Personal Narrative: Racism

Truth to be told: I don’t particularly pay attention to national events or issues. My family is also incapable of comprehending national issues, especially my parents who do not have any level of proficiency in English. My family lives in a world where we go with the flow, but there are issues that I contemplate whether or not I should be involved in, particularly race inequality. Considering the amount of tension between policemen and African-American around the nation, the race to equal treatment is still ongoing.

My Race is Caucasian. My Ethnicity is a German- American. My father was adopted from southern Germany at age of two, into an Italian military family. My mother’s parents came from southern Germany, after world War two. I grew up going to a German afterschool program, where I learned the German language and culture. I am able to speak, write, and understand a fair amount of German. I also danced and was part of a German-Bavarian club until age 12. My sex is female. I believe that my social class would be upper middle class, however, on the lower side of upper middle class. I technically live in Mount Kisco NY, however I went to Chappaqua schools. I spent all of my time in Mount Kisco, my best friend in high school, also was not from Chappaqua

Everyone says “that won’t happen to me,” but that’s what I thought. The whole journey started about 4 years ago. I woke up one morning and I didn’t feel like myself. I had this gut feeling that something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but I knew something wasn’t right. I got in the car and started driving to my doctors office in Portland. He called me back into his room and said, “What can I do for you today?”

I’d like to say I’m a very unique person. Not because of my hair, the way I dress, or how I look, but because of the unique things I bring with the person I am. All my life I’ve been the minority. From my preschool, to my church, my elementary and high school. Being black is something I embrace. I love my melanin skin tone, my nappy hair and I love teaching others about being a young black educated women. It hasn’t always been like that though. For majority of my life I use to try and fit in with the crowd. I use to always wear my hair straight so I could look like the girl standing next to me. My natural hair was beautiful too my mom and everyone else around me, but I felt like I had to step up and wear my hair straight everyday just to feel

As a white person that was born and raised in Hawaii I cannot recall many racist acts toward me that have affected me. Any events I can remember are very minor and in no way do I mean to say that I have it bad because I do have it really good in a world where lots of people have it much worse. At first I could not think of any incidents and had to ask my mother if she remembered me telling her any. She only remembered two I had been upset about at the time but couldn’t even remember now. I can only think of one establishment incident that has happened in most restaurants we go to and only a few incidents in school.

It was lunch time and I was sitting with Gordy. Everybody was talking about this new guy and how he scared them. Gordy asked me

The whit jelly bean fits my personality the best. Firstly white’s surroundings are very neat and organized. This fits me because my room and backpack are always clean and everything has its own place. I love being clean and organized which is one reason white fits me. Secondly whites like to know the exact requirements to their work before they start. When writing a paper or doing some other work I like to know exactly how to do what I am asked so I do not mess up. When I know the exact requirements for my work I am more confident in my work. Thirdly whites are very deliberate when making decisions. This fits me because when faced with a decision I think of all the consequence before I make my choice. When I know I made the right

Ever since the terrible incident of 9/11 took place, whenever terrorism occurs, most people prematurely assume the culprit must’ve been a Muslim. These assumptions may potentially incite hate towards many innocent Muslims, because of families or friends affected by terrorism. The purpose of me telling this event is to show how although I had never done anything in my life that could harm someone, I was still verbally attacked because of who I am. There wasn’t a need for a heroic figure in my story, instead a change of perspective that turned someone anti-heroic towards the true notion of heroism.

I, unconsciously, do and say racist things. It’s not due to the fact that I’m a racist person, it is actually just because of what I was taught, both by my family and society. Everybody gets taught racist ideals, whether it is taught directly or indirectly. I believe we could end racism fairly easily, if we made a seemingly simple change.

We are two minutes into the race, as I'm focused on watching Raymond as he runs towards the fence. He falls over the fence and everyone gasps. His head’s bleeding, we all stop as I run to Raymond. When he fell over the fence he hit his head, the announcers are calling 911. Me and Raymond are in the ambulance riding to the hospital, I tell him “Everything will be ok.”

Growing up as a child, I didn’t have much and so when it came to having friends I didn’t care about what race or ethnicity they were to me because they were my friends. Between my parents and grandparents they always instilled in me at a young age that it is wrong to look at someone and judge them if they looked or act differently than me. I went to a school that had many races and ethnicity and they all came from different backgrounds than me. I remember like it was yesterday because it scared all of that was in the car. I had this one friend she was a little black girl name Tammy and she had come over to my house to play one day after school; my mom had told us to get ready that we had to go to town. As my mother was driving down Main Street

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. I felt a cool droplet of sweat tracing the curvature of my spine as it slowly dripped down my skin, soaking into my undershirt. “All I’ve done is check the equipment in the back of the ambulance", I thought to myself. I was immediately regretting agreeing to pick up this overtime shift. However, my Lieutenant was relentless in his persuasion and I reluctantly agreed to stay. Unbeknownst to me, his incessant blandishment that morning is partly responsible for me writing this essay today. It was during that shift I had a sudden realization which would dramatically alter the trajectory of my current course in life.

I am not my body. The color of my skin, length of my hair, or flatness of my stomach do not define me. I am my thoughts, words, and actions; I am my choices. When we are born, we are forced into our bodies for the rest of our lives. Therefore, it astonishes me when society has the audacity to diminish me based on my physical features. My body merely behaves as a container for the real me that is inside of it. This container that was forced upon me should be my armor considering it protects and secures me. However, it has become a confinement. Inevitably, society imprisons me at the sight of my slightly darker skin. Society sees these diversities and immediately shoves a label down my throat, forcing me to swallow it and allow it to consume me until I accept it. Additionally, we are programmed to judge each other solely on these ignorant labels. Why do we criticize each other for our physical features and disparities? Why do we allow others to

I always wanted to go on a picnic.. With a friend, who I'm super close with , where it wouldn't be weird or a super cute guy as a first date. I feel like it's an oldie date, nobody in this era does that anymore, they like movies and that’s it. I feel like a picnic is more intimate and I like that. It's more about the conversation then really good snacks, and the good weather!

The start of the day was desert dry. Mind blank as I hear my phone alarm making mad screams in attempt to wake me up in my soundless slumber. Eyes shut silent in the shade of darkness. As the final noise wakes me. It was going to be a long day I already knew as began to put my clothes on and head out the door. I enter the school at 7:30 am quiet just the way I like it. Until 8 o'clock hits and the rambunctious roars of the students dwell within the hallways and finds away to everyone's ear. Anyhow this doesn't explain the least of my troubles. it was first period i had the wicked witch of the west wing, her name i dread in horror to even speak of it. but now as senior lets just say they found out she was one so she departed. so yeah the class began subtle and slow as we talked about huckleberry finn i book i barely even read.