Every since I came to this city I have been feeling like a stranger. It is difficult to leave your hometown, what you are used to, and go to some weird city you have never been to before. I feel as if I have no one here, that no one understands me. Who shall I go to unload my thoughts unto ? In the midst of my solitude, whom shall I find to comfort me ? I feel like no one understands me. In the midst of all my troubles, with every tear, I must persevere. Even though I am in the midst of the same species, I feel estranged in this country.
My identity can be defined by moments in my life. Moving to Canada, learning English and going to high school are three major moments in my life. Going through these experiences have changed the person in me and made me more confident, stronger, better in everything.
One thing that does not interest me anymore is going outside. I used to always love going outside but not anymore that is like the top uninterested thing i'm into rite now. When i was a kid i loved going outside, after i got older i only go outside on the daily-bases now that i'm more mature.When i get in trouble my parents make me go outside for my punishment. Outside is just not interested to me
Threads to Which I belong is a book that captivated my soul. As I read through the pages of history, I found myself traveling back in time. Invisible I stood in Mississippi watching a family’s history unfold. As I turned the pages, my emotions changed constantly. I experienced emotions of anger, disgust, sorrow, and happiness. The author has written an outstanding piece of work that forces you to consider researching your own family history.
The students drew near as I reluctantly scurried towards the young mens bathroom where I could finally be alone. At the time, I lived in the snowy areas of northern New York, and while attending the infamous middle school, all of my worries in the world were heightened by 200%. From the first day of school, I wanted to fit in. While not even knowing what “fitting in” was, I was determined to do it. I desired to be liked by everyone around me with no worries in the world. I didn’t know that ironically, you couldn’t have both. As I tried to fit in, I noticed that others would flee from me in the halls as if I had an odor of a thousand pounds of garbage. I was confused why others would shy away from me in projects and hallways until the hints
What is identity? The definition as a person’s own sense of whom they are, which their past define them. Identity is very important in our society, no matter your social status. I can attach identity to belonging to something or place. As human race, we feel the need to belong to a group or place. Because belonging to a group or place, give us the sense of identity.
In Oklahoma, where there are bloody rumbles and serious crimes made here in this big city, but there is a tiny sixteen year old boy living in the middle of it all, and that was me, Johnny. The Greaser was like a second home for each other. They were rough, old fashion, and have been In rumbles where breaking your arm wasn’t a serious injury, but they help another out. I, in the other hand, was not like them. They say that heroes need a dark past in order to be stronger in the comics I read, but that didn’t happen to me. I was abused by my own parents and I got jumped by those rich Socs. They left scars and pain for me, I felt like I’ve gotten weaker after this, not stronger.
Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong, it seems like everywhere I turn there is a set group of people for every person, and finding where you fit in can be difficult; it’s almost like you’re invisible. I had to realize that the only reason I feel alone and lost sometimes is because I am too afraid to express myself. Once you embrace who you are, and stop hiding it is when you find your true identity. The only way to escape the feeling of lost identity is to live at the crossroads. To live at the crossroads means to live in a place where all of your different cultures and backgrounds can join together and become one.
When it comes to what separates me from other teenagers, there would be quite a bit to tell. I would say a major difference which separates me from my peers is my love for barbershop harmony music. I do not have a quartet of my own; however, I love to sing barbershop tags with other friends at church. I set myself apart from the world because of my beliefs: as a New Testament christian, I believe the bible gives us all instruction concerning spiritual matters.
Being able to keep an open mind even in the face of something that is completely new to you is a difficult feat to accomplish for some, including myself. I am a naturally curious person, but also come from a town where there is not much diversity so any sort of deviation from the “norm” has always piqued my interest. One of the most enlightening experiences I have had was as a student in high school when I joined the gay straight alliance club and one of the guests they brought in was transexual. This was the first time I had been exposed to someone who identified in that category and I was interested and unsure of how I would react to meeting this person.
An outsider is someone that doesn’t belong in a particular organization or group, the orphan boy and the elk dog is a story that talks about an outsider boy that’s rejected by everyone around him because of his disabilities and difference between him and everyone around him. My personal experience about being an outsider happened 4 years ago and it was a very tough experience that I hope I’d never go through again.
My whole life I’ve felt like an outsider. When I was younger dealing with a learning disability, I have had a hard time making and keeping friends even to this day. I struggle with being a follower instead of a leader. My own adoptive father verbally abused me growing up and I also had kids in fifth-sixth grade who constantly bullied me. I still am reminded of an instance when the first day of fifth grade approached: I got on the bus and these older girls started making fun of my pants saying, “She’s wearing high-waters.” I was humiliated in front of my peers every day since than during those two years. After being bullied for so long I made a vow to myself to never forget the pain inflicted upon me on a daily basis.
When my mother asked me to read a book a few months ago, I was hesitant to agree. A stressful school year was approaching, and seeing my friends on a Saturday night seemed much more appealing. When I was younger, curling up with a good book was a typical pastime. Then came high school, and reading was replaced with countless hours of studying, cheer practice, and trying to figure out when I could catch up on some much needed rest.
I am the outsider. I attended beginner sailing camp with my brother, Kent. I had never stepped foot on a sailboat while my brother had sailed since the previous fall. He knew all the instructors because they were fellow high school sailors. I was in a whole different world: the sailing world. New terms like “line” instead of “rope” was being drilling into my head. All instructors and Kent continuously said, “There is no rope on a boat, only line.” The bonding of Kent and the high school instructors made me jealous and envious of their relationship. At that time I was the outsider, who knew nothing about sailing.
For most couples, its all consuming, instant adoration. But for me and my wife, it was affection at first sound. She called me at 2 am, and I happened to be remaining by the telephone, so she vented to me, the faceless outsider. We wound up talking for hours, knowing each other, and becoming hopelessly
One aspect of my identity that has shaped my life experience and the way I see the world is my race. I am an African- American who has Nigerian descent from both parents. Growing up African American is hard for many of us, but we always come together to help each other out. We get judged for our skin color, religion, sexuality, and economic status. When I was younger, I always thought about what other people would say about me and how I looked. Even though it was hard seeing how other races portrayed my race, I have learned to embrace my skin color and not let anybody judge me. The society believes that African Americans are lazy, uneducated, and violent. Things people say about me and my race only make me want to prove myself to them that I am proud of my race and would never change myself for anybody.