Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
I, Destinee Belle De La Cruz come from a mixed multicultural and multi-racal background. My mother immigrated to America from Dominican Republic, when she was about 3 years old. She grew up in a Spanish speaking household and growing up in the lower east side of manhattan, which is predominantly a Spanish majority area of New York, she grew up very immersed in the Dominican culture. My father on the other hand, as I, comes from a mixed background, as my fathers mother is white, of Irish decent, and my fathers dad, is of African American decent. My fathers parents are both from the south, Virginia, and they moved to New York City together in their early 20’s as there relationship was not accepted by the people in the south, nor their families. …show more content…
I grew up in the East Village in Manhattan, which is a predominantly white neighborhood, although it has become more racially mixed in the coming years. I went to schools, where I was the minority, and there were only a handful of Blacks and Hispanics, let alone children of mixed race. My parents found it very important to make me a well rounded person, and made it a point to always immerse me in activities that helped me learn about, not only my own cultures, but also other cultures and religions. I grew up with a single mother, most of my life, until my parents got back together in high school, so many of my experiences were mostly those pertaining to Dominican
After reading Alsultany’s “Los Intersticios: Recasting Moving Selves,” I realized that there are many misconceptions among those who have single or mixed racial background. For individuals who have more than one races, it may seem that they are at an advantage since they have luxury to take side with which ever race they choose. However, it actually results in a constant aggravation when one is constantly questioned about their race. Alsultany was asked by her classmate about her racial background. It was apparent that her classmate confirmed in her mind that Alsultany was different from her since she didn’t supposedly fit the description of a typical American, despite mentioning that she was born and raised in the U.S. This further strengthened
I am an African, black female who grew up in a predominantly white environment around my living space, and attended a predominantly white private school. In relation to class, I have been fortunate and privileged enough to be placed in a living environment that allowed me to receive the best education,
Since before I was born, my Hispanic heritage played a huge role in who I am and what I have achieved. My great-grandfather immigrated to this country with the desire to provide his family with a better future than his own. My grandpa grew up in Texas on the boarder of Mexico and traveled to Blue Island, Illinois as migrant crop worker. This desire passed down by my grandparents and my great-grandparents has played a tremendous role in propelling me to where I am today. Each generation sought to make the the lives of their children better than their own. My grandma received the opportunity to live in the country of opportunity from her father, and my grandpa paid for my mom to get an education. My mother pushed me to do my best in school and
As my father and I finally fit the statue of the little Virgin Mary in the back of the car, it was time to get on the road. I could already taste the guavas from my great grandfather’s ranch. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. The smell of my aunt’s cooking. Hearing the excitement of my great grandmother’s voice. I wanted to be there already, be in the beautiful country of Mexico. My thoughts wandered as we left my house. How much welcome, love, and the sadness of leaving was going to happen. It was too soon to find out.
The moment I’ve been waiting for turned out more hectic than I was expecting. From waking up super early to forgetting what to do, the day had its up’s and down’s. So, what day am I talking about? Well about June 22, 2013, the day of my quinceanera, the day I went from a little girl to a woman.
“I am a first generation immigrant and a woman, but I don't really write about that because I feel like I'm a human being. There are universal human experiences.” (“Evelyn Rodriguez”). As a first generation woman myself, I can relate to the notion that I am more than my background. While there are universal experiences people go through, my cultural experience is something that sets me apart from others. I believe that it is essential for me to find the balance between assimilating into American culture while keeping my cultural identity.
I wanted to wear brand clothes/shoes they did, I wanted to do my hair like them, and make good grades like them. I wanted to fit in. My cultural identify took a back seat. But it was not long before I felt black and white did not mix. I must have heard too many comments asking to speak Haitian or I do not look Haitian, but more than that, I am black, so I always had to answer question about my hair or why my nose is big, and that I talked white. This feeling carried on to high school because the questions never went away and the distance between me and them grew larger. There was not much action my family could take for those moments in my life, but shared their encounters or conversations to show me I was not alone in dealing with people of other background. I surrounded myself with less white people and more people of color and today, not much has
I, Becerra, Karlos. A, declare that on January 7th, 2011, that I arrested for the possession of marijuana, less than 20 grams. The reason as to why I was carrying the illegal substance was because of a friend (which I no longer associate myself with), wanted me to keep hold of the substance as he was in trouble with his parents and he had told me that he would collect it off me in a couple of days but not only did he forget but so did I. He then remembered on the date Friday January 7th, 2011 during our lunch period at school, that I still was carrying the substance and I was determined to give it back to him, but he insisted that I hold it for him until we left school during lunch period as to where I felt reluctant on going and wanted him
As a kid, I didn’t understand what race meant or its implications. I was pretty much oblivious to it. Race meant getting some kids together and running a foot race. The one who made it to the end of the block won. I never felt that I was special because of my race. Nor did I feel discriminated against. Of course, I was sheltered from race and racism. I never knew any people of color because I grew up in an all-white, lower-to-middle-class blue-collar neighborhood. I never encountered someone of another race, and my parents made sure of it. I wasn’t allowed outside of our own neighborhood block, as my mother kept a strong leash on me. Not until I was much older did I wander outside the safety net of our all-white neighborhood.
I grew up in a world where I was torn between who I was and what others wanted me to be. I was a biracial child in a monoracial society. My Guatemalan father and my Casuauain mother were often ridiculed for having “impurities”
So I don’t know what to write for this. Instead of coming up with something actually decent to write about I’m just going to write whatever comes to mind while i'm writing this. I don’t know if I’ll actually keep this but I will definitely finish writing the 400 words because even if I decide to not hand this in I need something to show on Friday and since you just check for a piece of paper with words on it and don’t actually read I can write whatever I want right now and if I decide to I can just rewrite the whole thing before we hand in the full journal.
In the poverty-stricken streets of Colombia, my parents arose past hardships, hurdles and vices that could have otherwise bridled their ambitions or could have strayed them away from the foremost godly offering that would have ever entered their lives, me.
Today, it seems the most contention and controversy is in silence. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. says it best, “"There comes a time when silence is betrayal. Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter (Tabaka, 2016)." The silence of a parents when they do not talk to their children about diversity causes students to listen to the loud and often unforgiving voices of their peers. Students need to know that it is accepted to have a friend or a group of friends whose melanin is different from their own. Often their parents relationships consists of mostly people who share the same ethnic and racial background. This lack of exposure to diversity tends to perpetuate from generation to generation. The schools may attempt to segregate but until students witness the interworking of interracial friendships at home, it is easier to self-segregate. The role of family members and specific critical incidents in their youth are powerful factors in developing a commitment to social justice (Marshall & Oliva, 2010). The bottom line is as with most things, “It begins at
My birthplace is Brooklyn, NY and I was born to a Mother who is Black-American and a father whose family is from Puerto Rico. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a male influence because my dad suffered from a disease called addiction. Nevertheless, my mother raised me on her own with southern values my grandmother passed to her when she was younger. The strict disposition and emphasis on education my mom displayed is why I persevered even though there were obstacles in my way. For example, when I was nineteen years old in college I became pregnant, and I know my life would never be the same. However, I gave birth to my oldest daughter and graduate with a degree in Business four months earlier than expected. Needless to say, my biggest strengths is my thirst for knowledge, and my weakness is patience. At times I struggle with the pace my life is going, and I just
I grew up in a predominately Hispanic neighborhood, where I was one of the twelve Asian students in my grade of three hundred and fifty and the only Chinese student in my class. I struggled to understand what my classmates, friends, and teachers talked about because they spoke primarily Spanish outside of the classroom, and I could barely count to ten. Fitting in was hard not only because of the language barrier but also the racial and cultural differences. Making friends with people who have little or nothing in common is difficult, so I attempted to copy whatever my classmates would do. I ate what they ate, watched what they watched, and played whatever sports they played. I took Spanish lessons with the family who lived below me, and in exchange I taught them a bit of Mandarin. By the second grade, I had eased into the community around me despite only having two close friends. They helped me to embrace my Chinese side while being assimilated. I could stop being someone I wasn’t, and I was not scared to be myself with them because they were fascinated by my unique characteristic from having Chinese heritage. I enjoyed living in Corona, since everything I needed was so close, and this i...