Personal Narrative: White Vs. Black

When I was young I didn’t really realize the impact of being African-American until high school. I went to a predominately white school for elementary and middle school. I was just like any other youth. I had my group of friends who were white; I was active in school activities and clubs. I was a student athlete and I got along well with my teachers. Everyone saw me as an upbeat person with a bubbly personality. Surprisingly, race was never brought up it wasn’t an issue for me during that period of my life. However, as I got older I realize there was a difference. As an adult I could really see the prejudice in others. I recall working a on a special project for the

She brings this point back up many times throughout the text and explains it. Tatum explains that puberty plays a big role in this she says that “As children enter adolescence they begin to explore questions of identity” for instance who they are as a black person. The process of identifying your self could be tough you got to

Once a person begins to realize that they are portrayed differently than others, their entire mind set changes. Black citizens decades ago had to deal with day in and day out feeling like

She often found herself the only Black face in her classroom, and sometimes felt she did not fit in with the larger culture that surrounded her.

As a young girl, I was very susceptible to the opinions of others. African American females oftentimes possess a negative stigma not only in the media, but worldwide. All of which made me grow up feeling inferior to others. Because of my race, I was automatically viewed as being uneducated and lazy. At the same time, being a female caused others to expect me to be passive.

Trying not to be a product of your environment is so detrimental in making it in life. There are so many people blame their upbringing for the trouble they get in. Just because your mom or dad was not the richest people, or honest, or even if they were in and out of jail, drunks, drug addicts or whatever. That does not mean you should follow in their footsteps. No matter what, us as children should always strive to be better than our parents. No matter the pigmentation of your skin there will always be stereotypes. When some people see an African American male with a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of Jordan’s on they might instantly think he is some type of thug or drug dealer. When some people see a single mother no matter African American or Caucasian with more than four kids some may think that they the kids might not have the same fathers. The crazy part is that the young African American male you see might be a doctor, a lawyer, or maybe the CEO of the company you want to work for, the single mother you see might be widowed, or anything. One goal in life should to be never to fall into the stereotype of your race, gender, or

When I came to the campus, I wasn't sure how people would react to me. I wasn't sure how I should "act". Would people look at me differently if they knew I was biracial? I mean I couldn't just decide to be white one day and black the next. Some people think it is like waking up and deciding what to wear, "Hmm, should I wear the red or blue shirt today?" "Hmm, should I be

It wasn’t until moving to a new middle school, which was predominantly white, where I thought being black was a bad thing and I had to try to “act white” or convince them that I was just like them. Now a days when I talk to or simply walk past a black person, I just automatically think that they know that I was raised in a white family and they think I’m trying to act more white than black. But on the other hand, when I talk or interact white person I automatically think that they think I’m a typical black girl perceived in today’s society. I use the phrase “typical black girl” as something negative because in today’s society black girls are only loud, obnoxious, and promiscuous. I don’t want people to think that about me, so I find myself being extra nice and respectful around white

“You are the whitest black girl I know”. Throughout my academic career these words have followed me. From a very early age my parents instilled a drive in me to always do my best and take pride in everything I do, because some people aren’t given the opportunity to do so. As a result, I naturally stood out from others who were not as driven. Growing up, I became ashamed about of my accomplishments and demeanor when nicknames such as “oreo” replaced the name my mother had given me because I didn’t act “black”. According to my peers, I was “dark on the outside and white on the inside.” because I “talked like a white girl” and “tried too hard in class”. I believe these undesirable circumstances have taught me the hard way to love myself.

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

Let 's start from the beginning, I was a high school freshman who had been around the same people my whole life. Some might call it out of the norm for someone of my skin color. Although it was a public school in the suburbs of Houston it was infamous of being the “white school.” The school had just opened and there were only sophomores

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

Growing up, I was one of the most vibrant girls in the world. Nothing seemed to bother me. I was genuinely happy with what I saw in the mirror. That was before I found out the disheartening truth.The truth of being a black woman in America.

Growing up in a predominantly white community, I had never thought of the issue of race as a child. My neighbor and I were best friends, and I never thought of myself as different. She had blonde hair; I had black. She had blue eyes; I had dark brown. We loved to play with the same things, thus we were

The school atmosphere was different I was hanging with Caucasian girls and the African American children did not understand what I was doing being so close to children opposite of my own culture. At that point, I was unsure of what their problem was but realized they were sheltered from other cultures and raised differently. This caused several fights as a child because other children would call me a “little white girl” and I had no idea of what that meant and was offended. I was raised around majority boys in the neighborhood, until I started playing softball, some would consider me as a tomboy. So