Personal Narrative: The Social Norm

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

My pre-adolescent years were spent in a community thick with diversity. My friendships were as diverse as the environment in which I lived. It never struck me that racial and ethnic ideals separated people in society. However, upon moving to a predominately white upper-class community I began to question such racial and ethnic ideas. From my adolescent years through today I began noticing that certain people are viewed differently for reasons relating to race and ethnicity. As a result, the most recent community I grew up in has kept me sheltered from aspects of society. As a product of a community where majorities existed, I found myself unexposed to the full understanding of race and ethnicity. Prior to the class I had never fully dealt with issues of race or ethnicity, as a result I wondered why they would be of any importance in my life.

For example, when Maxine told Jade, “Remember-- I grew up with parents who believed you should tone down your blackness when in public./ At school, with my white friends and teachers, there were all these stereotypes I felt I had to dispel, and, with a lot of my black friends, I had to prove that I was black enough-- whatever that means” (Watson 216) it expresses that Maxine tried her hardest to be white, but couldn’t truly fit in with black or white people without erasing a part of her identity. She knew that in order to fit in with her white friends she had to dispel the stereotype of black women in the media, that they are loud and “sassy”, while with her black friends she had to prove that she wasn’t like all the other black girls that go to St Francis, the extremely whitewashed and culturally removed ones, in order to be considered “black enough” to be with them. The problem was, since she wasn’t actually white she didn’t know how exactly it was to be a white person so she couldn’t relate to her white friends, and, since she wasn’t “black enough” she couldn’t relate to her black friends either. It is hard to belong anywhere when a person has changed their identity so drastically to be like another person because this person no longer knows what it is like to be either of the identities they undertake, whether it be their real one or the one they

Growing up I was always called a “Oreo” which means a black person who is white on the inside. In school, I was always called the white girl because I was the opposite of what the stereotypical black girl was. Constantly people would say “you’re pretty for a black girl” “you’re the whitest black girl I know” etc. I took offense to these comments, because last time I checked my skin color shouldn’t categorize how I should behave, appear, or determine my interest. My school and hometown. especially is mostly more whites than anything. I played club volleyball in high school most of the time I would be the only black girl on my team, my brother played baseball growing up, he was the only black person on his team for years, so growing up I was

Examining the concept of “Acting White” Education Settings Bryce A. Powers University of Houston Downtown What is Acting White? Imagine, it is the first day of school, and you are the new student, in a new environment, and no one knows who you are or where you come from. You notice how everyone is

The black experience has both negatively and positively shaped my life. But all these experiences that I have had, have made me the person who I am today. Growing up as a black female in a white world, it was always difficult for me to balance fitting in with those around

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

Having a black father and a white mother has always had some family members question my kinship to them. The older I got, the more my identification became reliant on one aspect of myself over the other. The African-American part of me became suspect in the eyes of certain family members with no real comprehension on my part as of why. I saw ignorance towards my whiteness, not only within society but within my own family, which resulted in the inability to perceive my blackness.

Today is like any other for me, grumble and scuff out a living. Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three. The rules are simple to sum it up, you keep your head down and your mouth shut. Because, every where is sooth zone, soothern

The social norm I broke is making too much eye contact, or staring excessively, at my teachers. While sitting in class, I stared at my teachers more than I stared at my paper or looked around the classroom. It is usually normal for students to stare down at their desks and not look at the teacher a lot.

Growing up in the rural town of Browns Mills, being a Black girl was like a dime a dozen; it held no signifying factors for me. Whether you were White, Black, Spanish, or any other group, the people I grew up with accepted everyone despite it. Such acceptance while enjoyable, did not fortify me for the later struggles I would confront after leaving the socially idyllic neighborhood. Since my town was accepting of everyone there was never a need to learn about or claim aspects of my diversity. My biggest personal claim to diversity in my childhood was the being great (many times over) granddaughter of to a Seminole Chief. Even this story, passed down through my family, was hard to prove. I had a disinterest in carrying over my families

Pratt discusses the term ethnography, which is a one culture While my dad is African American with black, thick, hair and strong bold features. Growing up as a biracial girl I’ve always loved my thick curly hair, light brown skin, and full facial features, and I have been unquestionably comfortable in my skin as a young girl. However, when I went to middle school I started questioning my identity. When I started to make friends they would constantly ask me. “ Do you act black or white?” At first I was too confused to answer, the question would replay in my head for the rest of the day. Do I act black or white? What does that mean? What qualifies as black or white? How do you act a skin color? Those were some of the few questions I would ask myself as their question haunted me. As school continued, I learned what acting “black” or “white” meant. To act black meant you knew all the hip-hop songs and dances, to want the newest pair of Jordan’s dropping, and to live in a one parent home. To act white meant you talked “proper”, listened to Top 40 music, and cared about the way you behaved in school, or being a “goodie two shoes”. After understanding what acting like a race meant, I was excited to know I fit some things in both descriptions. having characteristics in both, I thought I would have a better chance of making friends. Unfortunately, I was wrong. People thought that I was acting fake, or that I was “trying too hard”. My peers constantly told me that I was

Just so you know, this is the Big Apple and I rule this town. New York City is filled with tall buildings, great culture, and historical sites. No other city has so much beauty that it takes your breath away; yet, there is a real danger that lurks on the streets. I should know because I am Detective Michael Morgan a United States Super Spy in charge of capturing dastardly villains who are set on destroying our world. Armed with mind-altering powers, Alex Higgins is on the top of the FBI’s list of the ten most wanted men in America. This thug is one of the greatest danger to our world and must be captured and jailed in the vault of death. There is no place safe for him to hide from the law and rumor has it, he is in my town. You break the law here in New York City, you pay the ultimate price: freedom.

I personally found trying to find a single “Social Norm” to break challenging so I chose to do two instead. The first was to end my phone calls with I love you, and to talk to a stranger in the bathroom stall next to my own. Which is how I confessed my undying love to a coworker. Working at a casino, employees have to call surveillance for anytime they move around with money or have to be escorted to the vault. I’m a pretty lively person but going into work, I started to get this bashful nature about myself especially the closer it came to performing both of the social norms I gave myself to break.

More Than Just a Label I quickly swallowed my homemade authentic Indian food leftovers and gulped down my chocolate milk. Looking down at my watch that read 11:28am, I knew that I only had two minutes until my most favorite part of the day: recess. This particular day in 5th grade, I had run a lap around the playground before getting the rest of recess to myself. As I started walking for my warmup, another student ran up and said, “My parents said that your people caused 9/11.” Completely caught off guard, I held back the tears in my eyes and tried to shake off his comment. I had never encountered something like this.