my italian heritage essay

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My italian culture and heritage shaped me into the person i am today, i'm proud to be an american-italian because i get to live in the greatest country in the world and​ celebrate the greatest culture in the word, so what's better than that.

For the people who know me, I am extremely passionate about being an American-Italian . My Italian heritage holds a special place in my heart, and it has shaped the person I am today. I really cannot picture myself being anything other than Italian, and I am damn proud of that.

First of all, my favorite part of being a part of an Italian family is the strong core family values instilled within me since a very young age. For years and years, I remember being with family every weekend and enjoying dinner, laughs and good times. I was taught that family is everything no matter what, whether you fight or make a mistake your family will always be there.

That created a sense of comfort for me as I knew I always had my family to go to for help when things get tough, and I am very grateful for that. From my parents to my aunts, uncles, and cousins, I know I can go to them for absolutely anything and that is special. To me, there is nothing more exciting than spending time with family because there is never a dull moment.

Going along with the family aspect of things, food, of course, has played a big part of my life. I don't care what anyone says, but Italian food is the best in the world, and I am lucky enough to have a family full of phenomenal cooks. Whether I am at my own house or any of my aunts' house, I know I am in for a good meal every day and that is not something I take for granted.

When I was younger, I was home every night at a certain time for dinner, depending on when Dad got home from work, and we always ate as a family. It was important to sit down, enjoy a meal your mom prepped and talked about each other’s days. It is these little things, like having dinner every night at the table, that some people take for granted. As I've grown older, this habit has changed a little bit because of college, work, and other commitments, but every once in awhile when the whole family is home for dinner, it is awesome and I enjoy it thoroughly.

And last but not least, probably the most important aspect of life that has been instilled in me since a young age due to my Italian heritage is respect. Respecting your elders, respecting life, and respecting the decisions you make is of the utmost importance. If you are disrespectful in any way toward anyone, get ready to be grounded. Learning respect at a young age has definitely prepared me for where I am now, and, once again, I am extremely grateful for that.

You might be reading this and may be thinking, “you do not have to be Italian to have all of this taught to you growing up.” And you are 100 percent right, but growing up in an Italian-cultured home, it is the little things like sitting down at dinner, respect, and the strong family values that us Italians take very seriously. I am the person I am today because of these values, and I am beyond appreciative of that.

I'm proud to be an American-Italian because I get to live in the greatest country in the world and celebrate the greatest culture in the word, so what's better than that?

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25 beatles lyrics: your go-to guide for every situation, the best lines from the fab four.

For as long as I can remember, I have been listening to The Beatles. Every year, my mom would appropriately blast “Birthday” on anyone’s birthday. I knew all of the words to “Back In The U.S.S.R” by the time I was 5 (Even though I had no idea what or where the U.S.S.R was). I grew up with John, Paul, George, and Ringo instead Justin, JC, Joey, Chris and Lance (I had to google N*SYNC to remember their names). The highlight of my short life was Paul McCartney in concert twice. I’m not someone to “fangirl” but those days I fangirled hard. The music of The Beatles has gotten me through everything. Their songs have brought me more joy, peace, and comfort. I can listen to them in any situation and find what I need. Here are the best lyrics from The Beatles for every and any occasion.

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make

The End- Abbey Road, 1969

The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful and so are you

Dear Prudence- The White Album, 1968

Love is old, love is new, love is all, love is you

Because- Abbey Road, 1969

There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be

All You Need Is Love, 1967

Life is very short, and there's no time for fussing and fighting, my friend

We Can Work It Out- Rubber Soul, 1965

He say, "I know you, you know me", One thing I can tell you is you got to be free

Come Together- Abbey Road, 1969

Oh please, say to me, You'll let me be your man. And please say to me, You'll let me hold your hand

I Wanna Hold Your Hand- Meet The Beatles!, 1964

It was twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play. They've been going in and out of style, but they're guaranteed to raise a smile

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band-1967

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see

Strawberry Fields Forever- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Can you hear me? When it rains and shine, it's just a state of mind

Rain- Paperback Writer "B" side, 1966

Little darling, it's been long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it' s been here. Here comes the sun, Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright

Here Comes The Sun- Abbey Road, 1969

We danced through the night and we held each other tight, and before too long I fell in love with her. Now, I'll never dance with another when I saw her standing there

Saw Her Standing There- Please Please Me, 1963

I love you, I love you, I love you, that's all I want to say

Michelle- Rubber Soul, 1965

You say you want a revolution. Well you know, we all want to change the world

Revolution- The Beatles, 1968

All the lonely people, where do they all come from. All the lonely people, where do they all belong

Eleanor Rigby- Revolver, 1966

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

With A Little Help From My Friends- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967

Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better

Hey Jude, 1968

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday

Yesterday- Help!, 1965

And when the brokenhearted people, living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be.

Let It Be- Let It Be, 1970

And anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

I'll give you all i got to give if you say you'll love me too. i may not have a lot to give but what i got i'll give to you. i don't care too much for money. money can't buy me love.

Can't Buy Me Love- A Hard Day's Night, 1964

All you need is love, love is all you need

All You Need Is Love- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird- The White Album, 1968

Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life, I love you more

In My Life- Rubber Soul, 1965

While these are my 25 favorites, there are quite literally 1000s that could have been included. The Beatles' body of work is massive and there is something for everyone. If you have been living under a rock and haven't discovered the Fab Four, you have to get musically educated. Stream them on Spotify, find them on iTunes or even buy a CD or record (Yes, those still exist!). I would suggest starting with 1, which is a collection of most of their #1 songs, or the 1968 White Album. Give them chance and you'll never look back.

14 Invisible Activities: Unleash Your Inner Ghost!

Obviously the best superpower..

The best superpower ever? Being invisible of course. Imagine just being able to go from seen to unseen on a dime. Who wouldn't want to have the opportunity to be invisible? Superman and Batman have nothing on being invisible with their superhero abilities. Here are some things that you could do while being invisible, because being invisible can benefit your social life too.

1. "Haunt" your friends.

Follow them into their house and cause a ruckus.

2. Sneak into movie theaters.

Going to the cinema alone is good for your mental health , says science

Considering that the monthly cost of subscribing to a media-streaming service like Netflix is oft...

Free movies...what else to I have to say?

3. Sneak into the pantry and grab a snack without judgment.

Late night snacks all you want? Duh.

4. Reenact "Hollow Man" and play Kevin Bacon.

America's favorite son? And feel what it's like to be in a MTV Movie Award nominated film? Sign me up.

5. Wear a mask and pretend to be a floating head.

Just another way to spook your friends in case you wanted to.

6. Hold objects so they'll "float."

"Oh no! A floating jar of peanut butter."

7. Win every game of hide-and-seek.

Just stand out in the open and you'll win.

8. Eat some food as people will watch it disappear.

Even everyday activities can be funny.

9. Go around pantsing your friends.

Even pranks can be done; not everything can be good.

10. Not have perfect attendance.

You'll say here, but they won't see you...

11. Avoid anyone you don't want to see.

Whether it's an ex or someone you hate, just use your invisibility to slip out of the situation.

12. Avoid responsibilities.

Chores? Invisible. People asking about social life? Invisible. Family being rude? Boom, invisible.

13. Be an expert on ding-dong-ditch.

Never get caught and have the adrenaline rush? I'm down.

14. Brag about being invisible.

Be the envy of the town.

But don't, I repeat, don't go in a locker room. Don't be a pervert with your power. No one likes a Peeping Tom.

Good luck, folks.

19 Lessons I'll Never Forget from Growing Up In a Small Town

There have been many lessons learned..

Small towns certainly have their pros and cons. Many people who grow up in small towns find themselves counting the days until they get to escape their roots and plant new ones in bigger, "better" places. And that's fine. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought those same thoughts before too. We all have, but they say it's important to remember where you came from. When I think about where I come from, I can't help having an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my roots. Being from a small town has taught me so many important lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

1. The importance of traditions.

Sometimes traditions seem like a silly thing, but the fact of it is that it's part of who you are. You grew up this way and, more than likely, so did your parents. It is something that is part of your family history and that is more important than anything.

2. How to be thankful for family and friends.

No matter how many times they get on your nerves or make you mad, they are the ones who will always be there and you should never take that for granted.

3. How to give back.

When tragedy strikes in a small town, everyone feels obligated to help out because, whether directly or indirectly, it affects you too. It is easy in a bigger city to be able to disconnect from certain problems. But in a small town those problems affect everyone.

4. What the word "community" really means.

Along the same lines as #3, everyone is always ready and willing to lend a helping hand when you need one in a small town and to me that is the true meaning of community. It's working together to build a better atmosphere, being there to raise each other up, build each other up, and pick each other up when someone is in need. A small town community is full of endless support whether it be after a tragedy or at a hometown sports game. Everyone shows up to show their support.

5. That it isn't about the destination, but the journey.

People say this to others all the time, but it takes on a whole new meaning in a small town. It is true that life is about the journey, but when you're from a small town, you know it's about the journey because the journey probably takes longer than you spend at the destination. Everything is so far away that it is totally normal to spend a couple hours in the car on your way to some form of entertainment. And most of the time, you're gonna have as many, if not more, memories and laughs on the journey than at the destination.

6. The consequences of making bad choices.

Word travels fast in a small town, so don't think you're gonna get away with anything. In fact, your parents probably know what you did before you even have a chance to get home and tell them. And forget about being scared of what your teacher, principle, or other authority figure is going to do, you're more afraid of what your parents are gonna do when you get home.

7. To trust people, until you have a reason not to.

Everyone deserves a chance. Most people don't have ill-intentions and you can't live your life guarding against every one else just because a few people in your life have betrayed your trust.

8. To be welcoming and accepting of everyone.

While small towns are not always extremely diverse, they do contain people with a lot of different stories, struggle, and backgrounds. In a small town, it is pretty hard to exclude anyone because of who they are or what they come from because there aren't many people to choose from. A small town teaches you that just because someone isn't the same as you, doesn't mean you can't be great friends.

9. How to be my own, individual person.

In a small town, you learn that it's okay to be who you are and do your own thing. You learn that confidence isn't how beautiful you are or how much money you have, it's who you are on the inside.

10. How to work for what I want.

Nothing comes easy in life. They always say "gardens don't grow overnight" and if you're from a small town you know this both figuratively and literally. You certainly know gardens don't grow overnight because you've worked in a garden or two. But you also know that to get to the place you want to be in life it takes work and effort. It doesn't just happen because you want it to.

11. How to be great at giving directions.

If you're from a small town, you know that you will probably only meet a handful of people in your life who ACTUALLY know where your town is. And forget about the people who accidentally enter into your town because of google maps. You've gotten really good at giving them directions right back to the interstate.

12. How to be humble.

My small town has definitely taught me how to be humble. It isn't always about you, and anyone who grows up in a small town knows that. Everyone gets their moment in the spotlight, and since there's so few of us, we're probably best friends with everyone so we are as excited when they get their moment of fame as we are when we get ours.

13. To be well-rounded.

Going to a small town high school definitely made me well-rounded. There isn't enough kids in the school to fill up all the clubs and sports teams individually so be ready to be a part of them all.

14. How to be great at conflict resolution.

In a small town, good luck holding a grudge. In a bigger city you can just avoid a person you don't like or who you've had problems with. But not in a small town. You better resolve the issue fast because you're bound to see them at least 5 times a week.

15. The beauty of getting outside and exploring.

One of my favorite things about growing up in a rural area was being able to go outside and go exploring and not have to worry about being in danger. There is nothing more exciting then finding a new place somewhere in town or in the woods and just spending time there enjoying the natural beauty around you.

16. To be prepared for anything.

You never know what may happen. If you get a flat tire, you better know how to change it yourself because you never know if you will be able to get ahold of someone else to come fix it. Mechanics might be too busy , or more than likely you won't even have enough cell service to call one.

17. That you don't always have to do it alone.

It's okay to ask for help. One thing I realized when I moved away from my town for college, was how much my town has taught me that I could ask for help is I needed it. I got into a couple situations outside of my town where I couldn't find anyone to help me and found myself thinking, if I was in my town there would be tons of people ready to help me. And even though I couldn't find anyone to help, you better believe I wasn't afraid to ask.

18. How to be creative.

When you're at least an hour away from normal forms of entertainment such as movie theaters and malls, you learn to get real creative in entertaining yourself. Whether it be a night looking at the stars in the bed of a pickup truck or having a movie marathon in a blanket fort at home, you know how to make your own good time.

19. To brush off gossip.

It's all about knowing the person you are and not letting others influence your opinion of yourself. In small towns, there is plenty of gossip. But as long as you know who you really are, it will always blow over.

Grateful Beyond Words: A Letter to My Inspiration

I have never been so thankful to know you..

I can't say "thank you" enough to express how grateful I am for you coming into my life. You have made such a huge impact on my life. I would not be the person I am today without you and I know that you will keep inspiring me to become an even better version of myself.

You have taught me that you don't always have to strong. You are allowed to break down as long as you pick yourself back up and keep moving forward. When life had you at your worst moments, you allowed your friends to be there for you and to help you. You let them in and they helped pick you up. Even in your darkest hour you showed so much strength. I know that you don't believe in yourself as much as you should but you are unbelievably strong and capable of anything you set your mind to.

Your passion to make a difference in the world is unbelievable. You put your heart and soul into your endeavors and surpass any personal goal you could have set. Watching you do what you love and watching you make a difference in the lives of others is an incredible experience. The way your face lights up when you finally realize what you have accomplished is breathtaking and I hope that one day I can have just as much passion you have.

SEE MORE: A Letter To My Best Friend On Her Birthday

The love you have for your family is outstanding. Watching you interact with loved ones just makes me smile . You are so comfortable and you are yourself. I see the way you smile when you are around family and I wish I could see you smile like this everyday. You love with all your heart and this quality is something I wished I possessed.

You inspire me to be the best version of myself. I look up to you. I feel that more people should strive to have the strength and passion that you exemplify in everyday life.You may be stubborn at points but when you really need help you let others in, which shows strength in itself. I have never been more proud to know someone and to call someone my role model. You have taught me so many things and I want to thank you. Thank you for inspiring me in life. Thank you for making me want to be a better person.

Waitlisted for a College Class? Here's What to Do!

Dealing with the inevitable realities of college life..

Course registration at college can be a big hassle and is almost never talked about. Classes you want to take fill up before you get a chance to register. You might change your mind about a class you want to take and must struggle to find another class to fit in the same time period. You also have to make sure no classes clash by time. Like I said, it's a big hassle.

This semester, I was waitlisted for two classes. Most people in this situation, especially first years, freak out because they don't know what to do. Here is what you should do when this happens.

Don't freak out

This is a rule you should continue to follow no matter what you do in life, but is especially helpful in this situation.

Email the professor

Around this time, professors are getting flooded with requests from students wanting to get into full classes. This doesn't mean you shouldn't burden them with your email; it means they are expecting interested students to email them. Send a short, concise message telling them that you are interested in the class and ask if there would be any chance for you to get in.

Attend the first class

Often, the advice professors will give you when they reply to your email is to attend the first class. The first class isn't the most important class in terms of what will be taught. However, attending the first class means you are serious about taking the course and aren't going to give up on it.

Keep attending class

Every student is in the same position as you are. They registered for more classes than they want to take and are "shopping." For the first couple of weeks, you can drop or add classes as you please, which means that classes that were once full will have spaces. If you keep attending class and keep up with assignments, odds are that you will have priority. Professors give preference to people who need the class for a major and then from higher to lower class year (senior to freshman).

Have a backup plan

For two weeks, or until I find out whether I get into my waitlisted class, I will be attending more than the usual number of classes. This is so that if I don't get into my waitlisted class, I won't have a credit shortage and I won't have to fall back in my backup class. Chances are that enough people will drop the class, especially if it is very difficult like computer science, and you will have a chance. In popular classes like art and psychology, odds are you probably won't get in, so prepare for that.

Remember that everything works out at the end

Life is full of surprises. So what if you didn't get into the class you wanted? Your life obviously has something else in store for you. It's your job to make sure you make the best out of what you have.

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Promoting and Supporting Italian Language Education

What My Italian Heritage Means To Me

THE ITALIAN LANGUAGE FOUNDATION / June 3, 2021 / Blog /

Written by: GiovannaNicole Lacerra, School of the Holy Child. Rye, NY 7th grade student

I am a first generation Italian-American, and my heritage is very important to me. My Nonna, on my mother’s side, came to America when she was just twenty four years old. Her husband was in Venezuela, so she was all alone except for her two children. A son who was seven and a daughter who was four. She was also pregnant with her third child. It was ten long days of rough waters and seasickness. When she did reach America it was very hard for her. She was too old to go to school and she could not find a job. Eventually, she found a sweatshop that hired her. They did not pay well, but most of her coworkers spoke Italian so it was easier for her to communicate. Finally, it is time for her to give birth to her third and final child. It was November 24, 1963 and it was 2 days after President John F. Kennedy’s assasination. So the day after my Nonna gave birth to her child was the funeral, but she did not know this and she was very confused when everyone was talking about it. My Nonna did the best she could to make everything as easy as possible for her and her family.

My family has a lot of traditions that have been passed down for generations. For example, for Christmas we make fried dough balls with honey and sprinkles on top. They are called struffoli. My Nonna has been doing it the longest so of course she is the boss. All of the women will come together and spend about 2 hours making these delicious treats. The men don’t like to make them, they only like to eat them. Another example is pasta a mano, or homemade pasta. My Nonna has taught everyone how to make it, and it is way better than store bought. We also have some Italian nursery rhymes that we always sing to the kids. I love to sing them to my niece and nephew, even though sometimes I don’t know what I’m saying. We also make fresh homemade tomato sauce every September. We make 300 jars of sauce for 6 different families. Last but not least, my favorite tradition is the tarantella. The town from where my mother is from is very small so they use the tarantella from the town next to them, Montemarano. La Tarantella Montemaranese is 15 minutes long. Every party that we go to my Great Uncle Salvatore brings a CD of the tarantella so he can give it to the DJ and we can dance the night away. We rarely ever do the full 15 minutes because most of the people dancing are older and don’t have enough stamina. My family and I still keep these traditions going no matter what.

As I have talked about her through this essay you have most likely come to notice that my greatest influence is my Nonna Anita. My Nonna is the one that has shown me every possible tradition and detail about my heritage there is to know. She taught me to be proud of my Italian roots and to showcase it. My Nonna Anita has made me realize how great it is to be Italian. It was October 2018 and I was getting ready for my Christmas concert. This year was especially exciting because the concert would be at Jazz at Lincoln Center in Columbus Circle, New York City. It was only a little more than a month away so it was time for me to pick a song. My mother really wanted me to do one song in English and one in Italian, but I didn’t want to do that. Even though I didn’t want to sing an Italian song my mother still made me. My Nonna Anita was very proud that I was going to sing in Italian so she helped us pick the song. She also helped me pick the American song which was The Little Drummer Boy, because that song is very important to my family and my ancestors. Eventually, we choose the Christmas song Gésu Bambino. At first I was frustrated that my family was making me sing this song, but once it was time to actually perform I was excited. I am not sure if you have ever been to Jazz at Lincoln Center but where I was performing the background of the stage was glass, so you could see all on Columbus Circle. It was so beautiful, and it just so happened that it started snowing. Before my performance I was so nervous, but when I got onto that stage and sang Gésu Bambino I did not care about all the people watching, I just wanted to make my family proud. It was as if I had my own personal spotlight shining just on my family, no one else mattered. I just looked at them and smiled. Afterwards everyone congratulated me and said I did a great job, but the best part was when my Nonna came up to me and gave me the greatest, biggest hug ever imaginable. When I realized how that song made my family feel I knew that singing an Italian song isn’t frustrating, it’s home.

This picture is from July 2019. In this picture, my family is dancing the tarantella. The family was at a restaurant at the top of the mountain for the Festa di Sant Antonio. In this picture dancing there is my Nonna Anita (of course), My Great Uncle Salvatore, my cousin Anthony, my mother’s cousin Teresa, and my mother’s cousin Daniel.

This picture is from December 2019. Here we are making struffoli for Christmas Eve. In the front to the right is me, then behind me is my sister Maria, next to her is my sister Daniela, then my cousin Deana, then my Nonna Anita, and lastly my mother’s cousin Maria.

This picture is from September 2020. In this picture we are sorting out the good tomatoes from the bad tomatoes. In the front is me, then behind me are some family friends that like to make the sauce with us.

This picture is from February 1990. This picture is from Carnivale. I was not born yet in 1990. To the right there is my Nonna Anita, then her mother my Great Nonna Teresa, then her sister my Great-Great Zia Filomena, and then my sister Maria. My mother is taking the picture, but including her that was 4 generations, hence the sign.

This picture is from May 1965. This is from right after my mother was born. To the right is my Nonna Anita holding my mother, then the little girl in the front is my Zia Luisa, then next to her is my Great Nonna Teresa, and all the way in the back is my Zio Mimmo.

This picture is from December 2018. This is me performing at Jazz at Lincoln Center when I sang Gésu Bambino. Next to me playing the piano is my piano and singing teacher Mr. John Senakwami.

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History of My Italian Heritage – Essay Sample

Italians are widely recognized as the nationality that has seen the most amounts of immigrants into the United States.  Italians began immigrating into America in 1880 or so, at least consistently, whereas the beginnings of Italian immigration can be seen as early as the early 1600s.  The former period marked the primary set of immigration of Italians into America, which accounts for many Italian ancestors for those in the United States, along with that of World War II.

The very earliest documented arrival of Italians into what is now the United States can be seen in the 17 th century.  Pietro Cesare Alberti is known as the first Italian to live in the area, who was a Venetian sailor settling in the New York area in 1635.  The Taliaferro family was one of the first families to settle in Virginia in the 17 th century.  Additionally, a close friend of Thomas Jefferson, Filippo Mazzei, was a notably political activist and physician.  This period once again marked the small arrival of Italian immigrants who settled in the United States, in small numbers until the 1880s.

In the 1870s poverty, overpopulation, natural disaster, and other factors can be seen as precursors to the immigration of Italians into the United States.  Into 1900, southern Italy saw illiteracy rates around that of 70 percent.  Southern Italy especially was victim to high taxes on industrials goods in the northern part of the country.  The eruption of Mount Etna and the overpopulation of areas on Italy led to the immigration spurts that took place in America.

Likely from aforementioned conditions, immigrants from Southern Italy were seen quite prominently.  Immigrants from rural villages in Sicily and Campania were notable in the period after 1880, extending from the primary period from 1890 to 1900.  Primarily immigrants were Italian men, looking for high-paying jobs without intentions to stay in the country.  According to most sources, over a half million Italian immigrants were seen during this period.

In the early 1900s, Italian immigrant figures soared.  Over three million immigrants were seen in America by the close of 1920, although over two million returned to Italy in the early 20 th century.  There was a sharp decline of Italian immigrants in the 1920s and 1930s, due to the 1924 quota that allowed 4,000 per year.

Italian ancestry took a negative turn during World War II.  Though overshadowed by Japanese Americans, the internment of Italian citizens occurred during this time.  Italian immigrants that were detained numbered nearly 600,000, where the situation and restrictions led to the loss of the Italian language in American schools and papers.

The Italian heritage in the United States is quite significant.  Accounting as the fifth largest group of ancestry in the United States, there were 15.6 million people accounted for in the 2000 U.S. Census.  Overall Italian ancestries account for around 6% of the American population today.

Italian ancestry has had a profound impact on American culture.  Italian culture is present in current aspects of today’s society, such as the notable presence of Italian feats, and even Italian food in general.  Italian culture has penetrated into literature and media in America, as both are commonly seen in the United States.

Conclusively Italian ancestors are seen within the wide and dynamic nature of Italian immigration into the United States over the past couple of centuries.  Millions of Italian ancestors have entered the country, leading to the rich implementation of Italian culture in American culture.  As this ethnic group accounts for the most prominent in number of any other, it is no surprise as to the richness of the history of Italian immigration in America.

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The meaning of Italian heritage

Heritage represents something transmitted by or acquired from a predecessor or an ancestor. So, it is something that could emotionally connect people living in a state to the place of origin of their ancestors. Such as the descendants of Italians who left Italy during the last centuries.

Italy has a tradition of emigration : Italians emigrated to other countries looking for employment opportunities in Argentina, Canada, Brazil, United States, European countries. Nowadays more or less 80 million Italian emigrants descendants live in the world.

In the world there are lots of them raised in proudly Italian family , listened to their grandmothers and grandfathers telling tales about their life in Italy and their travels to the new countries, knew relatives through photographs. For these people Italian heritage is real and alive. Otherwise, for some other the direct links to Italian heritage have gotten lost through time, in these cases the pieces that could connect them with their Italian heritage are missing.

Italian American heritage celebration month

As we wrote, in some cases Italian heritage is a strong feeling , in some States it is celebrated. In the United States every year they celebrate the Italian American Heritage Month . They want to honor the participation in the history of USA of Italian immigrants and their descendants living there. October is the Italian American heritage month . In the same month the Columbus Day is celebrated. It is a national holiday in many countries of the Americas and it celebrates the anniversary of the arrival of Cristoforo Colombo in the American continent.

What do you think about your Italian heritage? How you feel about it? Share your story with us!

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Nine brilliant student essays on honoring your roots.

Read winning essays from our fall 2019 student writing contest.

For the fall 2019 student writing contest, we invited students to read the YES! article “ Native and European—How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself? ” by Kayla DeVault. Like the author, students reflected on their heritage and how connected they felt to different parts of their identities. Students then wrote about their heritage, family stories, how they honor their identities, and more.

The Winners

From the hundreds of essays written, these nine were chosen as winners. Be sure to read the author’s response to the essay winners, literary gems and clever titles that caught our eye, and even more essays on identity in our Gallery of Voices.

Middle School Winner: Susanna Audi

High School Winner: Keon Tindle

High School Winner: Cherry Guo

University Winner: Madison Greene

Powerful Voice: Mariela Alschuler

Powerful Voice: Reese Martin

Powerful Voice: Mia De Haan

Powerful Voice: Laura Delgado

Powerful Voice: Rowan Burba

From the Author, Kayla DeVault: Response to All Student Writers and Essay Winners

Gallery of voices: more essays on identity, literary gems, titles we loved, middle school winner.

Susanna Audi

Ethical Culture Fieldston School, Bronx, N.Y.

BRAZIL: MY HEART’S HOME

Saudades. No word in the English language sums up the meaning of this Portuguese term: a deep feeling of longing that makes your heart ache and pound like a drum inside your chest. I feel saudades for Brazil, its unique culture, and my Brazilian family. When I’m in my second home, Bahia, Brazil, I’m a butterfly emerging from its cocoon—colorful, radiant, and ready to explore the world. I see coconut trees waving at the turquoise waves that are clear as glass. I smell the familiar scent of burning incense. I hear the rhythm of samba on hand-beaten drums, and I feel my grandma’s delicate fingers rub my back as I savor the mouth-watering taste of freshly made doce de leite .  Although I’m here for only two precious weeks a year, I feel a magnetic connection to my father’s homeland, my heart’s home.

My grandfather or vovô , Evandro, was born in Brazil to a family who had immigrated from Lebanon and was struggling to make ends meet. His parents couldn’t afford to send him to college, so he remained at home and sold encyclopedias door-to-door. My vovô eventually started a small motorcycle parts company that grew so much that he was able to send my father to the U.S. at age sixteen. My father worked hard in school, overcoming language barriers and homesickness. Even though he has lived in America for most of his life, he has always cherished his Brazilian roots. 

I’ve been raised with my father’s native language, foods, and customs. At home, I bake Brazilian snacks, such as the traditional cheese bread, pão de queijo , which is crunchy on the outside but soft and chewy on the inside. My family indulges in the same sweet treats that my father would sneak from the cupboard as a child. Two relaxing customs we share are listening to Brazilian music while we eat breakfast on weekends and having conversations in Portuguese during meals. These parts of my upbringing bring diversity and flavor to my identity. 

Living in the U.S. makes me feel isolated from my Brazilian family and even more distant from Brazilian culture. It’s hard to maintain both American and Brazilian lifestyles since they are so different. In Brazil, there are no strangers; we treat everybody like family, regardless if that person works at the local shoe store or the diner. We embrace each other with loving hugs and exchange kisses on the cheeks whenever we meet. In the U.S., people prefer to shake hands. Another difference is that I never come out of Starbucks in New York with a new friend. How could I when most people sit with their eyes glued to their laptop screens? Life seems so rushed. To me, Brazilians are all about friendships, family, and enjoying life. They are much more relaxed, compared to the stressed and materialistic average American. 

As Kayla DeVault says in her YES! article “Native and European—How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself,” “It doesn’t matter how many pieces make up my whole: rather, it’s my relationship with those pieces that matters—and that I must maintain.”  I often ask myself if I can be both American and Brazilian. Do I have to choose one culture over the other? I realize that I shouldn’t think of them as two different cultures; instead, I should think of them as two important, coexisting parts of my identity. Indeed, I feel very lucky for the full and flavorful life I have as a Brazilian American. 

Susanna Audi is an eighth-grader who lives in the suburbs of New York. Susanna loves painting with watercolors, cooking Brazilian snacks, and playing the cello. On weekends, she enjoys babysitting and plays several sports including lacrosse, soccer, and basketball. Susanna would love to start her own creative design business someday. 

High School Winner

Keon Tindle

Kirkwood High School, Kirkwood, Mo.

Walking Through the Forest of Culture

What are my roots? To most people, my roots only go as far as the eye can see. In a world where categorization and prejudice run rampant, the constant reminder is that I am Black. My past is a living juxtaposition: my father’s father is a descendant of the enslaved and oppressed and his wife’s forefathers held the whips and tightened the chains. Luckily for me, racial hatred turned to love. A passion that burned brighter than any cross, a love purer than any poison. This is the past I know so well. From the slave ship to the heart of Saint Louis, my roots aren’t very long, but they are deeply entrenched in Amerikkkan history.

This country was made off of the backs of my brothers and sisters, many of whom have gone unrecognized in the grand scheme of things. From a young age, White children are told stories of heroes—explorers, politicians, freedom fighters, and settlers whose sweat and determination tamed the animalistic lands of America. They’re given hope and power through their past because when they look in the mirror they see these heroes. But what about me? My stories are conveniently left out of the textbooks; I have never been the son of a king or a powerful African leader, just expensive cargo to be bought and sold to the highest bidder. It seems we, as a people, never truly left the ship.

Even now, we’re chained to the whitewashed image of Black history. I can never truly experience the Black tradition because there are multiple perspectives. The truth is clouded and lost due to the lack of documentation and pervasive amount of fabrication. How am I supposed to connect to my heritage? America tells me to celebrate the strength of my ancestors, the strength of the slaves, to praise something they helped create. The Afrocentrics tell me to become one with the motherland, celebrate the culture I was pulled away from. However, native Africans make it clear I’ll never truly belong.

Even the honorable Elijah Muhammad tells me to keep my chin pointed to the clouds, to distrust the creation of Yakub, and to take my place among the rest of Allah’s children. Most people don’t have the luxury of “identifying with all of the pieces of [themselves],” as Kayla DeVault says in the YES! article “Native and European—How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself?” 

They’re forced to do research and to formulate their own ideas of who they are rather than follow the traditions of an elder. For some, their past works as a guide. A walk through life that has been refined over generations. Others, however, are forced to struggle through the dark maze of life. Hands dragging across the walls in an attempt to not lose their way. As a result, their minds create stories and artwork from every cut and scratch of the barriers’ surface. Gaining direction from the irrelevant, finding patterns in the illogical. 

So what are my roots? My roots are my branches, not where I come from but where this life will take me. The only constant is my outstretched arms pointed towards the light. A life based on the hope that my branches will sprout leaves that will fall and litter the path for the next generation.

Keon Tindle is unapologetically Black and embraces his African American background. Keon is an esports competitor, musician, and producer, and especially enjoys the craft of pairing history with hip-hop music. He is always ecstatic to dabble in new creative outlets and hopes to pursue a career in neuroscience research.

Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology, Alexandria, Va.

Tying the Knot

The kitchen smells like onions and raw meat, neither unpleasant nor pleasant. Nainai’s house slippers slap against our kitchen floor as she bustles around, preparing fillings for zongzi: red bean paste, cooked peanuts, and marinated pork. I clap my pudgy hands together, delighted by the festivities. 

Nainai methodically folds the bamboo leaves into cones, fills them up with rice, and binds the zongzi together with string that she breaks between her teeth. I try to follow suit, but when I try to tie the zongzi together, half the rice spills out. Tired from my lack of progress, I abandon Nainai for my parents, who are setting up the mahjong table. 

After raising me to the age of ten, my grandparents returned to China. They dropped back into their lives like they had never left, like they hadn’t shaped my entire upbringing. Under their influence, my first language was not English, but Chinese. 

At school, my friends cajoled me into saying Chinese words for them and I did so reluctantly, the out-of-place syllables tasting strange on my palate. At home, I slowly stopped speaking Chinese, embarrassed by the way my tongue mangled English words when I spoke to classmates. One particular memory continually plagues me. “It’s Civil War, silly. Why do you pronounce “L” with an ‘R’?” Civil. Civil. Civil.

At dinner, my dad asked us to speak Chinese. I refused, defiantly asking my brother in English to pass the green beans. I began constructing false narratives around my silence. Why would I use my speech to celebrate a culture of foot binding and feudalism? In truth, I was afraid. I was afraid that when I opened my mouth to ask for the potatoes, I wouldn’t be able to conjure up the right words. I was afraid I would sound like a foreigner in my own home. If I refused to speak, I could pretend that my silence was a choice.

In Kayla DeVault’s YES! article “Native and European – How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself?” she insists that “Simply saying “I am this” isn’t enough. To truly honor my heritage, I found I must understand and participate in it.” And for the first time, I wonder if my silence has stolen my cultural identity. 

I decide to take it back.

Unlike DeVault, I have no means of travel. Instead, my reclamation starts with collecting phrases: a string of words from my dad when he speaks to Nainai over the phone, seven characters from two Chinese classmates walking down the hall, another couple of words from my younger sister’s Chinese cartoons. 

The summer before my senior year marks the eighth year of my grandparents’ return to China. Once again, I am in the kitchen, this time surrounded by my parents and siblings. The bamboo leaves and pot of rice sit in front of me. We all stand, looking at each other expectantly. No one knows how to make zongzi. We crowd around the iPad, consulting Google. Together, we learn how to shape the leaves and pack the rice down. 

The gap in knowledge bothers me. Does it still count as honoring a family tradition when I follow the directions given by a nameless pair of hands on YouTube rather than hearing Nainai’s voice in my mind? 

Instead of breaking the string with my teeth like Nainai had shown me, I use scissors to cut the string—like I had done with my ties to Chinese language and culture all those years ago. And now, I’m left with the severed string that I must hurriedly tie around the bamboo leaf before the rice falls out of my zongzi.

Cherry Guo is a senior at Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology in Alexandria, Virginia. Cherry rows for her school’s crew team and plays the viola in her school orchestra. She spends what little free time she has eating pretzel crisps and listening to podcasts about philosophy.

University Winner

Madison Greene

Kent State University, Kent, Ohio

Carrying the Torch

I have been called a pizza bagel–the combination of a Catholic Italian and an Ashkenazi Jew. Over time, I have discovered the difficulty of discretely identifying the ratio of pizza to bagel. It is even more arduous when the pizza and the bagel have theologies that inherently contradict each other. Therefore, in a society that emphasizes fine lines and exact distinctions, my identity itself becomes a contradiction.  

In the winter, my family tops our Christmas tree with the Star of David. I’ve recited the Lord’s Prayer; I’ve prayed in Hebrew. I attended preschool at a church, and my brother was a preschooler in a synagogue. Every week at Sunday morning mass, my maternal family donates money to the collection basket during the offertory. My paternal family has donated authentic Holocaust photographs to a local Jewish heritage museum. Growing up, none of this was contradictory; in fact, it all seemed complementary. My Jewish and Catholic identities did not cancel each other out but rather merged together.

However, the compatibility of my Catholic-Jewish identities was in upheaval when I decided to become acquainted with the Jewish community on campus. While attending Hillel events, I felt insecure because I did not share many of the experiences and knowledge of other Jewish students. Despite this insecurity, I continued to participate — until a good friend of mine told me that I was not Jewish enough because of my Catholic mother. She also said that families like mine were responsible for the faltering of Jewish culture. I wanted my identity to be validated. Instead, it was rejected. I withdrew and avoided not only my Jewish identity but also my identity as a whole.

I soon realized that this friend and I look at my situation using different filters. My Catholic-Jewish identities have evolved into a codependent relationship, and I am entitled to unapologetically embrace and explore both aspects of my identity. I realized that even without my friend’s validation of my identity, I still exist just the same. Any discredit of my Catholic-Jewish identities does not eliminate my blended nature. So, after a few months of avoiding my Jewish identity, I chose to embrace my roots; I resumed participating in the Jewish community on campus, and I have not stopped since.

Kayla DeVault’s YES! article “Native and European – How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself?” describes the obligation to one’s ancestral chain. The best way to fulfill this duty is to fully dedicate oneself to understanding the traditions that accompany those cultural origins. In this generation, my mother’s Catholic-Italian maiden name has no men to carry it on to the next generation. It is difficult to trace my last name past the mid-1900s because my Jewish ancestors shortened our surname to make it sound less Semitic, to be less vulnerable to persecution. Given the progressive fading of my family’s surnames, how do I continue the legacies of both family lines?

On behalf of my ancestors and for the sake of the generations still to come, I feel obligated to blend and simultaneously honor my Jewish and Catholic heritage to ensure that both prevail. 

Now I know that whether I am sitting next to my Jewish father at my young cousin’s baptism, or whether I am sitting at the Passover Seder table with my mother’s Catholic parents, it is up to me to keep both flames of my ancestry burning bright. The least I can do is hold each family’s candle in my hands. Imagine the tremendous blaze I could create if I brought the flames of my two families together.

Madison Greene is a Communication Studies major at Kent State University. Madison is also pursuing a minor in Digital Media Production. She is currently the president of her sorority.

Powerful Voice Winner

Mariela Alschuler

Behind My Skin

My roots go deeper than the ground I stand on. My family is from all over the world with extended branches that reach over whole countries and vast oceans.

Though I am from these branches, sometimes I never see them. My Dominican roots are obvious when I go to my abuela’s house for holidays. My family dances to Spanish music. I fill my plate with platanos fritos and my favorite rice and beans. I feel like a Dominican American girl. Maybe it’s the food. Maybe it’s the music. Or maybe it’s just the way that my whole family—aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins— laugh and talk and banter in my grandparents’ small, beautiful apartment.

Even though I am blood to this family, I stick out like a sore thumb. I stick out for my broken Spanish, my light skin, my soft, high-pitched voice and how I do my hair. I feel like I don’t belong to my beautiful, colorful family, a disordered array of painted jars on a shelf.

If my Dominican family is like a disorganized and vibrant shelf of colors, then my European family is a neat and sparse one with just a hint of color. For Christmas in New York, there are dozens of us crammed in the small apartment. For Thanksgiving in Massachusetts, there are rarely more than twelve people in the grandiose, pristine house that looks like something out of House Beautiful . I adore my grandparent’s house. It is expansive and neatly painted white. After growing up in a small house on a school campus and visiting my other grandparents’ small apartment in New York, I thought that their house was the greatest thing in the world. I would race up the stairs, then slide down the banister. I would sip Grandma’s “fancy” gingerbread tea, loving the feeling of sophistication. There, I could forget about the struggles of my Dominican family. I was the granddaughter of a wealthy, Jewish, Massachusetts couple rather than the granddaughter of a working-class second-generation Dominican abuela and abuelo from the Bronx.  

I don’t fit in with my European family either. My dark skin and my wild hair don’t belong in this tidy family. In Massachusetts, the branches of my Dominican family, no matter how strong and extensive, are invisible. The same way my European roots are lost when I am in New York.

So what am I? For years I have asked myself this question. Wondering why I couldn’t have a simple garden of a family rather than the jungle that I easily get lost in. As Kayla DeVault says in her YES! article “Native and European—How can I honor all parts of myself?,” “Simply saying ‘I am this’ isn’t enough.” And it isn’t. My race, color, and ethnicity do not make up who I am. I am still a daughter. A sister. A cousin. A friend. My mixed identity does not make me less whole, less human. I may have lightly tanned skin and my lips may not form Spanish words neatly, but behind my skin is bright color and music. There is warm gingerbread tea and golden platanos fritos. There is Spanish singing from my abuelo’s speaker and “young people” songs that play from my headphones. There is a little, cozy apartment and a large, exquisite house. Behind my skin is more than what you can see. Behind my skin is what makes me me. 

Mariela Alschuler is a seventh-grader at Ethical Culture Fieldston School and lives in the Bronx, New York. When she’s not in school, Mariela likes to read, write, do gymnastics, watch Netflix, and spend time with her friends and family. She hopes to be a doctor and writer when she grows up.

Reese Martin

University Liggett School, Grosse Point Woods, Mich.

A True Irishman?

Similar to Kayla Devault in her YES! article “Native and European-How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself,” I hold holistic pride in my cultural identity. As a descendant of Irish immigrants, my childhood was filled with Irish folk music, laughter, and all things green. I remember being a toddler, sitting on my Popo’s lap wearing a shiny green, slightly obnoxious, beaded shamrock necklace. There, in the living room, I was surrounded by shamrocks hanging on the walls and decorations spread throughout, courtesy of my grandmother who always went overboard. My father and his siblings were Irish fanatics, as well. My aunt, whom I loved spending time with as a child, was notorious for wild face painting, ear-splitting music, and crazy outfits on St. Patrick’s Day. The holiday typically started in Detroit’s historic Corktown for the annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade with the promise of authentic Irish corned beef and soda bread at the Baile Corcaigh Irish Restaurant following the festivities. Charlie Taylor, a local Irish musician, belted folk songs from Baile Corcaigh’s makeshift stage. It was one of the few days a year my father and his large family came together. Although my aunt and grandparents have passed, our family’s Irish pride is eternal.

There was, however, one peculiar thing about our Irish heritage— none of my family looked classic Irish. My father and his five siblings have nearly black eyes and fairly dark skin, not the typical Irish traits of blue eyes and light skin. DeVault wrote, “When I was older, the questions came, which made me question myself.” I fell into a similar predicament, questioning my heritage. It truly came as a shock when a couple of my paternal aunts and several cousins took DNA tests through 23andMe and AncestryDNA. The results revealed the largest percentage of our ethnicity was Lebanese and Middle Eastern, not Irish.

It felt like a punch to the gut. I was clueless on how to move forward. According to the numbers, we possessed an insignificant amount of Irish blood. How was it possible to be wrong about such a huge part of my identity? Not only was I confused about my culture and history, but I also experienced a great deal of shame—not of my newfound Middle Eastern heritage, but the lack of Irish DNA, which I had previously held so close and felt so proud of. It felt as though I was betraying the memory of my late grandparents and aunt.

Even amidst my confusion, I found this new heritage intriguing; I was excited to explore all that my newly found Lebanese culture had to offer: unique foods, unfamiliar traditions, and new geography. In addition to the familiar boiled and mashed potatoes, my family now eats hummus and shawarma. I also know more about the basic facts, history, and government of Lebanon. One thing dampens my enthusiasm, however. I wonder how I can fully develop a love for my newly discovered culture without being too deliberate and appearing to be insensitive to cultural appropriation.

It is here, in the depths of uncertainty and intrigue, I relate most to DeVault’s question, “How do I honor all parts of myself?” Although my Irish ancestry may not be as authentic as I once believed, I still feel a strong connection to the Irish culture. I’ve found that to truly honor all pieces of my identity, I must be willing to accept every aspect of my ancestry. I don’t need to reject Lebanese ethnicity, nor disregard the Irish memories of my childhood. I am allowed to be everything all at once. At the end of the day, with both Irish culture and Lebanese heritage, I am still simply and perfectly me.

Reese Martin is a junior at University Liggett School in Grosse Pointe Woods, Michigan. Reese plays hockey and soccer, swims competitively and is a violinist in her school orchestra. She enjoys volunteering, especially peer tutoring and reading with young children.

Rowan Burba

Saluting Shadows

On the floor, a murdered woman lays bloody and dead. Two young boys stare in horror at their dead mother. At only 10 years old, my great-grandfather experienced unfathomable suffering. A generation later, my grandfather and two great-uncles grew up under an abusive roof. My great-uncle Joe, the youngest of three boys, endured the worst of the abuse. Joe’s scarred brain altered during the sexual and emotional abuse his father subjected him to. From the time he was 18 months old, trusted adults of Joe’s community violated him throughout his childhood. These traumas spiraled into a century of silence, the silence I am determined to break. 

My father’s lineage is littered with trauma. Our family doesn’t openly share its past. We constantly masquerade as “normal” so we can fit in, but the alienation we experience is understandable. In Kayla DeVault’s YES! article “Native and European—How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself?” she explains her numerous identities, which include Shawnee, Anishinaabe, Eastern European, Scottish, and Irish. Although I don’t have her rich ethnic ancestry, I question my roots just as she does. I have limited photos of my deceased relatives. There are only two prominent ones: my paternal grandmother as a child with her siblings and my maternal grandmother’s obituary photo. These frosted images hide the truth of my family’s history. They’re not perfect 4″ x 6″ moments frozen in time. They’re shadowed memories of a deeply disturbed past.

For 17 years, my family was clueless about our past family trauma. Two months ago, my great-aunt explained Joe’s story to me. Joe developed Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) as a result of his abuse. By the age of 18, his brain contained 95 alters (fragments of his identity that broke off and developed into true individuals), causing Joe to appear as the “weird one,” the one who my family dismissed, the outcast of my dad’s childhood. My dad only learned one year ago, long after Joe died, about Joe’s DID. My family’s adamancy to hold secrets outweighed accepting and helping Joe. The shadows around these secrets quickly dispersed. 

The silence and shame from a mother’s death a century ago still have a chokehold on my family today. My family appears a disaster to outsiders.  My mom’s side is so religious they would never fathom a conversation about these harsh realities. In addition to Joe, my dad’s side has uncles who struggle with codependency and trauma from past abuses. Joe’s brother coped by latching onto another “normal” family, and my grandfather coped by never talking about issues. My parents married soon after my maternal grandmother and three of her four siblings died within a few weeks of each other. Despite years of therapy, my parents divorced when I was 11 years old. I grew up surrounded by dysfunction without recognizing it. 

How do I honor my roots? I work to break the silence and stigmas of abuse and mental health. I’ve participated in therapy for about five years and have been on medicine for about two. I must reprogram my brain’s attachment to codependent tendencies and eliminate the silence within me. I’m working through my intrusive thoughts and diving into my family’s past and disrupting harmful old patterns. I’m stepping away from the shadows of my ancestors and into the light, ensuring that future generations grow up with knowledge of our past history of abuse and mental illness. Knowledge that allows us to explore the shadows without living in them. Knowledge that there’s more in life outside of the frames.

Rowan Burba, a junior at Kirkwood High School in Missouri, loves to participate as a witness in Mock Trial competitions, build and paint sets for the KHS theatre department, play viola in her school orchestra, and do crafts with kids. She is involved in politics and wants to help change the world for the better.

Mia De Haan

Estrella Mountain Community College, Avondale, Ariz.

What Being a Part of the LGBTQ+ Community Means to Me

Being queer is that one thing about me I am most proud of, yet also most scared of. Knowing that I am putting my life at risk for the simplest thing, like being gay, is horrifying.

Let’s talk about my first crush. Her name was Laurel, and she was always in front of me when we lined up after recess in first grade. I remember wishing that girls could marry girls because she had the prettiest long, blonde hair. I left these thoughts in the back of my head until middle school. I couldn’t stop staring at a certain girl all day long. That one girl who I would have sleepovers with every weekend and slow dance with at school dances—but only as friends. She changed my life. She was the first person to tell me that I was accepted and had no reason to be afraid. 

Being part of the LGBTQ+ community isn’t all rainbows and Pride parades. It is watching your family turn away from you in disgust but never show it on their faces. It’s opening Twitter and learning that it’s still illegal to be gay in 71+ countries. It’s astonishing that we had to wait until 2015 for the U.S. Supreme Court to make it legal to marry in all 50 states.  

My identity is happiness yet pain, so much pain. I hated myself for years, shoved myself back into a closet and dated my best friend for two years because maybe if I brought a boy home my family would wish me “Happy Birthday” again or send me Christmas presents like they do for my brother and sister.

When I began to explore my identity again, I asked myself, “Am I safe?” “Will I still be loved?” I was horrified. I am horrified. Legally, I am safe, but I am not safe physically. I can still be beaten up on the streets for holding a girl’s hand. Protesters at Pride festivals are still allowed to shout profanities at us and tell us that we are going to burn in hell—and the cops protect them. I am not safe mentally because I still allow the words of people and homophobes in the media and on my street get inside of my head and convince me that I am a criminal. 

When I read Kayla DeVault’s YES! article “Native and European—How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself?” I could feel how proud DeVault is to be Shawnee and Irish. While we do not share the same identity, I could tell that we are the same because we both would do anything for our cultures and want to show our pride to the rest of the world.

I honor my LGBTQ+ identity by going to Pride festivals and events. I also participate in an LGBTQ+ church and club, where, for years, was the only place I could be myself without the fear of being outed or harmed. Whenever I hear people being ignorant towards my community, I try to stay calm and have a conversation about why our community is great and valid and that we are not doing anything wrong. 

I don’t know if the world will ever change, but I do know that I will never change my identity just because the world is uncomfortable with who I am. I have never been one to take risks; the idea of making a fool of myself scares me. But I took one because I thought someone might listen to my gay sob story. I never expected it to be heard. If you have your own gay sob story, I will listen, and so will many others, even if you don’t realize it yet.  

Amelia (Mia) De Haan was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona. Mia has devoted her entire life to art, specifically theatre and dance. While she has struggled to figure out what she wants to do for the rest of her life, she does know that she wants to inspire people and be a voice for the people of the LGBTQ+ community who still feel that no one is listening. Mia dreams of moving to New York with her cat Loki and continuing to find a way to inspire people.

Laura Delgado

Spring Hill College, Mobile, Ala.

I moved to the United States when I was eight years old because my father knew Venezuela was becoming more corrupt. He wanted to give his family a better life. My sense of self and belonging was wiped clean when I moved to the United States, a country that identified me and continues to label me as an “alien.” On U.S Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) documents, I am Alien Number xxx-xxx-xxx.  I will not let that alien number define who I am: a proud Venezuelan and American woman.

In her YES! article “Native and European—How Do I Honor All Parts of Myself?” author Kayla DeVault says that “to truly honor [her] heritage, [she] found [she] must understand and participate in it.” This is why during Christmas I help my mom make hallacas (a traditional Venezuelan dish made out of cornmeal, stuffed with beef, pork, chicken, raisins, capers, and olives, wrapped in a banana leaf that is boiled to perfection), pan de jamón (a Christmas bread filled with ham, cheese, raisins, and olives—the perfect sweet and salty combination, if you ask me), and ensalada de gallina (a chicken, potatoes, and green apple salad seasoned with mayonnaise, salt, and pepper). While the gaitas (traditional Venezuelan folk music) is playing, we set up the Christmas tree and, under it, the nativity scene. The smell of Venezuelan food engulfs our small apartment. Every time I leave the house, the smell of food sticks to me like glue, and I love it.

We go to our fellow Venezuelan friend’s house to dance, eat, and laugh like we were back in Venezuela. We play bingo and gamble quarters as we talk over each other.  My favorite thing is how we poke fun at each other, our way of showing our love. There is nothing better than being surrounded by my Venezuelan family and friends and feeling like I belong.

My ancestors are Spanish settlers, West African slaves, and Indigenous Venezuelans. To my peers, I am a Latina woman who can speak Spanish and comes from a country they have never heard of. To my family, I am a strong and smart Venezuelan woman who is succeeding in this country she calls home. 

I was immediately an outcast as a young newcomer to this country. I was the new, exotic girl in class who did not speak a word of English; all of that led to bullying. Growing up in a country that did not want me was—and still is—hard. People often ask me why I would ever want to identify as American. My answer to their question is simple: This is my home. I knew that the chances of us going back to Venezuela were slim to none so I decided to make this country my home. At first, I fought it. My whole life was back in Venezuela. Eventually, I made lifelong friends, had my first kiss and my first heartbreak. I went to all of the homecoming and prom dances and made memories with my best friends to last me a lifetime. Yes, I was born in Venezuela and the pride of being a Venezuelan woman will never be replaced, but my whole life is in the United States and I would never trade that for the world. 

I am Venezuelan and I am American. I am an immigrant and I am Latina. The United States government will always know me as Alien Number xxx-xxx-xxx, but they will not know that my heritage is rich and beautiful and that I am a proud Venezuelan and a proud American woman.

Laura Delgado is a Junior at Spring Hill College in Mobile, Alabama, majoring in Graphic Design and minoring in Hispanic Studies. Laura and her family migrated to the United States from Venezuela in 2007 to escape the Chavez regime. She is a DACA recipient and a first-generation college student who has a passion for graphic design and hopes to one day open her own interior design company.

Dear every human who wrote in this contest or thought about writing,

I want to start by addressing all of you. 

I think stepping out of your comfort zone and writing your truth—even if you think you aren’t a writer— is a brave thing to do. 

I want you to understand that not being selected does not mean your story isn’t valid or that your identity wasn’t “enough.” Remember, you’re always enough. You’re enough to God, to Allah, to your Higher Power, to the Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky, to your parents, and to your ancestors who endured long enough for you to come into existence. 

As I read through the various essays, I saw a common thread of food . Whether it’s the pierogi sales at churches in Pittsburgh, the neverias around Phoenix, or the soul food joints in Birmingham, the history of our ancestors’ movements have left their impressions in our cuisine. 

Another theme I found in several essays was a “uniformed diaspora.” Some of you talked about not being able to fully trace your lineage, having your history stolen by some method of political racism, and even grappling with finding that your genetics are not all you thought they were. As a Native person, I know all too well that we had much taken from us. I know that the conquerors wrote our history, so ours is recorded with bias, racism, and flippancy. 

And now to the essay winners:

To Susanna: Obrigada for your story. I encourage you to keep exploring your identity and how it informs your existence today on Lenape, Rockaway, and Canarsie traditional lands (New York City). Your imagery reflects saudades well. I think there is an intriguing and untapped story embedded in your father’s experience from Lebanon, and I encourage you to explore how that merges with your Brazilian identity.

When I read that passage about Starbucks, I thought about how the average young American seems to be private in public, but public in private—meaning this culture and its technology isolates us (private) when we are around other people (public), yet so many of us share most about ourselves on social media (public) where we can pick and choose if we want to engage with someone (private). By the way, I, too, played lacrosse… Did you know it has Indigenous roots?

To Cherry: 非常感谢你!  Don’t listen to the American stereotypes of who you are, as hard as that can be. You sadly may always hear them, but hearing is not the same as listening. People undermine the things they don’t understand because the things they don’t understand scare them. While it is not your job to feel you have to educate them, you do have the freedom to choose how you navigate those spaces.

I understand how it may feel inauthentic to learn how to make traditional foods like zongzi from a YouTube video. For me, I have had to learn beading and other crafts because I was too ashamed to learn them when I had the elders still in my life. I  tell young folk to know their elders now while they can. Furthermore, please speak every language no matter how imperfect because it’s a gift. Also, I’ll eat your zongzi any day, even if all the rice falls out!

To Keon: The imagery and symbols of slavery you use, powerfully describe a revisionist history that further blocks access to what would be a culturally-rich ancestry. 

I remember standing on the shores of Ouidah, Benin, from where the majority of slaves left, looking through La Porte du Non Retour (The Door of No Return) memorial, and hearing a local say, “Our relatives, they left these shores for the ships and then… we never heard from them again.” And so we come to realize our stories are known only so far as they have been carried. 

I see hope in the way you have embraced your roots as your branches to move forward. I believe that, in looking towards your branches, you have actually found your roots. You are a product of all the stories, told and untold, remembered and forgotten. I encourage you to keep writing and exploring how your seemingly contradicting and somewhat unknown roots shaped your ancestors and shape their product: you. Don’t hold back. 

To Madison: Grazie and תודה. First of all, pizza bagels are delicious… just saying… talk about the best of both worlds! You write about the challenge of fitting into your communities, and I can certainly see how religious differences can become contentious. 

I am sorry that you had a negative Hillel experience. In the end, we can’t let the persecutors steal our ancestral identities from us because that allows them to win. Cultures are fluid, not rigid and defined as peers might bully us into thinking. It’s rotten when people label us with things like “pizza bagel,” but if you boldly embrace it, you can turn it on its head. So I encourage you to be the smartest, wittiest, and most deliciously confident pizza bagel out there, writing your experience for all to read!

To Laura: Gracias , you write with a motif of sorts, one that conflates your identity to a number and the label of “alien.” For people in the United States to be dismissive of immigrants and judgmental of their cultures and languages is for the same people to forget their own origins, their own stories, and their own roles (as benefactors or as victims) in this age-old system of oppression for gain. It is also rather ironic that we call people “aliens;” unless they are from an Indigenous nation. Are not nearly all Americans “aliens” to some degree?

You write about being bullied as the new, exotic girl in school and I have also experienced that as my family moved around a bit growing up; however, I have also had the privilege to speak English.

It’s sad that these experiences are still so proliferate, and so I think it is vital that people like you share their experiences. Perhaps your background can inform how you think about spaces as an interior designer. 

To Mariela: Gracias and תודה for the story you shared. You write about a complex existence that is a mix of poor and wealthy, white and brown, warm and cool. Learning to navigate these contrasting sides of your family will help you work with different kinds of people in your future.

I can understand your point about feeling out of place by your skin color. Lighter skin is largely considered a privilege in society, yet for those of us with non-white heritages, it can make us feel like we don’t belong amongst our own family. We have to walk a fine line where we acknowledge we may be treated better than our relatives in some circumstances but we have to sit with the feeling of not being “brown enough” other times. I encourage you to keep exploring your branches and sharing your feelings with your relatives about these topics. Perhaps one day you can use your deep understanding of human relations to inform your bedside manner as a doctor!

To Mia: Thank you for your brave piece, despite your fears. Your emotional recollection about the first girl you loved is very touching and powerful. 

I am sorry that you don’t feel as though you are treated the same by your family on account of your identity and that you have to take extra steps to be accepted, but I believe your continuing to be your authentic self is the only way to prove you mean what you mean.

I hope the utmost safety and acceptance for you. I also thank you for seeing and relating to my pride that I have for myself, and I encourage you to consider creative outlets— maybe even podcast hosting—to uplift your story and the stories of others, spread awareness, and facilitate change.

To Reese: Go raibh maith agat . That’s how you thank a singular person in Irish, if you didn’t know already. I enjoyed your piece because, of course, we have an Irish connection that I understand.

I find it pretty interesting that you came back with a lot of Lebanese results in your family tests. Understand those tests only represent the inherited genes, so if both of your parents were a quarter Irish but three-quarters Lebanese, for example, you would get half of each of their genes. You might get half Lebanese from both and you would appear full Lebanese—or any other variation. My point is those tests aren’t exact reports.

I am excited you have found new aspects of your heritage and I hope you will continue to explore—as best you can—what your ancestral history is. And, by the way, I, too, play hockey and the violin—fine choices!

To Rowan: Many families put up a facade, and it’s only the brave ones, like you, addressing the trauma head-on who will be able to break the cycle that causes intergenerational trauma. 

When we explore the parts of our identity, many of us may find how much trauma —including historic policy, racism, and displacement—has impacted our ancestors, perhaps centuries upon centuries ago. Learning about my family history and about religious factors has revealed stories of abuse and secrets that have been hushed wildly, even within my immediate family. Photos can be sad when we know the stories behind them and even when we never knew the person; they’re still a part of us and we can honor them by remembering them. I think you choosing to write about your Uncle Joe and the effects of trauma in your family— especially as you process and heal yourself—will be a tremendous resource both internally and for others. Thank you for sharing and I hope you find happiness in those frames.

Again, thank you all for your essays. It is exciting to see the youth writing. I am grateful for my piece to have been chosen for this contest and, I hope I’ve encouraged readers to consider every part that makes up their whole and how it has informed their life experiences.

Kayla DeVault

“ In seventh grade, I went to an affinity group meeting. And all I remember was being called a bad Asian again and again. I was called a bad Asian because I couldn’t use chopsticks. I was called a bad Asian because I didn’t know what bubble tea or K-pop was. Time and again, I was called a bad Asian because I didn’t know the things I was expected to know, and I didn’t do the things that I was expected to do. That meeting made me truly question my identity. “ . —Sebastian Cynn, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y. Click here to read the entire essay.

“It’s difficult being Dominican but born and raised in New York. I’m supposed to speak fluent Spanish. I’m supposed to listen to their music 24/7, and I’m supposed to follow their traditions. I’m supposed to eat their main foods. I’m unique and it’s not only me. Yes, I may not speak Spanish. Yes, I may not listen to their kind of music, but I don’t think that defines who I am as a Dominican. I don’t think I should be discriminated for not being the same as most Dominicans. Nobody should be discriminated against for being different from the rest because sometimes different is good. “ —Mia Guerrero, KIPP Washington Heights Middle School, New York, N.Y. Click here to read the entire essay.

When I hang out with some of my older friend groups, which are mainly white, straight kids, I don’t mention that I’m Asian or Gay, but as soon as I’m with my friends, I talk about my identifiers a lot. A lot of them are part of the LGBTQ+ community, and 11 out of 14 of them are a person of color. With my grandparents, I am quieter, a good Asian grandchild who is smart, gets good grades, is respectful. And I don’t act “Gay.” … Why do I have to act differently with different people? Why do I only feel comfortable with all of my identities at school?

—Gillian Okimoto, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y. Click here to read the entire essay .

“ Torah, Shema, yarmulke, all important elements of Jewish identity—except for mine. All these symbols assume the existence of a single God, but that doesn’t resonate with me. Religion is a meaningful part of my family’s identity. After all, wanting to freely practice their religion was what brought my great-grandparents to America from Eastern Europe. Being very interested in science, I could never wrap my head around the concept of God. Can I be Jewish while not believing in God? “ —Joey Ravikoff, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y. Click here to read the entire essay.

“ Yes, I am transgender, but I am also a son, a friend, an aspiring writer, and a dog trainer. I love riding horses. I’ve had the same volunteer job since sixth grade. I love music and trips to the art museum. I know who I am and whether other people choose to see me for those things is out of my control.  Holidays with my family feels like I’m suffocating in a costume. I’ve come out twice in my life. First, as a lesbian in middle school. Second, as a transgender man freshman year. I’ve gotten good at the classic sit-down. With hands folded neatly in front of me, composure quiet and well-kept, although I’m always terrified. “ —Sebastian Davies-Sigmund, Kirkwood High School, Kirkwood, Mo. Click here to read the entire essay.

“ No longer do I wish to be stared at when civil rights and slavery are discussed. In every Socratic seminar, I shudder as expectant white faces turn to mine. My brown skin does not make me the ambassador for Black people everywhere. Please do not expect me to be the racism police anymore. Do not base the African American experience upon my few words. Do not try to be relatable when mentioning Hannukah is in a few days. Telling me you tell your White friends not to say the N-word doesn’t do anything for me. “ —Genevieve Francois, Kirkwood High School, Kirkwood, Mo. Click here to read the entire essay.

“ I often walk into the kitchen greeted by my mother sitting on her usual stool and the rich smells of culture—the spicy smell of India, the hearty smell of cooked beans, or the sizzling of burgers on the grill. Despite these great smells, I find myself often yearning for something like my friends have; one distinct culture with its food, people, music, and traditions. I don’t have a one-click culture. That can be freeing, but also intimidating . People who know me see me as a fraction: ¼ black, ¾ white, but I am not a fraction. I am human, just human. “ —Amaela Bruce, New Tech Academy at Wayne High School, Fort Wayne, Ind. Click here to read the entire essay.

“‘We just don’t want you to go to hell. ‘ I am not an atheist. I am not agnostic. I have no religion nor do I stand strong in any one belief. My answer to the mystery of life is simple: I don’t know. But I live in a world full of people who think they do.  There will be a day when that capital G does not control my conversations. There will be a day when I can speak of my beliefs, or lack thereof, without judgment, without the odd stare, and without contempt. The day will come when a life without religion is just another life. That is the day I wait for. That day will be Good. “ —Amara Lueker, New Tech Academy at Wayne High School, Fort Wayne, Ind. Click here to read the entire essay.

“¡Correle!” yell the people around him. He runs to the grass, ducks down and starts to wait. He’s nervous. You can smell the saltiness of sweat. He looks up and hears the chopping of helicopter blades. You can see the beam of light falling and weaving through the grass field … out of a group of thirteen, only four were left hidden. He and the others crossed and met up with people they knew to take them from their own land down south to the opportunity within grasp up north. That was my father many years ago. I’ve only asked for that story once, and now it’s committed to memory. “ —Luz Zamora, Woodburn Academy of Art Science & Technology, Woodburn, Ore. Click here to read the entire essay.

“ How do I identify myself? What do I connect to? What’s important to you? Here’s the answer: I don’t. Don’t have a strong connection. Don’t know the traditions. Don’t even know the languages. I eat some of the food and kinda sorta hafta** the major holidays but thinking about it I don’t know anything important. I think that the strongest connection to my family is my name, Mei Li (Chinese for “beautiful” Ana (a variation on my mother’s very American middle name: Anne) Babuca (my father’s Mexican last name). “ —Mei Li Ana Babuca, Chief Sealth International High School, Seattle, Wash. Click here to read the entire essay.

“ My whole life I have felt like I don’t belong in the Mexican category. I mean yeah, I’m fully Mexican but, I’ve always felt like I wasn’t. Why is that you ask? Well, I feel that way because I don’t know Spanish. Yes, that’s the reason. It may not sound like a big deal, but, for me, I’ve always felt disconnected from my race. I felt shameful. I felt like it was an obligation to know what is supposed to be my mother tongue. My whole family doesn’t really know fluent Spanish and that has always bothered me growing up. “ —Yazmin Perez, Wichita North High School, Wichita, Kan Click here to read the entire essay.

“ I believe differently from DeVault, who believes it’s important to connect and participate with your heritage. I believe that our personal pasts have more to do with who we are as people than any national identity ever could. Sure, our heritage is important, but it doesn’t do nearly as much to shape our character and perspective as our struggles and burdens do. Out of all my past experiences, illness—and especially mental illness—has shaped me. “ —Chase Deleon, Central York High School, York, Penn. Click here to read the entire essay.

“ … I can now run that whole grape leaf assembly line, along with other traditional plates, by myself. I have begun speaking out on current topics, such as Middle-Eastern representation in acting. I have become so much closer with my relatives and I don’t mind busting a move with them on the dance floor. Although a trip to Syria is not in my near future, DeVault made me realize that a connection to your geographical cultural roots is important. According to my aunt, I have become a carefree, happy, and more passionate person. I no longer feel stuck in the middle of ethnicity and society. Becoming one with and embracing my identity truly is ‘A Whole New World.’” —Christina Jarad, University Ligget School, Grosse Pointe Woods, Mich. Click here to read the entire essay.

“While my bow is not made of wood and my arrows lack a traditional stone tip, the connections are always present, whether I am stalking bull elk in the foothills of the Rockies or fly fishing in the mystical White River. The methods and the technologies may be different, but the motivations are the same. It is a need to be connected to where my food originates. It is a desire to live in harmony with untouched lands. It is a longing to live wild, in a time where the wild is disappearing before our eyes. “ —Anderson Burdette, Northern Oklahoma University, Stillwater, Okla. Click here to read the entire essay.

“Black people always say that White people don’t use seasoning. This saying is one of those sayings that I always heard, but never understood. I am Black, but I was adopted into a White household … Even though I identify as a Black woman, all my life I have struggled with breaking into the Black culture because other people around me consciously or unconsciously prevent me from doing so. “ —Brittany Hartung, Spring Hill College, Mobile, Ala. Click here to read the entire essay.

We received many outstanding essays for the Fall 2019 Student Writing Competition. Though not every participant can win the contest, we’d like to share some excerpts that caught our eye:

How can other people say that I only have one identity before I can even do that for myself? —Arya Gupta, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y.

‘Middle Child’ by J. Cole blasts through the party. Everyone spits the words like they’re on stage with him. J. Cole says the N-Word, and I watch my Caucasian peers proudly sing along. Mixed Girl is perplexed. Black Girl is crestfallen that people she calls friends would say such a word. Each letter a gory battlefield; White Girls insists they mean no harm; it’s how the song’s written. Black Girl cries. —Liz Terry, Kirkwood High School, Kirkwood, Mo.

To me, valuing my ancestors is a way for me to repay them for their sacrifices. —Jefferson Adams Lopez, Garrison Middle School, Walla Walla, Wash.

A one-hour drive with light traffic. That’s the distance between me and my cousins. Short compared to a 17-hour flight to the Philippines, yet 33 miles proved to create a distance just as extreme. Thirty-three miles separated our completely different cultures. —Grace Timan, Mount Madonna High School, Gilroy, Calif.

What does it mean to feel Korean? Does it mean I have to live as if I live in Korea? Does it mean I have to follow all the traditions that my grandparents followed? Or does it mean that I can make a decision about what I love? —Max Frei, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y.

Not knowing feels like a safe that you can’t open (speaking about her ancestry) . —Madison Nieves-Ryan, Rachel Carson High School, New York, N.Y.

As I walked down the halls from classroom to classroom in high school, I would see smiling faces that looked just like mine. At every school dance, in every school picture, and on every sports team, I was surrounded by people who looked, thought, and acted similar to me. My identity was never a subject that crossed my mind. When you aren’t exposed to diversity on a daily basis, you aren’t mindful of the things that make you who you are. —Jenna Robinson, Kent State University, Kent, Ohio

When my Great-Great-Grandfather Bill was 12, he ran away to work with his uncles. And then when he was older and married, he called up his wife and said, “Honey, I’m heading off to college for a few years. Buh-Bye!” Because of his adventurous spirit, Bill Shea was the first Shea to go to college. Ever since my mom told me this story, I’ve always thought that we could all use a little Bill attitude in our lives.  —Jordan Fox, Pioneer Middle School, Walla Walla, Wash.

I defy most of the stereotypes of the Indian community. I’m a gender-fluid, American, Belizean kid who isn’t very studious. I want to be a writer, not a doctor, and I would hang out with friends rather than prepare for the spelling bee. —Yadna Prasad, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y.

While my last name may be common, the history behind my family is not. A line of warriors, blacksmiths, intellectuals, and many more. I’m someone who is a story in progress. —Ha Tuan Nguyen, Chief Sealth International High School, Seattle, Wash.

My family is all heterosexual. I did not learn about my identity from them. LGBTQ+ identity is not from any part of the world. I cannot travel to where LGBTQ+people originate. It does not exist. That is the struggle when connecting with our identities. It is not passed on to us. We have to find it for ourselves. —Jacob Dudley, Kent State University, Kent, Ohio

My race is DeVault’s childhood kitchen, so warm and embracing. Familiar. My sexuality is DeVault’s kitchen through adulthood: disconnected. —Maddie Friar, Kirkwood High School, Kirkwood, Mo.

At school, I was Dar-SHAW-na and at home DAR-sha-na. There were two distinct versions, both were me, but neither were complete. \ —Darshana Subramaniam, University Liggett School, Grosse Pointe Woods, Mich.

I do not think that heritage and ethnic roots are always about genetics. It is about the stories that come with it, and those stories are what shapes who you are. —Lily Cordon-Siskind, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y.

In my sixteen-year-old mind, the two ethnicities conflicted. I felt like I couldn’t be both. I couldn’t be in touch with Southern roots and Cuban ones at the same time. How could I, they contradict each other? The Cuban part of me ate all my food, was loud and blunt, an underdog and the Southerner was reserved, gentle, and polite. —Grace Crapps, Spring Hill College, Mobile, Ala.

I thought I was simply an American. However, I learned that I am not a jumbled mix of an untraceable past, but am an expertly woven brocade of stories, cultures, and hardships. My ancestors’ decisions crafted me…I am a story, and I am a mystery. —Hannah Goin, Pioneer Middle School, Walla Walla, Wash.

We received many outstanding essays for the Fall 2019 Student Writing Competition, and several students got clever and creative with their titles. Here are some titles that grabbed our attention:

“A Mixed Child in a Mixed-Up Family” Caitlin Neidow, Ethical Culture Fieldston Middle School, Bronx, N.Y.

“Diggin’ in the DNA” Honnor Lawton, Chestnut Hill Middle School, Liverpool, N.Y.

“Hey! I’m Mexican (But I’ve Never Been There)” Alexis Gutierrez-Cornelio, Wellness, Business & Sports School, Woodburn, Ore.

“What It Takes to Be a Sinner” Amelia Hurley, Kirkwood High School, Kirkwood, Mo.

“Mirish” Alyssa Rubi, Chief Sealth International High School, Seattle, Wash.

“Nunca Olvides de Donde Vienes ” ( Never forget where you came from ) Araceli Franco, Basis Goodyear High School, Goodyear, Ariz.

“American Tacos” Kenni Rayo-Catalan, Estrella Mountain Community College, Avondale, Ariz.

“Corn-Filled Mornings and Spicy Afternoons” Yasmin Medina, Tarrant County Community College, Fort Worth, Tex.

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Italian Heritage and Its Impact on Life in the US Essay

People often think that being of Italian descent means that I am good at cooking, eat a lot and tend to walk around saying “I will make you an offer you can’t refuse”. False stereotypes and references to the Godfather series aside, being an Italian goes hand in hand with a rich tradition of religion and culture that spans centuries. From the rise of the Roman Empire to the creation of modern-day Italy, you cannot help but think of where we as Italians have come from, what different paths our ancestors took for us to be here today and what potential future could be on the horizon for the next generations of Italians.

It is this anticipation for what may come that has driven me towards pursuing a career in medicine. Did you know that the first medical school in Europe, the School of Salerno, was located in Italy? That Italian doctor Giovanni Battista Morgagni was the founder of Pathological anatomy? It is these little tidbits of knowledge about the contributions of Italians to the field of medicine that truly fascinated me since it showed just how much our culture has contributed to the foundation of the modern medical world (Buonanno 123).

While it is true that the latest developments in modern day medicine now come large corporations and Universities with corporate funding, the fact remains that much of what can be seen in modern day hospitals can be attributed to the contributions of early Italian medical pioneers. Strangely enough, despite the contributions that Italians have made to the field of medicine, it has taken quite some time for people of Italian descent to break into the field of medicine in the U.S. This is despite the fact that Italians have been known for centuries are great inventors, thinkers, and practitioners of medicine.

For example, Salvino degli Armati (born in 1258) is widely considered as the potential inventers of eyeglasses, Alessandro Volta (born in 1745) created the first prototype of the electric batteries we use in many devices today, and Giovanni Caselli was one of the original inventors of the ancestor of the fax machines that were widely used prior to the popularization of the internet (Belluscio 228). These are only some of the dozens of Italian inventors, thinkers, philosophers and artists that contributed immensely towards shaping the world as we know it today. The quintessential Italian thinker is one that is creative, inventive, possesses a deep faith in God and creates due to the deep-seated belief that to hold back is to deny the world of the gifts and talents that God has given them us.

The low rate of career penetration for Italian-Americans in the field of medicine is in part due to a combination of false stereotyping, belief that other ethnicities are simply better in the field of medicine, and a distinct lack of initial opportunities Italian-Americans. While Italians were some of the first migrants into the U.S. during the early 1900s, they were coming here in order to flee from rampant poverty in Italy at the time.

As a result, many Italian migrants did not have significant amounts of monetary assets leading many towards taking industrial and construction related jobs (Riccio 161). Unfortunately, this correlation between Italians and the aforementioned jobs stuck resulting in the development of a stereotype that Italians are the best for labor related work (Shor 685). This meant that Italians attempting to advance into various professional fields were given limited opportunities since it was thought that they did not have the capability to match other more “deserving” ethnicities (Meyer 176).

This state of affairs continued till the early 1960s where, due to anti-discrimination laws as well as the creation of easier access to state and private funding, Italian-Americans were able to start entering into new professionals outside of those that they were previously shoehorned into (Topp 39).

It is based on this history of Italian-Americans that I decided to enter into the medical field since not only do I want to prove that we as a culture are more than what others perceive us to be, but that we have contributed immensely towards the development of modern day medicine and that these developments will continue well into future if I have anything to say about it. I will continue to strive and focus on becoming someone that the world will remember so that future Italian-Americans can point to me in their history books and say that I am someone that they will strive to emulate.

In fact, I believe that what is written in history is a great way of seeing how particular cultures will continue and evolve in the future. For example, the Italian people and culture as we know it today evolved from the ancient Roman civilization. I find this connection truly fascinating since the developments created by the Romans helped to create much of the modern day world. From the use of aqueducts to the creation of tax laws, social laws and a wide assortment of developments in medicine, art and science. The influence of the Roman civilization helped to shape the world into what it is today and I can’t help but think that it is our blood to change the world just as the ancient Romans did before us.

My belief in how history is our sculptor and we are its material was further piqued when I read about the life of Skipio Africanus, known to be one of the greatest generals who ever lived due to this numerous accomplishments and defeat of Hannibal. While Skipio was born into what can be defined as a moderately well-off family, he became a successful general through hard work and the belief that people should be treated decently and with respect.

This ideology extended all the way into this career as a general where he developed a reputation for fairness and mercy to his enemies. It is based on the life of Scipio that I developed the idea that if I want to be someone that people would look up to, I need to be able to have morals that are unquestionable, a reputation that shows my willingness to help others, and the mental fortitude to carry all my goals out till the end.

As I enter into this new chapter of my life where I will be developing who I am as a person, I begin to see that being an Italian and being a Catholic are intertwined since I have faith that the lord our God will guide me in what I must do to achieve my dreams and be the inspiration for others to achieve theirs as well.

Works Cited

Belluscio, Steven J. “Leaving Little Italy: Essaying Italian American Culture.” Modern Fiction Studies 52.1 (2006): 228. Print.

Buonanno, Michael. “Italian Folk: Vernacular Culture In Italian-American Lives.” Journal Of American Ethnic History 32.2 (2013): 123. Print.

Meyer, Gerald. “Italian Anarchism In America: Its Accomplishments, Its Limitations.” Science & Society 79.2 (2015): 176.Print.

Riccio, Anthony V. “Oral History, Oral Culture, And Italian Americans.” Oral History Review 39.1 (2012): 160-162. Print.

Shor, Francis. “Those Without A Country: The Political Culture Of Italian American Syndicalists (Book).” Journal Of American History 90.2 (2003): 685-686. Print.

Topp, Michael Miller. “The Transnationalism Of The Italian-American Left: The Lawrence Strike Of 1912 And The Italian..” Journal Of American Ethnic History 17.1 (1997): 39. Print.

• Chicago (A-D)
• Chicago (N-B)

IvyPanda. (2021, March 26). Italian Heritage and Its Impact on Life in the US. https://ivypanda.com/essays/italian-heritage-and-its-impact-on-life-in-the-us/

"Italian Heritage and Its Impact on Life in the US." IvyPanda , 26 Mar. 2021, ivypanda.com/essays/italian-heritage-and-its-impact-on-life-in-the-us/.

IvyPanda . (2021) 'Italian Heritage and Its Impact on Life in the US'. 26 March.

IvyPanda . 2021. "Italian Heritage and Its Impact on Life in the US." March 26, 2021. https://ivypanda.com/essays/italian-heritage-and-its-impact-on-life-in-the-us/.

1. IvyPanda . "Italian Heritage and Its Impact on Life in the US." March 26, 2021. https://ivypanda.com/essays/italian-heritage-and-its-impact-on-life-in-the-us/.

Bibliography

IvyPanda . "Italian Heritage and Its Impact on Life in the US." March 26, 2021. https://ivypanda.com/essays/italian-heritage-and-its-impact-on-life-in-the-us/.

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Life in Italy, Italian Language, Italian Culture, Italy News, Tourism News, Italian Food

ITALIAN HERITAGE

The Italian Heritage section on Life in Italy is a collection of articles that teach us about the cultural heritage in Italy. Everything from traditions, such as carnivals, food, art, architecture, and music.

Discover the Italian heritage that includes more than 2000 years of history, and everything that’s still reminding us of these past centuries. The famous buildings such as the Colosseum, the Pantheon, or the Teatro di Taormina, through the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the New Ages, and the past century. Traditions are very important to Italians, and they pass over their collective and family traditions through the generations.

That’s how history and heritage are treated with respect and are kept alive in Italy.

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Being Italian-American: the voice of our readers

By silvia nittoli | November 2, 2020

October , the month dedicated to Italian Heritage , is about to end. It’s been an eventful four weeks for the world and for the US, a month encased in a year, 2020, which has brought to all of us pain, worry, fear.  A particular month for the  US especially, with  a presidential election just around the corner, the POTUS catching and recovering from Covid-19 and fears for health rising once again. So much so one could almost think, in fact, that Italian-Americans, this year, had something else in mind rather than celebrating their heritage. 

But this hasn’t  been the case. Being Italian-American is much more than mere celebrations and, most of all, it isn’t something people discover and embrace just once a year. Just like we love our fathers and mothers always and not solely on the days officially dedicated to them, cultural identity is something that transcends official events and cannot and should not be  relegated to officiality. 

When  we asked our readers , at the  beginning of the month, to tell us what it meant for them to be  Italian-American, we knew they’d have answered positively to our request. The  result was a heartfelt pouring of cherished memories, ideas, connections; tales of reaching the US and making a home of it, all the while remaining profoundly attached to Italy; fond recollections of people who are no longer of this Earth, but whose presence remains strong, also through their heritage and what it meant to them. Of course, there was much talking around the long-lasting diatribe about the righteousness of dedicating a day to Columbus — diatribe that seems so incredibly unaware of the basic tenets of historical analysis, such contextualization and adequate evaluation of sources — and some considerations our readers made are certainly worthy of some reflection. 

But the most beautiful thing emerging from the thoughts and words of our followers and readers, from your thoughts and words, is the enduring, strong and meaningful connection each and every one of you feels with Italy, with her culture and with all that the country represents in your eyes and hearts: family, love, heritage, identity, a meaningful facet of your existence.

With pleasure, now, I leave space to your words . In their simplicity, in their incredible enthusiasm, they show all the love, pride and respect you have for your roots, along with that joy de vivre so often associated with us Italians, regardless to which side of the Atlantic we happen to live.

The words of Victoria De Maio are probably those encompassing better the feeling of all of you, sharing a message that returned powerful through your messages: “being Italian-American,” she says,  “means everything to me. It’s my roots, my heritage and if it weren’t for my grandparents taking that voyage, I would have no story. I am beyond grateful for their courage and grit.” Pat Oliver shares similar thoughts. When asked what being Italian-American meant to her, she was adamant:  “Family. Family. Family! I’m half Sicilian half Piedmontese. Wonderful memories surround get togethers with kids running around, tons of food and traditions. My family on both sides were hard working farmers. It makes you understand their determination coming to USA for a better life, but not giving up their heritage. Every time I go to Italy my soul sings. I am so proud of my roots!” Funnily enough, it came out that Pat’s ancestors from Piedmont came from the same area as me: how small the world can be, and how short the step towards making, perhaps, a new friend. 

Joe Gannotti considers the courage and hardships his ancestors had to face a defining trait of his “being Italian-American,” and  sees them both as a reason to appreciate being an American, too:  ”I think it means that I know where my roots are and understanding the hardships my grandparents faced coming over here to America. (For this reason) I don’t take being an American for granted.”

Similar to those of Victoria, Pat and Joe is the thought of Elyse Shafer, who also stressed how her Italian-American heritage helps her feel closeness with people who are no longer around. She says she is “So thankful and proud to celebrate the traditions that both of my Italian parents and their parents imparted to me. My heritage has become even more important as a way of keeping them close, even though they have passed.”

 Michele Gable Napoli ’s message is very meaningful, too, because it comes from a non Italian-American who loved one for all her life: her perception of the “family,” the sense of belonging she  experienced with her husband’s family — and still continues today, after his sad passing — touch the heart: “I am not Italian American, but I was married to a great guy who was. His family welcomed me into the fold. His Mom taught me so much about Italian home cooking, and we tried to instill the love of family traditions into our 3 daughters. My husband passed away 3 years ago, but we are still carrying on. And my girls can together create an amazing Feast of the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve…”. 

Kathleen Curatolo Hannah says she feels “Blessed beyond words. The culture, values, work ethics, hospitality, love of family and food are on the short list. Honestly, cannot image my life without my Sicilian heritage. Proud and loud! I’d shout it out if I could. It means everything and is indeed my identity,” stressing once more the strong connection between heritage, in all its facets,  and identity. 

Denise Merola Lesko sees her heritage as way more important than her nationality: “I consider myself Italian American first. Every one of my ancestors were born and raised  Italy, ” while Stephanie Martino DiBelardino thinks being American comes first, but that heritage must be respected and kept alive, always: “(Being Italian-Americans) means, first and foremost, I am an American. But, it also means that I do not want to lose the culture and history of my Italian ancestors.”

Dora Roma offers us a hint of poetry with her beautiful words: “It means that half my body is made of white sands, sea breezes, olives groves on mountain tops, redolence of cappuccino throughout the city at 6 am, surge of soccer chants pouring out of the windows of a Sunday afternoon, mountain spring waters, cool interiors of ancient churches, a network of Roman roads that extend to the Black Sea, funghi sott’olio , solitary walks up hill tops, scent of wet violets in spring, village summer festivals celebrating from trotta to cinghiale to fagioli, the symphony of fountains.” Indeed, even in its simplicity, Italy remains special. 

Donata Calabrese knows that, for her,, being Italian-American means “Strength, integrity and family,” while Joe Granata, more prosaically but definitely not less realistically, says it means that, in his family, you “always ate well.” Amen to that Joe, amen to that!

Many of you honored us by sharing a bit of their family history, just like Carole Filacchione did: “When I was 7 years old, my grandparents left Italy and came to live with us. Mom and dad spoke English to me and my brother, Italian to my grandparents and I learned what made our family what it was and is today: love, pride, honesty, hard workers, customs passed down from one generation to the next. AND I learned to speak Italian:  far from perfect but enough to be understood when I was in Italy.” 

Michele Mazzagatte remembers how his grandfather “travelled by ship for 3 months,  with $27 in his pocket to start his own life.  From Sicily to Ellis Island, in 1918.  He married my precious grandmother and had three boys in Rhode Island. Then, off to California, were each boy married and had their own family. Michele F. Mazzagatte passed in 1974, at 74, Bianca NiCastro Mazzagatte passed in 2010 at 98. They had three children, ten grandchildren, three great grandchildren. Our family is thriving in California, Nevada, and Colorado.” There is so much love and so much pride, in Michele’s words. 

While we walk towards the end of our last 2020 Heritage Month opening pages, we meet Fran Rutigliano . Her words are particularly meaningful because she  was born in Italy and came all the way to the US with her parents, over 60 years ago. Her voice tells us a story of love and pride that transcend borders and that brings together the two sides of the Atlantic as if they were two neighboring villages: “I came to the USA with my parents over 60 years ago.  I remember the excitement of everyone on the deck when passing the Statue of Liberty… everyone clapping, chanting AMERICA. There were many tears  — of joy, as we were looking forward to a better future, but also of fear for the unknown. There was the heartache of leaving families, the motherland and all that we had known behind.

“We endured hardship  and yes,  even prejudice. We learned a new language, new customs and ways of living. We also incorporated the values,  faith,  culture and customs of our motherland, Italy, in our new home.  And we embraced America with affection : we were proud to be called Italo-Americani ,  Italian Americans. My mom and I became US citizens: we were proud to be in the USA and grateful for the opportunities it offered us.

“I have children and grandchildren born here, and to them  I passed on the culture and customs of Italy, which we still practice today: we jar tomatoes for sauce, we make wine and soppressata. I continue cooking recipes and traditional dishes passed on to me from mom and nonna; I taught my children the Italian language and my grandchildren call me nonna.  When I do go back to visit,  I speak proudly of my home, the USA.  Indeed, I feel grateful and fortunate to call America my home. And then,  I fly the American flag and put out my Italian flag on Columbus Day and during the soccer World Cup. And this is what Italian American means to me.”

We’d like to end this Italian Heritage Month with the words of Maria L. Mergola: in their  simplicity they probably hold the most profound of all messages about being Italian-American, one that the whole community shares: “It means being part of the two best places in the world.” 

I ’ d like to express my biggest thank you to all readers who left their thoughts on L ’ Italo-Americano Facebook page in the past three weeks: without you all, the article wouldn ’ t have been possible! 

Some entries have been edited for clarity. 

Sta per finire ottobre, il mese dedicato al Patrimonio Italiano. Sono state quattro settimane movimentate per il mondo e per gli Stati Uniti, un mese racchiuso in un anno, il 2020, che ha portato a tutti noi dolore, preoccupazione, paura. Un mese particolare soprattutto per gli Stati Uniti, con le elezioni presidenziali alle porte, la malattia e la guarigione dal Covid-19 del presidente degli Stati Uniti e i timori crescenti per la salute. Tanto che si potrebbe pensare che gli italo-americani, quest’anno, avessero in mente qualcos’altro piuttosto che celebrare il patrimonio culturale.

Ma non è stato così. Essere italo-americani è molto più di una semplice celebrazione e, soprattutto, non è qualcosa che la gente scopre e abbraccia solo una volta all’anno. Così come amiamo i nostri padri e le nostre madri sempre e non solo nei giorni a loro ufficialmente dedicati, l’identità culturale è qualcosa che trascende gli eventi ufficiali e non può e non deve essere relegata all’ufficialità.

Quando abbiamo chiesto ai nostri lettori, all’inizio del mese, di dirci cosa significava per loro essere italo-americani, sapevamo che avrebbero risposto positivamente alla nostra richiesta. Il risultato è stato un’affettuosa valanga di ricordi, idee, connessioni; racconti di come si è partiti per gli Stati Uniti e di come essi siano poi diventati casa, pur rimanendo profondamente legati all’Italia; ricordi affettuosi di persone che non sono più su questa terra, ma la cui presenza rimane forte, anche attraverso il loro patrimonio e ciò che ha significato per loro. Naturalmente, si è parlato molto della lunga diatriba relativa all’opportunità di dedicare una giornata a Colombo – diatriba che sembra così incredibilmente inconsapevole dei principi fondamentali dell’analisi storica, come la contestualizzazione e un’adeguata valutazione delle fonti – e alcune considerazioni che i nostri lettori hanno espresso sono certamente meritevoli di riflessione.

Ma la cosa più bella che emerge dai pensieri e dalle parole dei nostri followers e dei nostri lettori, dai vostri pensieri e dalle vostre parole, è il legame duraturo, forte e significativo che ognuno di voi sente con l’Italia, con la sua cultura e con tutto ciò che il Paese rappresenta ai vostri occhi e per il vostro cuore: la famiglia, l’amore, il patrimonio, l’identità, un aspetto significativo della vostra esistenza.

Con piacere, ora, lascio spazio alle vostre parole. Nella loro semplicità, nel loro incredibile entusiasmo, mostrano tutto l’amore, l’orgoglio e il rispetto che avete per le vostre radici, insieme a quella gioia di vivere che spesso viene associata a noi italiani, indipendentemente dalla parte dell’Atlantico in cui ci capita di vivere.

Le parole di Victoria De Maio sono probabilmente quelle che racchiudono meglio il sentimento di tutti voi, condividendo un messaggio che ritorna potente attraverso i vostri messaggi: “Essere italo-americana”, dice, “significa tutto per me. Sono le mie radici, il mio patrimonio e se non fosse stato per i miei nonni che hanno fatto quel viaggio, non avrei una storia. Sono più che grata per il loro coraggio e la loro grinta”. Pat Oliver condivide pensieri simili. Quando le è stato chiesto cosa significasse per lei essere italo-americana, è stata categorica: “La famiglia. La famiglia. La famiglia! Sono per metà siciliana e per metà piemontese. I ricordi meravigliosi si mescolano con i bambini che corrono in giro, con tonnellate di cibo e tradizioni. La mia famiglia, da entrambe le parti, era una famiglia di contadini che lavoravano sodo. Tutto fa capire la determinazione che avevano nel venire negli Stati Uniti per una vita migliore, senza però rinunciare al loro patrimonio. Ogni volta che vado in Italia la mia anima canta. Sono così orgogliosa delle mie radici!”. Curiosamente, è venuto fuori che gli antenati di Pat in Piemonte provenivano dalla mia stessa zona: quanto piccolo può essere il mondo, e quanto breve sia il passo verso una nuova amicizia.

Joe Gannotti considera il coraggio e le difficoltà che i suoi antenati hanno dovuto affrontare un tratto distintivo del suo “essere italo-americano”, e li vede entrambi come un motivo per apprezzare anche l’essere americano: “Penso che significhi che so dove sono le mie radici e che capisco le difficoltà che i miei nonni hanno dovuto affrontare venendo qui in America. (Per questo motivo) non do per scontato l’essere americano”.

Simile a quello di Victoria, Pat e Joe è il pensiero di Elyse Shafer, che ha anche sottolineato come la sua eredità italo-americana l’aiuti a sentire la vicinanza con le persone che non ci sono più. Dice di essere “così grata e orgogliosa di celebrare le tradizioni che sia i miei genitori italiani che i loro genitori mi hanno trasmesso. La mia eredità culturale è diventata ancora più importante per sentirlio vicini, anche se sono scomparsi”.

Anche il messaggio di Michele Gable Napoli è molto significativo, perché proviene da una non italo-americana che ha amato una persona per tutta la vita: la sua percezione della “famiglia”, il senso di appartenenza che ha vissuto con la famiglia del marito – e che continua ancora oggi, dopo la sua triste scomparsa – toccano il cuore: “Non sono italo-americana, ma sono stata sposata con un grande uomo che lo era. La sua famiglia mi ha accolto nell’ovile. Sua madre mi ha insegnato molto sulla cucina casalinga italiana, e abbiamo cercato di infondere l’amore per le tradizioni familiari nelle nostre 3 figlie. Mio marito è morto 3 anni fa, ma le portiamo ancora avanti. E la vigilia di Natale le mie figlie portano avanti una fantastica Festa dei Sette Pesci…”.

Kathleen Curatolo Hannah dice di sentirsi “Benedetta al di là delle parole. La cultura, i valori, l’etica del lavoro, l’ospitalità, l’amore per la famiglia e il cibo sono parte della lista. Onestamente, non posso immaginare la mia vita senza la mia eredità siciliana. Orgogliosa e fiera! Lo griderei se potessi. Significa tutto ed è davvero la mia identità”, sottolineando ancora una volta il forte legame tra il patrimonio, in tutte le sue sfaccettature, e l’identità.

Denise Merola Lesko considera il suo patrimonio molto più importante della sua nazionalità: “Mi considero prima di tutto italo-americana. Tutti i miei antenati sono nati e cresciuti in Italia”, mentre Stephanie Martino DiBelardino pensa che l’essere americana venga prima di tutto, ma quel patrimonio deve essere rispettato e mantenuto vivo, sempre: “Essere italo-americani significa, prima di tutto, che sono americana”. Ma significa anche che non voglio perdere la cultura e la storia dei miei antenati italiani”.

Dora Roma ci offre un pizzico di poesia con le sue belle parole: “Significa che metà del mio corpo è fatto di sabbia bianca, brezza marina, uliveti sulle cime dei monti, il profumo del cappuccino in tutta la città alle 6 del mattino, inni di calcio che fuoriescono dalle finestre di una domenica pomeriggio, acqua di sorgente di montagna, interni freschi di antiche chiese, un reticolo di strade romane che si estendono fino al Mar Nero, funghi sott’olio, passeggiate solitarie in cima alle colline, profumo di viole bagnate in primavera, sagre paesane estive che celebrano la trotta, il cinghiale o i fagioli, la sinfonia delle fontane”. Infatti, anche nella sua semplicità, l’Italia rimane speciale.

Donata Calabrese sa che, per lei, essere italo-americana significa “Forza, integrità e famiglia”, mentre Joe Granata, più prosaicamente ma non meno realisticamente, dice che significa che, nella sua famiglia, “si mangiava sempre bene”. Ben detto Joe, proprio così!

Molti di voi ci hanno onorato condividendo un po’ della loro storia familiare, proprio come Carole Filacchione: “Quando avevo 7 anni, i miei nonni hanno lasciato l’Italia e sono venuti a vivere con noi. Mamma e papà parlavano inglese con me e mio fratello, l’italiano con i miei nonni e ho imparato cosa ha reso la nostra famiglia quello che era ed è oggi: amore, orgoglio, onestà, duro lavoro, usanze tramandate da una generazione all’altra. E ho imparato a parlare italiano: non perfettamente, ma abbastanza per essere compresa quando sono stata in Italia”.

Michele Mazzagatte ricorda come suo nonno “viaggiò in nave per 3 mesi, con 27 dollari in tasca per iniziare la sua vita. Dalla Sicilia a Ellis Island, nel 1918. Sposò la mia preziosa nonna e ebbe tre figli a Rhode Island. Poi, via in California, dove ogni figlio si è sposato e ha avuto la sua famiglia. Michele F. Mazzagatte è morto nel 1974, a 74 anni, Bianca NiCastro Mazzagatte è morta nel 2010 a 98 anni. Hanno avuto tre figli, dieci nipoti, tre pronipoti. La nostra famiglia prospera tra California, Nevada e Colorado”. C’è tanto amore e tanto orgoglio, nelle parole di Michele.

Mentre arriviamo alla fine di questo articolo di copertina dedicato al Mese del Patrimonio 2020, incontriamo Fran Rutigliano. Le sue parole sono particolarmente significative perché è nata in Italia ed è venuta negli Stati Uniti con i suoi genitori, oltre 60 anni fa. La sua voce ci racconta una storia d’amore e di orgoglio che trascende i confini e che unisce le due sponde dell’Atlantico come se fossero due villaggi vicini: “Sono venuta negli Stati Uniti con i miei genitori più di 60 anni fa. Ricordo l’emozione di tutti sul ponte mentre guardavamo la Statua della Libertà… tutti che applaudivano, cantando AMERICA. C’erano molte lacrime: di gioia, perché ci aspettavamo un futuro migliore, ma anche di paura per l’ignoto. C’era il dolore di lasciare le famiglie, la patria e tutto ciò che ci eravamo lasciati alle spalle.

Abbiamo sopportato le difficoltà e sì, anche i pregiudizi. Abbiamo imparato un nuovo linguaggio, nuovi costumi e modi di vivere. Abbiamo anche incorporato i valori, la fede, la cultura e i costumi della nostra madrepatria, l’Italia, nella nostra nuova casa. E abbiamo abbracciato l’America con affetto: eravamo orgogliosi di essere chiamati italo-americani. Mia madre ed io siamo diventate cittadine americane: eravamo orgogliose di essere negli Stati Uniti e grate per le opportunità che ci hanno offerto.

Ho dei figli e dei nipoti nati qui, e a loro ho trasmesso la cultura e le usanze dell’Italia, che ancora oggi pratichiamo: prepariamo i pomodori per la salsa, facciamo il vino e la soppressata. Continuo a cucinare ricette e piatti tradizionali che mi sono stati tramandati da mamma e nonna; ho insegnato ai miei figli la lingua italiana e i miei nipoti mi chiamano nonna. Quando torno in visita, parlo con orgoglio della mia casa, gli Stati Uniti. Anzi, mi sento grata e fortunata di chiamare l’America la mia casa. E poi, sventolo la bandiera americana e sventolo la mia bandiera italiana per il Columbus Day e durante i mondiali di calcio! E tutto questo è ciò che significa per me essere italo-americana”.

Vogliamo concludere questo Mese del Patrimonio Italiano con le parole di Maria L. Mergola: nella loro semplicità contengono probabilmente il più profondo di tutti i messaggi sull’essere italo-americano, uno che tutta la comunità condivide: “Significa far parte dei due posti migliori al mondo”.

Vorrei esprimere il mio più grande ringraziamento a tutti i lettori che hanno lasciato il proprio pensiero sulla pagina Facebook de L’Italo-Americano nelle ultime tre settimane: senza di voi, l’articolo non sarebbe stato possibile.

Alcune parole sono state aggiunte per chiarezza.

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History of My Italian Herritage, Essay Example

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Italians are widely recognized as the nationality that has seen the most amounts of immigrants into the United States.  Italians began immigrating into America in 1880 or so, at least consistently, whereas the beginnings of Italian immigration can be seen as early as the early 1600s.  The former period marked the primary set of immigration of Italians into America, which accounts for many Italian ancestors for those in the United States, along with that of World War II.

The very earliest documented arrival of Italians into what is now the United States can be seen in the 17 th century.  Pietro Cesare Alberti is known as the first Italian to live in the area, who was a Venetian sailor settling in the New York area in 1635.  The Taliaferro family was one of the first families to settle in Virginia in the 17 th century.  Additionally, a close friend of Thomas Jefferson, Filippo Mazzei, was a notably political activist and physician.  This period once again marked the small arrival of Italian immigrants who settled in the United States, in small numbers until the 1880s.

In the 1870s poverty, overpopulation, natural disaster, and other factors can be seen as precursors to the immigration of Italians into the United States.  Into 1900, southern Italy saw illiteracy rates around that of 70 percent.  Southern Italy especially was victim to high taxes on industrials goods in the northern part of the country.  The eruption of Mount Etna and the overpopulation of areas on Italy led to the immigration spurts that took place in America.

Likely from aforementioned conditions, immigrants from Southern Italy were seen quite prominently.  Immigrants from rural villages in Sicily and Campania were notable in the period after 1880, extending from the primary period from 1890 to 1900.  Primarily immigrants were Italian men, looking for high-paying jobs without intentions to stay in the country.  According to most sources, over a half million Italian immigrants were seen during this period.

In the early 1900s, Italian immigrant figures soared.  Over three million immigrants were seen in America by the close of 1920, although over two million returned to Italy in the early 20 th century.  There was a sharp decline of Italian immigrants in the 1920s and 1930s, due to the 1924 quota that allowed 4,000 per year.

Italian ancestry took a negative turn during World War II.  Though overshadowed by Japanese Americans, the internment of Italian citizens occurred during this time.  Italian immigrants that were detained numbered nearly 600,000, where the situation and restrictions led to the loss of the Italian language in American schools and papers.

The Italian heritage in the United States is quite significant.  Accounting as the fifth largest group of ancestry in the United States, there were 15.6 million people accounted for in the 2000 U.S. Census.  Overall Italian ancestries account for around 6% of the American population today.

Italian ancestry has had a profound impact on American culture.  Italian culture is present in current aspects of today’s society, such as the notable presence of Italian feats, and even Italian food in general.  Italian culture has penetrated into literature and media in America, as both are commonly seen in the United States.

Conclusively Italian ancestors are seen within the wide and dynamic nature of Italian immigration into the United States over the past couple of centuries.  Millions of Italian ancestors have entered the country, leading to the rich implementation of Italian culture in American culture.  As this ethnic group accounts for the most prominent in number of any other, it is no surprise as to the richness of the history of Italian immigration in America.

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Italian Heritage Month: How Italians Shaped America and Enriched Its Culture

Magazine , The Immigrant Experience

In the intricate mosaic of American culture, every heritage contributes its unique colors and patterns, collectively creating a rich tapestry that tells the story of a diverse nation. Italian heritage holds a special place in this narrative, and the celebration of Italian Heritage Month serves as both a cultural tribute and an acknowledgment of the profound contributions made by Italians to the United States.

The journey of Italian immigrants to American shores is nothing short of an epic saga, filled with tales of courage, determination, and the indomitable human spirit. Originating from regions such as Liguria, Campania, Abruzzo, Sicily, and Lazio, these intrepid souls embarked on arduous journeys in search of new lives in a land brimming with promise and possibilities. Their story is one of resilience and hope, a story of facing challenges with unwavering determination, and ultimately, of triumph.

Italian Immigrants: A Journey to New Horizons

During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, waves of Italian immigrants left their homeland in pursuit of the American Dream. Their vision was of a land where opportunity and freedom weren’t mere concepts but tangible promises awaiting fulfillment. These individuals, hailing from humble backgrounds and facing economic hardships in Italy, embarked on challenging voyages across the vast Atlantic Ocean, their gaze fixed on the prospect of a brighter future.

While their journey to the United States was frequently marked by hardship and uncertainty, Italian immigrants displayed unyielding perseverance. Their determination carried them through turbulent waters to the shores of a land ripe with potential.

Establishing Roots in the New World

Italian immigrants found themselves in various corners of the United States, and every region they touched would carry the indelible mark of their presence. Cities like Boston, New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia became vibrant hubs for Italian communities, each with its unique character and traditions. In Boston, neighborhoods such as the North End, East Boston, Brighton, Hyde Park, and South Boston saw the emergence of thriving Italian-American communities.

This odyssey from the coasts of Italy to the heartland of America was arduous, but it also represented an incredible opportunity. Those who made the voyage faced the unknown with a sense of adventure and the determination to carve out a better life. Their stories of determination, resilience, and the pursuit of the American Dream stand as a source of inspiration and a reminder of the importance of welcoming and supporting newcomers to our shores.

Italian-Americans: Enriching the Cultural Tapestry

Over the years, the Italian-American community has been a vital thread woven into the fabric of American society. October recognized as National Italian-American Heritage Month, stands as a tribute to the rich and enduring contributions of Italian-Americans to the United States.

Cultural Enrichment: Italian culture is a treasure trove of art, music, cuisine, and traditions that have profoundly influenced American life. From Renaissance masterpieces gracing museum walls to the mouthwatering pasta dishes served in restaurants across the nation, Italian culture has left an indelible mark on the American way of life.

Culinary Excellence: Italian cuisine is celebrated worldwide, having become an integral part of American culinary traditions. The flavors of Italy, from the simplicity of a Margherita pizza to the richness of a homemade lasagna, have delighted palates and brought people together around dinner tables.

Immigrant Story: Italian Americans have a unique and inspiring immigrant story. Their ancestors left behind their homeland, embarking on a long and challenging journey to America in search of new opportunities. These brave men and women found themselves in a land of promise, seizing every opportunity to build a better future for themselves and their families. Their stories of resilience, determination, and the pursuit of the American Dream serve as a source of inspiration and a reminder of the importance of welcoming and supporting newcomers to our shores.

Contributions to Society: Italian-Americans have made significant contributions to various fields, enriching the fabric of American society. Figures like Enrico Fermi, the father of the atomic bomb, and Antonin Scalia, a Supreme Court Justice, are just a few examples of the impact of Italian-Americans on American society. In science, law, politics, and the arts, their accomplishments have reverberated far and wide.

Shaping the Entertainment Industry: Italian-Americans have played pivotal roles in shaping the entertainment industry, leaving an indelible mark on music, film, and television. Their artistic contributions have not only entertained but also provided inspiration and a shared sense of identity.

Celebrating Italian heritage is therefore not just about recognizing one specific culture; it’s about celebrating the rich tapestry of diversity that makes America unique. It’s an opportunity to appreciate the art, cuisine, traditions, and stories that have enriched our lives. By embracing and honoring Italian heritage, we embrace the essence of the American dream – a nation built by diverse communities, each contributing its unique thread to the vibrant tapestry of the United States. Italian-Americans have woven a rich and enduring legacy, shaping the cultural and artistic landscape of America, and their influence continues to resonate through the generations.

#ItalianHeritageMonth #ItalianCulture #ItalianHeritage #ItalianAmericans #AmericanDiversity #ItalianCuisine #ItalianArt #ImmigrantStories #ItalianAmericanImpact #ItalianAmericanContributions #CulturalEnrichment #ItalianHistory #MakingAmericaHome #ItalianTraditions #CelebratingDiversity

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Unesco social media, kremlin and red square, moscow.

• Description

Inextricably linked to all the most important historical and political events in Russia since the 13th century, the Kremlin (built between the 14th and 17th centuries by outstanding Russian and foreign architects) was the residence of the Great Prince and also a religious centre. At the foot of its ramparts, on Red Square, St Basil's Basilica is one of the most beautiful Russian Orthodox monuments.

Description is available under license CC-BY-SA IGO 3.0

Le Kremlin et la place Rouge, Moscou

Indissolublement lié à tous les événements historiques et politiques les plus importants survenus en Russie depuis le XIII e siècle, le Kremlin a été construit entre le XIV e et le XVII e siècle par des architectes russes et étrangers exceptionnels. C'était la résidence du grand-prince ainsi qu'un centre religieux. Au pied de ses remparts, sur la place Rouge, s'élève la basilique Basile-le-Bienheureux, l'un des plus beaux monuments de l'art orthodoxe.

الكرملين والساحة الحمراء، موسكو

يرتبط الكرملين ارتباطاً وثيقاً بجميع الأحداث التاريخيّة والسياسيّة المهمّة التي توالت على روسيا منذ القرن الثالث عشر ولقد جرى تشييده بين القرنين الرابع والسابع عشر على يد مهندسين روس وأجانب استثنائيين. وكان الكرملين مقرّ الأمير الكبير كما كان مركزاً دينيّاً. عند أسفل أسواره في الساحة الحمراء شيدت بازيليك القديس بازيل وهي من أروع تحف الفنّ الأرثوذكسي.

source: UNESCO/CPE Description is available under license CC-BY-SA IGO 3.0

莫斯科克里姆林宫和红场

由俄罗斯和外国建筑家于14世纪至17世纪共同修建的克里姆林宫，作为沙皇的住宅和宗教中心，与13世纪以来俄罗斯所有最重要的历史事件和政治事件密不可分。在红场上防御城墙的脚下坐落的圣瓦西里教堂是俄罗斯传统艺术最漂亮的代表作之一。

El kremlin y la Plaza Roja de Moscú

Indisolublemente vinculado a los más trascendentales acontecimientos históricos y políticos de Rusia desde el siglo XIII, el kremlin de Moscú fue construido entre los siglos XIV y XVII por toda una serie de excelentes arquitectos rusos y extranjeros. Además de ser la residencia del Gran Príncipe, fue un importante centro religioso. Al pie de sus murallas, en la Plaza Roja, se alza la basílica de San Basilio el Bienaventurado, uno de los más hermosos monumentos de arte ortodoxo.

モスクワのクレムリンと赤の広場

source: NFUAJ

Kremlin en Rode Plein, Moskou

Het Kremlin is onlosmakelijk verbonden met alle belangrijke historische en politieke gebeurtenissen in Rusland sinds de 13e eeuw. Het werd door de Grote Prins Yuri van Kiev gesticht als residentie en religieus centrum. De bouw vond plaats tussen de 14e en 17e eeuw en het ontwerp was in handen van uitstekende Russische en buitenlandse architecten. Binnen de muren van het Kremlin vindt men een reeks meesterwerken qua architectuur, maar ook beeldende kunst en religieuze monumenten van uitzonderlijke schoonheid. Aan de voet van de stadsmuren, op het Rode Plein, bevindt zich een van de mooiste Russisch-orthodoxe monumenten, de Pokrovkathedraal ook wel Basiliuskathedraal genoemd.

Source: unesco.nl

Outstanding Universal Value

Brief synthesis

At the geographic and historic centre of Moscow, the Moscow Kremlin is the oldest part of the city. First mentioned in the Hypatian Chronicle in 1147 as a fortification erected on the left bank of the Moskva river by Yuri Dolgoruki, Prince of Suzdal, the Kremlin developed and grew with settlements and suburbs which were further surrounded by new fortifications - Kitaigorodsky Wall, Bely Gorod, Zemlyanoy Gorod and others. This determined a radial and circular plan of the centre of Moscow typical of many other Old Russian cities.

In 13th century the Kremlin was the official residence of supreme power - the center of temporal and spiritual life of the state. The Kremlin of the late 15th – early 16th century is one of the major fortifications of Europe (the stone walls and towers of present day were erected in 1485–1516). It contains an ensemble of monuments of outstanding quality.

The most significant churches of the Moscow Kremlin are situated on the Cathedral Square; they are the Cathedral of the Dormition, Church of the Archangel, Church of the Annunciation and the bell tower of Ivan Veliki. Almost all of them were designed by invited Italian architects which is clearly seen in their architectural style. The five-domed Assumption Cathedral (1475–1479) was built by an Italian architect Aristotele Fiorvanti. Its interior is decorated with frescos and a five-tier iconostasis (15th–17th century). The cathedral became the major Russian Orthodox church; a wedding and coronation place for great princes, tsars and emperors as well as the shrine for metropolitans and patriarchs.

In the same square another Italian architect, Alevisio Novi, erected the five-domed Church of the Archangel in 1505-1508. From the 17th to 19th century, its interior was decorated by wonderful frescos and an iconostasis. In this church many great princes and tsars of Moscow are buried. Among them are Ivan I Kalita, Dmitri Donskoi, Ivan III, Ivan IV the Terrible, Mikhail Fedorovich and Alexei Mikhailovich Romanovs.

The Cathedral of the Dormition was built by Pskov architects in 1484–1489. Inside the cathedral some mural paintings of 16th–19th century have been preserved and the icons of Andrei Rublev and Theophanes the Greek are part of the iconostasis.

In 1505-1508 the bell tower of Ivan Veliki was built. Being 82 metres high it was the highest building in Russia which became the focal point of the Kremlin ensemble.

Among the oldest civil buildings of the Moscow Kremlin, the Palace of the Facets (1487–1491) is the most remarkable. Italian architects Marco Fryazin and Pietro Antonio Solario built it as a great hall for holding state ceremonies, celebrations and for receiving foreign ambassadors. The most noteworthy civil construction of the 17th century built by Russian masters is the Teremnoi Palace.

From the early 18th century, when the capital of Russia moved to St. Petersburg, the Kremlin mainly played a ceremonial role with religious functions. By the end of the century the architectural complex of the Kremlin expanded with the Arsenal reconstructed after the Fire of 1797 by Matvei Kazakov. The Senate was built in 1776–1787 according to the plans of the same architect as the home of the highest agency of State power of the Russian Empire - the Ruling Senate. Today it is the residence of the President of Russia.

From 1839 to 1849 a Russian architect K.A. Thon erected the Great Kremlin Palace as a residence of the imperial family which combined ancient Kremlin buildings such as the Palace of the Facets, the Tsarina’s Golden Chamber, Master Chambers, the Teremnoi Palace and the Teremnoi churches. In the Armory Chamber built by K.A. Thon within the complex of the Great Kremlin Palace, there is a 16th century museum officially established by the order of Alexander I in 1806.

Red Square, closely associated with the Kremlin, lies beneath its east wall. At its south end is the famous Pokrovski Cathedral (Cathedral of St Basil the Blessed), one of the most beautiful monuments of Old Russian church architecture, erected in 1555–1560 to commemorate the victory of Ivan the Terrible over the Kazan Khanate. In the 17th century the cathedral gained its up-to-date appearance thanks to the decorative finishing of the domes and painting both inside and outside the cathedral. The construction of Red Square was finished by the late 19th century together with the erection of the Imperial Historic Museum (today the State Historical Museum), the Upper Trading Rows (GUM) and the Middle Trading Rows. In 1929, , Lenin’s Mausoleum, designed by A.V. Shchusev and an outstanding example of the Soviet monumental architecture, was finished.

Criterion (i) : The Kremlin contains within its walls a unique series of masterpieces of architecture and the plastic arts. There are religious monuments of exceptional beauty such as the Church of the Annunciation, the Cathedral of the Dormition, the Church of the Archangel and the bell tower of Ivan Veliki; there are palaces such as the Great Palace of the Kremlin, which comprises within its walls the Church of the Nativity of the Virgin and the Teremnoi Palace. On Red Square is Saint Basil the Blessed, still a major edifice of Russian Orthodox art.

Criterion (ii) : Throughout its history, Russian architecture has clearly been affected many times by influences emanating from the Kremlin. A particular example was the Italian Renaissance. The influence of the style was clearly felt when Rudolfo Aristotele Fioravanti built the Cathedral of the Dormition (1475-79) and grew stronger with the construction of the Granovitaya Palace (Hall of the Facets, 1487-91) by Marco Fryazin and Pietro Antonio Solario. Italian Renaissance also influenced the towers of the fortified enceinte, built during the same period by Solario, using principles established by Milanese engineers (the Nikolskaya and the Spasskaya Towers both date from 1491). The Renaissance expression was even more present in the classic capitals and shells of the Church of the Archangel, reconstructed from 1505 to 1509 by Alevisio Novi.

Criterion (iv) : With its triangular enceinte pierced by four gates and reinforced with 20 towers, the Moscow Kremlin preserves the memory of the wooden fortifications erected by Yuri Dolgoruki around 1156 on the hill at the confluence of the Moskova and Neglinnaya rivers (the Alexander Garden now covers the latter). By its layout and its history of transformations (in the 14th century Dimitri Donskoi had an enceinte of logs built, then the first stone wall), the Moscow Kremlin is the prototype of a Kremlin - the citadel at the centre of Old Russian towns such as Pskov, Tula, Kazan or Smolensk.

Criterion (vi) : From the 13th century to the founding of St Petersburg, the Moscow Kremlin was directly and tangibly associated with every major event in Russian history. A 200-year period of obscurity ended in 1918 when it became the seat of government again. The Mausoleum of Lenin on Red Square is the Soviet Union’s prime example of symbolic monumental architecture. To proclaim the universal significance of the Russian revolution, the funerary urns of heroes of the revolution were incorporated into the Kremlin’s walls between the Nikolskaya and Spasskaya towers. The site thus combines in an exceptional manner the preserved vestiges of bygone days with present-day signs of one of the greatest events in modern history.

From the date of including the Moscow Kremlin and Red Square on the World Heritage List all the components representing the Outstanding Universal Value of the property are within its boundaries. The territory and the integrity of the World Heritage property have also remained unchanged. Within its boundaries the property still comprises all the elements that it contained at the date of nomination. The biggest threat, however, is unregulated commercial development of the adjacent areas.

Authenticity

The history of the Moscow Kremlin and Red Square is reflected in the archival documents of 12th–19th century, for example in medieval chronicles, cadastral surveys, estimated construction books, painted lists, inventories, foreign notes and in graphic matters such as manuscripts, chronicles, plans, drafts, engravings, lithographs, sketches of foreign travelers, paintings and photographs. These documents are exceptionally valuable information sources. Comparison of the data received from archival documents and those obtained in the process of field study gives the idea of authenticity of  the property and its different elements. This comparison also serves as the basis for project development and for the choice of the appropriate methods of restoration that may preserve the monuments’ authenticity.

On the border of the ensemble a number of monuments destroyed in the 1930s were reconstructed according to measured plans.

Protection and management requirements

The statutory and institutional framework of an effective protection, management and improvement of the World Heritage property “Kremlin and Red Square, Moscow” has been established by laws and regulations of the Russian Federation and the city of Moscow.

According to the decree of the President of RSFSR of 18 December 1991 № 294, the Moscow Kremlin was included among especially protected cultural properties of nations of Russia - the highest conservation status for cultural and historical monuments in Russian legislation.

“Kremlin and Red Square, Moscow” is a Cultural Heritage Site of federal importance. State protection and management of federal sites is provided by Federal Law of 25.06.2002 № 73-FZ “On cultural heritage sites (historical and cultural monuments) of nations of the Russian Federation”. The federal executive body responsible for protection of the cultural property is the Department for Control, Supervision and Licensing in the Cultural Heritage Sphere of the Ministry of Culture of the Russian Federation.It is in charge of all methodological and control functions concerning restoration, usage and support of cultural heritage sites and the territories connected.

The World Heritage property is situated in the urban environment of Moscow. The city policy regarding cultural heritage protection and town-planning regulation is the responsibility of Moscow City Government, represented by the Department of Cultural Heritage, the Department of Urban Development and the Committee for Urban Development and Architecture of Moscow. In 1997 the boundaries of the protective (buffer) zone were approved in order to preserve the property, and to maintain and restore the historical architectural environment as well as the integral visual perception of the property.. There is a need to ensure the creation of an appropriate buffer zone and to develop close liaison between all stakeholders, including the Moscow City authorities, to ensure that constructions around the property do not impact adversely on its Outstanding Universal Value.

The World Heritage property is used by the following organizations: FGBUK (Federal Government Budgetary Institution of Culture), the State Historical and Cultural Museum-preserve “The Moscow Kremlin”, the Administrative Department of the President of the Russian Federation, the Federal Guard Service of the Russian Federation and OJSC “GUM Department Store”.

• Official site of 'The Moscow Kremlin' State Historical and Cultural Museum and Heritage Site
• Moscow Kremlin Museums Telegram Group (in Russian only)
• Moscow Kremlin Museums VKontakte Page (in Russian only)
• Moscow Kremlin Museums Dzen Page (in Russian only)
• State Historical Museum VKontakte Group (in Russian only)
• Msk Guide Page (in Russian only)
• Official site of the State Department Store
• State Historical Museum (in Russian only)

State of Conservation (SOC)

• What to see
• Monuments and attractions

The Kremlin - a historical fortified citadel, and the religious and politcal nucleus of the city - is at the heart of Moscow and is one of Russia's most emblematic sights .

Originally built in the 12th century as a fortified citadel with wooden buildings, the Kremlin has grown to be a majestic complex and the political heart of Russia .

The word kremlin means fortified city, and there are a number of the Medieval citadels that form the nuclei of modern metropolises throughout Russia. Moscow's Kremlin is the best known , and has been recognised as a UNESCO World Heritage Site .

The enormous complex has a total area of 66 acres (27 hectares) surrounded by over 1.5 miles (2.5 km) of defensive walls including 20 towers measuring over 260 feet (80 metres) in height, the tallest of which being the Spasskaya Tower . Its imposing red walls and the star-topped towers are a strikingly recognisable symbol of the Russian capital .

What to see in the Kremlin?

In addition to state administrative buildings like the  Grand Kremlin Palace and the State Kremlin Palace , the citadel is home to a huge number of museums, historic buildings and churches. Don't miss the following highlights:

Assumption Cathedral

Also known as the  Dormition Cathedral , this Russian Orthodox church is a magnificent structure of white stone crowned with golden domes . Inside, it's equally beautiful, with colourful frescoes and impressive icons.

Annunciation Cathedral

Built between the 14th and 18th centuries, the Annunciation Cathedral was the personal chapel of the Tsars of the Grand Duchy of Moscow . Its iconic gilded onion domes are typical of Russian Orthodox architecture.

Archangel Cathedral

Constructed as a necropolis for the Tsars of Russia before Peter the Great moved the capital to St Petersburg, this early 16th century church draws from elements of Italian Renaissance architecture. The interior is home to a number of historic frescoes and religious paraphernalia.

Armoury Chamber

One of the oldest museums in Moscow, the Kremlin Armoury showcases an extensive collection of breathtakingly beautiful jewellery, clothing, weapons and armour from Russian history . Amongst its finest gems are a number of Fabergé eggs .

Ivan the Great Bell Tower

Towering above the Kremlin at over 260 feet (80 metres) in height, the Ivan the Great Bell Tower was the tallest building in Moscow for over 400 years. Climbing up to the top (entrance fee is not included in the Kremlin ticket price), you'll enjoy spectacular panoramic views over Moscow .

Unmissable!

The Kremlin is one of  Moscow's most important tourist attractions , making it a must-visit on any trip to the Russian capital. Its location in the heart of the city centre, right next to other top sights like Red Square and Saint Basil's Cathedral , makes for a perfect day's sightseeing itinerary.

In the centre of Moscow.

15 May to 30 September : 9:30 am to 6 pm. 1 October to 14 May : 10 am to 6 pm. Ticket office shuts an hour before closing time and is closed on Thursdays.

Cathedral Square Architectural Complex: Adults:  ₽ 700 ( US$ 7.50) Children under 16 years old: Free admission Armoury Chamber: Adults:  ₽ 1,000 ( US$ 10.60) Children under 16 years old: Free admission

Guided Tour of the Kremlin € 47 ( US$ 50)

Metro : Biblioteka Imeni Lenin, line 1.

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Red Square, the Kremlin, Saint Basil's Cathedral... Make the most of your time in Moscow and ensure you don't miss the city's most important sights.

Known for its striking buildings - as large as they are elegant - Red Square is the heart and soul not just of Moscow but of Russia as a whole, and it is home to some of the city's most iconic monuments.

Geography of Moscow, Russia

Learn 10 Facts About Russia's Capital City

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• M.A., Geography, California State University - East Bay
• B.A., English and Geography, California State University - Sacramento

Moscow is Russia's capital city and is the largest city in the country. As of January 1, 2010, Moscow's population was 10,562,099, which also makes it one of the top ten largest cities in the world. Because of its size, Moscow is one of the most influential cities in Russia and dominates the country in politics, economics, and culture among other things. Moscow is located in Russia's Central Federal District along the Moskva River and covers an area of 417.4 square miles (9,771 sq km).

The following is a list of ten things to know about Moscow: 1) In 1156 the first references to the construction of a wall around a growing city called Moscow began to appear in Russian documents as did descriptions of the city being attacked by the Mongols in the 13th century. Moscow was first made a capital city in 1327 when it was named the capital of the Vladimir-Suzdal principality. It later became known as the Grand Duchy of Moscow. 2) Throughout much of the rest of its history, Moscow was attacked by rival empires and armies. In the 17th century a large part of the city was damaged during citizen uprisings and in 1771 much of Moscow's population died due to the plague. Shortly thereafter in 1812, Moscow's citizens (called Muscovites) burned the city during Napoleon 's invasion. 3) After the Russian Revolution in 1917, Moscow became the capital of what would eventually become the Soviet Union in 1918. During World War II, however, a large portion of the city suffered damage from bombings. Following WWII, Moscow grew but instability continued in the city during the fall of the Soviet Union . Since then, though, Moscow has become more stable and is a growing economic and political center of Russia.

4) Today, Moscow is a highly organized city located on the banks of the Moskva River. It has 49 bridges crossing the river and a road system that radiates in rings out from the Kremlin in the city's center. 5) Moscow has a climate with humid and warm to hot summers and cold winters. The hottest months are June, July, and August while the coldest is January. The average high temperature for July is 74°F (23.2°C) and the average low for January is 13°F (-10.3°C). 6) The city of Moscow is governed by one mayor but it is also broken down into ten local administrative divisions called okrugs and 123 local districts. The ten okrugs radiate out around the central district which contains the city's historic center, Red Square, and the Kremlin. 7) Moscow is considered the center of Russian culture because of the presence of many different museums and theaters in the city. Moscow is home to the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts and the Moscow State Historical Museum. It is also home to Red Square which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site . 8) Moscow is well-known for its unique architecture which consists of many different historic buildings such as Saint Basil's Cathedral with its brightly colored domes. Distinctive modern buildings are also beginning to be constructed throughout the city.

9) Moscow is considered one of the largest economies in Europe and its main industries include chemicals, food, textiles, energy production, software development, and furniture manufacturing. The city is also home to some of the world's largest companies. 10) In 1980, Moscow was the host of the Summer Olympics and thus has a variety of different sports venues that are still used by the many sports teams within the city. Ice hockey, tennis, and rugby are some popular Russian sports. Reference Wikipedia. (2010, March 31). "Moscow." Moscow- Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia . Retrieved from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moscow

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Home — Essay Samples — Geography & Travel — Travel and Tourism Industry — The History of Moscow City

The History of Moscow City

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Published: Feb 12, 2019

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Pope’s Visit to Art Exhibition in Prison Is a First for Venice Biennale

Incarcerated women serve as guides to the show, which reflects Pope Francis’ longtime commitment to society’s marginalized people.

By Elisabetta Povoledo

Reporting from Venice and Vatican City

Landing by helicopter at a women’s prison where the Vatican has mounted its pavilion for the Venice Biennale international art exhibition, Pope Francis on Sunday told the women incarcerated there that they had a “special place in my heart.”

“Grazie,” one woman called out. Others applauded.

Many of the women had participated with artists in creating works that hang throughout the prison for the exhibition, titled “With My Eyes.” Francis, the first pope ever to visit — if briefly — a Venice Biennale, said that it was “fundamental” for the prison system “to offer detainees the tools and room for human, spiritual, cultural and professional growth, creating the conditions for their healthy reintegration.”

“Not to isolate dignity, but to give new possibilities,” Francis said to applause.

Over the decades, countries participating in the Biennale — the world’s principal showcase for new art — have used deconsecrated churches, former beer factories, water buses and various other sites to display their art, but this was the first time a prison was selected.

That made the project “more complex and more difficult to implement,” Bruno Racine, the director of two venues of the Pinault Collection in Venice and a co-curator of the Vatican Pavilion, said in an interview. But the setting is consistent with Francis’ message of inclusivity toward marginalized people, he added.

The Vatican project has received an overwhelmingly positive public reception, but it has not been without controversy. Some critics raised ethical concerns about the intersection of powerful institutions like the Vatican and the Biennale with the limited autonomy of imprisoned women. Others suggested that the Vatican, in mounting the show, was complicit in a penal system in which overcrowding remains a serious issue .

Still others demanded that the pope request pardons or at least reduced sentences for any women who were incarcerated because they had responded violently to domestic abuse.

“I don’t think the Vatican has the power to have any influence over Italian justice,” Mr. Racine said of that idea.

While the Vatican has not publicly responded to the critiques, Francis has been consistently outspoken about domestic abuse, saying in 2021 that there was something “almost satanic” about the high number of cases of domestic violence against women.

He has also been a vocal advocate of prison reform, denouncing overcrowding and often meeting with inmates during his travels.

On Sunday, Francis said that prison was “a harsh reality, and problems such as overcrowding, the lack of facilities and resources, and episodes of violence give rise to a great deal of suffering there.” But he said prison could also be a place where people’s dignity could be “promoted through mutual respect and the nurturing of talents and abilities, perhaps dormant or imprisoned by the vicissitudes of life.”

The pope described his artistic vision to artists he called to the Sistine Chapel last year , telling them to “think of the poor and to ensure that art went into the peripheries,” the Vatican’s culture chief, Cardinal José Tolentino de Mendonça, said earlier this year. On Sunday, Francis told artists involved with the Vatican project that “the world needs artists.”

The curators, Mr. Racine and Chiara Parisi, of Centre Pompidou-Metz, the French museum, selected a handful of artists to work with the incarcerated women to create works that are scattered through the prison.

One, a 1965 serigraph featuring the word Hope backward, was hung over the door of the prison canteen, where about a quarter of the 80-odd inmates who agreed to serve as guides to the show first meet visitors. The serigraph was created by the artist Corita Kent, a former nun and an activist for social justice who died in 1986.

The Lebanese artist Simone Fattal transcribed poems and reflections by the incarcerated women on lava slabs that line a brick corridor: “I thought I was suffocating.” “I often think of my family.” “I am so sad.”

In another room were small stylized paintings by the French artist Claire Tabouret that were based on family photos the women had given her.

Visitors get only a brief glimpse of penitentiary life, but during the tour a short film, directed by Marco Perego and starring his wife, the actor Zoe Saldaña, shows the conditions inside in bleak black and white: shared rooms, shared showers, little privacy. Both inmates and professional actresses acted in the film, Mr. Racine said.

This is the third time the Vatican has participated in the Biennale: In 2013 and 2015, it was among many participants at the Arsenale, one of the fair’s main venues. And for the 2018 Architecture Biennale, the Vatican built a series of chapels, “for believers and nonbelievers alike,” that can still be visited .

On Sunday, the pope greeted the inmates of the Giudecca prison individually in an inner courtyard. Some gave him flowers, and others pressed envelopes and notes into his hands.

Giovanni Russo, the head of the Department of Penitentiary Administration in the Italian Ministry of Justice, told reporters at a Vatican news conference last month that the women who participated in the project were entitled to unspecified benefits. While the Vatican Pavilion was unique, he said, nearly all of Italy’s 190 penitentiaries had “artistic projects” of some kind or another, involving more than 20,000 volunteers.

It’s not the first time that the inmates at the prison have participated in major art projects. Two years ago, the French artist Pauline Curnier Jardin worked with inmates to make a film and paint a large common room where the women meet visitors twice a week. The walls are now a soft purple, decorated with stylized leaves and figures designed by the inmates during a series of workshops with the artist.

After the Biennale closes in November, the artworks in “With My Eyes” will be removed, Mr. Racine said. But Ms. Curnier Jardin’s soothing additions will remain.

After the prison, Pope Francis celebrated Mass in St. Mark’s Square.

Praising Venice’s “enchanting beauty” during the homily, he added that the city was also threatened by issues like climate change, overtourism and the “the fragility of constructions, of cultural heritage, but also of people,” which risk fraying the city’s social fabric. City officials this past week began charging an access fee to the city, hoping to deter day visitors from coming on especially busy days.

Many tourists hoping to visit St. Mark’s Square on Sunday were stymied by dozens of blockades around the area, part of the increased security for the pontiff’s visit.

“I’m not upset,” Julia Suh, visiting from Augusta, Ga., said at one of the blockades while watching the Mass on her cellphone. “I’m very honored — it’s what they’re supposed to do because of heightened security.”

Elisabetta Povoledo is a reporter based in Rome, covering Italy, the Vatican and the culture of the region. She has been a journalist for 35 years. More about Elisabetta Povoledo