Personal Narrative: Half-States Race

What it feels to be mixed race during a fight for black lives?. It’s very hard when it comes to being mixed, but that’s life it never comes easy. As for me being mixed I know how it feels never allowed to be our own person in a sense. I feel you shouldn’t have to say, “I’m Black” or “I’m White”, being forced to pick a side, never allowed to stand in the middle with my own ideas.

I was late for school, and my father had to walk me in to class so that my teacher would know the reason for my tardiness. My dad opened the door to my classroom, and there was a hush of silence. Everyone's eyes were fixed on my father and me. He told the teacher why I was late, gave me a kiss goodbye and left for work. As I sat down at my seat, all of my so-called friends called me names and teased me. The students teased me not because I was late, but because my father was black. They were too young to understand. All of this time, they thought that I was white, because I had fare skin like them, therefore I had to be white. Growing up having a white mother and a black father was tough. To

I am an African American. You must be wondering what’s my name since im “black”, you might be thinking that its ghetto, right? No need to know where I came from, you must think that I come from the projects right? It’s not like it’s important to you. You probably think that my future plans are that I won’t finished high school and that I will become pregnant. One look at the color of my skin is all it takes. Right? Look again.

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.

The world is over 196 million square miles that is home to over 7 billion people all with unique qualities and backgrounds. Me being a caucasian living in Lakewood Colorado I lived though the generic lifestyle of a christian. Church every Sunday and quiet family meals were normal for us but what I didn’t realise was that there was a whole world of ethnically and culturally different people just an ocean away.

I grew up here in the U.S.A and my parents from the U.S also. I live in an ethnically diverse community that the residents show a deeper understanding of their ancestry’s culture. The term of senses that I witness is sight and audio. Since on the daily basis I hear, people speak other languages such as Spanish, Korean, Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, French, and Japanese. In the term of sight, I see who are from Asian background bow to each, African American nod at each other when walking pass, and people just slight smiling at each other. From my culture since I am African American we really do not that many of greeting each other. We would slight nod or smile and make eye contact or for the males who do a doing the handshake and shoulder bump maneuver.

Today is the day for State track, the day I been working the whole season. When we pulled up to the stadium there were lot’s of people. I was so nervous, because I never been to a track meet like this before. We got everything unloaded from the suburban, walked into the stadium and was suprised how many people was there. When it was time to walk over to the discus ring, I saw girls throwing far. I was nervous. It was time for me to warm up and I had three practice throws. The first one was close to the hundreds, second one past hundred, and third past hundred and five. I looked over at my grandpa and he smiled. He said, no more practice throws, I was happy but nervous at the sometime. When it was my turn I went up to the ring and threw around the hundreds. After I got done

My first recollection of race was daycare. I remember seeing many different skin and eye colors but didn’t understand how they were so much more different than me. I recall asking my mother why I didn’t have green eyes and how my skin color was different. She explained everyone is made differently that’s what makes them unique. My first recollection of racism was in third grade. The nurse came to the classroom to check the classroom for lice. Myself and a few other classmates weren’t checked properly because she didn’t want to touch our hair. Instead of bringing us out individually she called us by a group which made me feel different. Also, I was told it’s impossible to get lice because of the hair products used.

While looking for studies for this literature review, it was found that there are not many peer reviewed journals on narrative identity and race. There were only about 150 studies that have the same basis as this study and this illustrates that this topic is still a relatively new idea and needs more research to break ground on narrative identity and race identity. In a similar research study, oral and written race narratives were collected from 80 self-identified Black and Multiracial students at a historically Black university using the Guided Race Autobiography and the Race Autobiographical Memory Questionnaire (Mangum 2011). Race narratives (N = 447) were coded for narrative structure, race thematic content, and emotional tone, while descriptive

Race has shaped our world greatly, as we have slowly learned that just because someone’s skin is darker does not mean they are any less of a person. For example, Rosa Parks was one of the first black people to stand up for themselves. Black people were told to sit at the back of the bus but Rosa did not follow these rules. She was asked to move but she did not give up her seat, that was closer to the front. She taught us that just because she is black does not mean she deserves less respect. Another example is, Hate Crimes.in 1989 a law was passed that added the black community to hate crimes, which means that if someone hurt them because of the colour of their skin there will be severe consequences. This was passed to show that the government

I am mixed. Mixed [black/white] people can look mixed, they can look white, they can look black. Although it may make a lot of sense, you cannot always determine a person's race solely off of skin color. When people assume I am fully white it is the same thing as telling me "the entire other portion of your race doesn't exist nor does it matter." I want the other half of me to be recognized. It may not be prominent physically, but that does not make me any less mixed than any other mixed person. There are a lot of slurs and stereotypes directed at people like me: Oreo, the blackest white person/whitest black person (not exclusive to mixed people), mutt, calf, zebra,

I used to live in Nebraska in the country area somewhere between Waverly and Eagle. However that all changed when my dad got a job promotion, along with the promotion came with the requirement of moving to South Dakota, as he would be working in Sioux Falls.

I have been running distance for past few years and I have learned a lot because of it. These thing include many life skills that will forever stick with me throughout my life. But there is one skill that I learned from my first race and is the far most meaningful and important skill that I ever learned from running.

Three, Two, One, and the race is off. 30,000 runners pass me in the blink of an eye. I hear the laughter all around. I feel the joy spreading through the area. As the time flys by I see runners starting to cross the finish line and the whole atmosphere turned. Boom! A loud noise followed by a large chunks of gravel flying in the air. Screaming and terror rose as another bomb exploded 12 seconds after. I see the fear of faces scatter throughout the street. Myself and many others, can’t put together what just happened. My instincts kicked in and I run into the action. We’ve just been apart of another U.S terrorist attack.

My huge failure was like the recapitulation of the experience of the race: I had to grow foul with knowledge, realize the futility of everything, smash everything, grow desperate, then humble, then sponge myself off the slate, as it were, in order to recover my authenticity. I had to arrive at the brink and then take a leap in the