Personal Narrative: The Social Norm

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

I was thirteen when I moved to the United States. July 7, 2007 was the day my brothers and I packed up our belongings and left Haiti. It was a very exciting day because I got the chance to be on an extremely large white and blue airplane for the first time, and most importantly, reunite with my parents, whom I did not know because my father left Haiti when I was three years old, and my mother left a several years later. As a teenager, I had the mindset of living in a fairytale land. I did not think about the possible challenges I might encounter after leaving my homeland. The idea of adjusting to a new culture, learning a new language, and socializing with others that do not have the same tongue as me never ever crossed my mind. Little did

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.

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 in his or her separate cliques, the jocks are in one corner but you do not play any sports, the chess club is in the coroner while everyone else is in their own worlds. You wonder where to go, where you would fit in, with whom you will get along with. You want to fit in but you seem to have nothing in common with anyone so you begin to act out to gain attention. You want attention not only in the social circles, but you want attention in your classrooms as well. How can you achieve your goal of being noticed? After reading the article, “The Burden of Acting White”. The concept of acting white comes from the struggle of blacks being qualified as inferior their white counter parts. From trying to keep up in school but at the same time, letting your true colors be shown was almost contradictory to what was going on in the classroom (Thomas). In the African American community, many issues are causing the epidemic of Acting White. Not saying that acting white is an issue; but who is to say how we are acting is wrong? We all have our own identities and it is up to us to help students mold themselves into who they want to become in the world.

Growing up as a black female in a white world, it was always difficult for me to balance fitting in with those around me and staying true to my personal beliefs and ideals that often conflicted with those around me. I am from the Dallas suburban city, Frisco, Texas; a city whose majority is white. Growing up most of my friends were white, most of my teachers were white and most of my classmates were white. In my middle school and elementary school years I had absolutely no ties to the black community other than the interaction that I had with my own family. Being detached from the black community led my young self to shamefully look down on the few black students that attended my school. I would look down on them for their grades in school and I would find myself annoyed by their constant loudness and disruption. I would even make snide remarks to my white friends about the black girl students’ natural hair or braids and other protective styles. Not only was I turning against my own people, but I was also forming into a person that I wasn 't designed to be. I would relax my hair and constantly straighten it in order to have it look like my friends’. I became so caught up with trying to fit in with the people around me that I didn’t appreciate and embrace the most amazing part of myself.

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.

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

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.

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

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

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

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.

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.