Personal Narrative: What Defines Me

Have you ever felt robbed of a childhood? At the age of six, I was placed into the DYFS system. I moved from house to house, not really having the chance to grow up like normal children. I didn’t get to experience things such as ; asking my older sister advice on boys, learning how to cook grandma’s favorite recipe, or going on family vacation to Disney world . I worked hard to get where I am right now. My experiences have made me of who I am today , my story will tell you my background, where I came from and why my application is incomplete without it.

My Identity connects to my culture because it describes the way I look and the point of view I have on certain topics. My culture is the Native American tribe, Wampanoag and I am also Mexican. I have some facial features and body structures from both sides of the family like: most of my family has brown or black hair, we are taller than the average human, and our faces have an oval shape. Some topics that my family has taught me from both sides of the family is, family always sticks together and always comes first, and If you see bad things going on in the world, always try to help and do whats right. From my Dad’s side of the family, I learned tons about survival skills and on my Mom’s side I learned a lot about traditions. An example from

Identifying my identity is a not a very easy thing for me because a few of my strong beliefs have flaws and loopholes. If someone’s reasoning for doing something I believe to be wrong my strong opinion on my belief is questioned. My identity is a work in process like many other and more times than not I do not even know who I am. I have always believed in the practice of accountability for your words and actions as well the act of showing people the respect they should be given.

Early experiences are important because they can change a person’s future. Depending on the child’s family and the people around him/her, their teachings, language, and behavior around the child are very important. My identity was established as a child when my parents gave birth to me and raised me, taught me, and became a role model for me. They helped me create my beliefs, and shape my identity to become a good person in society. My parents taught me what is right and wrong, and helped show me the right path to take in life. For example, they taught me how to tie my shoes, how to clean up after myself, some home remedies for illnesses and injuries, etc… During my childhood when I was young, my parents read to me stories every night, sang, talked to me about Buddhism, and taught me morals and all the good things I should do. My mom kept talking to me in Vietnamese and English so when I was 2 years old, I could talk in Vietnamese and understand English pretty well. My parents had not talked to me about Buddha and spoke to me in Vietnamese and English, I might have not been the bilingual teenager that I am today.

I was born and raised in Iran, and left to US when I was 26 not knowing a soul here. Back in Iran, the social and conventional context of country wouldn’t expect and accept unpredicted traits from young females such as living alone or solo traveling. Therefore, I used to be the one that my loved ones were always concerned about. My adventures began immediately after I moved out of my parents’ to live alone at 17. To me, I was challenging the status quo to live an authentic life. But, others called me “stubborn” and considered my solo travels as “wrong” or “stupid”. As a result all the spontaneous road trips and serendipitous friendships remained my little secret stories of years lived in Tehran. Finishing school and starting a career enabled

One... Two... Three... Four... Five... I take a deep breath. It's the only thing I can do to keep myself from screaming. I'm looking at one of my co-drum majors, and he's staring at me with his eyebrows raised. A freshman waits to the side of us, hands on her hips as she waits for us to get our lives together. When I told her she needed to safety pin her shirt together to adhere to the dress code, he had loudly professed that I was just being overdramatic and she didn't really need to listen to me. I pulled him aside, and our argument continued in a similar fashion. Fast forward five minutes, and I eventually told her she could go but needed to wear a more appropriate to the next night's band practice. He had won, but he didn't understand

My life has been dominated by an invisible line of division attempting to constitute who i should be; but I am Switzerland. Under no circumstances would i be able to choose one part of the cultures that make me who i am. The best display of this unusual conjunction of cultures is Thanksgiving. My plate is separated by that line of division between collard greens, macaroni and cheese, corn bread on one side, and arroz con gandules, penil, tortillas and pastelillos. Its funny how that separation is something comical when it comes to food, but turns into a constant struggle inside of me every time i am reminded. Being multiracial makes it impossible to fit into one specific mold that society tries to set for people. Going into my senior year schools have asked me to define myself, to try and explain who i am on a piece of paper by

According to merriam-webster.com, the definition of identity is “the distinguishing character or personality of an individual”. I believe that a person’s identity is comprised of many things, including the type of people they hang out with and their actions towards other people. Your identity is how other people see you. I also believe that a person’s identity can change over time due to something like a traumatic event or even the maturity that person gains as they grow older. There are many ways to describe who I am as a person and my identity. I believe the three main facets of my identity are sports, reliability, and, most importantly, the fact that I am a brother.

As a young girl in elementary school I would get the question “what are you?” As a junior in high school, whether in school or in the grocery store, I am still frequently asked that same question. I used to feel embarrassed of my identity when they asked what I was. My usual response was to slightly laugh and tell them I was “mixed.”

Even my close friends say that they don't know me well. I don’t feel sorry about this because it is the product of my efforts to hide my identity. Born half Japanese and half Korean, I have been secretive as to my identity since I have never been welcomed in Korea and in Japan. The Koreans have shunned me for being a descendant of the people who colonized them brutally, while the Japanese distanced themselves from me, saying that I am one of those who keep demanding apologies that they had already done.

' what makes me myself rather than anyone else is the very fact that I am poised between two countries, two or three languages and several cultural traditions' (Maalouf , A, 2000), which emphasise my identity and how this is an essential part to my identity. For example, I am an Indian, who wears salwar kameez ( traditional Asian clothes), who loves eating Asian curries with hand, who speaks Hindi and Punjabi with my parents and relatives (the most common languages spoken by an Indian), I am an Indian because I was born in India, an Indian who prays and visits the Gurdware (Sikh temple) every Sunday ,and lastly ' visiting others' such as cousins and relatives are considered a very important part of an Indian culture (Kenner et al, 2004).

One thing that I feel everyone should know about me, to really understand who I am, would be what I do with music in my life. I think that the kind of music people listen to defines them more than what that person could ever put into words.

Culture could most simply be described as what makes you, you. So when I sat down to think about what made me who I am today, one object came to mind. It was a painting. A small painting, close to one and a half by two feet. Laying upon the canvas was a vivid display of reds, yellows, and greens forming a single fire like daisy. It seemed so real you could smell the sweet air that would blow gently through the pedals making the flower .dance. Signed at the bottom was "Carol Stone," my grandmother on my fathers side.

One of the things that always bothered me about the idea of immortality is, as you can guess by the title, persistence of self. Identity. Whether I'd still be ME, in any way that matters, after a large period of time.

Who am I? Who am I? A question that I have constantly asked myself . A question that I haven’t found a complete and accurate solution for. Before this mystery is solved, I have already discovered a few personalities of my own. I, Richard Shum, welcome the opportunity to tell you more about myself.