Personal Narrative: My Cultural Identity

Throughout my life, I have struggled with accepting my cultural identity. My parents were born and raised in India, but I was born here, in the United States, and hence, born an American citizen.

I was born and raised in the Dominican Republic. My family was catholic and so I was taught to pray and by the age of 13 I had all my sacraments. For most of my life I lived the downtown area of the main city where my mother and her family had also grown up. I considered myself very lucky because even though our economic security was not the best as I grew up, my mother always strived for me to receive the best education she could afford. As a result, I learned to speak English from a very young age and then French, I learned to play the guitar and also to paint. I also took embroidery and etiquette classes and so on. Because of the location where we lived, I also took advantage of many cultural interactions with people from other

Skating is a main part of my cultural identity, but so is riding dirt bikes and quads. Aside from the fun activity’s, I have more important things to do, such as getting good grades so I can get into college, and being respectful to others and myself.

Most people define someone’s culture by what they see on the outside, however what’s on the outside doesn’t always define who you are. When you hear the word culture you might think of someone’s ethnicity as a main factor. While most ethnic groups might have similar traditions among their people, individually, the people are very different. My cultural identity is like an iceberg, you may see a little bit, but there is still a lot to be discovered.

When I think of culture I think of the way I live and where I come from. My culture describes how I act and who I am. My cultural identity is country. My favorite thing about my culture is the food eat because it is some great food. Culture is also about the food I eat, the clothes I wear, the music I listen to, the language I speak, and my religion.

As a Mexican-American person my perspective of Cultural Identity is unique from other people. The music I listen to, the food I eat, and the way I dress is different. Mexico is my country and so is United States, I love both of them. My mom was born in Mexico and my dad in California. I have two types of culture, my Mexican culture and the way of life in the U.S.

Growing up as a child, I wore my dark black hair back in tight braids, baggy jeans, my tanned skin in white tank tops, and sneakers; not to express culture appropriation, but because it was all that I had. My surrounding environment was full of diverse races, and seeing color was a part of my daily routine. As I grew up and began to change throughout life, my environment did as well. I moved from the city streets to a suburban area, and as time wore on I noticed a distinct lack of color amongst my peers. Instead of me looking at the world the same day by day, it was as if the entire world was looking at me.

I was born in the summer of 1964, to lower middle class parents, my mother was divorced with having left three young sons behind with her first husband. My father owned a very popular gas station and repair shop, by birth being the result of a torrid love affair, this topic remained in the gossip pool well into my twenties. I was kept in the dark until Jr. high school, my mother was forced to tell me part of her truth, after the principal sent a note home. My mother suffered from depression and substance abuse as a coping mechanism to sooth her pain. At the age of two my mother gave birth to my sister, although, my mother loved us, I believe her pain tortured her relentlessly. Soon my father choose alcohol to numb his

The cultural background that I have come from is a rural agricultural farm. Farming is an industry that is not very easy and through working on my family farm I have come in contact with many struggles and hardships. I have also had hardships through the loss of loved ones. Having to deal with many of these trials in my life has helped me to become a stronger woman. I have also been able to show more dedication, hard work, commitment, and enthusiasm towards my leadership roles and the interactions that I have with others within my involvement of my job, clubs, and volunteer work.

Do you ever feel like your culture is changing, or it is changing and you just do not know? Well mine does, and there are many elements that make up my culture, and this elements change. They change because I am introduced into a new culture and some aspects of that culture gets me interested leading me to change certain things about my cultural identity. My cultural identity is based off of three major elements. The first element is religion, my parents force me to do these religious things but then I end up enjoying them. The second element is art, I use art to impress others and hope on making new friends doing so. The last major element is social organization, I have a wide variety of friends and family contributed to the definition of me.

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".

Who am I? Where do I belong? I was raised and born in Palm Springs, California. I'm German, Irish, Jewish, the rest I'm not sure. In California it was normal being white. I didn't feel like an outsider. I felt normal. But when I moved to Hawaii I didn't feel normal. I didn't know people would judge you for being white or as they say it, a "Haulie" . But I think I let that word get the best of me because it's only a word that describes a white person. That's what I am. But the only thing that gets to me is, why do they say it? Why do they have to remind me that I'm white? I been with myself for along time, I think I know I'm white.

My cultural identity varies between the food i eat, the language i speak, and the clothing i wear. Based on how and where people grow up i believe that’s what makes up those 3 things. For example, i spent most my life in northern europe and the way you see things and what you hear in the united states are far different things from what you would hear and see over there. Every state seems to adapt to having many different people with many different cultures from all around the world. I believe a big part of all of their cultural identities had to do with what was inherited in their families and maybe even friends.

I come from a small rural farm where I was born and raised all my life and where I grew up with two loving parents and one sister. Ever since I was a young girl, religion has always been a big part of my life because I was born and raised Catholic. My mothers’ side of the family is German Catholic decent and my fathers’ race is German and Cherokee Indian. Even though they are mainly German combined I have always found it interesting that I have Native American blood running through my veins. It is obvious that my parents are both Caucasian and were middle class individuals when I was growing up. I would now classify my parents to be in the higher class because they are worth more now then twenty-five years ago. Even though my parents have more money now than what they did when growing up on the farm, a strong work ethic was important to my parents. I am thankful they instilled this within me because I have always worked hard for everything in my life and I know that this will payoff for me one day. My parents also told me that education will get me further in life and it has. I am the first of my family to graduate from college let alone getting my masters as well. So when looking

My life is a difficult case that most surgeons turn away because they foresee a terminal ending. Though I am the patient, I have decided to take the scalpel into my own hands because I cannot accept defeat.