Personal Narrative: Rasta Man

A sentence from someone may mean one thing, but an action can have a million different meanings behind it so which one would you judge a person from? Many people experience fear and are scared to face them, so instead of standing up against it they just decide to be a new person. Their minds are manipulated to not face their anxiety and are frightened about what will happen to them. People think that being fearful of something and to overcome it is a difficult task. People often mistaken their strength to fight their fear and decide to give up. Both stories, “Quicksand” and “The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man” share the common theme of how they use fear as an excuse to escape to a new world, they become a different person and get rid of

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

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.

Identity communicates a strong characteristic that cannot naturally be expressed in terms of a social category. Social and personal identity enable the formation of an individual, reflecting the idea that social categories are assured with the bases of an individual’s self esteem. “Race and racial identity are identifiable as a social constriction culture” (Little and McGivern, 328). However, issuing social categories based on race or ethnicity links to biased regulations and practices. Johnson’s novel, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, examines ways racial identity is socially constructed through the segregation of Jim Crow Laws, the act of "passing off” another race, and through practices of lynching. The Autobiography of an Ex Colored Man explores the way racial identity is socially constructed within legally sanctioned forms of racism and discrimination.

“I was born a poor black child” on the Gulf coast of Mississippi in Biloxi, Harrison county. It was the eleventh day of February 1961. I was delivered in the hospital at Keesler Air Force Base where my father was a lieutenant going through pilot training. My mom was now an even busier homemaker with the arrival of child number three in just 27 months.

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.

Jamal Wallis at the start is a student attending a normal normal high school and is also decent at basketball. While Jamal openly doesn’t like school he is smart and a good writer. Things take a turn for the better after he accidentally leaves his pack after a bet but Forrester drops it to him with his edited writings. Jamal also starts attending a better school due to very good test scores. He starts to befriend Forrester and slowly Jamal becomes his student. Jamal's writing is too good however and his teacher thinks he isn’t the writer. He then turns in something referencing Forrester which Forrester said never to do. Jamal then must win states so that he can keep attending but, he purposely misses two easy shots. Forrester then comes into his class and states his friendship with Jamal and Jamal is dismissed from charges and

The worker contacted Misty Black who is a friend of Brittany Hardin. Mrs. Black stated “Brittany was in a situation where her ex (well she told me they were already broken up at the time) had assaulted her. Brittany had called me after Ronita Grady had hit her so I immediately called the police and made my way to Brittany. When I arrived the OCPD were already there speaking to Brittany. The officers also spoke to me and I told him I was the one who called them. After the police left Brittany and the boys stayed with me for a couple days because Brittany was still shaken up. The boys all seemed okay, I don’t think they really knew what had just happened. Brittany thanked me for helping her, because at the time we weren’t really speaking to

Before 9/11 I was a normal American boy. After 9/11 I was revoked of my title as an American and belittled to an immigrant. Growing up in the Seattle area I was never faced with racism until the incident took place. I was picked on due to the religious beliefs I held. I was forced to hide my religious identity that also cultivated my culture. From this early experience I saw how fragile the American society could be. Even though I had grown up amongst my peers, they no longer saw me as an equal. Being an African American and a Muslim made me see a unique view of the American society. As an African American I witnessed racism first hand. Working at the CenturyLink Stadium as a Muslim I was forced to hide who I truly was. Walking into a store

When I think of America, I think of one sole word: determination. Our history is a medley of spectacular accomplishments and now-realized mistakes. We’ve struggled with issues that appear to be simple, yet the effects of past hardships can still be felt today. For example, we thought we had ended racism by making African-Americans equal under law, after the civil rights movement, but this same issue has merely developed into social discrimination. Despite the problems that remain and evolve with us through time, the most defining attribute every American has is their will-power to achieve their dreams. To many, these dreams are to end racial, gender, or sexual orientation discrimination. To many, these dreams may even be as seemingly simple

“I'm stuck between who I am, who I want to be, and who I should be.” - Unknown

Imagine the news headlines filled with nothing but people like you - same hair, skin, defining features - except all the headlines are filled with death. Death at the hands of people we are all taught to trust with our safety. This is how my 2015 summer had been. Days upon days of headlines with black people being killed by “peace” officers. As the list of names grew longer, it became apparent that there was no intention to protect the black community, instead, the public was being “protected” from us. Growing up in a community of minorities, I had come to believe that there was a sense of solidarity in our struggles. I was wrong in thinking our shared status meant unity. At the core of every marginalized community, is a sense of anti-blackness. This harsh realization happened during a class discussion when everyone was throwing into my face that ultimately my feelings and thoughts did matter. I was reminded that I was an other and I stood alone in this fight for my community.

I spoke with Mr. Rasak on 8/14/17. He reports he has had the AFO since 7/26/17. He wears it about 10 to 12 hours a day and has not noticed any improvement with his pain. He said the biggest thing is the pain and that it has affected his life dramatically. He said that he wonders how much longer he has to live and doesn’t want to live with the pain. I suggested again that he speak with his PCP regarding medications. He is taking Tylenol. He is extremely sensitive to pain medications and is very limited. I suggested his PCP since he knows his history and what he may be able to take.

My name is Stephen. Today was some heck of a day. There are now African American male soldiers that are allowed to enlist in the war, and quite frankly, I'm not that surprised. I'm sure that sooner or later African American men and women will get the same respect as the white folks like me, we just gotta pray for better times. The other day I overheard some other soldiers say that the African Americans in the camps a few miles south of us were pretty rough, they weren't getting stuff that we were getting. I felt bad when I heard the news, I can't stand- never mind. Anyways, I have been in the camp for a while now, and I ain't gonna lie, it's been hard. We barely spend any time fighting in combat, were always in that dang camp. We don’t have

My mind has always been mixed. I grew up mixed up in a lot of ways, literally and figuratively. I’ve always playfully called myself “Afro-Colom-Gringa” which is just a fun way to say that I am black and white and mixed and latina. I guess I could chalk it up to fate, or a higher power, but it really all comes down to my parents. My father is a black Colombian immigrant and my mother is a white American who had traveled a lot. Culturally, ethnically, and racially different, my parents met and decided to get married. They had two children, then they fell apart.