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Living in Poverty in the Philippines
It was June 27, 1860. We lived in terrible and dangerous living conditions. I had heard that hundreds of filipinos were immigrating to America. They thought that moving to America would give them the oppurtunity to live a better life, have a better job, and live in a better home. I begged my father to take our family there, but my father didn't want to take that big of a risk to move to America. I took my valuable belongings and hopped on the boat to the immigration station called Angels Island. -
Hard Work, Small Money
Its been two months since I decide to leave my family to move to America. I quickly found a job in a clothing factory. It was a hot and dangerous sweat shop. The boss treated me terribly, everyday he yelled racist comments at me. The work was hard and I didn't earn much money, but it was the only job that I could find. The only home I could find was in a slum. The city was overcrowded due to urbanization. America was not what I expected it to be. -
Meeting Rodrigo
On August 8, 1860, I met Rodrigo. He, also, lived in the slum, worked in a sweatshop, and, the best part, he was filipino. Everyday he told me how he left the Philippines when he was seventeen to see the beautiful city. Even though he lived in terrible living conditions now, he still loved California and the beauty of America. I instantly fell in love with him. After a few months, he asked me to marry him. -
Starting a family
On October 12, 1860, I found out I was pregnant. One day Rodrigo came home from work. I didn't have a job, since married women only worked in the kitchen of their homes. I was excited to tell him the news. When I told Rodrigo, he was overjoyed. We both were ecstatic that we were going to started a family. Nine months later ,when I was in the middle of giving birth, we found out seconds before that I was giving birth to twins. -
Period: to
Timespan
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Racist Comments
June 17, 1862 was the day that Rodrigo had gone over the edge. A group of white men had started harrass him for being filipino. Rodrigo had always been proud of his heritage. White men making fun of him had changed the way he saw America. He realized how little respected he got from the people in the city for being filipino. His love for San Francisco had change. -
Homestead Act
One day, Rodrigo came running in from work. He told me about the homestead act that gave us the oppurtinity to move out of the city. He was rambling on about how the government provided land to who every could improve the land for little or no cost. Once I saw how happy Rodrigo was, i agreed. He was excited to bring his family to the west and get out of the city, but most he was excited to go to a land that was a melting pot. -
On the farm
Finally on February 20th, 1863, my family and I were able to settle. We immigrated to Nebraska, many cultures settled there. For once we weren't complete outsiders.Rodrigo became a farmer. We lived on a farm, it was safe and away from the city. April and Nicole were happy and played with the other children and cattle. Rodrigo and I had friends that were different cultures, African American, Mexican, Irish. Rodrigo was right, the west was a melting pot. -
Racism is never completely gone
We were all happy until one day Rodrigo came in, steaming mad. He told me that white men were saying racist things to him. This is exactly why we left San Francisco. I thought he was kidding when he said he would kill the men if he had the chance, but he was dead serious. I told him that racism will never be completely gone no matter where we go and to learn to assimulate. I was convinced that he would change after that. Unfortunately I was very wrong. -
Rodrigo's last moments
For the last few days, Rodrigo would come in the house yelling about the white men, but March 3, 1863 was the first day that he didn't. Instead of Rodrigo, one of my mexican, logger friends came into the house. He sat me down and told me about Rodrigo's death. He told me that Rodrigo had enough of the teasing and defended for himself. He told how the men were armed and how they shot him, straight in the heart. I asked him what his last words were. -
Months without Rodrigo
The seven months without Rodrigo were the hardest months of my life. I had no one to talk about the pain I had inside. My parents were in the Philippines. The other settlers only felt sorry for me, they didn't care. I could go days without eating. I only ate when my friends practically begged me too. I could only think about how I would have to tell my kids why they didn't have a father in a few years. October 19, 1863 was the day I had passed away.
