Personal Narrative: My Personal Racial Or Gender Identity

Currently, I am in the process of not only becoming comfortable in my identity, a black queer woman, but, also attempting to find solace in my identity as well. Something that all women, especially black queer women, should achieve in their lifetime. It is that dream that inspires me to travel to experience other cultures and to unite with women from various cultures across the black diaspora. Throughout many cultures, women’s identities are defined by their male counterparts and the labor they provide to them. Therefore, a major goal of mine is to create a space where women are able to exist outside the scope of their relationships with men and live uninhibitedly to become their best selves. That is why I find it pertinent to travel not only

The classifications of race and gender have intersected and caused conflicts with the lives of those close to me, shaping the social world in which I have grown up.

I was late for school, and my father had to walk me in to class so that my teacher would know the reason for my tardiness. My dad opened the door to my classroom, and there was a hush of silence. Everyone's eyes were fixed on my father and me. He told the teacher why I was late, gave me a kiss goodbye and left for work. As I sat down at my seat, all of my so-called friends called me names and teased me. The students teased me not because I was late, but because my father was black. They were too young to understand. All of this time, they thought that I was white, because I had fare skin like them, therefore I had to be white. Growing up having a white mother and a black father was tough. To

All throughout time people have been “the other.” Pratt refers to the other as being “Someone who is perceived by the dominant culture as not belonging, as they have been

As a biracial woman growing up in the South, I never knew my place in the world. My father is a dark-skinned African American and my mother is a fair-skinned Caucasian, leaving my sister and I to fall somewhere in the middle. In elementary, my unique background caused numerous personal problems. Friends would assume I was adopted. I would frantically defend myself by saying “I am not adopted! My mommy is white and my daddy is black, and there is nothing wrong with me.” My classmates often told me that I was not possible: “black goes with black, and white goes with white.” In time, both races rejected me. I was bullied by the black girls at my school for being “too white” regarding my clothes and my hair. I continued to struggle with this

Too black for the White kids, yet somehow too white for the Black kids, oh the perils of a cappuccino mixed race kid. But it’s true. My life since I was young, at least younger than my eighteen year old self, has been about which group do I most fit in with. Between the four school changes over the course of twelve years, all in white suburban towns I’ve molded myself into an array of characters.

I was born and raised in the small but growing city of Perris, CA. This isn’t the best city out there but it tends to grow on you, and you begin to truly love it for what it is. The people, however, not so much. The community can vary from which part of the city you’re in. That’s because there’s diversity here in Perris. I’m a product of this diversity, being half Mexican and half African American. My parents fell in love after high school and later on began a family. I am the youngest of five. I have two older brothers, an older sister, and an older cousin who lives with us. The order is boy, girl, boy, boy, girl with my cousin being included in there too. We all live in the same house with my parents and are quite close with each other. They all seem to have raised me growing up due to the fact that my parents were busy trying to provide for us. This was a challenge by itself, resulting in lots of house moving and my father being unemployed for six years after losing his job. I never complained about moving because I knew that my parents were doing their absolute best and were working with all that they had and then some. This unquestionably made me adaptable to new environments and gave me a

I am an African American. You must be wondering what’s my name since im “black”, you might be thinking that its ghetto, right? No need to know where I came from, you must think that I come from the projects right? It’s not like it’s important to you. You probably think that my future plans are that I won’t finished high school and that I will become pregnant. One look at the color of my skin is all it takes. Right? Look again.

It all began in the year 1955. This was the year that so many great things shook the foundation of America that will never be forgotten for years and years to come. My name is Joyce Norman I was a military brat that was born and raised in the small town of Fayetteville, North Carolina along with one brother and four sisters. To show a little humor, this is another place like Texas that has bipolar weather from sunny skies with a hint of rain to a giant blizzard that’ll give you a death of pneumonia. Throughout, the years of my life as an African American we heard songs of change, we were insured and inspired in church that change would come some way or another either in the community or in our nation. As the world continued to change I

As I listened and re-listen to my interview with Adeena, I was constantly reminded how lucky I was to have the privileges that I do. I am a White woman who grew up in a middle class family with parents who unconditionally love me. However, I am a woman and although I have never been discriminated because of my race, I have been treated differently than my male counterparts. It took a long time for me to become the person I am today, someone who would speak up for herself if she was put in the situations that I went through in High School, but it is hard for me to imagine how much more difficult my life would’ve been if I happen to be born a different color. This sickening reality makes me admire women of color like Adeena who speak out against interlocking systems of oppression.

Every person identity with their known heritage. For myself, I identity myself as African American or black because that is what I have been told for a young age I should identity with. I am envious of everyone who can trace their heritage back and proudly pronounce their ethnic group instead of using a generic term for their racial group. For example, my supervisor is Spanish and German but raised in France. The scenic designer is Portuguese and English. Lastly, an assistant stage manager is British but was raised in American.

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.

What I think it means to be someone of my gender is always doing what is expected of a girl. Always being polite and caring when necessary, but also standing up for yourself and never cowering down. As for what I think it means to be someone my age, which is 20 years old, I think it means finally starting your life. Obviously your life has already been started but once you're 18 you start to get a little bit more of a taste of what you're going to have to deal with as an adult and I think that getting up to 20 years takes it even further. By 20 years old you've most likely started college, working a new job, or maybe even both. Attending an ethnically and racially diverse school, being white or any other race or ethnicity was never a problem.

The following paper will discuss two of the major dimensions of my cultural identity, and analyze the way in which my identity holds privileges, or has exposed me to oppression. Being that I am white, I have lived a life of privilege simply because of the color of my skin. I have been afforded opportunities, and lived a life free from persecution due to my skin color. I have also lived a life that has been impacted by oppression because of my female identity. This unique position between privilege and oppression is where I live my life.

As I started to mature and become more cognizant of the world around me, I also began to understand concepts that have been brought into the spotlight in recent years, such as the LGBT movement and the possible sexual orientations of people. I easily accepted and embraced the possibility that a person of one sex can be attracted to a member of the same sex or to both sexes; in my opinion, love is limitless and can be expressed by anyone to anything. However, there was a component of the LGBT community that confused me somewhat: the concept of transgendered people, or those that expend a large of time and money to permanently adopt the appearance of the opposite sex due to a conflict between their gender identity and the gender that was determined