Questions to Ask Your Immigrant Parents
Questions to ask your immigrant parents, for a son or daughter, teenage or grown, who knows the outline of the family story and not the inside of it. The 60 questions run in the order the move happened: the place your mother or father grew up, the decision and the trip, the first years, work, raising you between two cultures, and how it all looks from here. Take a few at a time, on a long drive or at the stove, and keep the ones about a missed funeral, a job they kept quiet or immigration papers for a quiet day when they are already talking.
The questions
Each question, and why to ask it
Back home
Where exactly did you grow up, and what would I see if I stood outside the house today?
Why ask it
Plenty of children of immigrants can name the country and not the town, let alone the street. Have them spell the place, find it on a map together, and ask what has changed since they last stood there.
What did the street you grew up on sound like in the morning?
Why ask it
A sound is easier to hand over than a description: a rooster, a vendor calling, a radio through the wall. Ask who was up first in the house and you have the start of a whole day there.
What should I know about your parents that I never got to see for myself?
Why ask it
Grandparents who stayed behind are often a voice on the phone or a framed photo, so this gives them back as people with jobs and tempers. Ask for one habit and one saying from each, and write down their trade and their town if a family history project is the reason you are asking.
What did you think your life would look like, back when you were a teenager there?
Why ask it
The plan they had before leaving was ever on the table is the baseline for everything that came after. Listen for whether it was their plan or the family's, and hold off on comparing it with how things went.
What was your family known for in the town or the neighborhood?
Why ask it
Standing is something many parents lost in the move and seldom mention: a known surname, a shop, a grandfather who taught half the village. The answer can explain pride that looks outsized from where you sit.
Who were you closest to there, and what did the two of you do with a free day?
Why ask it
A named friend or cousin turns the place from a backdrop into somewhere people lived. If that person has died or dropped out of touch, let your parent decide how much to say.
How far did you get in school there, and what stopped you or kept you going?
Why ask it
Ask it as a matter of circumstance, not ability: fees, a war, being the eldest, an early marriage. A parent who had to stop young may be touchy about it, so leave your own schooling out of the conversation.
What food from your childhood can you not get right here, no matter what you try?
Why ask it
The water, the flour, the stove or a missing herb usually takes the blame, and the complaint is half the pleasure. Offer to cook it with them next time and write the recipe down as they go, handfuls and pinches included.
What was going on in the country in the years before you left?
Why ask it
You get the history as it felt from one kitchen, which no textbook has. If it runs into violence, hunger or politics that still splits the family, take what is offered and save the rest for a day they raise it themselves.
What is something ordinary about your childhood that I would find hard to believe?
Why ask it
Fetching water, six to a room, one telephone for a whole street, an hour's walk to class. Take it at face value and ask for one particular day, because disbelief, even the joking kind, shuts the story down.
Leaving
What finally made you leave, and who was the first to say it out loud?
Why ask it
The plain why comes first, and it may be one event or a slow pile of them: a lost job, a war getting closer, an uncle's letter. Knowing who raised it tells you whether your parent chose the move or went along with someone else's.
Who in the family did not want you to go, and what did they say?
Why ask it
There was often one person against it, a grandparent as likely as not. If there was, the exact words may have been carried for decades, and the way your parent repeats them shows whether that argument was ever settled.
Why this country, and what other places were on the list?
Why ask it
The route not taken is family history too: the cousin in another city, the application that was turned down. Ask what they knew about this place beforehand and where they had picked it up.
How long was it between deciding to go and actually going, and what filled that time?
Why ask it
The wait is where the forms, the interviews, the saving and the goodbyes sit, and it can run to years. Let them describe how they came in their own terms. If papers or status come up only vaguely, leave it there, and never repeat that part outside the family.
What did you pack, and what did you argue about leaving out?
Why ask it
A suitcase has a limit, so every item was a choice. Ask whether any of it is still in the house and go look at it together, since an object on the table brings back more than a question does.
Who came to see you off, and what was the last thing they said?
Why ask it
This one touches loss directly, above all when someone at that goodbye died before your parent could go back. Ask it when you have time and privacy, never in the car five minutes from home.
What was the trip itself like, from your door there to the first door here?
Why ask it
Have them walk it in order: who drove, how many flights or borders, what they ate, who was waiting. Some journeys were frightening or went around the rules, and a short answer here means keep it short.
How much money did you arrive with, and how long was it supposed to last?
Why ask it
Parents often give this number with pride precisely because it is small. Ask what it had to cover in the first month, and resist converting it to today's prices or setting it beside what you spend.
What did you believe about this country that turned out to be wrong?
Why ask it
It tends to be funny first and then not: streets paved with gold, followed by the rent. Ask who had told them, because a relative already abroad often sent home a brighter picture than the real one.
Did you think you were coming for good, or just for a few years?
Why ask it
Plenty of moves began as temporary, and the year the return plan quietly ended is a turning point they may never have named. If part of them still means to go back, hear it without arguing for either country.
First years
Where did you sleep the first night, and who else was living there?
Why ask it
Get the address or at least the neighborhood, and ask who had the bed and who had the floor. If the place is within reach, offer to drive past it together one afternoon.
Who helped you in the first months, and did we ever meet them?
Why ask it
Often there was one person: a landlady, somebody from the temple, church or mosque, a coworker who explained the bus. If they are still around, your parent may like you to thank them, and they are a second source for a family history.
How did you learn the language here, and what was your most embarrassing mistake?
Why ask it
Let the mistake be told as a joke, and ask who the real teacher was: a night class, the television, a patient coworker, your own homework. If they arrived already speaking it, ask about the accent or the slang instead. If you used to correct their grammar as a kid, this is a decent moment to say you regret it.
What simple errand in the first year went completely wrong?
Why ask it
It comes out as a comedy now, a bus headed the opposite way or an hour lost at the bank, so laugh along. Later, ask who they could have phoned for help that day, and be ready for the answer to be no one.
When were you loneliest in those first years, and what did you do on those days?
Why ask it
Listen for the small routines: a phone card on Sunday, a long walk, the one shop that carried the right newspaper. Save it for a parent who is already in a remembering mood, and do not answer it with advice.
How did you stay in touch with home back then, and how often could you afford to?
Why ask it
Letters, cassette tapes, calling cards and calls timed to the minute belong to a period you may have no picture of. Ask whether any letters or tapes were kept, because those are worth finding before someone throws them out.
Did you send money back, and who was counting on it?
Why ask it
If money went home, it shaped what your household could and could not afford, and the children are rarely told. Ask plainly and without judgment. If they are still sending it, that is their decision unless they ask what you think.
What was the first thing you bought here that felt like proof you were going to make it?
Why ask it
Ask where it came from and what it cost against a week's pay. Whether it was a used car or a winter coat that was not secondhand, the pride in the telling is the point, so do not hurry them past it.
Was there a moment you nearly packed up and went back?
Why ask it
Plenty of parents had one and talked themselves out of it without telling anyone. What kept them may turn out to be you or a brother or sister, so be ready for that and do not hear it as a debt being called in.
How were you treated by people here at the beginning, and what do you remember someone saying?
Why ask it
You may hear about kindness, about insults, or both in one breath. If a slight comes out that still stings, do not explain it away or get angry on their behalf mid-story. Let them finish, then say you are sorry it happened.
Work
What were you trained to do, and what was the first job you could actually get here?
Why ask it
The distance between the two halves is the cost of the move in one sentence. Ask with respect for both jobs, since a parent who went from an office to a night shift may never have said so to their children.
Did your diploma or your experience count for anything here?
Why ask it
Whether a qualification carries over depends on the country, the profession and the year, so ask how it went for them and assume nothing. Some parents retrained and some gave the field up, and either story deserves the full telling.
Was there a job you took here that you never mentioned to the family back home?
Why ask it
Status again: letters home often reported a better position than the one actually held. Ask gently and in private, and keep what you hear to yourself unless they say otherwise.
What hours were you working when I was small, and who was watching us?
Why ask it
It fills in the years you remember only as an empty apartment or a neighbor's living room. Ask to understand, not to complain. A grievance about those years belongs in a different conversation.
Who was the best boss or coworker you had here, and who was the worst?
Why ask it
Work is where a parent's accent, name and foreignness met other people most directly. The best-boss half keeps things balanced, and the worst-boss half usually arrives as a story they have been waiting years to tell.
What did you want to do for a living that the move made impossible?
Why ask it
Ask only if you can hear the answer without feeling accused. It may be a profession, a business, or simply finishing a degree. Follow with whether any piece of it is still within reach, and mean the offer if you make one.
What is the hardest day's pay you ever earned here?
Why ask it
Parents tend to tell this one flatly: the double shift, the job done sick, the employer who paid late or not at all. What they want back is acknowledgment and not pity, so say thank you if it fits.
What did you manage here that people back home did not think you could?
Why ask it
It is the counterweight to the questions about what was given up, so ask it soon after one of those. Let them list all of it, the house, the business, the diplomas on the wall, and add nothing of your own until they are done.
What did you learn about money here that nobody had warned you about?
Why ask it
Credit, deposits, taxes, tipping, how a loan works: the rules differ from place to place and were learned by trial. The money habits of theirs that puzzle you usually trace back to this answer.
Raising us
What did you hope my life would look like, when you pictured it from over there?
Why ask it
The picture was usually drawn before you existed: a profession, a house, safety, a body less worn out at fifty. Ask how the real you compares and be ready for either answer. If the word sacrifice comes with it, you can be grateful without signing up to a plan.
How did you decide which language to speak with us at home?
Why ask it
Some parents were told by a teacher to switch, some wanted you to fit in, some held on. If you ended up without their language, ask without blame, because many parents already grieve that choice.
What was it like having me translate or fill in forms for you when I was a kid?
Why ask it
Only for families where it happened. You remember your side: the pharmacy counter, the parent-teacher night. Theirs may include feeling smaller in front of their own child, so thank them for trusting you with it.
What does my name mean to you, and did you think about how people here would say it?
Why ask it
A name can carry a grandparent, a saint, a hope, or a deliberate choice to make your life easier. If you go by a shortened or changed version, ask how they feel when they hear it.
Which holiday from home did you work hardest to keep going for us, and what had to change?
Why ask it
Whatever you grew up celebrating was probably a rebuilt version, made without the right ingredients, the day off or the relatives who used to fill the room. Ask what the original looked like and who ran it, then ask to be given a job in the next one.
What rule from your own childhood did you insist on keeping in our house, and which one did you give up on?
Why ask it
Hearing the reasoning is not the same as agreeing with it. Still, the old fights over curfews or sleepovers look different once you know which rules they argued with themselves about.
What did you find strangest about how children are raised here?
Why ask it
Expect opinions on talking back, moving out at eighteen, allowances and constant praise. Stay curious and do not defend your friends' parents. You are collecting their view, not settling a score.
Was there a time you did not understand what my school or my friends' families expected of you?
Why ask it
Permission slips, bake sales, birthday party etiquette, college applications: things the other parents seemed to know already. You may find they were lost at moments you read as not caring.
What did you worry I would lose by growing up here?
Why ask it
Ask which of those worries came true in their eyes, whether it was the language, the faith or closeness to your cousins. That can sting, so pick a day when the two of you are on good terms.
What have you never understood about the way I live that you would like me to explain?
Why ask it
It turns the interview around and lets them ask about your work, your partner, your friends or your choices. Answer one thing fully and calmly, as the fair trade for everything they have just told you.
Now
What do you miss that you could not bring and cannot buy?
Why ask it
The answers are rarely objects: being known by the neighbors, a certain evening light, noise in the street, their own mother's voice. You cannot fix this one, so ask them to describe it instead.
Where is home for you these days: there, here, or somewhere in between?
Why ask it
Some parents answer at once and some have never been asked. Whichever they choose, ask what settled it, whether a house bought, a parent buried or the day you were born, and keep your own preference out of it.
Which language do you think in now, and which do you dream, pray or count in?
Why ask it
Counting and praying often stay in the first language long after everything else has shifted. It is a good one for the car, and it leads on to what they wish they could say to you that does not translate.
When you go back to visit, what feels different, and how do people there treat you?
Why ask it
Many parents find they have become a guest in the one place they expected to belong. If they have not been back, the reason may be money, safety or papers, so let a plain 'not yet' stand.
Who did you not get to say goodbye to?
Why ask it
A funeral followed over the phone, or missed entirely, is among the heaviest things a parent who moved away carries. Ask only somewhere quiet and unhurried, and if they would rather not, change the subject for them without making a point of it.
Where do you picture yourself living when you stop working?
Why ask it
Retirement is where the old question of going back comes up again, and their answer may involve you more than you expect. Listen first. How pensions, health coverage and residency work depends on the countries involved, so that part needs looking up together later, not guessing at now.
If you could go back to the week you decided, would you make the same choice?
Why ask it
Many parents say yes quickly and then add a 'but' if you wait. The 'but' is the real answer. Do not ask it straight after an argument, when it will sound like a challenge.
What do you wish I understood about what it took to get us here?
Why ask it
Keep this for late in a sitting, once they have told some of the story, so the answer has something to stand on. Say back what you heard in one sentence before you add anything, because being understood is all the question promised.
What do you want the kids in our family to know about where we come from?
Why ask it
Ask for just one story, one dish and one phrase so the answer does not go general. For a school or family history project this makes the natural closing passage, in their own words.
What part of the family story have I had wrong all these years?
Why ask it
Children assemble the story from overheard pieces, and some of it is off: who came first, why, what it cost. Tell them your version in two minutes and let them correct it.
Is there anyone back there I should meet or call while they are still around?
Why ask it
Ask for the number today and for an introduction as well, since a call from a stranger with your accent may not get far alone. The person most worth the trouble is whoever remembers your parent as a child.
Asking your own parents about the move
Practical guidance for the conversation itself
Picking the moment
Ask sideways
A parent who would stiffen across a table with a notebook between you will often talk for an hour while driving, rolling dough or folding laundry. Bring one question to the car or the kitchen and let the chore carry the pauses.
Say why you want to know
Many immigrant parents hear a question about the past as the opening of a complaint, or wonder who else is going to hear the answer. Tell them plainly: it is for a class, for a family record, or because you realized you could not tell the story yourself.
Let them answer in their first language
A story often comes out fuller in the language it happened in. If yours is shaky, ask in whatever mix you have, let them answer however they like, and stop them only for a word you need. Asking them to teach you that word is its own small conversation.
Mother and father separately
Two parents in one room correct each other's dates and the quieter one gives up. The parent who led the move and the parent who followed also lived two different stories, and you want both of them.
Three questions is a full sitting
These are not quiz questions, and one good answer about the first apartment can take twenty minutes. Stop while they are still enjoying it, and say which part you would like to hear more about next time.
Working through the six groups
Open with Back home
Childhood streets, food and school are the easiest memories to hand over, and they give you the baseline: what there was to leave. A parent who has enjoyed describing the place is far readier to talk about the day they left it.
Leaving and First years are the spine
If you only ever get through two groups, make it these. Ask them in order, because the story has one, and because the details you will want later, the year, the city, who met them at the door, come out along the way.
Work and Raising us need a good day
Those two groups touch what your parent gave up and how they think you turned out. Do not open them in the week of a family argument, and take only one or two of the questions in a sitting.
Close on Now
The last group asks them to weigh the whole thing, which only makes sense once the story has been told. The two final questions, about what you have had wrong and who you should call, also hand you the next conversation.
For a school or family history project
Take two or three questions from each group so the finished piece has a beginning, a crossing and an afterward. Collect names, towns and years as you go, show your parent what you plan to hand in, and leave out anything about papers, money sent home or jobs they kept quiet.
Questions that should wait
Papers and status
How a parent entered and stayed is theirs to tell, in their words, when they choose. The rules were different in every country and every decade, so do not guess at what a visa, a sponsor or a gap in the story meant, and do not put that part into homework or onto social media.
Deaths they could not go back for
Missing a parent's last illness or funeral is common among people who moved far away, and the grief can come mixed with guilt. If a question lands there, stay with it for as long as they do and no longer. You do not need to say anything wise.
Lost standing
Someone who was a teacher, an engineer or the owner of a shop and then cleaned offices may talk about it lightly or not at all. Skip the quick consolation that it was all worth it. Ask what they were good at in the old job and let them be that person for a few minutes.
When the answer is 'we did it for you'
It is usually true and it can also end a conversation. Thank them, and then ask what they wanted for themselves in those years. Gratitude and a life of your own choosing can sit side by side, and this is not the afternoon to argue the point.
When they say there is nothing to tell
Go smaller. Not 'what was it like' but what the rent was, what was cooked on the first night, which bus went to the factory. Small facts are easy to give, and the story tends to come in behind them.
Keeping what you hear
Names, towns and years, the same evening
Write them down before you sleep, and ask your parent to spell the village and the relatives in the original script as well as yours. A place name you can find on a map is what lets a cousin or a grandchild pick up the trail later.
Record only with a yes
A phone voice memo catches the accent and the laugh, which notes never will. Ask each time, say who will be able to listen, and switch it off without comment the moment the talk turns to status, debts or anyone who might be hurt by it.
Go and find the objects
The old passport photo, the airline ticket stub, the letters, the pot that came in the suitcase. Ask where they are, photograph them, and have your parent say out loud what each one is while you are both looking at it.
Hear it from an aunt or uncle too
Brothers and sisters remember the same departure differently, and whoever stayed behind has a version nobody on this side has heard. You are not checking your parent's account, you are adding to it, so tell them before you make the call.
Give something back
After a long answer, tell them what you did not know before today, or what you now understand about a rule or an argument from when you were growing up. For many parents that sentence is the reason they agreed to talk.