Example Of A Cultural Autobiography Example

Growing up may not always be easy but you learn a lot about yourself through the journey. In my first year of elementary school, one of my friends was getting bullied by a boy. He would push her down after recess and make her feel really bad about herself. It got to the point where he would do it every single day and I got sick of it. I had to step in and stand up for her, so I ended up yelling at him for being mean to her. I never gave up for her. He was surprised that I stood up for her because no one else did. I never realized why he was being mean to her until I got older because he was white and she was black. He was being mean to her because of her race and gender. (November 13).

There are many times when a person comes into your life and changes it for the better. I was happened to be blessed to be born with that person that changed my life, my dad. He has always been there and guided me in the correct way. Just like in Sedaris “Me Talk Pretty One Day”, how something negative leads to a good outcome, my negative event resulted on how dads’ actions impacted my life in such a significant way. (635). My dad became a great example for me to look up to, by showing me how dependable, adaptive, and hardworking he truly is. My dad gave me the ambition, to continue my education, and become a dependable mother for my daughters and family.

My father is some who has sacrificed a lot of his lifetime. My father has never let an opportunity go and has never allowed any time to go to waste when it came to his own prosperity or his children’s. The fact is he didn’t attend my races or even be part of special occasions, but he always made it up to me by using financial resources to support me and my interests. He always use to give me money before my big races so if I ever got hungry, I would have something to eat. Moreover, even though he works everyday he takes time out to spend quality time with my brothers and I from his busy schedule. Instead of siting o

I was born in Dallas, Texas but when I was 3 years old I was taken to my parents’ home country, Mexico. My mother took my younger sister and me to Mexico while my father stayed in the United States and worked to provide for us. I spend 6 years in Mexico and I went to school there. I had an amazing childhood in the place my parents were born and had the opportunity to grow up around my family and culture. I became a fond lover of the traditions and the peaceful life of what I consider my country. I have many amazing memories from living in Mexico. The way everything called for a celebration where everyone was invited. The dedication that every festival I attended showed. Simply all the traditions that even when I live miles away from Mexico have stuck with me, things I still celebrate with my family every year. I love to be able to call myself Mexican American and to be able to share my parents. My love for Mexican culture plays a role in my decision to want to go to Spain. I want to see where some of the customs I know originated from and see where my ancestors came from.

I was born on January 6, 1878 in Galesburg,Illinois. My wife was born on May, in Hancock,Michigan. I left school after the eighth grade to help my family and I left Galesburg for the first time to see Chicago. It was hot as a Jalapeno in June. When I was 19 I left home in June, I went to work on farms and railroads as a laborer. I was a walking freight train. I rode a freight train then I became a hobo. I sharpened my interest in labor laws and the plight of working people.

Born in California and raised in the deep south, I grew up in two conflicting societies. The cultural geography of both areas differs on a magnitude of levels and complicated my development into the cultures around me, however in retrospect influenced me to be a multidimensional and considerate person. At a young age my parents introduced me to progressive values. During the developmental toddler stages, I immersed myself in two different cultures: what I experienced at school and what I experienced at home. Charleston, South Carolina embodies small-town society though the Greater Charleston Area expands rapidly each year, pulling migrants, including my family, to the growing city. The overwhelmingly conservative views of Traditional Charleston

When I first saw in the syllabus the type of paper we would be writing for this course I thought about what culture means to me. What was the culture of my family? Where did we come from? How did we end up in Virginia? How did we end up believing some of the things we believe? To me culture was basically how I was raised—my behaviors, beliefs, values, and ideas cultivated during my youth and its evolvement as I grew into an adult. This truly was to be a very interesting and involved quest for information. Though I attempted to use websites such as www.genealogy.com and www.ancestry.com, I found most of the information from a couple of the adults in my family. Adults? I, too, am an adult, but in my family, age comes

It is a popular belief that children are bound to the same path that their parents have been down. As a result, being the daughter of two Haitian parents, neither of whom have secondary education, and moved to the United States in the hope of a better life this was a belief placed on me. Throughout my high school career, I have faced obstacles both big and small. One barrier I faced was going into my junior year. Going into my junior year I noticed my dad was home a lot more than usual, but I never questioned it. After a couple of weeks, my mother sat me down and told me he lost his job. At first, when she told me this it didn’t seem like a problem to me. I just thought he would put in more applications get hired and things would turn back

While my parents showed me how to be resilient and a dreamer, my grandmother taught me to embrace and appreciate our Haitian culture and beliefs. Living in a predominately white area for the majority of my life, she always instilled our culture and individuality in me. It was important for her that I should not forget my identity simply because it wasn’t prevalent in our town. She shamelessly embraced and proudly displayed her culture, no matter how others felt, and for that I greatly applaud

I was eight or seven, I lived in Gallup New Mexico at the time. One day in the summer my mother, cousin and I decided to visit our uncle Paul. He was an older man but very athletic he had his own home gym in his basement. When we got to his house he and my mother sat and had a grown-up conversation, me and my cousin Jerry decided to go explore the basement. In our uncle’s basement, he had four rooms. One had a huge pool table, another one was filled with weights and matts for yoga, the third one we never went into because the door was always locked. And the fourth, this fourth room would become my worst nightmare, it was filled with elliptical and treadmill equipment. After a while jerry and I got bored with playing our version of pool

Whenever something was wrong with our house, my dad would be the one to fix it instead of calling a plumber. Last year my father lost his thumb and index finger when he was working on a house that belong to one his brothers. Even after being permanently injured, my father continued to apply all of his effort into fixing houses up to this point. My father didn’t have an education higher than High School but through his actions, my father taught me that by having a goal or someone to support, anything could be achieved. He motivated me to do my best even when things weren’t going as I planned. My father wasn’t the only one doing his best to support the family, my mother

I was born and raised in Kingston Jamaica in an area full of crime and less fortunate people. Growing up, I’ve seen a lot of people with undiagnosed mental illnesses. I’ve seen where there were no resources for people who were in need of food and clothes. Because of the poverty in the environment I grew up in, the crime rate was beyond control. Most of my family lived in what they called a tenement yard. A tenement yard in Jamaica is where a group of close relatives lives and share the same yard. I lived in a house in a tenement yard with my mother, stepfather, half-sister and my half-brother. I also have four other half-sisters on my father’s side, two of them were born and raised in Jamaica in a similar environment like the one I was

On another note, I would say my life is very similar in terms of culture to the members of my family. Most of my family is white and middle class, besides one uncle who married into the family who is Ghanaian. My parents both had siblings like me, some type of religious influence, and both received a college education. I inherited many of my skills and hobbies from them as well.

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I was born and raised into a hardworking family that are the complete opposite of culture alienators. My siblings and I are all first generation in America on my mom's side and second generation on my dad's side. Life was very hard for my parents to raise all seven of us and depended on my grandparents for most of their help. Being that my grandparents brought all nine of their kids to America from Belize it was also very hard for them so survive and find stability. Most families that come to America from a third world country usually find it very difficult to keep up family traditions and sometimes lose all contact. My family found a way to stay very close and keep the Belizean culture very alive still to this day. As you can tell by now