I must have been about 8 yrs old. I was waiting in the car with my older sister while my mom finished packing our lunch for school. My sister was talking about Mexico saying how she wanted to go but couldn’t. At the time I didn’t know why she couldn’t go to Mexico and come back legally.
When my mom got back in the car I asked my mom why they couldn’t go to their home country and come back without having to cross the border illegally. She explained the whole citizenship and racism thing to me but I was stupid at the time so I didn’t really understand what she meant. Finally my sister mad it all clear to me by saying “You’re a gringo Maury. You were born here so you’re an American can come back and forth.”
That was the first time I was referred to as American. I was raised as a Mexican but I had grown up to be an American. I realized the meaning of the term “American” varies from culture to culture. In poverty stricken nations people want to be “American” so they can have the opportunity to live a wealthier life and provide their children with a better chance to succeed in life. People from better off nations come here to get the freedom that the constitution promises. But in the end, almost everyone migrate here to start a new life.