Descriptive Essay On Divergents

I was ashamed to be black and white. Since I have very fair skin, I tended to lean towards the white side. If people didn't know about my father, I wouldn't tell them because I didn't know how they would have reacted. I guess this was just because I didn't want to be different from my friends and they also didn't want me to be different from what they were. It's like they were pulling me into their own world, and didn't want to see what I actually was. They insisted that being both was just not acceptable. This was the way I lived my life, seeing myself as only white because that's the only way my friends would see me. When Steele was younger, he saw himself as black and didn't fret about his class. He said, "race took on an almost religious significance" (Steel 211). But when he got older and after hearing his friend's comment, his "faith was weak" (Steele 212). He started to realize that he was both black and middle class. And as I became older, I began to realize that I didn't have to hide the fact that I was both white and black.

Growing up in an one bedroom single parent home with eight kids I was an angry child faced with countless obstacles growing up. The things that I have seen and the situations I have been in through growing up I know that I shouldn’t be here today.There are guys that I grew up with who are now either dead, in jail, or still in the streets. By overcoming these things it has molded me into the young man I am today; a person who is determined to be great and determined to leave an impact on people's lives in everything that I do. As I continue to grow, others are seeing the transition that I am making into a black man who while he may be from the projects he is taking actions to become better and

Growing up as a young African American girl in Philadelphia was not always easy, however, having a strong family structure, old fashion southern culture, and beliefs have molded me into the strong women that I am today. Now that I am a mother, following my family’s culture and beliefs are not always the easiest thing to do. Times has changed and I feel like I am forced to conform to the everyday social norms of America, which makes me feel impuissance. Yes, growing up was not easy, but my family and youth kept me in the dark when it came to how society treats individuals of darker complexion, what to expect once I left the confines of my family and neighborhood, and how to befriend or interact with individuals of other racial groups. All of the things that I listed were things that I had to learn through trial and error, which makes life a little harder than it already is.

Since coming to America, I have moved to an ample amount of places because my father’s job concerns. I changed school frequently and in each new school I was never greeted with a warm welcome. With one glance my classmates saw I was different from them. I was often bullied and teased because of my racial difference from my classmates, from these experiences I became a quiet and docile girl. This way I thought I would not get in anyone’s way. I had closed up in the world in front of me; I never expressed my own opinions and always agreed with the majority. However secretly inside of me, I was frustrated not being able to express myself and yet I was unable to change. I craved to be what I was in the inside to be on the outside. Still by

There are five words I grew up hearing continuously spoken from the mouths of my parents “Don’t take things for granted.” Unlike what many of my black friends or just black people in general can say, I grew up with everything I could ever ask for and more. My parents don’t consider themselves wealthy; instead they prefer the word comfortable. My mother grew up in segregated schools, but she also grew up in desegregated schools, of which her experience she said wasn’t bad for her. In 5th grade when they first combined whites and blacks it was just her and this other black boy in class and the both of them together were mistaken for being white because of how light their skin was. My father on the other hand had it much worse than my mother segregated or not. The stories he speaks of still to this day

Being born black in the United States of America carries certain stereotypical ideas that automatically invade a person’s mind. At the top of the list they come from a single parent home, and more than likely have no relationship with their father if they even know who their father is. I was one of the fortunate few blacks in my community to be raised by my biological parents who were married long before I was born and remained married 48 years and were separated by the passing of my dad in 2014. My parents were born and raised under the harsh oppressive conditions of the Jim Crow Law southern state of Alabama that no doubt left undeniable mark on how they viewed the world; my dad was number seven of eleven children, many of them were adults when my dad was a child; two of his sisters were his teachers in school. My mom on the other hand was the third child of seventeen; four of my uncles are younger than me. I felt it imperative to mention their family order believing it to be indicative of the possible level of parenting skills that was imparted on them from their families of origin. Newly married, they moved to Los Angeles, California and a year and a half later I was born. Dad faced a different form of racism in Los Angeles than he faced in Alabama as a result he turned to alcohol to cope. My mom was a house with my first four years. Dad would drink and physically abuse my mother. I would jump on top of my mother while he would hit her and that would make him stop. My

The family I grew up in has been by far the largest influence on how I think, and they have taught me many great things and have been amazing parents, however in this essay I will focus on how my views have differed from theirs, and how I have learned to think differently. My mother is a small town in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma, and my father is from San Antonio, Texas. I have two sisters, one who is eight years old than myself, the other is two and a half years younger. I was born part of the middle class, white, and I 'm a male. Born in Dallas, Texas I 've spent the vast majority of my life in Frisco, Texas. The entirety of my childhood was spent growing up in a Southern Baptist Christian home. From a young age I was taught in church, which I attended for preschool, that an “acceptable” family is a mother and a father with children. This traditional family model was the setting in which I was raised, so I didn 't realize for a long time that

Cross’ book Shades of black: diversity in African-American identity (1991) depicts a perceived metamorphous of black identity through five stages of development—his ideologies are now termed as the Nigrescence theory. In simple terms, this philosophy refers to the process of becoming Black. It also demonstrates daily struggles that the black community may have in developing a healthy personal identity. Over the years, many authors attempt to define what the word black means. Eventually, many came to begin using the politically acceptable term widely applied today to regard black people; that word is known as Negroes. As different historical events occurred, one being the black power revolution on the 1970’s the experience called for a fresh definition of the term negro. Blacks or Africans in America began to be more conscious of their identity and more aware of the differences separating them. This is the experience that Cross (1971) illustrates and is primarily referenced in his five-stage progress including: pre-encounter, encounter, immersion/emersion, internalization, and internalization-commitment. This book highlights some very vital topics relating to mental health, which has been carefully disregarded by other researchers. Nonetheless, it has strong affiliations to the black experience and can positively explain a more normal psychological behavior through logical and very thought provoking

I was always a precocious child, yet argumentative and rebellious. I did not want to accomplish anything following a pattern set for me. I wanted to forge my own way. This determination set me at odds with my mother, and has defined our relationship all these years. It has surely led me down my own irregular path in life, and placed me in position to be the family’s black sheep.

Leaving high school I was consistently in the majority: I co-captained my basketball team and was always welcome to play. In my Bronx experience overall, I often felt racist, close-minded, and self-centered because of the reactions that I was having internally with this new environment. And even more I felt ashamed for this. I quickly wanted to escape back to Ann Arbor to be back in the majority, but I didn’t want anybody to feel bad for me. I knew that what I was thinking was mostly wrong, but I also felt it was human. Large paradigm shifts in one’s life often come with large sentiments, both good and bad. Also, I felt that my experience in the Bronx became easier and easier as I integrated and adjusted. As the shock to my system eased my feelings eased, too. I eventually began to feel extremely connected to the Bronx, the differing cultures, and even my almost omnipresent

The illusion of life kept me bewildered of my identity. Who am I now? I am no one’s daughter anymore. For the first time in my life I felt free from him. Reflecting back when my father hit my mother when I was in the fourth grade, I told an adult. My mother found out and told me to never tell anybody again. I became the good little quite Black girl everyone knew and silenced myself. In the African American community, trauma is something you don’t talk about, you keep your mouth shut and deal with it. People do not ask what goes on in other people’s household and people do not bring it up. Therapists were considered “quacks.” Many African American parents will not send their children to therapists or seek for themselves the necessary help. As a result, this makes it very difficult for adults and children suffering from depression

While my mom’s negative experienced scarred her from joining another homeschool group until eight years later, she never used that negative experience to mold our perceptions about white people. While she definitely taught me that not everyone will accept me due to the color of my skin, she also taught me that I was never allowed to judge someone else by the same quota. Everyone should be judged by character and character alone, and that is a proverb that I will forever live by. While her cupcakes were left untouched, she used the experience to blaze a fire in my heart; a fire full of love, forgiveness and

Taking into consideration my early childhood, youth and adolescence, I could say that I was surrounded by people, who were friendly and shared common cultural values. However, with the hindsight at my whole life, I could say why the sense of institutional racism touches me so deeply. I was raised by my mother and my grandmother, both of whom could not read and write. Thus, for the illiterate people there were no chances to have higher status in the society. The only way to survive for them was hard physical work. Institutional racism, as a form of oppression, is more consequential and involves policies and acts that affect a large number of people. Life of my family is only one example of its impact. Even though, a lot of time has passed since then, the most recent incidents with Rodney King, Trayvon Martin and George Zimmer, illustrate how a black man continues to be viewed as a menace to society in America (Blumenfeld, 2010).

Growing up in a tight box that I always had to try to fit into, I never knew any different. The expectations, the standards, the cruel words and the harsh stares. Being an outcast amongst others or being verbally battered for reasons I could never fully understand. These were all aspects that were prevalent in my life because I was the Pastor’s daughter, and they were problems I had always viewed as a normality.

As I have been awakening, eyesight still not truly focused, I believe that modernity has individuals blinded to its underlying truth. I am also a true believer in conspiracies therefore I’ve come to a place where I question reasons and actions. My life in relation to Lemert story of modernity can be described as in between. I was raised in government housing with my mother, who was an alcoholic and drug addict. My father was a recovering addict, whom also lived off assistant living through a private funded program. We had little money and I had to rely mostly on hand me downs. Even though my mother battled her own demons, she took good care of me. I went to a predominately white elementary. I participated in all their activities. I played the flute, with the help of my principle. I did ballet for a few years and I did African dance.