Personal Narrative: My Identity

Investigating your identity, “who you are” is all a journey we go through as we grow up, especially when going through puberty. Which is similar to when Aboriginals participate in a vision quest as they try to figure out who they are and what life has for them in the future. Growing up you don’t understand the concept of “who you are” until you start going into puberty because you pay more attention to everything around you. As you grow up, your parents start to tell you stories about your heritage, learning about all our traditions. Having my parents come to Canada from Iraq, taught me how to speak another language and the traditions they participated in, generation after generation, showing me what makes my family Iraqi. You start to pay

I am a lot more than my caramel skin, big brown eyes, black hair, wide smile and bushy brows. I was born to a mom who is African American and Vietnamese and a dad who is African American and Portuguese. While I was born in California, I have lived the greater portion of my life in Saudi Arabia. I am more international than American. My friends come from numerous countries and speak various languages. I have been fortunate enough to see many parts of the world. I know that my experiences and exposure to people who are different from me has made me more interesting.

My Identity connects to my culture because it describes the way I look and the point of view I have on certain topics. My culture is the Native American tribe, Wampanoag and I am also Mexican. I have some facial features and body structures from both sides of the family like: most of my family has brown or black hair, we are taller than the average human, and our faces have an oval shape. Some topics that my family has taught me from both sides of the family is, family always sticks together and always comes first, and If you see bad things going on in the world, always try to help and do whats right. From my Dad’s side of the family, I learned tons about survival skills and on my Mom’s side I learned a lot about traditions. An example from

Mothers describe motherhood like a cliff: It’s like a leap of faith that no one knows if she’ll be able to survive. The moment my obstetrician entered the room with a big smile on her face and stated that she had some great news for me; my heart instantly dropped. She raised her hands in the air and said, "You and Anthony are pregnant!" After staring at her in complete disbelief, I started crying. I was told to schedule an ultrasound and sure enough I was seven weeks pregnant. After leaving the office, I instantly had the selfish sensation of wanting more time to prepare myself. Now that I’m pregnant with my first child, I keep hearing about all the things I’ll never do again: sleep four solid hours, wear a bikini, travel,

Who am i? I am an individual who has achieved many goals despite a childhood and adolecense with much adversity. I grew up I Santa Clarita, California my child hood was realativley normal . My grandmother mary died, when I was 7 and my mother started drinking heavily . By the time I was 11 she was a raging alcoholic and was depressed most of the time. I was helpless, at the same time my father became a drug addict. As a result of her alcoholism my mother contacted cirrhosis and when I was 13 she passed away. I was devastated and too young to lose my mother.

Identifying my identity is a not a very easy thing for me because a few of my strong beliefs have flaws and loopholes. If someone’s reasoning for doing something I believe to be wrong my strong opinion on my belief is questioned. My identity is a work in process like many other and more times than not I do not even know who I am. I have always believed in the practice of accountability for your words and actions as well the act of showing people the respect they should be given.

When I immigrated to the US, I struggled with my identity, unsure of my place in my new home. This feeling was further intensified with sense of loneliness I experienced when I began community college. For a while, I tried my hardest to fit in but my accent and dress were an indication that I was not from here. In order to avoid the awkward bigoted questions and remarks that would make me feel that I did not belong here, I spoke less and shortened my interactions with others.

I am a white American female. Another term that can be used to describe my race is caucasian. Some characteristics that come with my race include a fair skin tone and naturally light colored hair. I do not think that anyone can truly be a “pure” race because family trees expand genetically within multiple races, especially in current times. People of all races are reproducing and creating a more mixed environment than ever before.

Who am I? I’m I considered African or African American? So what is my social identity? Social identity is a person’s sense of who they are based on their group membership(s). Social groups such as family, organizations, sports team, etc plays an important role a person’s pride and self esteem. Interacting in such groups gives us a sense of belongingness, which leads to our social identity in the social.

It’s been one whole week till my identity has been removed it’s been hard on me I miss my family how everything use to be before my life did this whole twist around before i continue let me explain how it all happened. *Recap last week* it’s Monday January 25, 2016 i wake up in the morning for school do my usual routine wake up , shower, brush my teeth, get dressed watch tv, and get on the bus but today felt unusual i just didn’t feel like me at all so once i get out of bed i head to the bathroom to shower and personal hygiene without looking in the mirror like i usually do i just jump in the shower still feeling not myself i hop out and brush my teeth etc. as i wipe the mirror i notice my hand was.. different so i hurry and finish wiping the

The majority of people find it natural to separate what they believe from who they are as an individual. They are able to draw conclusions from what they believe to be true about the world and have separate experiences that they allow to define them. However, I am very intentional about not allowing experiences to define what I believe to be true or allow it to carry much weight in defining me as an individual. In a perfect world, I would rather allow my experiences to be an expression of what I believe.

One of the things that I struggle with in life is Identity. I have been questing God about seminary school, family, friends, work, marriage, kids and even the color of my skin. I come from a place where if you are a black man wearing a pair of jeans with a white tee shirt you are considered a thug, or if you have twist, dreadlock you are a thug. I come from a place where your father is not in your life and over 70% of he black man are raised in a fatherless home. Where most of uses are raised in the street because, them are the only man in our life that will pay use some attention. But in my case I was blessed to go home to a dad ever night even though I can’t tell you anything about my father for the simple fact that he never gave me a hung, kiss, tell me he loves me, spend any time with me, say anything positive, always talking to me and my mom like we are noting, even beat my mom and when you try to tell family about it they just look at me like am crazy.

How many different “hats” do we each wear on a daily bases. From our careers, to our family and friends we all have different identities that we claim and live out day to day. These identities help us define who we are. “When we identify ourselves, we draw on a host of different characteristics associated with various social groups to which we belong” (King 2012, pg. 429). My ornament is explaining the social identity through a snow-women and her many hats.

My individual identity is formatted to show what I do and what makes me different because everyone has different opinions about their identity, but that just shows how we're all unique in some ways. I placed my specific sports and activities like baseball on because they make up who I am. The music albums I listen to that make me a part of a collective identity of other that share the same interests in music style as do I. Sports also tie into a major part of my collective identity because they play a tremendous part in my life that I can talk about and share my opinion with friends and family. To represent my national identity, the pictures I had shown are famous parks and museums that I had visited a to because these landmarks represent a

My identity tumbled out my living room window with my air conditioner. Blindsided by the cool air that rustled the window shutters it did not feel like an ordinary spring day. Who knew days before my 16th birthday, an age in many cultures that marks the transition between childhood and adulthood, I would lose myself? My nine digit social security number, my birth certificate and passport; items that serve as identification vanished into a world of over seven billion people. The situation put my life on a strange pause, I thought I lost I was lost in the world. The thieves not only stole important documentation from my home but a part of me as well.