Personal Narrative: How Race Changed My Life

Still I first, I begin to slow down in pace. I shouldn't have used up most of my energy in the beginning. I'm only half way done with the the 1600 meter, and I'm going to need to preserve my energy. I decide that I will have to take a small break to "Recharge" my energy. Others are now getting very close now, so I decide my little break is over. I fell good enough to finish this race, as I rapidly pick up my pace. The finish line is so close, but so are the other runners. By now, I can hear all of the players booing at me. "I'm going to prove them wrong" I say as I run through the finish line. As the thin piece of paper tears, I'm overwhelmed. Even though I knew I would win, it was still a struggle. The struggle was kind of symbolic of my life. Lots of "Ups" and lots of "Downs". There were times when I had to just take a break, like what happens a lot when I'm getting bullied. At the same time, the was lots of love. Love for the sport, and love for my mom. Track pulled me out of the dark, old life I used to live,and I'm forever great full for it. Track would be now be my career. I can't explain how excited I am for all of these

I am a young, first generation, multicultural African American and Filipino Women, that had the opportunity to live within a diverse community surrounded by opportunities, language, and an endless support system.Growing up in the suburbs of San Jose, I was introduced to music at a young age, being how my parents met, I had the ability to choose to participate in outside activities such as sports, the arts, and girl scouts. All I slowly discovered was a privilege. Girls Scouts gave me the opportunity to learn about leadership, teamwork and the impact of giving back. Fundraising for those with illnesses, providing food and or gifts for families that were unable to while participating in grand opening events for those within the Santa Clara

I have blond hair and pale skin. On the color wheel, my father is a rich mocha, my sister is a warm

I know it is going to be painful and all mental. We are the underdogs going into the race, so we know we had to prove everyone wrong. It is time to line up at the starting line. We say our prayer. I cannot help but cry because I am so proud of this team. We have worked all year for this moment, and we are ready to give it all we have. The time has come to start the championship race. I have my hand on my watch ready to track all of my mile splits. The starter points the gun toward the sky, "Runners take your mark." I did not even hear the gun go off. The first four hundred meters are all sprint that I cannot feel my legs. I know I have to make my way toward the front to stand a chance in this race. My first mile is seven flat. I hold a good pace, but I know I cannot let anyone pass me up. The cold air gives me a rush, and I keep the same pace for the second mile. I look to the front of the pack, and I see our top four girls in the top ten spots. I get excited, but I cannot let it get to my head. Mile three is rough. My lungs were starting to burn, and the race starts to get all mental. "Am I strong enough for this? Did I train

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.

In the past I have struggled with my biracial identity. As a child I was confused about which community I belonged in because I am a mix of Navajo and Caucasian. As I got older, I began to question myself and who I was. I felt like I did not belong to either the Native or Caucasian community because in both groups I felt like someone else. I felt as if I had to live two lives that were completely separated. When I was on my reservation I felt like I had to act “Navajo” and when I was not on the reservation I had to try to blend in and not act “too native” . This situation was stressful because I was internally battling with myself. I did not want to make others uncomfortable by being “too native” or “too white” so I would change how I acted

I expected to get a few bruises, but not a getting a concussion. Before the soccer game, my idea of a concussion was getting bumped in the head, receive headaches, and it would heal up in a week and then you would go back to the way you were. I was wrong. At times, concussions can be deadly, and if you have them more than once, it will decrease your chance of keeping your brain healthy and surviving. Concussions can also give you migraines and make you dizzy. I’ve only known one person who had a concussion and I didn’t look at it as an injury because he seemed fine, but I didn’t know about his symptoms. Getting this concussion was from playing a “friendly” game of soccer after running a cross country race. After that

For me, my racial and cultural identity has always been at the forefront of my life experience. I grew up in an Iowan rural small town that was founded on Swedish heritage. My home town of Albert City, Iowa was founded by my Swedish ancestors, many of which still have family there today. Therefore, I have always known that my Swedish blood was an important aspect of my life. However, I am also of German, Norwegian, and Danish heritage which has conflicted my views of my identity. Having lived near a Swedish settlement most of my life, I grew to wonder how much of myself I was to delegate towards my other national origins that I also cared deeply about.

During my final year of Cross Country around Regionals at Oglethorpe, I ran my final race for my high school career. Banks County was nearly number one in the State, the furthest we had ever ranked in history, and spirit and hopes for State Championship were high. I was nervous, like nobody’s business, I had messed up during my senior night because I was upset for my parents for not showing up and escorting me. And I was scared that I was going to do horribly. But as I ran, I realized that if I let my past mistakes and failures hold me back or get in my way, so I ran, harder and better than I ever had before and apparently even beat a “skinny kid”. It was my best and proudest moment for both of the seasons. I will always remember it fondly,

Growing up there were many time where things would happen but I was too young to realize it or even know what was happening. As time went passed thing got better and less noticeable but that is when things normally take a turn for the worse. But most people when looking at me would say he is African American but in reality yes I am partly African American but I am also mixed with Nicaraguan, Italian and Jamaican. So growing up I did not fit in with thee Hispanic kids because I could not speak Spanish and they could so I was always grouped with all the other African American kids. Being placed under a specific group just because the color of my skin and because of the people that I know does not mean that if they do something I am right there

That race, and the world-shattering heartbreak that followed, forever changed the way I saw running. I discovered that even hard work is not always invincible at the hands of fate. As soon as I scraped my sweaty hands into the dirt and pulled myself up to go face my team a startling realization occurred to me. This loss, this heart-shattering defeat, was the ultimate test. Would I let it pull me down, or would I struggle to my feet and come back even stronger?

Getting off the bus, I was ecstatic. It was my chance to help my team in achieving our biggest goal. For fall, the day was particularly hot and humid. I enjoy running in cool, chilly type weather, so the heat was a conflicting factor in my race. But I refused to let the heat bring me down. The team performed our usual routine; fifteen minute warm-up, body exercises and cheered on the boys running before our race. Everything was in place, I thought. We lined up on the line, exchanged phrases of luck and prepared for the gun. The gun went off and our feet flew down the field. Upper Darby would succeed in our goal, I felt

I think that this activity gave me the extra push I needed because over Thanksgiving break I spoke up to one of my family members for the first time ever when they said something negative about Black people. I know that I still have an incredible amount of progress to make, and that it is something that I should have been doing all along, but I am still glad that I finally made a step in the right direction.

Growing up in a family where my mom was a doctor and my dad was a musician, I was exposed to a lots of things in my life. For example I was able to see Broadway plays and and go on family trips to Disney every year in the winter. A lot of people would say I was very fortunate to be one of the family where I knew both my parents and they did there best to give me a lot of life experiences. But me being an African-American male it seems like I not supposed to how do experiences, I was supposed to not know my father not to be able to go on these trips with my family. It came to appoint where ever African-American in my peer group what tell me I 'm less black than they are because of the experiences I have, the way I dress, and the way to talk.

This was also the first time I felt my heart had it’s own mind. My heart was saying ”Jump out of Mikayla and go back home…She’s crazy!” Back to reality…there was no turning back once all of the girls from each team lined up on the starting line. I remember telling myself that as long as I didn’t get last place I could possibly be considered a decent runner. Powwwww…the gun goes off and all I could hear was the echoes of feet hitting the ground. I continuously told myself to continue to running no matter what. It was only the first mile when I realized, I was the female coming into last place. All I could think of was to head into the woods to cry. It was there where I began asking myself “Why did I sign me up for this sport?” That day I did come in last place along with the pity clap for