the hardest part of being a dreamer was never not being able
to say goodbye.

William Nyang'un Transcription

Moving to the United States has always been my dream. Matter of fact, it is a dream come true.
My name is William Nyang’un, and this is my immigration story. I was born in Nairobi, Kenya in
December 9th 1990. I am the last born of 5 children that includes 3 handsome brothers and 1
beautiful sister. My family calls me Bill.
When I was six months old, my mother got an opportunity that saw her moving to the United
States by herself. The immigration laws must have too strict, that she was not able to carry a six
month old baby along with her.
According to the African culture, raising a child is not just a parental responsibility, but the whole
community is involved as well, as it was in my case. I grew up around so many uncles and
aunts, who would not hesitate to smack my behind if I seemed to lose my direction.
My family was there to celebrate all my birthdays, as they watched me grow. Even when we
were worlds apart with my mom, she would still send me lots of gifts, letters, and voice
recordings on tapes which would play her voice, expressing her unconditional love for me.
These were followed by constant phone calls that always checked on us.
My mom made her first trip back to Kenya when I was 9 years old. It was such an emotional
moment for her, more than it was for me, when we first hugged each other. That must have
been the very best moment of my life.
After my mom’s visit, my siblings moved to the United States at different times. This was a
happy moment for me, and at the same time sad. It was happy because I would be getting even
more gifts and attention, at the same time it was going to be sad because I would miss them.
In the winter of 2012, I moved to the United States for school. That was the first Christmas that
we were all united as siblings in my mother’s house in Virginia. As a tradition, lots of African and
American food were prepared.
I was able to start college in the Spring of 2013 at Minneapolis Community and Technical
College. One of the main challenges I faced was the cold winters. My brothers tease me now,
that I can survive in any weather, since I survived in the Minnesota cold.
A year later, in the winter of 2012, i lost my mom to a battle of cancer. I am still grateful because
she had nurtured my brothers and sister in her special ways, hence I still get to see her
presence in each and every one of them. They are all settled with good jobs and family, and all
play a major role in supporting me in my education.
I am now in junior year in the University of Minnesota, pursuing a degree in Computer Science. I
hope to graduate and start an IT company back in Kenya, where I will be able to help the less
fortunate children by funding for their education so that they would be able to achieve their
dreams as well.

Instructions
PLEASE FOLLOW THE FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Create a PowerPoint Presentation on Migration.

2. In your PowerPoint Presentation, explain how migration facilitates globalization. Use the
stories of immigrants ( links provided below) to illustrate migration as a driver of
globalization.
3. Include an analysis of the push and pull factors in the videos. Present your analysis of
the push and pull factors by retelling the stories of the immigrants using the 3rd person
point of view. (Summarize their stories; use a combination of text and graphics in the
PowerPoint).
4. Make sure to add a concluding paragraph.
 
May Losloso:
Ariana Yang:
 

Saengmany Rastabout:
Mary Fray:  
Nancy Fong:
Thiago Heilman:
 

William Nyang’un:
 
The following will be considered in grading the assignment.
 1. Does the presentation meet the information requirements of the assignment? (20)
2. Do the information on the slides reflect understanding of the concept of migration and
globalization and effective summarization of the immigration stories? (20)
3. Are the information presented in logical sequence/structure? (20)
4. Is the work messy, neat or impeccable? Do the slides contain a limited number of talking
points as opposed to complete paragraphs or lengthy sentences? (20)
5. How much time and effort has been put into completing the activity? (20)

Migration: people moving from one place to another

migration is a fundamental human experience that has been going on for thousands of years.
Immigration, in contrast, is a more recent phenomenon, the result of countries deciding to regulate and
control the movement of people across national borders. While every person in the United States has
some family history of migration, everyone does not have a similar experience with immigration.

The World Economic Forum defines globalization as “ the process by which people
and goods move easily across borders.” As such, you can’t have globalization
without human migration. People cross borders to offer their labor, their
investments and their ideas in markets that feature opportunities unavailable in
their home countries.

Opponents of globalization’s effects often cite concerns around migration.

According to the WEF, the recent “ Brexit” vote to disentangle Britain from the EU
was largely spurred by concerns about policies allowing the free movement of
migrants from one EU country to another. “Much of the concern over
immigration stemmed from fears (real or imagined) over the number of new
people arriving on British shores and what it would mean for jobs, the economy
and British life as they knew it.”

Although it is now accelerated by technologies ranging from container shipping

to modern air travel to the Internet, globalization is as old as human migration
itself. People and goods have moved along major trade routes like the Silk
Road for millennia. Traders plied the Indian Ocean and other bodies of water for
centuries before the so-called “Age of Discovery” kicked off a cascading series of
new trade and migration links between the Old and New Worlds beginning in
the 15th century.
Some present-day advocates of uninhibited globalization argue that a global
“open borders” policy for migration could allow labor to allocate itself far more
efficiently, yielding huge increases in global GDP. Others are much more
skeptical, suggesting no country practices truly free trade , and that migration
controls and trade laws are needed to protect individual countries’ economies.