Personal Narrative: Racism

Decent Essays
This I Believe
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
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The most recent was the time when my aunt, mother, and I went to an Olive Garden together. We were seated in the far corner of the restaurant where two lights had blown out and windows were absent. Crumbs were left on our table from the previous customers, and the atmosphere was distinctively inhospitable. Naively, I assumed this was only poor service and I did not ponder upon this seating arrangement. Not until I began examining the customers around us, did I recognize this as a form of discrimination. An African-American family, two gay couples, another Hispanic family, and an Indian couple accompanied us. At this realization, I recalled noticing only white families in the more elegant section of the restaurant on our long journey to the back. Several of these white families entered and left before our food even arrived. Clearly, we were not the server’s priority. To say the least, our waiter did not receive a
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