Personal Narrative: My Mixed Heritage

My grandmother Lynne Murphy is who I chose to interview for my heritage project. This summer at a family birthday party I was speaking short phrases in Spanish while joking around with my dad. My grandmother, sitting beside us, joined in the conversation and starting speaking fluent Spanish. I had no idea she could speak Spanish, so I asked her, “How can you speak Spanish?” Before answering my question she laughed. She went on to tell me that she lived in South America for many years as a teenager. I didn’t have the chance to learn anymore about her childhood until this project was assigned. When I learned we were to focus on a family member’s experience growing up, I immediately thought about my grandmother and the interesting life she seemed

I am a breathtaking, stunning, and outstanding student. I am these things because I know that even before reading this essay, the first thing you read was my name. Most of the faculties that are reading this essay are probably thinking, “oh, it’s another Asian student whose name I’m not sure how to pronounce,” or “that sandwich for lunch was good, I should’ve taken another bite before I came here.” Before anything else, I am Hmong. It’s a subculture that is quite spread throughout Southeast Asia. I was born in Thailand and immigrated to the United States in October 2004. There are seven members in my father’s household. Having a Confucian ideology binded within me, I almost always put my family’s needs before my own. I would tell myself that if something does not benefit me, then I don’t need it. Then on, I hated going shopping like normal girls because I don’t want to burden my family with financial problems. If, however, I needed something, my mom would have already bought them for me. When my older sister entered her senior year in high school, I decided to do all the chores I could in the house. It was demanding and exhausting, but because I decided to do most of the chores, my sister finally had more time to herself and was

My family’s Native American heritage has influenced me by encouraging me to assist the poverty-stricken Lumbee community that I grew up in, whether that be by volunteering my time, energy, or resources. Growing up as a member of the Lumbee community, I have witnessed firsthand the struggles that many Native American families face, including living paycheck to paycheck, being ridiculed for our heritage, and alcohol abuse in many households. My culture has instilled in me the desire to educate the youth to be proud of their heritage despite the derogatory stereotypes that people associate Native Americans with. Unlike many children I was raised with, I have the opportunity to go to college and become only the second person in my family to do

In life many times those who come from nothing and excel, neglect the past and forget where they have come from. Oftentimes this comes in the form of disregarding old friendships, shunning once close family members, or even publicly disowning their own culture on national news networks. When reflecting on Mr. Brown’s quote, I am reminded of my own maxim by Marcus Garvey, which states “A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots”. However, I say this not solely within the focus of my Black heritage, but within the context of my home town and school. As I claim the blessings that have been bestowed upon me, I make it my priority to encourage others to reach for the same, if not better. To do so, I have worked hand in hand with my principle to reform my school’s dismal college acceptance rate of 40%. However,

“Don’t listen to them,” my grandmother said as she wiped the tears from my face and ran her fingers through my long, black hair. I remember the constant teasing from my peers in elementary school. Growing up in a predominately white neighborhood, my family and I were looked at differently because we were “people of color.” All of the parents who would drop their children off for school in the morning would stare at my father. Growing up, it was incredibly difficult to figure out who I was because I was Mexican and Caucasian with a Puerto Rican step father who raised me since I was three. Thus, his culture heavily influenced me as well. At family parties I was spoken to in English and Spanish with both Mexican and Puerto Rican dialects.

I grew up in a catholic conservative family, but that did not define me. My mom’s heritage had a huge impact in our household. She is Hispanic and Italian and our life revolved around food and family. We would help my mom cook as we danced around to Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, Dean Martin, and Celia Cruz. My dad worked a lot of the time, but when he was home we played sports outside and watched movies with him. Every Friday night was family movie night, which my brothers and I looked forward too.

My mom is fully Native American and my father is fully African American. However, if you look at me you would most likely just assume that I was black and nothing else. When I was growing up I felt like an outsider because I lived in a white neighborhood and always went to predominately white schools. In addition, I would often get made fun of because of my ethnic name. I also feel like somewhat of an outsider at my internship because I’m the only African American there. However, constantly being the only African American in many situations has taught me a lot about other ethnicities, nationalities, and cultures other than my

It's quite astonishing to believe just a few years ago I was not content with my heritage, my culture. All throughout elementary school I remember being teased about the way I dressed, the way I acted, the way I didn't celebrate certain holidays, and the way that I brought some weird mysterious food to lunch every day. It is improbable to think I detached myself from my culture so completely. I just wanted to fit in. In elementary school I started to Watch less Bollywood movies, to bring a normal sandwich for lunch every day; but despite this I still didn't fit in. During junior high tried something different, I tried to appear as though I was white not brown. I would use heavy coats of foundation two shades to like intended as a mask, a mask

While completing my handout I realized things about myself that I never really thought about. First, I can say that it was very easy to determine the first question. As I know that I am Caucasian. However, I realized that it may not be so easy for my daughter. This is due to the fact her father is multiracial to begin with so I don’t know what racial group she would like to place herself in. Furthermore, one could see that for many Americans that are of a multiracial decent could be confused having to select one particular race or being subjected to writing in their own response.

Sitting on the plane alone, I wondered what the next three weeks would bring. The light hum of the plane’s engines seemed to go on forever and the dry stale air began to scratch the inside of my throat. My destination was The Netherlands, where the entirety of my family lives. Throughout my youth seeing my family was a rare occasion, once a year if we were lucky, but after my parents divorced, we stopped going altogether. It had been over eight years since I had last visited them and because of the many years of separation, I felt uneasy about it all. Throughout the flight I couldn’t help but to think to myself several questions like: What I might be able to learn and experience from these next three weeks? How I would feel when I would first arrive? And how different everything would be. Having been there only a

After a quick glance at the image, the most prominent feature on my slowly-paling face is the black glasses that protrude from my slim face. Next-most prominent is my rather large nose and flowing light-brown hair, that frames my face and hides my ears. Combined, I am the epitome of a suburban Caucasian teen, where my northern European heritage continues to shine through generations of mixed ancestry and Americanization. But, my racial background allows any viewer to develop a myriad of correctly, and sometimes incorrectly, drawn conclusions. The photo allows the viewer to define me by stereotypes ingratiated in society. Knowing no background on this photo, I am surmised by my mundane appearance, clothing, and racial identity as a normal white

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

Where have I come from and where do I fit in to my world now? Through examining my personal heritage, I am seeking to answer a broad question with many potential answers. The answer that I give at any particular time relates to how I am thinking of the question itself. For example, if I had been thinking of the question in terms of location, my answer would differ from the one I would give should I have been thinking of the question in regards to my core values. In the next few pages, I will attempt to explain a bit about different aspects of my heritage and how they relate to the heritage of the person my learning team interviewed this week, Roftin Reginald, who was born and raised in India.

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.

I was born and raised in America. However, my experiences here would be extremely limited if I denied my Spanish heritage. I live in America, but my heart and mind are often with my heritage. As a young, narrow minded child, I grew up like most children. The main difference was that I spent my summers visiting Europe and learning my language and culture, which has since become sacrosanct to my identity. Through these activities, I felt myself becoming more different from my classmates and the kids in my neighborhood. After some years of feeling like a pariah, my family moved to a more diverse town, where I learned that every culture is different -- from the music to the mannerisms, and that I wasn’t the only one who was more than just ‘American’. Though I felt marginalized at times, I am grateful to have been raised in America. One of the beautiful things about this country is that one can be raised here, while still incorporating and being a part of their original culture. I have gained an appreciation for all the activities and interactions I have experienced, and I see them as parts of a well-rounded education. I have become more accepting of others, grown with a passion for connecting with and learning from others, and developed a unique, global perspective.