The Patriot Act Essay

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You Do Not Know Me Looking and speaking a different language than the ones surrounding you automatically places you in the spotlight. In Nick’s narrative featured in The Patriot Acts, Nick is a caucasian college student with a beard who is depicted from a group of people at an airport because he had been acting suspicious (George, 322). As Nick’s civil rights were violated after being profiled, I reflected on my experience in Mexico, on how people approach me and judge me because I am not from there, and my high school counselor advised me to go to a different high school. Although Nick is an average caucasian male, he was profiled at the airport. Nick was stopped by the TSA because they thought he initially was acting strange (George 324). After 9/11, airport security became more heighten and rigid. Questioning Nick is a protocol they have to follow to avoid another terrorist attack. The reason for stopping Nick is understandable to an extent, however, it is morally incorrect because anybody could be targeted as a terrorist. I will always be different I’ve always considered myself Mexican, but when I’m visiting relatives in Mexico, I’m a “gringa (white girl).” At home my siblings and I were told we could only speak Spanish. My parents kept their Mexican traditions and passed them on to us, but when I went to Mexico, what I thought was normal, was a complete taboo. At the age of thirteen, I remember helping my uncle at his retail store I was learning Mexican currency, so he had me working the cashier. An old, wrinkly woman, who was covered with a scarf, and carrying a sack full of groceries, approached me at the cashier, ready to check out, when she noticed that I had acrylic nails. I have always loved how nails are decorated in Sinaloa, Mexico. They are vibrantly colored and covered with swarovski crystals. As she noticed my nails, she asked me, “How old are you?” I answered her “I’m thirteen.” With wide eyes and an open “There is two paths in the high school she will be attending, if she doesn’t seek help, she will go go down the bad path,” is what my after school advisor told my parents. She advised my parents to move me to a smaller school, a less credited school. My advisor did not know me. She was unaware that I had attended a private middle school, and I had already chosen my classes. I was on the “good path.” The classes I would be taking were advanced. I was astonished by the proposition she had given my parents. “Why would an advisor tell you to go to a school where gangs and violence is more prevalent?” I spoke out to them. “My brother went to that school and is now attending UCSB, but that’s because he was handed everything in a silver platter. His teachers held his hand throughout his high school years and now he is struggling. Yet, my sister, attended the high school I am going to attend, she is not in a four year college, not because it’s a bad school, but because she didn 't reach out for help.” She rebutted by restating what she had previously said. After about half an hour of debating, we came to an agreement. I would attend the high school of my choice, only if I attended a college advising class. Being placed in this position disappointed me, my parents nor my advisor believed I was capable of

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