My Heritage

My culture artifact is the Hina doll because it is a tradition in Japan to decorate with them for the Hinamatsuri. The Hinamatsuri is also known as "girls day". This is on March 3, and you wish girls good health and future happiness. The Hinamatsuri's origin was during the Heian period. The people would set afloat straw hina dolls and sent it down a river, which led to an ocean. This was used to take bad spirits away. The hina dolls are displayed on a hina dan. The hina dan is covered with a red carpet and the dolls are displayed on it. On the top is the imperial dolls ,which are the Emperor and the Empress. On the second platform holds the three court ladies. They are holding equipment for sake, a Japanese drink. On the third platform are

Culture is something that we all have; it is something that defines who we are. A person's culture is the reason we value certain aspects over another and the reason we act the way we do. My cultural background is far more complex than I could ever imagine. Although I am a citizen of the United States, my heritage does not include one fraction of Native American in it. My ancestors actually derived from all over the European continent. I have found that I am minuscule amounts of English, Irish, Swedish, French, and most importantly Norwegian. I emphasized Norwegian because that is the culture that my family and I most closely relate to. Neither of my grandparents are from Norway, but they both grew up in a strong Norwegian environment

I have always been aware of who I am as an individual. Living in America but being born into a Latin household means that I’ve assimilated to American customs but I’ve also strengthened my Latin roots. One of the most significant ways I’ve managed to maintain my Latin identity is simply by cooking and eating Mexican dishes at home. Mexican food is different from American food, because it’s distinct and zesty flavor serves as a reminder of my exotic identity. It’s my mother’s cooking that constantly reminds me that despite living in America I am still a proud Latino, and I will always be one.

Back long ago in the 18th century, my distant relatives were very hard working people; most were farmers. And as they migrated to central Kentucky from West Virginia and Eastern Kentucky, some became land owners, farmers, and breeding horses. Some families settled in Lexington, Louisville, Danville, and as far as West as Bowling Green Kentucky.

My heritage is America. My America is a melting pot - a combination of people from every corner of the earth. The culture of acceptance that exists here in America allows me to not only be accepted but learn to approach others with a open heart and mind. The word heritage can encompass so many ideas regarding race, tradition, language, and almost any social umbrella that you can think of. The images that pass through my mind when I hear the words “culture” or “heritage” are images of instruments made from decaying tree trunks being played in backyard slings and leather-bound literature being read to little children and sweet aromas that fill linoleum kitchens in the summertime. Though I live in Maryland, I was born in Washington, D.C. ,

The rushing wind blows a scent of sea salt across my body, tickling my nose and awakening my senses. Slowly my eyes open to absorb the beauty of the morning sky, which is delicately speckled with poignant white cotton balls. A loud snore can be heard from the main room of the apartment, while the stilled breathing of my brother drones on. Carefully, I crawl out from my bed exiting the guest room and making my way slowly across the tiny apartment. My entire family lays across the main floor in a tangled mess of inflated beds and plush blankets. I traverse the maze with a multitude of leaps and bounds until I make contact with the porch door; which I slide through with relief. Standing within the square enclosure the turquoise tinted water greets me with beauty and graciousness. Even from the

I really did not think there was anything extraordinary about my culture and heritage because I have lived in a Crystal City, Texas my whole life. Being Mexican American was really the usually thing so I did not consider anything special of it, but my history has shown me otherwise. Living in a small town has shown me that I can leave a legacy, keep the heritage of my family alive, and still strive to have an education.

My heritage is engrained in the hearts of my ancestors who came to America many years ago. They came from their home countries to live a better life in the new world. It was a new experience that millions of new immigrants felt, however, each experience is different on a personal level for each immigrant. This is the story of my ancestors.

At this point in time reflecting on my past experiences I think the first thing I would do differently with my life is believe in myself and not doubt my decisions or my looks. Growing up I have always been made to feel ashamed of my dark skin, my bigger body and my hispanic heritage because it was different from what society had taught me and my family. If I knew no one would judge me I would embrace the darker pigmentation of my skin, accept my body for how it is and wear my heritage with pride. During the summer might go out swim Instead of staying inside and worrying about getting a little bit darker; I would stop wearing long sleeve shirts on the hottest day to avoid having people see the darkness of my skin. I would wear red lipstick

From what I understand my father’s side is a mix of Native American and African American. His mother is from Isle de Jean Charles in Terrebonne Parrish, Louisiana. She is related to the Houma Indians that took residents on the isle. If my mother and I have done the genealogy right down the line on of our ancestors is Jean Lafitte the pirate. My paternal grandfather is of African-American decent. From what we understand he worked on a plantation in his younger years and when he got older worked as a trawler in Dulac, Louisiana because of the seafood industry. My mother told me at her father’s ancestry could be traced back to Spain. From Spain his family made stops in Cuba and the Dominican Republic before settling in Louisiana. My maternal

The first time I truly experienced the intimacy of American innovation was during my time at the American Legion Auxiliary's Girls State Program this past summer. Before walking into the camp, I was under the belief my perception of America was clear; my patriotism stemmed from our nation’s determination, dedication, and willpower. Though these reasons still bring me pride today, I walked away from Girls State with a new vision. I initially viewed Girls State as a competition, but that mindset took an abrupt turn after a workshop conducted by the president of the Douglas County School Board. After her presentation, she began to cry, and said “You bright girls are why my son’s fighting right now, not because of greed or oil.”

Based on my own ancestry, I believe that I have 90% to have diabetes Type II because my mom, my grandmother, all my aunts from my mother side, and even my cousin, that is only 16 years old, have diabetes Type II. I have too much possibilities that I can have diabetes Type II when I get older because in my own ancestry, just from my maternal side, almost everybody has diabetes Type II.

Reflection and knowledge of one’s cultural heritage allows for a counselor to embark on a path of self-awareness This awareness can lead to understand the worldviews others that are similar and different from you. Understanding one’s worldview holds the potential of being an effective culturally competent counselor. In this cultural autobiographic essay, there will be an exploration of my cultural heritage and its impact on my own beliefs regarding counseling practices. There will also be an exploration of a counseling strategy in order to address any barriers toward developing the awareness, knowledge, and skills to be an effective culturally competent mental health counselor.

When I came to America, I was incredibly shy. The only friends I had outside of school were Filipino, and there were only two of them. I did not know much about the arts of my country; I only knew that it was where I came from. Although I experienced difficulty when making friends, my mom did not. One day, when Mass ended, I saw my mother conversing with another Filipino woman. After Mass, she took us to someone’s house. They were holding a practice for the Filipino American Association of Upper Chesapeake. Mom said that this association would teach us how valuable our Filipino heritage is. Happily, my brother and I joined the association. Not for the association’s cultural value, but for the friendships that were easily formed.

It’s crazy to think that the way you were raised is what has made you become the person you are today. Everyone has their own story about how they were raised, where they were raised, and who they were raised with. Each person has their own type of heritage with how they are raised based upon their family, where they were raised, religion, family traditions, values, and beliefs. The way you were raised in life has influenced your personality. The way you act and the way you are viewed as are both influenced by your family’s heritage.