Personal Narrative: Representation Of The Black Community

Racial reconciliation can be defined as the bringing together of different races; or in other words, embracing diversity. The value of it in my life is immeasurable. I have been extremely blessed to grow up in a time and culture where I personally don’t experience much racism; where I am not held back from pursuing my dreams and passions just because of the color of my skin. It is absolutely crazy to think that if I was born sixty or seventy years ago, my life would be completely different just for the sheer fact that I’m Asian.

Growing up as an african american male it was hard to identify my character throughout my educational career. At a very young age my dad alway wanted me to succeed in life, but in the back of my mind I always thought “ Am I really cut out to becoming successful”. I grew up in a culturally diverse suburban area. Growing up in the suburban area I made unbreakable bonds that will forever exist.

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.

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.

A product of Hamilton Park, the only planned African American residential community in Dallas, I grew up in a two-parent household. My mother died when I was 13 and I became a pregnant at the age of 16, a reality of many youth in today’s urban communities. In 1988 I found myself struggling - a single parent with a house note, new car, no education or promotable skill set and on disability for two years. The economic strain propelled me to consider college. I took one class, passed with an A, and knew this was what I needed to do. After going to school off and on for the next ten years, acquiring only 45 college credit hours, and passed over for several promotions – I enrolled at Dallas Baptist University in August 1999. As a full-time

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

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

Today was a great day, it was time for someone to make a change. Four African American college students were brave enough to start the change and they were Blair, Richmond, McCain and McNeil, they attend the same college as I do, but I don’t really talk to them as I might get caught from the professors or even my peers and can get a beaten.

I believe that I contribute to fostering an inclusive and welcoming community on campus by being myself. As an African American, there is a lack of the artsy-nerdy types represented in our culture. By being myself, I’m taking part in the growing population of the diverse types of African Americans that exist. For our society, when it comes to the minorities, we focus primarily on the stereotypes given to a specific group of people. For example, all African Americans are lumped up into two categories: the criminal and the one who acts white. By being myself, I prove this standard wrong by demonstrating to other racial groups that African Americans can and are different. We are free to have likes and dislikes, speech patterns, economic status,

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

My parents have always taught me that everyone is equal doesn't matter the race, gender, or economic class. Unfortunely stereotyping is among us we cannot avoid it, we can only try our best to make a difference between millions in the world. At a early age we start to doing it without noticing just having groups at school, the cool kids, the nerds and the popular kids. When I was about nine years old we had to move to a different city, I was sad because that meant a new school and friends. The neighborhood we moved into most of the population was African American and Asians this was a new experience for me and my family. My perspective of African American was that they were bad, untrustworthy and criminals. Sometimes

The feeling of having 200 of my peers striding along side me shouting, “No justice, no peace, no racist police,” or “Back up, back up, we want freedom freedom, all these racist ass cops we don’t need them, need them,” is an exhilarating feeling I will probably never experience ever again.

I have been taken by rival a tribe from my homeland and since sold to outsider white men. I have done no wrongs in my lifetime. I have served an honest life doing my upmost to provide for my family and tribe. Now, I find myself restrained in this horrific place. I am laying in not only my own feces, but the feces of nearly 100 others. I am restrained to the floor of this boat with many others that look very similar to me, yet I cannot understand them. The man to my left will not stop sobbing and speaking in what sounds like gibberish to me. Every so often he gets so enthusiastic with his sorrows that one of the white men comes down and beats him within an inch of his life, he too yelling in a language I do not