#relocationstories

[relocationstories-blog]

[relocationstories-blog]

[relocationstories-blog]

Julia Perissinoto

I was born in São Paulo, Brazil, in 1983. My father’s family is from Portugal. My mother is from Italy. I always wanted to live in Europe, but moved to the United States in 2011. I work in the advertising arena, and came to New York City for work. It is likely that I will stay for something else. 

I feel especially attracted to the constantly experience of how Manhattan affects a large portion of us, the ‘successful’ immigrants. This island is powerful, bitter and genius all at the same time. It breaks and bonds us together. We are heroes in our countries. We are validity dates and stamps here. We must move faster to get ahead. We allow the city to get under our skin so we can expedite. Sometimes we tremble. We hold tight, but end up losing some roots and values here and there. But we must continue. We toss and turn at night and eventually get tired of justifying who we are during the day. Eventually. 

 I'm likely to stay. Only for the day that we can legitimize our potential. An awakening.

[relocationstories-blog]

Johana Angarita

My dad moved to NY from Bogota, when I was 7.  My youngest sister was only 4 at the time; my dad used to play hide and seek with her when he got back from work,  it took her a couple of months to stop hiding, waiting for dad to come home to look for her under the bed or any random place in the house.  I guess his sacrifice paid off, we moved to NY when I was 16, and both my sisters and I were able to pursue an education.   Culture shock as people may call it, was something I experience right away, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fit in perfectly anyway.  Most of my friends come from somewhere else, we relate that way.  That is probably why I enjoy working in Queens, one of the most culturally diverse places in the USA. I think I have patients from every continent.

            In a way the place where you come from is something that defines you as person so does your profession, especially if you become a doctor. But should it be that way, who am I if I stopped being a Colombian, a doctor, a wife, a mother, an immigrant?  All of these make me happy, but nothing has made me happier that becoming a mother and that on itself is something I would like to assume every woman who is a mom would say. We are not so different after all.