Personal Narrative: I Went To The Ghetto In The United States

grew up in Chicago, Illinois, a beautiful city surrounded by violence and controversy by the media. I found things more simple when I was kid growing up here, there wasn't much to worry about but as I got older things became more complex here. The sounds of the " L "' or as you know it as, The Train, and the roaring sounds of cars passing by my house made me feel alive while growing up and as a matter of fact still does. You could wake up in the morning and see the vibrant blue skies being pierced by the skyscrapers and see other kids playing ball or riding their bikes. When it was summer time I would play ins sprinklers or go downtown and play in the fountains with my family. Of course, like most big cities I had to watch my back while growing up because you never knew what somebody was up to. It's weird really growing up here because you never know what's going to happen next , wether it's a good thing or a bad thing. All I can really say about growing up in Chicago is that if I had the chance to redo it, I'd do if a million times.

Growing up in the Chicago area was a great experience for me, I was always a good kid but I had always struggled in school. The reason that I had a hard time in school was that I had A.D.D which was the cause of my distraction. Entering Pritzker College Prep was a different experience for me because I was overwhelmed, the reason as to why I felt overwhelmed was because of the amount of homework we got. I ended up spending nights where I would do my homework and wouldn’t get a sufficient amount of sleep and would also cause me to fall asleep in class. My grades started to drop which caused me to stop caring in school, so I also decided to just stop doing my homework and it caused a decrease in my grades.

I never once experienced a blatant, explicit attempt to expose my minority status in the Bronx. The incident that I had on the court never escalated because of what any of those guys explicitly said. There was never a verbal attempt to make me feel marginalized. I lived in the Bronx for about one year, and I can honestly say that outside of my culture shock I never experienced any explicit impact from my symbolic markers. However, I implicitly felt as though I was at least seen differently on a day-to-day basis because of my physical characteristics and first language. I often felt awkward on the subway train after 86th street, especially after hearing of the well-known stereotype that I mentioned earlier. I had heard my friends who are people of color from Ann Arbor explain their sentiments of how it felt to be the only person of color in a room, and the implications that often come along with that, such as feeling alone and everyone expecting that person to speak

It all began in the year 1955. This was the year that so many great things shook the foundation of America that will never be forgotten for years and years to come. My name is Joyce Norman I was a military brat that was born and raised in the small town of Fayetteville, North Carolina along with one brother and four sisters. To show a little humor, this is another place like Texas that has bipolar weather from sunny skies with a hint of rain to a giant blizzard that’ll give you a death of pneumonia. Throughout, the years of my life as an African American we heard songs of change, we were insured and inspired in church that change would come some way or another either in the community or in our nation. As the world continued to change I

Growing up in the US as an immigrant, my childhood was a little different from most people’s. I faced many struggles due to the differences in cultures, social, and economics. However, I was able to overcome all those challenges and become a more humble, responsible, and determined individual because of my ability to adapt quickly, be compassionate, and stay goals-oriented.

We lived in the ghettos for all of 2 weeks before we were taken to a camp. My family was split up so my mother, my sister, and I were together and my Father was alone. The work camps were terrible they forced us into hard labor my mother and I knew how to sew so we were put into a work group to sew up soldiers uniforms. I ber one day my mother pricked her finger and got blood on one of the uniforms she was beaten by an S.S officer and yelled at continually. If I ever made a mistake or did something wrong my mother would take the beating for me. I objected every time but she would never let anything happen to me. My older sister was not good at sewing but luckily was put near us she helped cook for everyone in the camp. I will always remember the day of the selection my mother was not chosen but I was my mother tried to talk me into believing that getting picked this time was good and that we needed to say goodbye because she was leaving. I knew the truth though. The next day an officer called out the names of the chosen people my name was called. We were told we were going to take a shower. When they stopped us we were in a big room I did not see any shower heads “Gas chamber” I heard someone mumble. I knew my last breath was going to be soon. All at once gaas entered the room coughing came from all around. I said my last goodbye and said a silent Kaddish for myself and the people I was with. I then took my final breath while many

Life was to challenging for a young African American boy like me. My mother always yelling at me, “Jonathan stay inside, you are more safe in here!” People tell me I am different in a bad way. But when I try to enjoy my life, I am told to leave. I can not go to many places, as they have many signs saying, “No Negroes Allowed” Or when I am able to live a normal life, I am separated and put into a certain spot. Life was very challenging, but as life went on and I went to school, I gained more knowledge on what was really happening. The whites were being biased on African Americans. They thought they were better than us, and we were the minorities. This was very unconstitutional of them. I realized that we did not have the equality rights of others.

In my own experience, race has never been an issue and hasn’t restricted me in any areas. Being white, however, I may have unknowingly reaped benefits. Due to this, it is sometimes hard to wrap my mind around the obstacles other people run into based on their race. My stance on race has not evolved much from age four to seventeen. However, with information obtained through social media and in-school discussions on the topic, I have come to better understand the views of others on racial issues.

After getting the news that my family and I have to move into a ghetto I had to decide

Imagine the news headlines filled with nothing but people like you - same hair, skin, defining features - except all the headlines are filled with death. Death at the hands of people we are all taught to trust with our safety. This is how my 2015 summer had been. Days upon days of headlines with black people being killed by “peace” officers. As the list of names grew longer, it became apparent that there was no intention to protect the black community, instead, the public was being “protected” from us. Growing up in a community of minorities, I had come to believe that there was a sense of solidarity in our struggles. I was wrong in thinking our shared status meant unity. At the core of every marginalized community, is a sense of anti-blackness. This harsh realization happened during a class discussion when everyone was throwing into my face that ultimately my feelings and thoughts did matter. I was reminded that I was an other and I stood alone in this fight for my community.

This is a very interesting story. I am glad that she got to experience how the real life for most of us is, and how sometimes we only work to pay rent and bills. I myself can relate to that with my family. We came here in 2006, and my as an immigrant my mom had to work in whatever she could find, just to be able to pay rent and give me food. This is the reason why I go to school, to better myself, and to be able to get a job that I enjoy doing, and that it will give me a good paycheck. Honestly I feel bad for many people because, it is very hard to live in this country while getting paid minimum wage, but this is why we have to sacrifice ourselves and go to school to become someone.

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.

It was a normal day in the streets of Harlem, New York. Men and women moving to and fro through the streets, but one situation involving the eviction of an elderly negro couple disturbed this everyday serenity. The policemen were forced to dodge fists from the old lady as they attempted to properly evict the old couple. A large crowd gathered around the corner building, watching in horror as the elderly couple had their all their possessions tossed out onto the sidewalk. Shouts from the couple could be heard throughout the ordeal, some including statements such as “It’s all the white folks, not just one. They all against us. Every stinking low-down one of them.” It was apparent that the old lady seemed to be especially triggered by the policemen

Growing up in the ghetto is one of the toughest endeavours anyone can go though. I’m not talking about a ghetto that's inherited by nothing other than a single race as defined, but the stereotypical ghetto with guns and poor housing, houses without doors, that make a Sunday driver want to get out of there as soon as possible before they get mugged or worse. Living in South Lansing on Martin Luther King Jr. and right next to Board of Water and Light weren’t the worst ghettos in Michigan, however, they still weren’t the best place for anybody to live around. Once when I was living in Traditions, on MLK Blvd., two people were shot right in our backyard, which wasn’t even a surprise for us because something like that was always happening around

We just arrived in the ghetto a couple weeks ago. Things here have been very intense. People are starving everywhere, and there are dead bodies in the streets. We hadn't eaten in days, and me and the Milgroms were starting to deteriorate very quickly.