A Labyrinth Of Stereotypes

We are always told that we, people in America, are completely free, from speech to freedom of choices. A common known fact by all sociologists is that that way of thinking is completely false. The reason for this is the way we act, from the way we do our hair to the way we treat others, is hugely influenced by our society. To be more specific, the urge to fit in is fueled by the leadership, and crowds we consider “cool” in our society.

The image I have chosen is a world map that summarizes stereotypes (pre-judging someone based on assumptions) that are the base foundation for prejudice. Every individual has biased interpretations of individuals and groups limited to their own perspective, but don’t really have an explicit perception of reality. Our environment (race, class, religion, gender, etc.) impacts our judgments and how we perceive, respond, and react to daily experiences. The image is very unique because it outlines the stereotypes we encounter that influences our judgments such as religion, country of origin, education level, marital status, ethnicity, sports, political beliefs, etc. The picture argues that stereotypes and bias can be positive or negative in their original intent, however, they are still generalized and inaccurate characterizations that can offend others.

The single story is about how a people stereotypes one another based on what they learned through books, media, people, and other sources. For example, Chimamnda announced how she viewed Mexicans as immigrants and them trying to get through the borders, but the moment she stepped foot into Mexico the perspective she got from other sources changed everything. She was ashamed of herself because when she visit the view was completely different because what she saw was happiness, love, and fun. The single story is an image that is created based upon information that was given, but not on your own perspective. In other words, it is the truth to the reality. For example, when people hear of Niagara everyone think of land, poor, Africa, homeless,

The sky more ominous than it had ever been engulfed my custom home as I sat still on the caramel brown leather sofa. Each move I made seemed reluctant, because my ears were hungry to hear the adult's conversation. Growing up, I was taught to never listen to "grown folks" conversations, but this particular stone worded syntax couldn't help but be cemented to my ears. After hearing those words, they pierced my heart like Cupid's evil twin's arrow. "Black lives are of no worth to anyone, thus minorities are impeded because their overabundance of melanin.” However, I have taken it upon myself to be a counterexample.

The US is home to people of many different ethnicities and backgrounds. I define race as how society portrays humans in categories. For instance, when the US government asks citizens to identify themselves, the options include American Indian or Alaskan Native, Asian, Black or African American, Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander, or White*. This causes the media to portray stereotypes which is where society learns from (and associates with) how people of different races look like, thus creating the mould of how certain people should look based on their race.*** Racism in my perspective is seeing each category as unequal therefore treating them unfairly. Because of how strongly society portrays others, I used to portray others in the

MISCONCEPTION IS BORN OUT OF MISCOMMUNICATION. WHEN STUDENTS GRADUATE THINKING THAT TOMATOES ARE VEGETABLES AND BEING UNSURE ABOUT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN “DESSERT” AND “DESERT”, YOU’D COME TO BELIEVE THAT THEY HAVE HAD AN UNSUCCESSFUL LEARNING EXPERIENCE. IN SOME WAY, I’D DESCRIBE MY UNSUCCESSFUL LEARNING EXPERIENCE AT SCHOOL AS SUCCESSFUL.

I decided to go for my usual seat in every classroom, all the way in the back, since, from the perspective of a Class A observer, it was the best location to observe people. And stay out of trouble. And doze off during the middle of a boring lecture without the professor noticing. And dozens of other things I can’t think of at the moment. Just know that the back can be your very best friend during the long school year.

The day started off in Bangkok where we felt like millionaires despite only having paid $15 each for our two-bedroom penthouse airbnb with an infinity pool. It was hard to peel away from, but with only three days in the commercial hub of Thailand, we got our asses up and started exploring. The thin coat of mist naturally started to form as we walked down the polluted streets towards the temples. Any girl with big thighs understand the chafe-age struggles in the summer, and despite it being monsoon season in Thailand, ya girl was still struggling. (deodorant in between the thighs usually does the trick). Of course I’d wear shorts, despite my skin creating enough friction to start a damn fire, I’d rather have my legs out, than covered with even

I loathe math. Numbers are extraordinarily dull. They don't have any depth. In high school, math felt irrelevant. When am I going to need logarithms? When am I going to say to myself “I sure am glad that I had to memorize the unit circle, I use that so often”? But as much as I detest numbers, they explain who we are. Numbers can’t lie, so who better to tell us who we are.

Once upon a time a beautiful young girl by the name of Anastasia lived in a small village in England with her family. Anastasia was 20 years young and she blossomed with creativity. Anastasia’s physical appearance was very attention getting. She had long, blonde, wavy hair. She had beautiful blue eyes that were as blue as a robins egg. Sometimes when she would walk in town men would stop and stare at her. One time when she was walking to the farmer’s market, a boy on a bicycle was watching her and he ran into a telephone pole! Anastasia did not look for attention but a lot of it was drawn towards her because of her beauty. People would pay close attention to her when she was out and about, but when she was in her hometown people would talk

When you’re the only one who sees the world in black and white while everyone around you lives it in color, and you pretend you’re just like them to prevent getting soaked in showers of synthetic sympathy; when you have seen your own self fall to your knees crying and trembling, as if you were watching a movie scene from someone else’s overdramatic life, and you carve yourself a smile so they’ll pan the camera onto someone else; when your inquisitive mind becomes an overwhelming burden on your tired shoulders as you hike downwards on everlasting spirals of stairs; when you suddenly find your perfections perished and your blemishes blown up like hot-air balloons that drift along with the wind and carry you out of the atmosphere that made you

After first year of living with my school’s boarding program I decided to live with my friend, Alex, and his family, the Parsick’s. The Parsick’s have a tradition after Christmas and before New Year’s, there is a camping trip in which all the male members of the Parsick family (included extended) go a camping trip on Baby Rose Island. The Parsick’s hail from the bayous of Beaufort, so naturally as with all people, I immediately associated a stereotype with them. For the Parsick’s it was the coastal redneck stereotypes to the Beaufort family and the activities that we would do on Baby Rose Island, and my travel experience confirmed all of my stereotypes. This narrative serves to show that travel does not always negate a stereotype, but rather in some instances confirm the stereotype, but also allows the traveller to learn about the nuances and intricacies of the stereotypes.

My story begins with short lived relationship, that left my mother pregnant. Other family members decided that she was not fit to be a parent, because she was not finically stable, emotionally stable, had a lot of bad habits, and had many unstable relationships. They also deemed my father as being unfit to parent because they did not know him well enough, was finically not stable, was part of a gang, had many bad habits and, though I believe my family will not admit it, is Hmong. Leading me to be raised by my grandmother and great aunt, both Caucasian. This led to 18+ years of an identity crisis. Although I present as Asian, my actions do not fit the stereotypes of “Asians” or “Whites”. Never did I know who to be, as I grew up as being one

From the moment my mom gave birth to me, I was raised in an environment full of culture. The monthly loteria days, full of tamales and menudo, seemed like a normality to me. Coming from an intensely Mexican family, there were obviously traditions that may have seemed weird to those that did not experience day-to-day exposure to our heritage.

Racist, homophobe, child abuser, alcoholic, druggie, thief. Looking around it is easy to see such labels plastered on the foreheads of people all around society.These hateful epithets, only sometimes accurate, play on theworst traits andfears of many whowould otherwisewish to go unnoticed in thisworld that loves divisionbased on character traits.As these stamps are projected in front of certain people, much of their hope is lost to be seen any other way as they are expected to live up to their labels. The truestory behind a person, and their full nature, is never included in these labels, however true they may be.Given all this hate and judgement, people are better off keeping their worst traits to be dealt with by