Immigrant’s 4th of July Story and What it Means to Me? #HealingPlaceEnergySchool #ReflexologyNearMe

What my freedom means to me and my family? Happy 4th of July everyday!

Who are we?

I am the first generation in my family to be born in America. My grandfather and my parents left their native country to live in a foreign land without knowing anyone, the language and customs, or how and where to live. It was about beating the odds and thriving in a country that we are deeply grateful for welcoming us. It is a blessing and a massive undertaking.

My Family’s History

 I think about some of the stories my mother has shared with me about my family in China and how they lived and survived during the Japanese invasion of China from 1937 to 1945. (Also known as the War of Resistance against Japan.) Like many families in China, the only way to escape the Japanese occupation was to run and hide.

It was a very painful history for my mother to talk about the years of running, hiding, starvation, seeing needless death, and seeing loved ones die in front of her eyes. She saw people killed as though they were nothing more than insects being crushed under a boot.

During those tough years, my mother was a young girl of 8. She spent the nine years of her life running with her immediate and extended family of 30 people, living in caves, hiding from gunfire, killing, and brutalizing her beloved country. One of the Japanese’s main tactics of occupation was to cut off China’s food sources.

 For years, my mother and her family survived on an ounce of daily food, comprising one cup of rice cooked with a gallon of water, known as congee. The congee was shared among 30 people. Until my mother’s death, she didn’t eat congee because it reminded her too much of her hardship during the war.

The Japanese invasion of China from 1937 to 1945 Facts

 During those years of invasion, the Japanese military regime killed approximately 10 million people, of which 6 million were Chinese.

 The war finally ended in 1945, leaving many families displaced, missing, or killed. My mother’s family had to piece back whatever they could find. It took years to rebuild their China and feel safe again.

How did My Mother Make Her Way to America?

My maternal grandfather arranged for my mother to be married to my father in 1946 at the age of 18. In those days, women were married off without any thought other than lessen how many mouths to feed. My father was then 28 years old and living in Boston. Due to the exclusion age from 1882 until 1943, women were not allowed to immigrate to the USA. Still, my dad wanted to start a family. He wrote to his mother, asking her to look for a wife for him.

Back in those years, it was not unusual for women to be married after an introductory meeting. My mother was married at 18 after meeting my father just once. She couldn’t protest, nor was her opinion sought or given a choice. Women were considered a commodity, and there were no choices or voices to be heard.

My father was on a visa then, which would only allow him to stay in China for a short time after the wedding. He went back to America and started sponsoring my mother to come to America. The process took four years before my mother was allowed access.

How Did My Dad Make His Way to America?

In 1932, my grandmother sent my father, who was 14 years old, to America during the US Great Depression to join his father. Due to economic scarcity in China, it was common practice for men to leave their families behind in China to find work in other countries.

Most of these men found their way to South America, Africa, Canada, and the USA. The ones who came to the USA as part of the gold rush during the 1840s. When those days were over, they looked for work with the Transcontinental Railroad in the 1880s. Whatever money they could afford to give up was sent back home to support their families.

Life was challenging for my father in America. He worked very hard. He had to learn a trade; the only job he could find was working at a cousin’s laundry. At the same time, he learned to speak and write English and even attended high school for a short time. Within two years of his Arrival, my grandfather passed away due to a complication of diabetes. My father became an adult at the age of 16 after his father’s passing. Due to lack of employment, my father enlisted in the Army on April 17, 1944, and was assigned to the 42nd Infantry Division. He was awarded the European-African-Middle-Eastern Campaign Medal for his participation in Italy and France, the conquest of Central Europe and Germany, and in freeing prisoners held in the Dachau Concentration Camp. He was honorable discharged in 1946. 

My Mom’s USA Arrival

 In 1953, my mother reluctantly left her homeland of China to join my father, who had just opened a laundry business. My mother traveled to Boston with her cousin. Both women joined their husbands in Boston. We take for granted how fast we can travel today. We can fly direct from Boston to China in 18 hours. 1953, the flight from China to Boston took one week, with landings in various countries for fuel. My mom told me they landed in London and how afraid she and her cousin were since neither of them spoke English or knew what was happening to them. Once in Boston, she and her cousins were held for a week’s interrogation for several weeks in a locked facility. During interrogation, they were repeatedly asked the same questions. If any answers were inconsistent, that was caused for deportation.

Another painful memory of immigration for my mother, upon her arrival, was that instead of resting and celebrating that my mom made it to America, she was handed an iron and began ironing shirts immediately. I don’t know if they had a happy marriage, but it was a marriage of convenience.

What Happened in the Next 65 Years?

My parents lived in America for almost 65 years until their deaths. In a nutshell, they were able to live the “American Dream.” They got up early daily to go to work. My mom was a sweatshop seamstress, working 40 hours, while my dad worked as a chef at various Chinese restaurants six days a week on a 12-hour shift. Life was a delicate balance of survival. Their goal was to be able for their family and to have enough funds to send their children to collage. 

What All Immigrants Look For?

Until the very end of her life, my mom would say “There is no place like America. The land of Opportunities.” My parents became proud US citizens as quickly as they could after immigration. My parents overcame discrimination and found a way to improve their lives, even when there was a lack of opportunities through hard and consistent work. They were able to raised five children to adulthood and was able to see most of their grandchildren before passing on. At the time, we didn’t realize how well we had it off, but looking back we are very thankful that they provided us with the best life they could provide. 

What Does Freedom Mean to Me?  

To anyone who has the courage to leave their country to seek freedom without being persecuted for their religion, the color of their skin, sexual orientation, economic status, and more. Thank you to the United States of America for taking us in. 

Happy 4th of July to you and yours.

Healing Place LLC