My name is [Your Name], and I am a 13-year-old Filipino-American. When I was just 8 years old, a terrible sickness called cholera took my parents away. I was the oldest of three sisters, and after losing them, it felt like our little world had shattered. We lived in a small village in the Philippines, where the sun shined brightly, but my heart was heavy. With only a few coins and my two sisters to care for, I knew I had to be brave and find a way to make our lives better. One day, I heard whispers of a magical place called the United States, known as the land of opportunities. I imagined tall buildings touching the sky and friendly faces welcoming us. 

I bought a one-way ticket to this dreamland. My heart raced with excitement as I thought about the adventures waiting for us. As I boarded the ship, I could feel the salty breeze on my face and the sound of waves crashing against the boat. I looked back at my village, promising my sisters that I would create a bright future for us. I was determined to turn our dreams into reality, no matter how hard the journey might be. Together, we would write our own story in this new land! My journey to America wasn't easy, it was long and the ship was crowded. The ocean rocked and tipped us constantly. After the first couple weeks, my sea sickness stopped, but the food they offered us was just as unappetizing. At last, I could see the boat approaching an island, I could see a harbor, what I presumed would be my new home. 

When I finally arrived into America, I was excited, and nervous all at once. It took hours  upon hours to leave the ship, as we were crowded into long lines, like cattle, while the first class passengers walked through leisurely. Finally I made it to the front of the line and was interrogated by a series of questions; thankfully I was given a translator so I could understand him. After I made it past the questions, I was given a thorough medical exam, to ensure I was not sick.

However, I was forced to watch as some of the people I traveled with were denied access into the country. I watched in horror as they walked back to the boat, faces filled with fear, and uncertainty. I felt the cool wind against my hot, blistering cheeks, my heart filled with fear and anxiety as I made my way through the small village, into the unknown..

When I finally arrived at my new home, a big sugar cane plantation, it was getting dark. The cool air wrapped around me, making me feel both excited and nervous about what was ahead. I walked toward the barracks, wondering what my new life would be like. As I reached for the doorknob, my hands felt shaky. I turned it slowly and stepped inside, pulling my suitcase behind me. A tall woman with a serious face greeted me. She started asking questions, but I didn’t understand her words. I opened my bag and handed her the papers the gentleman had given me. She took them quickly and nodded, leading me to the women’s area. She pointed to an empty cot that looked a bit uncomfortable, but it was mine. As I set my things down, I felt the other women looking at me with sharp eyes, making me feel a little uneasy. I was too tired to worry about it, though. I rested my head on the mattress, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep, ready to start my new journey.

I was shaken awake by a girl who shared my bunk. The sun wasn’t up yet, but I knew it was my first day of work. When I stepped outside, the warm, humid air felt strangely comforting, reminding me of home. I followed a girl I didn’t know to the tall sugar cane. I was excited to start, but after a couple of hours, my hands started to blister and my arms felt weak. I saw the same girl watching me. She had long black hair and smiled at me, showing her missing front tooth.

I smiled back and waved. As I worked, I noticed so many different people around me. The day felt long, and my clothes were soaked with sweat. The sun’s heat made me even more tired, but I pushed through, reminding myself I was here for a better life.

The end of the day came slowly, and I was relieved to finally rest. The Specter rang a bell, signaling the end of work, and dropped my wages into my hand. I counted 98 cents and hoped it would be enough to live on and save for my shop. But when I looked at my male coworkers, their hands were full of coins. When I got back to my bunk, the girl from earlier came over. She introduced herself as Ligaya, but most people called her Lisa. She told me about her life before coming to America. Her parents sent her and her younger brother here for a better life, but sadly, her brother had died from a disease two years ago. Lisa was three years older than me, with soft black hair and amber eyes that looked sad. I could see that she had a tough story, just like mine.

Lisa and I soon went to the local church, where she learned most of her English. She signed me up for evening lessons. When we entered the dim classroom, it smelled of old books and rain. I watched the sunset through the big windows, painting the sky orange. A tall white man with a long nose walked in and started writing on the board. I struggled to understand him, but I did my best to pay attention. By the time the lesson ended, it was dark outside. On our way back to the plantation, Lisa and I shared a small piece of bread the teacher had given us. When we entered the house, the warm smell of soup filled the air. We each got a small bowl of brown, salty soup and a slice of stale bread. I was so busy today that I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. The soup filled my belly quickly.

As I rest my head on my firm pillow, my mind begins to wonder., but I finally let sleep consume me. I wake up early in the morning, just before the dawn, and I hear my roommates whispering fiercely. Lisa springs down from, her bunk, and pulls me aside. She says that workers from the mainland have come together, to form worker unions to demand better wages and working conditions. She says that many of the women and men of the plantation have started to begin the process known as a strike, refusing to work until they receive what they demand.