Personal Narrative: You Are Black

I was late for school, and my father had to walk me in to class so that my teacher would know the reason for my tardiness. My dad opened the door to my classroom, and there was a hush of silence. Everyone's eyes were fixed on my father and me. He told the teacher why I was late, gave me a kiss goodbye and left for work. As I sat down at my seat, all of my so-called friends called me names and teased me. The students teased me not because I was late, but because my father was black. They were too young to understand. All of this time, they thought that I was white, because I had fare skin like them, therefore I had to be white. Growing up having a white mother and a black father was tough. To

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.

There were whole families of this different race that I hadn’t had much experience with. Of course, I didn’t see anything wrong with them, I was just unaware at how many people of the different color were in the same place at the same time. Being in the second or third grade, they try not to bring racism up nearly as much so I wasn’t fully knowledge on why they were different, and I was unaware that they got treated badly. Well I was just about to learn all about this simple, or not so simple word, racism.

As I backed out of the driveway, blood rushing to my face, I had a sudden realization. My entire life I have been looked at as a stereotype rather than a human being. The color of my skin led to people already having judgement about me before engaging in a conversation. Race is a minor characteristic yet it is deeply constructed within our society. The difficulties that black people experience bubbles up racial tension underlying the “post-racial” society that we live in. It is important to have the vocabulary to describe your lived experiences in order to feel like they are justified because people are always trying to dismiss them. “You people always make everything about race!” they would exclaim. Because, for us, everything is about race and it has always been that way. Black people can’t simply live their lives without the presence of their race being objectified. Those who do not understand need to not only recognize but acknowledge race without being oblivious to the reality of this

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

In life people are often misunderstood for who or what they are. Whether it being who they are or their skin, hair, personality, traits, clothing, religion, or their body. When growing up it seems no matter where I go I always see be misjudged. Usually is my skin, or the way I talk,or the way I act.

The greatest education in the world is watching the masters at work. I'm a black American, I am proud of my race. I am proud of who I am. I have a lot of pride and dignity. Children show me in their playful smiles the divine in everyone. This simple goodness shines straight from their hearts and only asks to be loved. I was a veteran, before I was a teenager. Everyone who knows me will know the truth, which is that my children come first in my life and that I would never harm any child. Yeah, Wacko Jacko, where did that come from? Some English tabloid. I have a heart and I have feelings. I feel that when you do that to me. It's not

Every person identity with their known heritage. For myself, I identity myself as African American or black because that is what I have been told for a young age I should identity with. I am envious of everyone who can trace their heritage back and proudly pronounce their ethnic group instead of using a generic term for their racial group. For example, my supervisor is Spanish and German but raised in France. The scenic designer is Portuguese and English. Lastly, an assistant stage manager is British but was raised in American.

As an African-American women living in a modern society realistically I have a disadvantage over the majority. Those circumstances clearly manifest manifest in passive aggressive ways in my daily life. Ultimately, it trickle down to me going that extra mile to gain everyones approval in order to beat the typical stereotypes. This endless cycle allowed certain people to gain power in control. Meanwhile, as I press to prove my worth my value went down. One day I was reflecting on my life, specifically relationships and I realized that the people I tried to

School. What a frightening place for teenagers. Once in awhile pleasing things happen like your crush finally talks to you or theres a real fire drill. But this one particular conversation crosses my mind alot generally. It was somewhere along the lines of racism. I know , I know. This scary system were so afraid to be but yet we live in it on a daily basis. Basically, a friend of mine was stating how any person (black) could be racist towards anyone (white). I simply told her that black people dont necessarily have the power to be racist or even benefit from such activity. She supposed "but cant you be like, reverse racist?" Now she could have a point there. Maybe a comment I made previously was racist. Reverse. It made me really think about

Fall 2014, I was a freshman just new to cross country I was good but I never thought that I was really good. The first two meets went by slow… 20:52 then a 20:06 in a 3.1-mile race. I thought I was doing awful. But then on October 11th a day that I remember pretty well, it was a warm day but with cool rain. As the gun went off we all start sprinting off past the first mile mark. As I approached the second mile mark, I realize that I am very far ahead of everyone and sitting in 4th place but as I see my coach, he yells, “You have to catch that guy!” My coach has a really good theory which is in the rain once you pass a person they will be less likely to pass you due to the fact they are feeling horrible and it’s raining out…it’s all about mental

Recently declared as having the number one college in the nation, Claremont, California has been a bastion of education for many years. It is a small college suburb town on the eastern edge of Los Angeles County with a population of about 35,500 people. While hailed as a diverse community, the city’s racial complexion is rather unvaried. Nearly 55 percent of the population identifying as “white” with the next highest ethnic group being those that are of Latino heritage, with around 22 percent of the population. Asian Americans and African Americans represent around 15 and 5 percent of the population, respectively (US). The median household income is around $88,000, higher than the average for all of California. Claremont also has 7.2 percent

In the rearward sitting arrangement, eagerly listening to the words getting through the speakers, what is this I listen?, pondering internally. Something so profound, brimming with feeling, and life, it's as though I went into another measurement, coasting on a billow of peacefulness. On the other hand, this inclination suddenly finished with a farewell kiss as I get ready to enter the school building. I was making the most of my initial morning timetable, finding out about straightforward arithmetic, how to coexist with my associates, playing at break, however I couldn't hold up to get lost again, and leave the natural domain with this magnificent sound of instruments and voices, ever so discreetly getting through my mom's auto speakers. The

I am a sweating mess. Even though I went to the bathroom a little bit ago, I feel the need to pee again. Of course this isn’t a new feeling for me. It happens every time I am about to step on deck for a race. Just moments ago, I was laying on my towel, boiling in the sun (don’t worry mom I put on lots of sunscreen), listening to Justin Bieber music with my purple headphones. The loud speakers came across “Events 18, 19, and 20 please report. Events 18, 19, and 20 please report.” It was time to go swim my heart out. Now, my coaches are trying to prep me, saying that if I “focus on long strokes and fast kicks you can win this.” I didn’t care about coming away with a first place finish today though. I wanted to break 29 seconds. I wanted