Descriptive Essay About False Identity

Currently, I am in the process of not only becoming comfortable in my identity, a black queer woman, but, also attempting to find solace in my identity as well. Something that all women, especially black queer women, should achieve in their lifetime. It is that dream that inspires me to travel to experience other cultures and to unite with women from various cultures across the black diaspora. Throughout many cultures, women’s identities are defined by their male counterparts and the labor they provide to them. Therefore, a major goal of mine is to create a space where women are able to exist outside the scope of their relationships with men and live uninhibitedly to become their best selves. That is why I find it pertinent to travel not only

The familiar aroma of coffee fills the air as I enter the not so common area. I feel very bewildered in the labyrinth of hallways searching for my classroom just like I had stepped into corn maze as a child. At last, I locate the secluded room tucked away inside the massive building. Even though the number on the door matches the number on my schedule I am still second guessing if I am in the right place. The door opened up as students poured out. Finally, I took my seat at the back, trying my hardest to sit down unnoticed. My hands were shaking as I wrote the class name at the top of my paper. After what seemed like ages the professor proceeded to

The concept of Identity is complex through the exploration of relationships and a sense of belonging. This is explored within Tim Winton’s short stories, ‘ Neighbours’ and ‘Big World’, and in Robert Walker’s poem ‘Okay, Let’s be Honest’. Identity can change and evolve depending on belief, change, language and shifting influences.

"My fear and discomfort crept beyond the borders of the classroom and accompanied me out onto the wide boulevards. Stopping for a coffee, asking directions,

Most people, unless they choose to be an outsider, want to be considered “cool.” Whether it’s to fit in with a peer group, or clique, or to impress someone in particular, like a member of the opposite sex, or a potential mate. Or possibly to gain something from an individual for financial or social gain (see “Scamming”).

Identity is what defines us as a person. Everyone one on earth has their own unique identity. To showcase my identity, I created a collage of images and descriptive words, called an identi-kit. This identi-kit shows what I feel like is my identity to myself and the others. My identi-kit identifies me as a mixed martial artist. The identi-kit has images of a deadly shark with mixed martial arts gloves on that say mixed martial arts on the front and fight shorts with the words competitor and warrior on them. It also has descriptive words like “killer instinct” and “fight” which describe my spirit. There are three assumptions that come to question when asking about one’s identity. The first is if you were born with this

Here was my opportunity to finally discover and learn somewhere that could surely cater to my needs and teach me to my full capability. After the shock wore off, I realized that this would not be as straightforward as it seemed in my head, but I drastically underestimated the harassment we would face. I was only going to learn, just as the other students were, and so it never occurred to me just how furious people might be. On my very first day, I entered school alone, separated from the rest of the colored students. There were far more cars and people than I had anticipated, but the sight of the many armed guards surrounding the school comforted me. My understanding was that they were there to protect the nine of us new students. It wasn’t until I was blocked out, threatened and pushed back into the crowd by these very guards that I realized they would not permit me to

The low ceiling cowered above and the black plastic chairs formed a restless crowd around me. From my seat, I could smell the acute scent of cleaning fluid, whiteboard markers, and the nauseating perfume of the girl sitting next to me. Like so many other students, she exuded concentration. Her brows were drawn as her hand moved rapidly over the testing booklet, only pausing to reposition herself or cast an almost imperceptible sidelong glance. The effortlessness of her actions furthered my anxiety as I began tapping my foot uneasily against the speckled linoleum floor. Through the dusty shades that hung precariously in front the only window in the room, I could see the outline of a solitary building shadowed by the dense gray fog that clung to the courtyard outside. At that moment, I would have given anything to be able to run and scream at the top of my lungs. I had an inexplicable urge to break free from the confinement of that room and what it

I feel a warm presemce on the back of my neck. I turn and find the guy who came in late. He points to my seat, then himself. I shake my head and turn back. Again, he taps me and motion to my seat and then himself. I once again ignore him and return to my conversation with my brother. Before the guy can disturb me again the bell rings and the class starts to empty. I grab my bag and head towards the door.

Identity is a state of mind in which someone recognizes/identifies their character traits that leads to finding out who they are and what they do and not that of someone else. In other words it's basically who you are and what you define yourself as being. The theme of identity is often expressed in books/novels or basically any other piece of literature so that the reader can intrigue themselves and relate to the characters and their emotions. It's useful in helping readers understand that a person's state of mind is full of arduous thoughts about who they are and what they want to be. People can try to modify their identity as much as they want but that can never change. The theme of identity is a very strenuous topic to understand

My identity is something that that no one can take away from me. As I am still growing and learning, I can say that I have found many things that appeal to me. My interests will help define my personality and express myself in ways that I can’t express through words. I enjoy finding new things to do and doing my best in aiming towards my goals. I have many goals, but I know that I can only accomplish them through patience and perseverance.

I walked up to the red line and positioned my left leg behind my right. I coughed as loudly as I could to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, people started to stop talking and stared at me with curiosity. I paced back and forth trying to decide which teacher I was going to pie in the face.

Walking into the classroom, something just didn't seem right. The lights were out, blinds closed, and only one shadowy figure sat at the teacher’s desk. Just by the shape of the figure I could tell it wasn’t my teacher. A chill swept through the room making the hairs on my neck stand up. I began to sweat and my hands shook. I stood, staring at the shadow at the front of the room. I finally built up enough courage to mutter out “Who are you?” The figure then spoke with a deep, threatening voice “I think you know who I am!” This was true, I had met the figure a few years ago. I tried to escape the past, but it caught up to me. “How did the school let you in?” I asked. “Do you really think that I would come in here with permission?

As I walk down the hallway, I feel the fear creeping over me, it's almost overwhelming. I have to remind myself to breathe, I have it written on my hand “just breathe.” Sometimes the hallway is wide and it’s easier to breathe, but other times, it is so narrow I feel as though the walls are coming together to crush me. People are often flooding the hallway making me drown, and gasping for air. My friend Haley is beside me and I reach for her hand so she can guide me through the flooded hallways. I find comfort and a little confidence with the little human contact I allow.

    “Molly, dinner time!” my mother yells in a sing-songy voice from the first floor. My father calls the waitress over, “Excuse me, Molly” he states, trying to get her attention. The doorbell rings, and I answer it, “Hi, I’m Molly” says the cheerful little girl scout standing at my doorstep. Names are universal identifers; they shed no light about one’s personality. They are labels, they fail to display our identity because identity is a unique part of what makes you, you.