Personal Narrative: My Agar Culture

The sweet smell of tres leches cake baking in the oven, the overwhelming odor of tamales being made in the kitchen, the destruction and cracks of the piñata, the laughter radiating from the adults enjoying their beers. If there was one keystone that holds together my identity and life, it would be my Mexican culture. This culture has an extensive history and tradition that unifies people together. There exist many stereotypes and stigmas recently about Hispanics due to the ongoing War on Drugs. Some people are afraid of us. There is plenty of hateful rhetoric spread around, and I am here to prove those assertions wrong. There is a certain degree of pride in being Hispanic. What many fail to realize is that wherever I go, whoever I encounter,

I am a Native American born and raised in Jamestown, Virginia. It was always just my father and I, my mother passed away when I was an infant, so my father raised me to be an independent woman. My father is the head commander of the tribe. He only allowed me to go to the village near our tents. I never went further than the village, till this one day that I was feeling so curious about what was out there, so I decided to walk beyond the village to see what there is to explore.

Growing up with two different Heritages is like growing up in two different worlds, it was tough growing up being Native and Hispanic I would either get made fun of because I was Native or I was made fun of for being Hispanic. I guess you can say that I have somewhat of a different life, living with any Hispanic family but considering myself more Native, because just at home i just speak spanish, and eat amazing food made by my mother who isn’t even Hispanic who’s just Native American who didn’t consider herself Native American because she herself lived with my grandmother or she lived with a family friend who was Hispanic and showed her things about a culture that she didn’t know anything about.

My bucket filled with images represents my surface and deep culture unique to me. I found out where I got my passions and which people influenced my culture, and what I need to do to continue to keep my culture and faith to be something I’m proud of.

On March 24, 2017, I went to Evangeline Downs in Opelousas, Louisiana. I arrived there at around 12:30 a.m. Before I was able to get there I had to meet my boyfriends cousin at Walmart. I met him at Walmart because I was not allowed to get in the race track side of the casino where all the horses are without a racing I.D. The only way I could get through the security gate was by my boyfriends cousin.

Growing up singing has always been my talent. Country and Pop music, at the time, were genres I sang well. It was seventh grade year when I was told by a judge, "A good singer can sing one genre well, but a great singer can sing multiple genres well". It was then on I have a women in my town that gives me personal lessons to extend my singing talent. I have gotten all ones my first three years in high school, and still striving to accomplish another one rating.

I grew up in rural Texas where you quickly learn to take care of things that are important to you. Sports and livestock were about the only things to do in my hometown. My sophomore year of high school was my first meaningful interaction with healthcare. I contracted a staph infection during one of my games that season and it got to the severity that I had to be hospitalized for several days. The infection spread throughout my arm and was coming close to getting into my elbow. All I was worried about was how long I was going to be out of football, not thinking about the real possibility of losing my arm. That all changed when the physician examined my arm. He made me realize that I had a serious infection, not by scaring me, but by showing genuine concern and care.

I met him once or twice again over the years, but our initial conversation never came up again. He and his wife passed away a few years ago after a good and long life. I was saddened as they were part of that strong farm family culture which has made Weld County such a great place to live and work. To make a long story short, it seems that he left instructions with my business card for his children to contact LGE regarding the disposition of the farm, stating that LGE was a good company with people whom they could trust. The ultimate success of this and other projects will depend on the ongoing trust, goodwill, and cooperation of a number of third party entities in both the private and public sectors as well as the competitive services we

What is culture? According to Dr. Dennis O’Neil from the Behavioral Sciences Department at Palomar College in San Marcos, CA, “ culture is the full range of learned human behavior” and includes morals, traditions, and beliefs (1). First morals could be opinions rather than facts. Opinions on what is right and wrong, L.G.B.T ( Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender), and abortion. Many people have different perspectives on morals. Not everyone agrees with others peoples opinion on these certain perspectives. Next, every culture has some sort of tradition. In America, a huge celebration would be the Super Bowl. Families and friends gather together to watch the largest football game of the year, and to barbecue. Lastly many people

I don’t really know much about my identity through my heritage. However, my ‘identity’ has been found through my family’s and I’s moral beliefs and teachings. I couldn’t tell you much about before I was born, but I can say right now, I belong to people who accept me for me. Everything I am. Where I come from and who I’m going to be is because of the people I’ve chosen to immerse myself around. A quote by a man named Francis Conroy says it best, “As you age naturally, your family shows more and more on your face.” I hope this is true for me when I’m older. The values and traditions that I’ve always been around is something I am extremely proud of. The quote later goes on to say, “If you deny that, you deny your heritage.” No matter how many times I leave the family nest or allow myself to figure

What is culture? Culture is the idea of what is wrong or right, the concept of what is acceptable within our society. Culture serves us as a guide, taking us to the "right way" and helping us to make sense of things that surrounds us. There are many different cultures around the world. A lot of them are similar in specific ways and others are just completely different, this difference explains why we think that people from different backgrounds are "weird".

I am from a white Anglo Celtic background. I grew up in a small country town in Victoria and went to a catholic primary school and high school. My parent’s, their friends, my friends, my classmates and my teachers were all Anglo Celtic also. My schooling was very much based on catholic learning’s and western culture. Using the seven step process outlined in Sue & Sue (2013) I will reflect on my own cultural identity development.

When I am asked about my cultural identity I think about my ethnicity. Being an Indian in a predominantly white school I feel awkward and out of place. Through the conflicts of my race and religion I have learned more about myself and my cultural identity.

When I was growing up, I’ve always thought I could be independent on myself, rather than my parents. This impulsive thought showed reason why I was one of the millions of naive people out there. To be honest, I didn’t really understand the world because I always thought of it to be some sort of joke. I took it for a joke and never heeded my parents’ warning about colleges and education. When 7th grade came around the corner, I started to heed their advice and started to take education, seriously. I maintained all A’s, however, my parents’ told me that the way I acted can really change the outcome. I never knew that academics wasn’t the only thingy colleges cared about. As a kid, I always thought the smartest prevail in the world.

It all began on July 5, 2015, when my family and I traveled back from Fort Davis, Texas, to our home in Gardendale, Texas, after visiting our family for a Fourth of July celebration. As we entered into Odessa, we noticed vehicles stranded on the interstate that impeded our progress. Irritably, we were forced to stop in the middle of the road. Instantly, the music paused. In frustration, I started switching the stations; nevertheless, all remained silent. After several minutes of scanning dead air, finally the radio connected to the station, 93.3 FM. An emergency broadcast announcer alerted the entire Permian Basin area that a group of oil drillers, near the Meteorite Crater, struck a barrel, buried twenty-two feet under the ground.