Personal Narrative Essay About Race

I am a 17 year old Hispanic female who was born in Denver, Co. I now live in the northern part of Denver. I attend an Apostolic church and participate in many of their activities.

Racial Inequality Situation : A black man in jail thinking about the unfair society I had a pencil the year I came to jail It wore out in a week from writing Penning down my thoughts for all I can Crying in the jail cell counting the bars I sat down on the cold floor with many scars I was all alone No family, no friends, separated from home

The whit jelly bean fits my personality the best. Firstly white’s surroundings are very neat and organized. This fits me because my room and backpack are always clean and everything has its own place. I love being clean and organized which is one reason white fits me. Secondly whites like to know the exact requirements to their work before they start. When writing a paper or doing some other work I like to know exactly how to do what I am asked so I do not mess up. When I know the exact requirements for my work I am more confident in my work. Thirdly whites are very deliberate when making decisions. This fits me because when faced with a decision I think of all the consequence before I make my choice. When I know I made the right

When I started this assignment, I was puzzled; Am I Chinese or am I Australian. I asked my Asian friends about their racial identity in hopes they could help me, but they didn’t know. It’s almost crazy to say that I didn’t know my own identity. I was born in Australia and both of my parents are of Chinese heritage. And after some intense and informative Google searches, I can now tell you that I am Chinese-Australian. My first language spoken was Cantonese and later I learnt English. But despite the fact that I was born and have lived in Australia my whole life; I have felt the immense pressure of just being a ‘nobody’ in society.

It was a blistering summer night at the Terre Haute Motor Speedway. The air was filled with cheering from the stands, smell of over sprayed WD-40 and the excited introductions of every race car driver's name screamed over the loud speaker. Modified, Super Modified, Midgets and Sprint cars were being pulled out of their trailers; gears and tires lay scattered across the dirt near the cars jacks like a weird game of operation ready to be played. Everything seemed to be going the way it always had before every race I'd driven, everything but the unexplainable doomed feeling I had in my gut that told me something was wrong, that this could very well be my last race.

It wasn’t a big moment, in fact nobody else on the course probably noticed it, but it’s a moment that I’ll never forget. I had raced the girl a few weeks ago, and had ended up beating her. At first, I didn’t even know her team was at the meet, and only realized she was there during the race. It was a hot meet, close to 100 degrees and I was probably a little dehydrated. In the middle of the course is a pretty steep hill and it was there that I began to have trouble breathing. By the middle of the hill I was almost hyperventilating, and it was then that this girl caught up to me. She could have easily passed me, and kept on running her race, but instead she slowed down and helped me fix my breathing. We ran the hill together, and soon I was breathing normally again. It was only then that we stopped running together. I beat her again that race, but it didn’t seem quite as important as before. This girl, who I had never really talked to, had stopped her race to help me, even though she could have ran a better time and placed better if she had just kept running.

Recently declared as having the number one college in the nation, Claremont, California has been a bastion of education for many years. It is a small college suburb town on the eastern edge of Los Angeles County with a population of about 35,500 people. While hailed as a diverse community, the city’s racial complexion is rather unvaried. Nearly 55 percent of the population identifying as “white” with the next highest ethnic group being those that are of Latino heritage, with around 22 percent of the population. Asian Americans and African Americans represent around 15 and 5 percent of the population, respectively (US). The median household income is around $88,000, higher than the average for all of California. Claremont also has 7.2 percent

When I enrolled as a freshman in San Gabriel, I always liked running, that’s why I joined our school’s Cross Country Team and I loved it. I didn’t like the running part but I loved the part when I can run with my friends and make new friends. I always thought that cross country is a boring sport, but when you are in the team it is like a family. We worked together to win the CIF competition. During my first meet I did not race yet, largely because I didn't feel confident. Some of my friends like Carlos and William created a social circle called “The San Gabriel Matadors Always Win!!!!!,” When I was running for my very first race, I was expecting a very long run. However, it turned out that I was doing very decent. I talked to myself, “I had finally finished it already!” At the end of the season, in Cross Country, the whole team had a banquet to celebrate the closing of the season. We also had a memorable award assembly.

I am a sweating mess. Even though I went to the bathroom a little bit ago, I feel the need to pee again. Of course this isn’t a new feeling for me. It happens every time I am about to step on deck for a race. Just moments ago, I was laying on my towel, boiling in the sun (don’t worry mom I put on lots of sunscreen), listening to Justin Bieber music with my purple headphones. The loud speakers came across “Events 18, 19, and 20 please report. Events 18, 19, and 20 please report.” It was time to go swim my heart out. Now, my coaches are trying to prep me, saying that if I “focus on long strokes and fast kicks you can win this.” I didn’t care about coming away with a first place finish today though. I wanted to break 29 seconds. I wanted

I discovered at a young age that introvertism is misinterpreted as a symptom of elitism. “Well, that’s just rude,” is the classically disgruntled, yet not unexpected retort when I sheepishly admit to a classmate I actually prefer to sit alone at lunch. My admission is not as taboo as it used to be, but the subtle recoils and maimed egos are all too familiar. I am not shy or antisocial or a misanthrope. I tend to gravitate towards books and retreat from the frenetic dynamic of a high school cafeteria for the solace of an excessively air-conditioned, silent library. For some reason, these tendencies are usually met with a scoff. Ironically, I devour the spotlight; I will reluctantly shuffle up towards the stage but then a tangible shift in the Earth’s axis will occur, for me at least. I’m recharged onstage, pumped with unadulterated

I stay in the south so I really experience racism a lot in my lifetime from a business standpoint and just everyday living. I remember when I was in junior high school, and a white teacher saw some black kids fighting and she said, “I just don’t understand these black people”, which she didn’t think no one heard her, but people still overheard her through all the commotion that was going on at the time. The teacher had a meeting with the principal and got suspended, but I think she shouldn’t have taught at the school anymore. I have endured racism from my own race as well because I been in grocery stores and I’ve seen black employees tell white customers thank you and come again after they have paid for their groceries, but after I pay for

I sit alone in the bleachers in the Olympic stadium. I am silent, unlike the people that surround me. The large man sitting next to me nudges me with his elbow. His hazel eyes are close together and his thick, dark eyebrows almost meet his long eyelashes. He has a scruffy beard and small scars around his mouth. “Where you from, kid?” the man says in his southern accent and deep, almost hoarse, voice.

The stage was black there was silence throughout the whole room. Standing there my heart racing, palms sweating, stomach twisting, legs shaking. Wanting to run but there is nowhere to run and not enough time. Our number was called and the nightmare began.

It was a normal Friday, or so I thought. I was playing with my grandma’s friendliest pit bull when out of the blue he bit me. I yelled at him for biting me, but I felt a tingle in my arm. I laid down to rest, not knowing that it was no normal bit, and I was going to have an extremely long Saturday ahead.

Though it does not happen much now, throughout my childhood I have been faced with the same conflict. I am sure many others like me as well, it is a common dilemma but all effects of it can be very different. It is a question that stirs up an inner fight between you who are and who others expect you to be, or in this case carry yourself. I have always been questioned why do I act white?