Angel island

Angel Island Immigrant

  • My Birthdate

    My Birthdate
    Hello, my name is Yomen Wing. I was born on on August 16, !828, in China. I m writing this to warn any one who decides to travel to America to work. My story is a sad one, and hopefully you will learn from it. At 27, I decided to travel to America to work. Before America, I lived in a small, stuffy home in China, which was nearly empty and smelled like rotton food. I lived in poverty as a child, and never went to school.
  • Arriving at Angel Island

    Arriving at Angel Island
    On June 23, 1855, I arrive at port, of Angel Island. I had few belongings and was quickly sent through customs. They examined me for illness, of which I had none, However, a man in front of me was very sick and immediatly sent back to the ship. I was amazed by the beautiful city of San Francisco. It had large gleaming buildings, and it was full of people. However, I was greeted with unfriendly looks, and was avoided.
  • Settling in

    Settling in
    After a few days of searching, I found work in a small grocery store. I earned enough to rent a small apartment. I was in a complex with men other chinese immagrants, and our building was constantly filled with smoke from factories, giving us horrible coughs. Soon after, I lost my job to a white man. I found a new job, but soon lost that too. I lived like this for a little over a month. Jumping from job to job, trying to find a steady workplace, and barely keeping my apartment.
  • Finding a Job

    Finding a Job
    Finally, on July 28, I was hired to build a scyscraper with many other men. I began right away. I worked on the top of a [skyscraper](http://www.econlib.org/library/Enc1/WagesandWorkingConditions.html) with steel for ten hours a day, everyday, all week. The wind at the top of the steel was Hard to bare as it tried to push me off. I was payed little, but I was never fired. Finally I had found a steady job. What could have gone wrong?
  • Racism

    Racism
    On May 8, 1859, I am attacked on my way home late at night. A group of young Americans beat me in the street, yelling racial slurs and laughing. I woke up a few hours later alone in the street. It was cold and I stumbled home. Wondering what I had done. Hate crimes were common in the time, especilly to chinese immigrants. We, as I have said before, were not welcome.
  • My Death

    My Death
    On July 3, 1863, I die a horrible death. On this hot, sticky day, I am working hard on the top of a skyscraper. With no harnesses, everyone is walking slowly and carefully. Sudenly, a gust of cool air whips through the steel. Everyone grabs surrounding beams. But I am not fast enough. I am blown from the beam I am standing on. I fall hundreds of feet to my death.