Much of being an “American” is defined as being free. It is curious that I call myself an American, when the last thing I am is free. I have spent 14 years hoping, dreaming and wishing for a way to taste this freedom that America so scandalously offers. However, the only things I have tasted are despair, longing, and fear. No one knows what it is like to spend Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and Christmas away from loved ones, except for the fearful “American citizens” who face racism and bigotry every day right here, on the land of “freedom.” I have spent countless moments away from my family. Days I will never have back gone: my father’s, grandfather’s, and my uncle’s deaths. Moments which I had to find the strength, to fill myself up with courage and bravery, to forgive my own absence from. I teach children, and in a way, the country’s future is in my hands. There is so much I can’t accomplish with my hand’s tied; I can contribute, but by the government’s stand, I will always fall short.