Heritage has impacted my life in many good and bad ways, growing up I was afraid to express my culture and ethnicity. My only concern about not expressing who I truly was is that I may not be accepted for who I am. Growing up Asian I went through a lot phases where I became the main target for racism. I would always question myself and ask “What is wrong with me and my culture?”, “Why am I the target?”, “When was it ever okay to bring someone down and make them feel worthless?”. At that moment I would not just only hide who I really am but I would lie to myself and say that, that’s not really me. Throughout my life I began to become someone that I am not, with false information I gave to my peers I never thought I would dislike my culture
On November 6th, I encountered a cultural disconnect with a friend. My friend is a white, female, and the same age as me. This disconnect happened on the Berkeley campus when we were walking to our next class. We were both walking and talking about what we have been up to that past week. I told her that I was swamped with midterms and projects coming up so I was “studying and dying all week.” She chuckled at my statement and she said she had two midterms coming up too and has not begun to study. I asked her why she did not start studying yet. I assumed she was too consumed with her part-time job or preoccupied with other important obligations, but she simply replied, “I didn’t feel like it.”
Exploring your ethnic roots will enhance your understanding of how your background has shaped you. I am a 24-year-old heterosexual Hispanic woman that was raised in Fresno, California in a Catholic family. As an able-bodied citizen, I considered my social class to be middle class because I always had the necessary resources growing up. Being raised within the Mexican culture has helped me identify with myself. I seek information from my parents to determine their experiences in the United States and how that has affected me today.
“A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots” -Marcus Garvey . And like a tree without roots, a person without culture will fail in a world so full of it. At every turn we can find a piece of culture, whether it is an American store, some recognizable logo, or even the signs were so used to seeing on the road. Culture is everywhere. You might be American, Russian, Columbian or a combination of the three,but it is always necessity for you to know where your roots are. I, for one, know where my culture and roots lie. Since birth I have been exposed to it by my parents, grandparents, and everyone around me.It has given me a sense of cultural identity that will last a lifetime. I know that
“We’re staying at a hotel this week, girls.” As I heard the words sorely coming out of my father, I was hit with the reality of where I lived and the situation the city faced. Six men had been shot countless times across the street from my house. A bloody and holey reminder was left, and up to the residents to clean up. The city was Juarez, Mexico; at some point, the most unsafe city in the world. A few weeks later, as my mother was driving to the store, three men held her at gunpoint for her purse and the keys to her car. The next day, my parents announced we were moving to the States.
Losing My Culture and Language When people view my brown skin they assumed I can speak Spanish fluently. When Hispanic people talk to me, I try to answer back in Spanish. They stare at me with a confused face and tell me that I don’t talk well in Spanish and that I don’t have an accent. It hurts me on the inside because I feel that I don’t belong in the country that I was born in, which is Mexico.
How are you? I have been doing great! Just being busy around Towson’s campus as usual. I actually just came back from my class’s bake sale and pie a professor event that I told you about a couple weeks ago. We successfully raised about $130 today for the refugee children’s education in Darfur, Sudan! We will still continue to raise more money on Wednesday and will be doing our pie a professor event on Wednesday or next Monday. It’s also midterm month here at Towson. I took my Native American History midterm last Thursday. I will be receiving my grade back tomorrow hopefully. The midterm was okay and my classmates and I had some study groups in the library so it wasn’t that bad. I have another midterm for my other history class (WWI) on Thursday.
Do I know who I am? Am I who I think I am? What makes me, me.? There’s a lot to know, and still so much more to explore and learn about myself. There are three main aspects about my life, that symbolizes who I am as a person. My cultural identity is based upon values, appearance and my life itself. I love who I am, and who I am becoming. My happiness and intelligence is what makes me stand out from others. I’ve always put my best foot forward and make the best decisions for myself. I am half Indian, Caucasian, European & Mexican on my mom’s side of the family. On my dad’s, I am Half Jamaican on my dad’s side of the family. Both of my parents taught me different ways around life and what is expected of me. But the three things that sums up my cultural identity are food, fashion, and family traditions.
Here I was at this community event thinking I would be getting a true cultural experience, and instead I was at a red neon light Asian Super Buffet. The worst realization was that these people were mostly part of my own demographic, and that I was not an outsider, I was a consumer. At this point I felt as if I could have gone to You-Like buffet, and had my experience be the same: Two crab rangoons, stir fry and egg flower soup, the only interaction with culture would be language
Life as a Native American sucks. I realized this when I was a little kid. I’ve come to accept that what other people label or describes us as are true. I’m not happy to admit this they are right. My people don’t do anything to prove these people’s claims, or better known as stereotypes, about Native Americans wrong. Instead they do the complete opposite and just give these people all the reasons why they are right about how Native Americans are. I realized how my people being called as alcoholic, poor, and uneducated are all sadly true. For example, on New Year’s eve, my family had a big party which was suppose to be fun. It was suppose to be a good get-together family party, but as expected it wasn’t like that at all. My two uncles, named Adolph and Arnold, got into a very bloody fistfight with each other due to all of the drinking that they had. As a
The world is filled with people, and like snowflakes, each person is not the same as another. Each person identifies with different aspects of their lives to create their own personal identities. I personally identify with my Italian side of my family to help form who I am today. I have found myself connecting with this side more so than the other parts of my identity. It affects how I live my life by becoming the center to the culture surrounding me. However, my ethnic identity as an Italian American also influences how I live when it comes to my religion, and how my religion affects my life alongside my ethnicity. I will expand on this issue on how I express my ethnic and religious identity in regards to each other.
As an Indian-Americans, I grew up with two very different cultures influencing me in to distinct worlds: my home life and my school life. It wasn’t until I became a freshman a few years ago that these two cultures fused into one. I used to think using my mother tongue in public was weird, and that I had to be just like my Caucasian friends to be “cool”. As an early teen, I never acknowledged my own religion, culture, and ethnicity; sometimes I disgraced them. But, as I matured, I realized that my religion, culture, and ethnicity is a gift. Although it makes me different, it helps me succeed. The standards my parents set for me propagate a new academic standard. When I came to accept it, and met other Indians, I succumbed to a pressure that
It was a cold November morning in the valley of Cowan, when I fired my first shot. It was a smooth and clean feeling after I pulled the trigger. I than saw the deer hunker as the slug hit its side, and it began to run away from us. Dad, knowing I had made a good shot, still decided to jump out of the blind window to end the animals suffering. Unfortunately, when his foot caught, it was all over from then. Once, I was inside the blind and the next I was in the cold crisp air. I then saw Dad on the ground cursing himself for jumping through the window.
With that said, I am moving forward with an open mind towards new cultures and am eager to learn more about the people that make up this planet. I grew up in a town with less than thirty thousand people. Most the population being White/Caucasian and a small population of Hispanics. An obvious observation would be that my hometown doesn’t consist of a variety of cultures. With that, I grew up with an ethnocentric mindset.