Essay On Cultural Identity

My parents immigrated to this country in 1996, a year before I was born. My father and his family originate from Oaxaca, Mexico which is one of the most southern states in Mexico. My mother and her family originate from Michoacán, Mexico but grew up in Baja California. Like many Mexican immigrants, my parents came to this country to work and to

Am I Mexican,or am I American? One day, I was thinking about how I had to work twice as hard to embrace them both to please both cultures. I then realized that if I am working to please them both,then I am both. Speaking a language is not a due to pay to be who I am. There is no checklist to qualify for,and no test to pass,you are who you are. I am a bridge that has its beams planted in both sides of the Mexican-American border. When school began and I enrolled in honor level Spanish classes, I did it, not because people thought I had to,but because it will be beneficial to my life. People would sometimes tell me the stereotypical things they believed about hispanics,such as the beliefs that we are lazy. Instead of tearing me down, that only made my work ethic head into overdrive. Confining to others expectations was not what I wanted for myself. Like the bridge between the two cultures,I would stand tall and remain unaffected by the remarks people threw at me. Growing up as a Mexican-American has proven to have its challenges,but I am grateful. These trials have helped make me into the person that I am today,and has given me a different perspective on life than the average

My cultural ancestry comes from a Cuban and Mexican decent. I have chosen to write about my Cuban side because I can relate to them more than I could with my Mexican side. I was raised around my Cuban family and would occasionally see my Mexican side due to them living so far away. I have spent a lot more time associating with Cubans and have adapted to more of their habits.

What is my cultural identity? Personally, I don’t think I am completely assured on what my cultural identity is, but I can do my best on explaining it. However, I won’t get started on that yet, first I’ll explain the occasion of me learning about my identity. At almost the beginning of the year, it was announced in our English class that we would be doing an essay on our cultural identities. When my teacher announced this I thought to myself, “What in the world is a cultural identity, or even my cultural identity?” In these months, we have gotten to learn the definition of culture, and what it means to us, individually., I believe that culture means a group of people that share the same customs, way of life, and beliefs. Also, over these last couple of months we have been reading texts all about people knowing and understanding their cultural identities, meanwhile I still didn’t understand my own. All I know is that I was born on February 11, 2002, I like movies and music, and my mom is from Chile and my Dad is from Virginia. Now that didn’t feel like enough for me to write on, but then I started thinking about all of the cultural differences that my parents have had raising me as a person, and how those have all combined to make me. In my short 15 years of life, the culture clashes have sometimes affected me on my thoughts and opinions, which I’ll talk about later on. As well as how movies and music have affected my perspectives and opinions.

Growing up in a Hispanic household has its ups and downs. As a first generation Latina, I have family members that are always encouraging me, wanting the best for me, and pushing me to succeed in life so that I don't go through the same hardships that they went through. I have seen struggles my parents have gone through to get to where they are now, but giving it their all to giving my siblings and I the best.

There is a Mexican man that enters with the rest of his family. They eat beans, rice, flour tortillas and etc. The family does there every day routine, the dad wakes up at six- thirty to go to work in his truck. The children go to school and the mother stays at home. The things a person does in their all has a reason which goes all back to culture. Culture is what makes up everyone different from one another. Texts such as “What is Cultural Identity?”, “Where Worlds Collide” and “Two ways to Belong” supports that depending on one’s culture it effects one perspective on the world and others.

My background is interesting. My twin sister and I were raised by parental grandmother until she passed away due to lung cancer when I was 11 years of age. My grandmother had 15 children and raised 2 more. My diverse experiences in life begin here. My Mother was Caucasian and my father was Hispanic, both born and raised in Texas. Both of my families were similar but very different. They were similar in that they were of low economic status, but very different because of their beliefs and their culture. My Hispanic family believed and still believes that God is number one in life (prayed before every meal) and that you respect everyone regardless of how they may treat you. My Hispanic family believed in helping one another when given the opportunity.

Being Hispanic to me means being different, strong, hard-working, and colorful. I go to school in a little village called Baltimore, with a whopping population of just under 3,000 people. Living in such a small village has its ups and downs, for instance, you get to know everyone, but you also really get to know everyone. One of the downsides of living in this area is the lack of diversity. In my entire high school, there is a total of five Hispanic students including myself. Growing up I never saw myself as different to my classmates, we were all just in school to learn about education, life, and each other. It wasn’t until my middle school years when I found out that not everybody watched “El Chavo del Ocho” Saturday mornings or put Tajin

When people think of the Mexican heritage, the first image that pops into their head is seldom a successful individual with a college degree, and that made me ashamed of whom I was.

My eyes reveal my story. Although I was born in the United States, my Mexican heritage shines through my hazel eyes. I am proud of both my American and Mexican identity. My Grandparents on both sides immigrated from Mexico to Southern, California before my parents were born. In our home, we celebrate our Mexican culture through cooking traditional meals and celebrating traditional holidays, such as Día de los muertos. My Family creates an altar decorated with candles, flowers, colorful trimmings and offerings for our loved ones who have passed. I feel fortunate my Mexican heritage is intertwined with my American identity.

In growing up in the position of the ‘other’ in society, Smith provides an empowered stance of identity exclusively through the demonstration of cultural hybridity, as evidenced by Millat and his gangster crew, the Raggastani’s. As Millat becomes increasingly connected to a swaggering identity highlighted by Western popular culture, his sense of belonging becomes established with the multicultural mix of South Asian and Caribbean teens he hangs out with: “It was a new breed, just recently joining the ranks of the other street crews. Becks, B-boys, Nation Brothers, Raggas, and Pakis; manifesting itself as a kind of cultural mongrel of the last three categories. Their ethos, their manifesto, if it could be called that, was equally a hybrid thing” (193). Here, Smith uses the Raggastani’s as a symbol representing the emerging identity of a multicultural London transformed by the migration of formerly colonized populations from South Asia and the Caribbean. Their mission, to put the “invincible back in Indian, the Bad-aaaass back in Bengali, the P-Funk back in Pakistani” (193), is about taking their identities which have been devalued in Western society and linking them together through a collective sense of approval. As a productive example of cultural hybridity taking place, they are a direct contrast with the forms of difference and racial purity that the Chalfen`s represent, and the resistance of letting go of traditions that their parents uphold. The group tries on a series

When I think of the word “cultural identity”, I think of myself, and what makes up who I am as a person. My cultural identity influences everything about me, from the moment I wake up, to the minute I rest my head on my pillow at night. My culture influences the way I eat, speak, worship, and interact with people. However, I am not only affected by my own culture, but others’ culture as well. I am fortunate to have an extremely rich heritage, and I couldn’t be prouder of my cultural identity.

Cultural identity is feeling of belonging to a group, it is an element that is brought about when a person comprehends his/her own culture, it is part of a person’s self –conception and perception and this helps the person to also comprehend and appreciate the culture of other people as well. It is related to nationality, religion, ethnicity, generation or any kind of social group that has its own distinct culture. So culture plays an important role in one’s life because it is a strong factor in shaping one 's identity.

My childhood is filled with memorable moments where my family has been there to teach me everything they know about the world we live in. Now as a young adult, I have realized that as I got older pieces of my spanish heritage were replaced with American morals and values. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m more American or less Dominican. I believe no one can give you an identity, you have to shape that yourself.

Ever since an early age, I was always told that I do not look like the typical Hispanic nor act like the typical White girl. It made it even worst that I do not speak fluently in Spanish and on many occasions people have come up to me asking for directions to somewhere, but I had to say, “Lo siento, no hablas mucho Español.” Growing up in a Mexican/Cuban household, I was raised to respect everyone for how you would like someone to treat you and not the color of their skin. I do not look quite look alike to my parents by having green eyes, sandy blonde-brown hair, and quite fair complexion. My mother has tan skin, caramel eyes, and black hair. Well, my father has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a darker skin color than my mother’s skin.