Personal Narrative: My Culture In America

And then she turned to me. I felt special that she had saved me for last. I smiled at her, and she did the same to me. We had grown inseparable over the past few years especially, but now it was time to say goodbye. I knew at that point that nothing at all would change, that we would still be sisters, still be best friends, still be inseparable. Who cares if we’re 5 ½ hours away? This was us.

On my first day of pre-kindergarten, I entered the classroom slowly placing one foot onto the ground after another gripping onto my Strawberry Shortcake backpack tightly seeking protection. I arrived at the classroom door and noticed something. The children frolicking around the room playing tag were different. The other children had skin the color of snow and chocolate, while mine resembled that of caramel. Of course, I had encountered those of other races or ethnicities, however it was overwhelming and quite sudden for me, for some reason. Perhaps I had expected all the other children to look similar to me. I had not realized at the time that my town had had very few Indians at the time, and had a white and black majority. I had been quite

Twelve years ago, my life changed forever. Giddy with the idea of a new opportunity, my family made the decision pick up our lives in Fujisawa, Japan, and fly to the other side of the world. As a seven year old girl, I was oblivious to the hardships that awaited me in America. In school, language forged a towering barrier between me and the rest of my classmates, where my inability to communicate and understand American culture left me without a single companion. Although I became accustomed to the language overtime, my disconnect with American culture still restricted my ability to connect with my peers. In this time of anguish, I created my first social media account, Facebook, at the suggestion of my mother. While the sudden influx of information

The typical American life is pretty straight forward, right? You start off in school with the determination of getting a good education, so later along the road you can go to college. Afterwards, we all try to find a good job, so you can make lots of money, and then retire. First off, i’m not trying to tell you that you shouldn’t try to strive towards these things, but rather that we spend so much time on stuff that doesn't really matter in life. I’ll elaborate more on this later, but even as a carefree, 16 year old teen in the summer I catch myself dedicating myself to everything but what makes me happy.

Of all the times to think about Tessa and how sad she had looked to tell me her parents had received a job offer and she would have to move away. If it wasn’t for her kissing me that day, I doubt I would’ve had the nerve to make the first move. Now that I thought about it, this was actually the perfect time to remember that and one other little thing about my pass. However, she wasn’t in the category of things I wish I could forget.

amelia really wanted me to and send this to you: I know what I did can't be forgiven, but I really want to get an education and I want to clear the air. I don't want this to be an issue in the future. We don't have to be friends if you don't want, but I'd really like to be civil with you and move on from our issues. I think the only way this will work out is if we both vow to be okay with each other. Maybe a broken bone can be healed with the right methods, and maybe a sore heart can be mended with a reborn friend. I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. I hope we can both be mature and move on.

Assimilating into the American culture is an arduous challenge. English is my second language, I struggled through language barriers. Throughout elementary school, kids developed callous nicknames for me such as “Muslim terrorist” and “Gandhi” because I spoke in an accent and I was the only Punjabi kid in my class. Since all of my bullies were Mexican, I determined that all other Mexican kids would choose to discriminate against me. I decided to avoid interaction with the other students, which made it harder for me to learn English. I would spend most of my time alone sitting on a bench because I was hesitant of what new nicknames the other kids might devise. However, I wasn’t the only troublesome child who was facing bullying on that bench.

I am a product of the motherland. I was born in Monrovia, Liberia on the twelfth of January 1994. For a good portion of my life, the combination of violence and poverty help shape my perception of society. Thirteen years of civil war introduce me to the brutal nature of humans, and how one can neglect the power of humanity. Growing up in Africa expose me to the struggle while instilling in me the power to outcome whatever is threw in my direction. The educational system of Liberia is and was damage during my youth, we were instructed to learn topics that did not suit our interest. Majority of what we learn was given down from American curriculum. I grew up thinking America was a heaven of earth. I learned more about White Folks then I did about Dr. King or Rose Park. In all honesty, I was more familiar with Dr. King’s birthday than the history left by one of the greatest leaders to grace this planet. Liberia and its government have an obsession with American culture. Since we were colonized by America, it’s acceptable for us to look upon America as a source of comfort. What I never understood was, why wasn't our teachers focus on educating us on

“Excuse me?” I asked hesitantly. Fleur blinked at me; once, twice, three times. This was not my best friend; my best friend was kind and sweet, she believed in loving as much as I did, not this.

First few days in the USA were not bad for us. Adapting to a completely different environment was not hard enough. Although my first day at the school was completely opposite, because there were plenty things that I figured were

This would be our last winter break, and last trip together, before we both went in separate directions. I was staying in-state for college and she was spending her gap year abroad. Before this year, the two us had been inseparable since the second grade. For sixteen years, she had been my partner in crime, and now we would be worlds apart. I'd been trying to avoid the subject and refused to talk about it, but I knew it would come up at some point. We had so much we needed to cram in to our friendship within the next few months, and this trip was a huge part of it.

In Middle Eastern culture, the process is often more important than accomplishing the goal. Manner and style are extremely important, along with showing respect to co-workers and even opposing individuals when negotiations are involved. It is my family tradition to consider each human being to have infinite worth and so to be treated with ultimate respect, dignity and concern for the preservation of one’s self image. Yet being born in America and reared in Pennsylvania and California, I am the product of American culture. In America, time and money are often considered more important than the feelings of people. This can be metaphorically detailed when comparing American football to bullfighting in Spain. In football, when the end is running out for a pass like a beautiful gazelle, the ball is thrown, and he is cut in half by the defensive player, thus he does not score and the crowd rooting for the other

She cried, but wished me to feel better, which made me feel worse. I arrived at my other friend’s party, and it was a blast. Everyone had tons of fun, but me. All I could think about was how I lied to Allison. My conscious was hovering over me all night long, so I decided to do the right thing and I left. When I arrived at Allison’s party, everyone was gone. Somehow I decided to tell her about the lie I told her, which caused a colossal gap in our friendship. She more upset than I could have ever imagined

“Having to leave Donna without her memories was heartbreaking. She grew so much with you and gained so much confidence and she will not remember that. I cried again.”

The day that I look back to laying out under the sun surrounded by palm trees with my best friend right next to me recaptures the moment of pure bliss. This was my absolute favorite week out of my entire life. Two best friends take on a trip to the sunny state of Arizona.