Growing Up As A Young African American Girl

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

I am a member of the African American group and I would like to tell you a bit about the group of when I am a part of. Let me start by saying that my African American group originated from Africa and growing up in America can be tough for people of my race, the African Americans.

Over the course of the years, society has taught black girls that the darker their skin tone is, the uglier they are which triggered them to do their best to meet Eurocentric beauty standards such as having light skin, slim nose and straight hair.

This year has been one of the most significant of my life so far. I feel that about every year, but I think that 2016 is a record breaker. I’ve gotten my anxiety more under control, and I feel confident and comfortable in my skin. School-wise I’m still a mess. I’m still trying my best but not doing as well as I hoped, but soon all these grades will be meaningless and I can finally be free.

When my mother decided to quit her accounting job to homeschool me (and the other future siblings that were not in existence at this point) it was hard. Being a homeschooled black family was even more isolating since it was rare to find another black family that homeschooled. At this point in our lives, she had never been surrounded with diversity so stepping outside of her comfort zone and joining an all-white homeschooled group was a brave step. But little did she know that her hopes of a positive experience would be crushed due to prejudice. I was too young to recognize all of the prejudice that the other moms held against her, but I can only accept it as a bigoted reality that some may choose to live in.

Considering the Civil War was the first time that a large group of people were fighting for the freedom of African Americans, it would be true to state that the Civil War dramatically changed the lives of African Americans throughout the nation. This remark is accurate because, after the Union’s win, African Americans were given basic rights such as the right to vote, own property, and marry whites. However, because many Southerners continued to oppose these decisions, they created organizations such as the KKK that opposed these ideas and threatened the well being of African Americans. So, as a result of the African American lifestyle changing, many individuals in the South, mostly slave owners, lives change due to the major decrease in free-labor.

Being raised in the inner city around ninety percent African Americans who live in a culture I have no connection with made it difficult for me to comfortably be my true self. Life is hard I understand that now, I understand that what you do now will only help or hurt your future, so I try to make the best of my life by being myself. I also realize that once in a while we need a good change in our lives to get out of the low points in our life. I've always felt out of place, mainly because I'm African American and sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be. Maybe because I listen to country music for goodness sake and actually love it. So me being groomed around a culture that isn't right for me only made me more uncomfortable. I guess it's more me being jealous that other races can do things I

Imagine the news headlines filled with nothing but people like you - same hair, skin, defining features - except all the headlines are filled with death. Death at the hands of people we are all taught to trust with our safety. This is how my 2015 summer had been. Days upon days of headlines with black people being killed by “peace” officers. As the list of names grew longer, it became apparent that there was no intention to protect the black community, instead, the public was being “protected” from us. Growing up in a community of minorities, I had come to believe that there was a sense of solidarity in our struggles. I was wrong in thinking our shared status meant unity. At the core of every marginalized community, is a sense of anti-blackness. This harsh realization happened during a class discussion when everyone was throwing into my face that ultimately my feelings and thoughts did matter. I was reminded that I was an other and I stood alone in this fight for my community.

Growing up as an African American girl was easy for me, because my grandparents sheltered me from the real world. I never had to understand or experience discrimination, prejudice, or segregation that both of my grandparents had to face as adults and as children. Listening to the horrible stories from my grandparents about having to be in the house before dark or risking be launched by the White man. Having to talk with their heads down whenever they were in the presents of White individuals, along with not having the chance to have equal education to help them overcome their oppressors, where all things that made me aware of how life was not always equal or fair. That is way it is important to understand the lifestyle of other older individuals that are opposite of African American, because one would like to know what was going through the minds of a White child or adolescent when having to face certain challenges that may have occurred while interacting with individuals of the opposite race. Along with understanding how this have affected future interactions with all races or ethnic groups on a macro and a micro level. Knowing about any cultural values or beliefs that are different and similar to the opposing race, and how did that effect accepting help, and facing the end of life’s journey, will help understand how someone that is non-African American deals with age and life.

However African Americans must change their entirety in each and every one of these settings or they will never be able to succeed in society oppose to other races, majority white people who rarely have to hide who they truly are, I am have experiences these expectations in my life. It first starts in my own neighborhood where I grew; a place I was supposed to feel the safest. My mother made sure that at a young age what was expected from me as a black woman (the most hated person in America) and how I had to be if I wanted to be successful. I was not allowed to use slang, stay out late, and I was placed in a different school outside of my district school (majority black) into a school across town (majority white). However, whenever I was with kids from my whole neighborhood I was not accepted and seen as the weird girl who “talks white”.

I wanted to go to a black college because I wanted to go to a school that everyone was the same ethnicity as me. My college life would be a lot more fun because black colleges just know how to bring the excitement to me. This motivated me to be part of that excitement and open up more so I can do more things in college. Then they have the many opportunities in stem such as mathematics and engineering that I want to proceed in. Also, these colleges have a more family-oriented feel that shows that the staff really cares about you and want to help you through college. Then they have many clubs and organization that you can join and created long lasting bonds with different people. I want to join many clubs so I can experiences different tasks

Growing up white, I never fell victim to racism or segregation, and sadly, I believe I was ignorant regarding these issues until I reached college. My sister and I were raised in the lower-middle-class by a single mom; But, we were fortunate to be born into a large family that has always supported each other in times of need. Being raised in the middle-class society, I never went without. My mother raised me in a nurturing way, but also believed in tough love in order to create a resilient young woman ready to tackle the world. Through my college education, I have recognized that I was born with white privileges that were given to me rather than something I earned. Coming from a large, tight-knit family, one of the most

My family instilled in us at a very young age that we had to work for anything we wanted, my families’ social class is middle class. My parents always emphasized the importance of education and respect. My parents always taught me that we are equal to any other race, we lived in a neighborhood that was predominantly African American and attended an all-black elementary school. My earliest memory of race was when I was twelve I was adopted by my aunt and uncle who loved in a predominately Caucasian neighborhood, I would play outside, with my cousins being a few years older than me I often played and rode my bike alone. Soon I met some children that lived in the neighborhood who were caucasian and we would play with each other, I use to even go over their homes. Well, one day I asked one

New Works “Black Girls Selfhood & Society” Workshop will explore current issues of identity which face adolescent black girls from their perspective through writing. It will focus on identity, personhood and advocacy. Attendees will write from their unique perspectives and insights in various genres. This workshop will impact and empower each girl through self-expression. It will allow them time to reflect and explore who they are and their multiple identities at home and in society. “Black Girls Selfhood & Society” will examine historical writers such as Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Mari Evans, Ntoezake Shange, Alice Walker, Harriett Jacobs and Toni Morrison and how writing across multiple platforms has historically developed independence