I grew up in a town named Bodeli in Gujarat. I loved my town because I had my family there and all my friends. But I also grew up always thinking about America. It is a desire that a lot of people have: to live in the United States with the hope that it can be ours as well. I imagined the United States would be like the movies, like High School Musical. I imagined I would be welcomed, that everyone was kind and patient and treated us as they treated themselves.

My mother, my brothers and I came from India to the United States in 2023. We came for a brighter future and because we had many relatives. I was 17 years old and as many teenagers, I had the desire to explore and discover everything. When I came, I thought that I was about to live that dream.

From the moment I arrived in the US, I desired to be an American. I thought that everyone had their perfect lives, perfect jobs, and perfect families. But the first few months after we arrived in the United States were difficult for me and my family. We did not speak the language, we didn’t know anyone, we were not even familiar with the weather. India is always hot and suddenly we were surrounded by snow. Family and friends were far away, leaving a huge hole in our lives.

Being an immigrant is like a new birth. The adult becomes a child and has to learn to crawl again. I saw everyday my mother struggle, trying to learn this new language, trying to navigate a new land. I felt the same.

But also we didn’t always feel welcome. I would go to the park and see kids playing, but when I tried to join they would stop playing. At school it was very hard to make friends and other kids didn’t seem to want to be my friend. I sat alone at lunch which made me feel sorrowful. I was also confused why many people asked us about our religion-- they would ask so many questions and I didn’t understand why they needed to know my religion. When I spoke with some people they would ask me: “Where do you come from?” I felt like we were carrying a label on my forehead that said “immigrant.”

I wanted to enjoy what the country had, but I found I was afraid of not fitting in. I was afraid of not knowing how to communicate. I began to see a more complicated America where immigrants didn’t always have access to opportunities. I saw how hard it was for immigrants I knew to go to college. I saw a lot of immigrants not be able to work because they didn’t have the documents they needed. I saw people crying because they were struggling with the English language. I struggled too and I felt sadness.

But, although at first I felt that I would not fit in, with time, things changed. In the United States I met people from many different places across the world. I met them at school, at Market Basket where I worked, and in our neighborhood. These people spoke Portuguese, English, Spanish, Khmer, French, Hindi, Gujarati, Nepali, and Arabic. And I realized that all these people were like me. They too were all looking for the American dream. I saw students from Kenya, Cambodia, Mexico, Dominican Republic, Portugal and from other countries succeeding. I saw America there. At Market Basket I saw my colleagues working hard to do a great job. I saw America there. I realized that America included us: immigrants; that everyday we work and help make the economy work, that we fight for our families, we leave our home, our country to live here and to contribute to this country.

I realized immigrants are like warriors. Like warriors, we have left our home and our family. Our weapons are hope, humility and positive thinking. I came to this country because I saw this country as a safe place, a place where I could start a new life. I hope to make a home here that feels safe and welcoming for me and my family.

© Rahi. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.