The time handwork paid off was when I felt the slap of discrimination hit my mother's heart and mind. It was when I was at the age of 8. Which was the year I began understanding the prejudice thrown at her and my eyes they saw for the first time. They saw the weariness of the stones and chains she carried. She carried them every day she rose to work and when she arrived. Her English was terrible but her heart cried out syllables in agony. For my mother invested handwork into learning and adapting to the prejudice in this country for stereotypes have invaded many souls like plagues. Around the age of 12, I was interpreting every sentence that came out of my mother's native tongue to her boss. Her boss sneered at my mother's tears as they fell down her ripped shirt. I remember the night. The night where my mother quit her job and searched hours to find a job. I remember the Christmas of hope because presents weren't available. Lastly, I remember my mother come home with the chains of discrimination rubbing among her back. Her head down until the day she found a job. Hard work paid off during this and up to this day.