A place I feel a sense of belonging is soccer practice. As I look up from my phone, I see the green grass swaying in the wind. The car drives over the rocks and I hear the gravel crunching together beneath the rubber tires. I grab my water which sloshes around in my small blue jug and get out of the car. I look up and see my teammates, all in a circle, chatting about what happened that day at school. As soon as I get to them, I join the chatter. After about 5 minutes, Katy and I lead the lines to warm up because we are the captains of the team. Each stretch helps me relax and helps me get into “the zone.” After our stretches we get water. The cold water streams down my throat. I let out a slight breath and I start running to the coaches. Practice
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.”
Overcoming “The” Struggle I don’t recall having a hard time learning how to read. It was one of those things that just came easily to me for some reason. For the most part I enjoyed reading as well. The only time I didn’t enjoy reading was when I didn’t understand a certain word or a certain phrase.
Find My Voice Accomplishments take me one step closer to happiness and tranquility. For example, maintaining an “A” in a rigorous course, helping others that are struggling, cook for my family, etc. are minor achievements and events that have formed me into a better being. Sometimes, ignorance gets the best of me, and it does conquer my sweet, timid personality that I possess. Accordingly, my accolades never suggest nor imply I am better than anyone else. I never consider highly of myself because we are equally intelligent in our own separate ways.
Throughout my life I have come from and created a few identities for myself. Perhaps, the most dominant identities that have been apart of my life are being an athlete and being a family orientated man. In this paper I will write about how my identities have shaped my life.
It was the last inning in our all-star game, and we were losing 10 to 8. Our team had 2 outs and we couldn’t get the third. Our pitcher was doing bad, throwing all balls, while all of us in the field were tired, ready to fall asleep at any moment. There goes another walk. They score again. Great! I was thinking. At this point in the game I thought for sure that I would die right there in center field. However, baseball is baseball and things can change rather rapidly.
I used to be so oblivious. I would attend school every day and criticize my surroundings, little did I know how much I actually had. Come junior year, I observed a flyer for a club called S.A.L.T. (Student-Athlete Leadership Team), it seemed interesting to me so I decided to fill out an application. During our first meeting at 6:45 in the morning, Coach Jones, the head of the club, explained, “I did not cut anyone since you will cut yourself, you will give up and you will not want to put the work in, so you will stop coming. As a result, I will know who our leaders are”. That proclamation was something that genuinely made me think.
It was a taciturn gloomy morning, the year of 1862. The 12th of September. At the end of it, I might be with my family again or buried someplace underground. It was my time to go into battle as soon as I finish saying goodbye to my loved ones. The tears slid down my wife’s face and my daughters lingered into their mother’s arms to cover their dripping faces. I gave everyone one last family hug as my wife said to me “Be careful”.
Hi, my name’s Donovan. I’m 17 years old and graduated this year with honors. I was raised with Christian values in mind, and attended a Methodist school. I was raised in the Christian faith yet I find myself, as with some of my friends who were raised in the same conditions, we seem to be growing farther away from our upbringing as we age. I find myself simply not understanding as time goes by, a complete polar opposite from the song ‘Farther Along’.
From an old brick building with many pleasant memories, to an uncertain apartment that was entirely unknown, my mom and I moved, she forced me to attend my new school. On the very first day, some kids started to make “jokes” of my speech. I tried to ignore them, but it was difficult since they kept going; it was like an endless nightmare that was impossible to wake up from. Nevertheless, I still survived. When the year was over my mom got a promotion, so a different school again, it just happened again, but they made it all about my look, but with each insult, slowly but surely they stole something, my voice.
‘’You are Arabic girl?’’ Ali asked through a smile. Genetically, yes, I am of Egyptian descent because of my father. Culturally, I am not. I was raised in an African American family. Not knowing anything about my father’s culture or family created a barrier in my cultural competence until I began working at Leos.
I identify as an African-American, Mexican and Native American woman as well as a first generation, low-income student. My ethnicity and socioeconomic class are two essential entities that make up my identity, entities that I’m proud to claim. With that being said, I realize that the challenges I might face during my time in Spain are going to be based off my racial background, my family’s economic status and quite possibly, my gender. I have become aware that Spaniards will want to place me in some sort of box because of my skin complexion, clothing, and speech etc. I am no stranger to this “box fetish” or the social construct of race and class. Being born and raised in America, with the entities that I possess, has given me numerous opportunities
When asked to describe myself, only one thing comes to mind. How does one describe oneself? That is a question I have struggled to answer my entire life. Anxiety and depression are two things I have struggled with as long as I can remember. What I once thought was the worst thing that ever happened to me turned out to be the greatest gift I have ever been given. I missed nearly my entire freshman year of high school trying to decide my worth. What I realized was that only I can decide my worth. I decide how successful I become. Everything starts with me and that is where my journey began.
I believe that I should be defined by neither my sexuality nor my ethnicity. I do not think that neither one is an accurate description of the person I am. I think those two things make me who I am, but they do not define whom I am. I think how I practice my beliefs in my everyday life define who I am. The way I choose to live my life on my own terms defines who I am. My identity is how I react when I fall, what I do when I am dealt a bad hand of cards, how I react to tangled Christmas lights, or a bad 13.1 mile run defines who I am. No amount of makeup I wear will define who I am. It is what I have on the inside that defines who I am. No amount of physical beauty can ever mask an ugly heart. Those are things I believe that defines me as a
Looking over myself as a teen I would define myself as being a procrastinating slacker who never wanted to do anything. I went from an all A student in elementary to a kid who made C’s, D’s, and F’s in my first 2 and a half years in high school. As I look back on my past I regret my outlook on life as a teen with no goals set until I joined marching band and my school’s debate team.