My Experience Of Racism As A Writer

Is it racism or economics which hinders many African American communities from progressing economically in the 21st Century? This research proposal will address this question by examining the social and psychological impact caused by racism and the economic impact it’s had on the African American community. This proposal will further investigate whether the emotional scars of slavery continue to hamper African American progress or if racism is actually the cause.

Racism has always been a big topic in society, even during Jesus Christ time. I believe racism comes from independent thinking and views and how this view from family, friends and society forms us each day. Racism has to do a lot with social status, money, power, looks, sex and much more. Coming from a third world country I can really see the major differences of racism how they vary by culture and education. My experience in the United States as a young boy has formed my racism definition and view of society in general. One of the biggest influences in my life is my father name Evaristo Navarro in terms of racism, he came from an era where marrying a

First of all, keep in mind that there are too many racism encounters to fully understand them all. Therefore, I may not completely understand the stories I hear. Maybe from lack of analysis, or even the way that it was presented to me. Growing up in a small Wyoming town there are not very many things that happen around here. Don’t get me wrong, there are some, but not near

Studs Terkel (1980) relates C. P. Ellis' story about how his experiences organizing a union opened his eyes about how corporations treat minorities, and resulted in a new understanding of the people around him even though he was a former Klansman. I have never been in the Klan or organized a union, but a similar turning point for me came for me when I saw the movie "The Eye of the Storm," about Jane Elliot's experiment with white schoolchildren in Riceville, Iowa. This experiment demonstrated to me how children respond to cultural cues first from their parents and family members, but then through the institutions they are forced to participate in like school; the church; other families and supervisory agencies. If even white children can be taught to discriminate against other white children on something as arbitrary and insubstantial as eye color, then how easy it must be to train them to respond in denigrating ways to people with different skin color, body shapes or language for example, I realized. This changed my perspective on racism and ethnicity and while I have since done much research and believe education is the secret, the way I have decided to implement change in my own life, is to speak out when I hear someone making a denigrating comment.

Schools were desegregated in 1968, when I was in the fifth grade. Even though we were now going to the same school, not much else changed where I lived~ at least from my young perspective. I graduated in 1976, and blacks and whites still lived on opposite sides of Highway 77, the road that dissected my town. Affirmative action where I lived meant that a hiring freeze was on, the sentiment being that if the government thought it could tell us who to hire, then we wouldn’t hire anyone. During the day while at school we were friends, but when we went home it was to our side of town. My house was one of the oddities, in that we had our black friends over to dinner and hang out during the day, although we

As a white person that was born and raised in Hawaii I cannot recall many racist acts toward me that have affected me. Any events I can remember are very minor and in no way do I mean to say that I have it bad because I do have it really good in a world where lots of people have it much worse. At first I could not think of any incidents and had to ask my mother if she remembered me telling her any. She only remembered two I had been upset about at the time but couldn’t even remember now. I can only think of one establishment incident that has happened in most restaurants we go to and only a few incidents in school.

Ever since the terrible incident of 9/11 took place, whenever terrorism occurs, most people prematurely assume the culprit must’ve been a Muslim. These assumptions may potentially incite hate towards many innocent Muslims, because of families or friends affected by terrorism. The purpose of me telling this event is to show how although I had never done anything in my life that could harm someone, I was still verbally attacked because of who I am. There wasn’t a need for a heroic figure in my story, instead a change of perspective that turned someone anti-heroic towards the true notion of heroism.

We are two minutes into the race, as I'm focused on watching Raymond as he runs towards the fence. He falls over the fence and everyone gasps. His head’s bleeding, we all stop as I run to Raymond. When he fell over the fence he hit his head, the announcers are calling 911. Me and Raymond are in the ambulance riding to the hospital, I tell him “Everything will be ok.”

I recall a summer day in 1989 when I played the game of hid and go seek with my new friends Tabitha and Jordan. Horten Gardens was a community that existed in a middle and upper class neighborhood in Millington, TN that my mom chose to reside in one year ago. “You will meet nicer people and get a better education”, my mom told my brother and I when we first drove into this neighborhood with mansion like houses and ponds in their front yards. My friends and I welcomed ourselves to the sweet and savory smells of baked cookies and junk food that we persuaded our moms into cooking nearly every day over summer break. Completely oblivious to the different colors of our skin, no one ever recognized that I was the only black kid that stood out like a sore thumb. The only color we recognized was the enormous street light attached to Jordan’s house that was full of bugs it attracted every night like humming birds to flowers. That light was the beacon that signaled to all of our parents that we were out past dark.

I close my eyes as the shock wave echoes off the rocks popping, and snapping like a tree cracking. I open my eyes looking thru the scope to find the once flourishing village decimated by the explosion. SNAP! The rounds fired from the remaining insurgents buzzed over our head's like locusts. I thought to my self as I looked over the destruction. The sweat in my eyes, heart pounding as I steady my reticle at man's chest. I thought about the crucible that forged me into the person I am today.

Standing on the starting line, heart was pounding, nerves were running, expectations were high, the sound of the gun could not have come any quicker. Waiting in the blazing sun, I could feel the sweat dripping down my face. Time felt like it was at a standstill, just then, boom! The race was underway on this four lap journey around the track. Silence surrounded me as I ran in a sold out stadium, my thoughts drowned out the coaches and spectators. The speech my coach gave me before the race was on constant replay in my head. “This is your time. You will be district champ. There is no one standing in the way of you and your dreams, except yourself.” When I came around the turn, I could see my team in the stands cheering me on. There was pure joy on their faces as I took the lead and began to take off for the last lap. There was half a lap to go when the race took a turn for the worst. My stomach began to turn in knots, my breathing was getting heavier, and my strides were shortening. I could sense my competitors coming up behind me, I knew that if I could not stay in front, I would lose. Eventually they caught up to me and I just tried to stay with them, however, I began to fade. I crossed the finish line in third place. I looked up and could see my coach with his head down in disappointment, I let him down. My season had come to an end that day, and I

Im standing in line waiting my turn to race. I am at the university of tennessee about to race the 200M freestyle against 50 of the top kids in the entire southeast. I'm nervous but excited I am prepared but worried and I am thinking of everything that could go wrong but I keep my focus. I have to it's too late to go back now. Finally it's my turn I step up on the block and I get ready, the siren sounds I jump of the block into the water I try to remember everything my coach taught me in practice everything that got me to this point. I make the first turn I am in the middle of the pack making sure to pace myself turn 2 into turn 3 I am now headed down the home stretch putting everything I have into this last stretch and it pays off 3rd place and 20th place out of 50.

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. I felt a cool droplet of sweat tracing the curvature of my spine as it slowly dripped down my skin, soaking into my undershirt. “All I’ve done is check the equipment in the back of the ambulance", I thought to myself. I was immediately regretting agreeing to pick up this overtime shift. However, my Lieutenant was relentless in his persuasion and I reluctantly agreed to stay. Unbeknownst to me, his incessant blandishment that morning is partly responsible for me writing this essay today. It was during that shift I had a sudden realization which would dramatically alter the trajectory of my current course in life.

I woke up carrying grocery bag under my eyes; feeling as if I was falling down an endless, dark hole of boredom. The sun clawed at my window like savage, hungry wolves thirsting for the last piece of meat. The heat rained down like a breath from hell and showed no mercy for anyone in its way. The sun’s rays rippled and rolled of people’s cars like waves on the shore of a beach. People were submerged in the thick and humid air, involuntarily. Others trekked by sweating like sinners in church. Animals who were seeking shelter innocently, sat fried like cold bacon on a hot skillet. No matter where you go, there will be no escape.

Racism is hatred, degradation, inferiority, and it leads to pain. Because of racism, an infinite amount of people was turned into slaves, and treated like beasts. Although many people would like to put a blindfold on and act like it is a thing of the past, they cannot. It comes in many shades. As a little girl, I always heard the words- nigger, nigga, ghetto, and etc. I cannot really say my first initial experience since it is so common nowadays. However, my experience with racism is what was passed down generations ago, and the superiority complex idea of skin color.