Personal Narrative: Death Of A Black Man

Justice for Trayvon Martin. No justice, no peace. Hands up, don’t shoot. The first time I ever visited UC Berkeley I heard these chants, saw these signs, and felt the anger as I protested that black lives matter alongside students and locals. Two months later I return to UC Berkeley for a debate tournament and make it to the elimination rounds for the first time in a Lincoln Douglas event. One year later and I attend an empowering women of color conference that sparks my passion for social justice and my love for learning about race and gender inequality. Eight months later and I show my cousin around the school that I find to be beautiful and inspiring. A week ago my former classmate gave me a tour around the school and I realized that this

In the early-mid 20th century, people of African descent were treated as lower class citizens to white people in the American South. The reason that multitudinous whites treated blacks in this manner is as a result of white parents teaching their white children that black people were “less human” than the whites just as a result of the darker skin pigmentation. While today we consider this to be asinine in the not so distant past, this was a problem and as a result a myriad of people were killed and injured. These are a few reasons why this quote is deep and philosophical.

When a big black man who loved to talk about sex and hip hop entered my life, I thought I would die of mortification. I soon learned, however, this ridiculous man would dramatically change my life for the better. His actions and kind heart taught me an invaluable lesson that I will carry with me forever. I have always heard stories about strangers entering one’s life and forever changing a person, yet I never thought I would have the honor to live such a tale.

I am classified as a junior but really only in my second year of college so I have at least two more years to become more assured and refined in my study of Chinese. In my level 3 Chinese course, I feel that my upcoming semester in Beijing will vastly improve my speaking and listening. I hope my plan to follow a pledge of only speaking and using Mandarin unless I’m contacting family and close friends will assist me in this challenge. I expect that my full-time language courses will also help since I will be taking twenty class hours per week focusing on comprehension, speaking, listening, and reading. I predict that being fully immersed in class and going to as many tutoring and group events will help me grow in my understanding and use of Chinese.

My stomach dropped as I saw the white man who was unprovoked run up to the Negro man with a steel pipe in his right hand and hit him at least a dozen times using all the might that his body had. I had never seen a human use so much hate against another human like that before in my entire life. The man tried to shield his face from the man by placing his arms in front of him but it was know use. Randy and I were in the utmost state of shock but I decide even being so far away to run down the street I screamed out to the man but he didn't notice until I was only a few feet away from him. (Randy had also followed me when I decided to run but had strayed a fair distance behind me) the man looked up and immediately took off I knelt down besides the man and check for a pulse then called down the street for help but many were reluctant I yelled to randy to go call and ambulance. The man was unconscious and while randy had gone I repetitively tried to regain his consciousness but lightly tapping him on the faces and asking him if he was able to hear me. However he

”Take off your hoodie, open your pockets, and don't move, be still cause I saw you steal that.” If your are a black male or any color but white, Then your chances of hearing that are way higher because of the color of your skin. Unfortunately that happen too me,this Summer.

Maya Angelou was an American author, poet, dancer, actress, and singer. Her many accomplishments speak for her talent; however, Angelou was not always so accomplished and self-assured. Angelou’s memoir, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, is a bildungsroman created by a progressive process of affirming identity and resisting racism. Angelou uses a sequence of lessons about identity and racism from helpless rage and indignation to forms of subtle resistance and finally outright protest to illustrate Angelou’s coming of age.

et up!” a low voice yells “get up!” the voice yells again. “Where am I “Lura says rubbing her head?

When something happens in your life when least expected, it is not always a good thing. Three years ago I didn’t think my life could be turned upside down, but it did. I and my husband started fighting a lot, and couple months later, we lost our house, and life started going downhill from there. As soon as I thought everything was getting better, it just got three times worse. This year, I told myself I was going to make it better for my family, but then I lost my kids to CPS.

I looked out the window because Chad was shoutin’ ‘bout some person as black as coal outside, so I looked for myself. My oh my, for I saw Debbie Arnolds with her red wagon full of books and newspapers. I was happy to see her, definitely, but I couldn’t talk to her. All because she was black. Except that wouldn’t stop us from seeing each other. Debbie would sneak behind our house and climb up the tree near my room, open the window, and welcome herself. All we would talk ‘bout is how the people would make peaceful marches, how they wouldn’t resort to violence because that was the right thing to do.

This week has been fairly simple, yet exciting. The murder case we've been working so hard to get organized and ready for court continued on Tuesday. Last I remember, the case left off right before closing statements. Closing statements continued on Tuesday then leaving the decision up to the jury. Closing statements arent so interesting as they are on TV. They're usually very long and boring in my personal opinion. It is up to the attorney to keep the jury interested enough in their closing statement. Attorney Hamlin did was wonderful job with his closing statement; meanwhile, the states closing made me want to take a nap. The jury still did not make a decision so the trial continued until Wednesday. I am eager to know whether our client was

The sheer terror of losing a loved one as a child is devastating and often effects the way the child feels for years to come. During the evening of August 27th, 2002 I was making dinner with my grandmother. She was making my sister and me favorite pancakes. I loved spending time with my grandmother, because she always had unconditional love for our entire family. We set the table ate our enormous dinner and then we cleaned up the dishes and proceeded to the couch. While on the couch she supplied me with a snack of popcorn and read to me. After reading the book, my parents, sister and I left the house to go home. Little did I know, as I lay sleeping cozily in my bed, that a phone call would come into my mother, virtually changing the course

I was in that room when my mother died on February 18, this past Saturday. I was crushed. I can still see her on her deathbed, her bright blue eyes that were once full of life and excitement slowly fading into a despondent gray. Although, when she held my face, her eyes looking into mine, I could see them light up. Like someone had flipped a switch and she was good as new, but I knew. I knew that that switch could not be on for long, I knew that it was time, I knew that the day was getting closer and closer, I knew that the end was near. But I was not ready to say goodbye.

Getting arrested for not giving up my “colored” seat to a white man. This was an absolute outrage for many people like me. I was on my way home to work when I climbed in the bus for a ride. I sat in a colored seat specially made for colored people. The bus was fairly packed, so there weren't very many seats available. Then, a white man gets in the bus in need of a white seat. Because I was sitting near the white seats, the bus driver thought I should be the one to give up my seat.

You know, it does scare me. Knowing I will never see my family, my baby sister, or the land I once lived on. I’m scared of the white man. Not for how he looks, or feels. Bust knowing he can end my life whenever he likes, scares me. Living on a boat for months punished all of us severally. I couldn’t breathe, speak, or even move a muscle with the sharp pain of leather in my skin by the white man.