The American Immigrant Family

What does it mean, exactly, to be a first-generation or second-generation American?

For many, it means various things: added pressure to succeed, conflict over American codes of behavior, a devoted relationship with one’s culture and heritage. In many families, first-generation or not, parents and their children tend to clash over values. Nowhere is this more true than in the American immigrant family.

I am a third-generation American on my mother’s side, and a second-generation American on my father’s side. From my experience, the difference between being a second-generation American and a third-generation American is astronomical. I have fought with my father, a first-generation American, over issues that my mother, a second-generation American, wouldn’t bat an eye at. My father was born in Lowell, Massachusetts, but he spent nearly half of his life in Madeira, Graciosa, and Terceira, small islands in Portugal. He carries many of the traditional Portuguese ways that my mother doesn’t–kiss men on one cheek, women on two; respect your elders whether or not they treat you with respect; and eat every morsel of food offered to you, for you are lucky to have food at all.

I don’t connect with some of the traditions, yet there are many aspects of my Portuguese heritage that feel as much a part of my identity as my American self. Whether it’s Mass on Sundays or drinking Sumol over the holidays, these practices feel inherent to my perception of myself.

Recently, I spoke with twenty-two year old Tony Ngeth about his experience as a first-generation Cambodian-American. Tony’s parents left Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge and relocated in Lowell in the 1980s. Tony is a criminal justice major at UMass Lowell. He wants to become a police officer so he can help people in his community, but his father wants him to continue working at their family-owned and -operated construction business.

“I’m going to become a police officer, and I’m going to help people,” Tony said. “I’ve done everything my parents have asked me to do my whole life. The second I graduate, I’m making my own decisions.”

Tony said he hasn’t had much control over his choices, and he has devoted a great deal of his childhood, teen years, and now adulthood to helping his parents.

“Growing up, it’s always been about what my parents need from me. Tony, call this guy. Tony, come home and do paperwork. Reply to this email for me. Talk to the delivery person for me,” he said, mimicking his father’s voice. “I see a lot of my friends, and it’s the other way around for them. It’s about what they need from their parents.”

Tony said school was made more difficult by his parents’ inability to speak English. He had to handle all of the communication, but even he did not fully know how to speak and write in English.

“I had to teach myself the language,” he said, “and it wasn’t easy. There’s a lot of references, and, like, sayings I don’t understand still.”

Tony said he learned English through reading fiction books that his elementary school teacher passed onto him.

“She saw something in me, she wanted me to succeed,” he said. “So every week she gave me a short book to read, and a week later I’d finish it, return it, and she’d hand me a new one.

“By the end of the year, I was finishing big books in a few day’s time. And by fifth grade, I was one of the smartest kids in my class,” he said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders.

Despite the adversities of his upbringing, Tony is thankful for the life his parents have provided him in America, and he is determined to make the most of the opportunities he has been given.

“I guess being a first-generation American can be good in some ways,” Tony said. “When you have to rely on yourself, it makes you work harder and be more independent. These experiences will help me when I go on to become a police officer, with or without my parents’ approval.”

In speaking with Tony, I realized how grateful I am for my own upbringing. Though my parents and I may not connect on certain topics, I didn’t have to fend for myself when I was young. My parents gave me everything a child needs to succeed.

Ultimately, American immigrant families come from all different races, classes, religions, and cultures, which makes the experience impossible to classify as singular. Yet in spite of the disparities between Tony and me, we believe, like so many others, that immigrant families are part of what makes America so great.