Personal Narrative Essay: Gender Stereotypes

Growing up in Bakersfield in Seven Oats and Rosedale, as an African-American family, I learned what race was and how it effects my family. Going to schools that were majority white race was difficult because parents seemed to look at us different and prejudged my seven sibling and I because they were uncomfortable with their children playing sports and hanging out with “black kids”. Even at a very young age, I learn what race was because I would get verbal questionnaires by friends, classmates or teachers about my hair, clothing style and athletic capabilities. Questions about why was I different from the majority always was whispered or written on many people faces. My neighbors would see my family living in a five-bedroom house with two back

Growing up in the rural town of Browns Mills, being a Black girl was like a dime a dozen; it held no signifying factors for me. Whether you were White, Black, Spanish, or any other group, the people I grew up with accepted everyone despite it. Such acceptance while enjoyable, did not fortify me for the later struggles I would confront after leaving the socially idyllic neighborhood. Since my town was accepting of everyone there was never a need to learn about or claim aspects of my diversity. My biggest personal claim to diversity in my childhood was the being great (many times over) granddaughter of to a Seminole Chief. Even this story, passed down through my family, was hard to prove. I had a disinterest in carrying over my families

Many are unaware of the effects that race has played in their lives over the years. Some may not understand its implications, but are very oblivious to it. Race can influence such things like attitude and behavior. Nowadays being white or black means something more than just a Crayola color. No longer are they just colors, they are races with their own rules and regulations. People of color have been inferior to the white race for centuries. In their own way Zora Neale Hurston shows this concept in her story “How it feels to be Colored Me” as does Richard Wright in his autobiographical sketch “The Ethics of Living Jim Crow”.

Having a black father and a white mother has always had some family members question my kinship to them. The older I got, the more my identification became reliant on one aspect of myself over the other. The African-American part of me became suspect in the eyes of certain family members with no real comprehension on my part as of why. I saw ignorance towards my whiteness, not only within society but within my own family, which resulted in the inability to perceive my blackness.

Growing up, I always felt like an outsider. I yearned for a sense of belonging, but I would always have to bring myself to a constant realization about the implication of my existence—I was black and white, not one or the other, but both. The continual task of “checking one box” on surveys and papers didn’t really help the situation either. Being the product of an African-American father and an Irish-American mother made me appreciate and understand all the variations of race and culture in the spectrum, but it also left me in this murky-gray area with no sense of direction—a feeling that most multiracial

Growing up, race was never an issue for me. I almost always knew what racism was, but I always thought it was a thing of the past, and completely ended when Jim Crow laws were abolished. I thought race did not affect my everyday life, but recently I have learned that even today, being White in America has greatly affected my life. Being White in America has affected how I identity racially, where I grew up, who I grew up with, where I went to College, where I went to high school, and provided me with advantages that many minorities are not lucky enough to have. I have realized this by looking at my life and reflecting through C. Wright Mills’ Sociological Imagination(Lambert Lecture). I connected this to my collage through

With the exception of one show featuring a black woman with light skin and a nose much thinner than mine, I was immersed in pretty white women primetime almost 24/7. I decided that these women were whom I had to look like if I wanted to be beautiful. Light skin was beautiful. It was smart. It was sophisticated. Dark skin was ugly. It was uneducated. It was violent. These are the ideas and the stereotypes that were perpetrated through the media, through my friends, and even through some of my family members. I developed an irrational fear of being categorized as unintelligent or uncultured because of my dark skin. I realize now that I wasn’t the only one being unknowingly taught this kind of

Growing up in a white community, there was never any people I really related to at home. Since my mom and date are separated I grew up in a completely white household, feeling as if I never truly embraced my biracial color. All the girls at school idolized stars like Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus and Demi Lovato; so I followed in suit. However, these stars didn’t look like me, there weren’t many biracial stars portrayed in the media. That is until 2008, when Barrack Obama ran for president. I remember the excitement around him, a black man running for office. However, I was more intrigued by Michelle, I finally saw someone like myself in the media, I found a woman I could look up to.

A few months ago I had the opportunity to go watch Jordan Peele’s hit film “Get Out”. While watching the film I noticed that I was one of few individuals in my friends group that was both biracial and had grown up in a predominately white community. Due to these factors I believe I approached the movie from a different angle than many of my friends. While watching the movie I heavily identified with the use of micro-aggressions that were displayed in the film. I was very pleased to see that Peele has highlighted this important social issue that many individuals face. Also, while watching the movie I began to think more about my black identity. Being biracial, your kind of swinging back and forth on a pendulum until people decide how they want

I like men, as in I only date men. Other than that most of them piss me off. I couldn’t tell anyone how many men have made me mad in just this year, and i’m not someone who gets mad very easily.

I was raised in a traditional Italian family. This meant that I grew up surrounded by warmth, love, and lots of pasta. It also meant that the men were in charge of the household and the women were in charge of the kitchen. Quite a cliche. Fortunately, the men in my immediate family weren't too chauvinistic, but being with my extended family felt like stepping into a different country and time. I knew the men weren’t intentionally dominant, it was just how things had been and would be. It was just tradition.

I grew up with five older sisters, but don’t let that fool ya. Girls are tougher then you think. They are mean and devous. I learned to be smart and bid my time whenever I wanted reveange. For years they tormented me and managed to always pin me to the ground when we wrestled. This is a story of payback, when we finaly get even.

Well, obviously, as a teenage guy, the first thing I do on Monday morning, after I've finished those designated duties, is head upstairs to his bedroom and find porn online. I've never really considered sex with a man — this is the conservative Midwest — but I dig into the straight material with vigor. A few hours later, I've jerked off four times, lying on his bed, scrolling through various websites, fast-forwarding through each video that catches my interest, my cock lubed up thanks to a big bottle of KY from my nightstand drawer.

Since the beginning of time, gender has played a big role in how one acts and how one is looked upon in society. From a young age children are taught to be either feminine or masculine. Why is it that gender plays a big role in the characteristics that one beholds? For centuries in many countries it has been installed in individual’s heads that they have to live by certain stereotypes. Women have been taught to be feeble to men and depend on them for social and economical happiness. While men have been taught to be mucho characters that have take care of their homes and be the superior individual to a woman. For the individuals who dare to be different and choose to form their own identity whether man or woman, they are out casted and

As I walked out of my nine-story apartment complex, I saw an interesting array of faces. Mixed genders, some male, some female, all very different deep down inside. I study their faces, wondering what it'd be like to walk a day in their shoes. Some people are like open books, you can look at their facial expression and instantly guess what their emotions are, yet others are like locked diaries. You can't tell what they're thinking and you'll probably never know. I shake the thought out of my head as I rummage through my pathetic excuse of a handbag, pulling out my most recent bank statement. Thirty-two cents to my name. How do I live like this? My train of thought is lost as my mind ponders elsewhere. Do you think people can tell I'm a broke