What exactly is the hood? The hood is a slang term for the ghetto. Many people may associate the hood with the birthplace of criminals, people with no lives, and even what some people would call “gangsters”. From the outside looking in, one would assume the hood is a horrible place to be, and those were my exact thoughts in the beginning. Is the hood as dangerous as it is described? I never realized as a kid that I was different than everyone else who lived in my neighborhood, — different, but not better. Despite how scary it was at first, growing up in the hood caused me to appreciate life even more, and it introduced me to a new world. Its effects still stay with me today.
One night, during the cold winter, I walked along the side walk to reach the local store down the block. As I walked out, before I can realize it, I was dropping down onto the concrete while bullets swiftly passed me. I then began to run back home, but I wanted to keep running. Away from Chicago, away from the west side. Growing up in Chicago, it was easy to assume that there was nothing different beyond the blocks of my streets. Everybody lived the same way and talked the same way; not many people was different. I made my own decision, at the age of 10 to not be another statics of my community. When my mother moved my family and I to San Antonio, I devoted my time to school and bettering my opportunity to go to a Tier one institution which
The Day I Moved to Sacramento It was the last three days of school but the last one for me, I was moving away from San Bruno. This is a story about my last day in San Bruno. The first time I moved there I thought it wasn't very nice and stuff because it looked Very Ghetto Things were old and just trash and stuff everywhere, there were a lot of Gangs and stuff like that, but I think I was there for about 4 or 5 years. I went to a school called Parkside Middle school there was a 6th grade , 7th , and an 8th grade at the school.
Like the classic saying has it “You can take the kid out of Brooklyn but you can’t take the Brooklyn out of the kid.” Same goes for Chicago this is my story. I was born in the windy city, on the south side. I wasn’t there for that long I was there till my fifth birthday, and then I moved to Boston, Ma with my mother, sister and I. However, I believe that south side raised me because every winter and summer vacation I would visit my grandmother or as she liked to be called “Mo-Mo” While visiting her I’ve seen some pretty harsh situations. Let’s just say living on south side is pretty tough it really like a jungle; I see the way family and old family friends live. South side Chicago has taught me to never trust clowns, watch my back, don’t stay out to late, and NEVER trust anyone other than your “gang”/ family and to not smile to much it’s a sign of weakness.
Growing up in California, my whole life has been around farming and like many others, it’s how I make a living. It’s now been at least a year, living through the Dust bowl and many people have migrated to California with the hope of surviving this crisis. Keeping my crops has become a struggle and that's what most people including me depend on. I am lucky enough to be able to pay my mortgages even though I’m not able to keep the land with the help of family. It’s practically impossible. Each day doesn’t seem to get better, only worse. Sunlight is almost rare, It’s as if the world is coming to end after all. I try to stay inside as often as I can because facing what’s outside is a dreadful thing but at some point of the day I’ll need to run
My original name is shaylin uhlig i was 15 before I moved to Beacon hills, California. I am now called Talia Burley. I am 16 years old. Just like me and for the same dark secret my friends changed their names to Scott McCall (17 years old), Stiles Stilinski (17 years old), Erica tumblr (16 years old), and Jackson Kanima (17 years old). We are now forced to live at Beacon hills, California.
As a young girl, around the age of 10 I lived in the Perry projects with my mother. Previously to moving there I would visit often to see my great-grandmother. When I would visit my grandmother there were not many other people that were African-American. The Commodore Perry Projects had been actually made for white people. As I grew older, that dynamic changed and so did the neighborhood. When I moved into the neighborhood, the neighborhood seemed to be much different that when I visited my great grandmother. The neighborhood was now predominantly African- American and no longer a thriving neighborhood.
Throughout my childhood growing up in Miami Fl, was an amazing experience, it’s unique variety of cultures spread through one city is absolutely mind blowing. Although there was one thing one my mind at all times. One thing I never experienced was living out west and getting away from the Miami life. Its kind of hard to believe someone would prefer living out west, in the middle of nowhere than along a beach shoreline. As a matter of fact, living out west had become one of my priorities when I was making my college decision. For some odd reason I have at all times wanted to be near a desert or spacious land unlike Miami and that’s why this picture really has an essential meaning to myself.
Growing up in Detroit Michigan I learned early in life that it is important to strive to do your best. As a child I wondered how life would be once I grew up. Moreover, I dreamed about the destinations that I wanted to travel to, the career that I want to pursue after graduating from college. I knew that the life that my parents lived was not for me.
I grew up in inner city Baltimore Maryland. Neither of my parents were or are followers of Christ. They divorced when I was very young. I spent most of my life moving from place to place with my mother and two brothers. I gave up on high school when I failed my freshmen year. I didn’t have a care in the world about anything except my own desires and needs. My mother started to get in trouble with the state of Maryland because I was not old enough to be out of school. She cut me deal by saying if I went to school until I was old enough to drop out, she would sign my drop out papers.
“I’ll come back to visit sometime,” is what I am obligated to tell to every single one of my friends I made. Since I was young I never had trouble making friends, but keeping them was a challenge to me. It wasn’t because I was mean or because I didn’t want friends, it’s because I moved around a lot when I was younger. I was born in Fresno, California, but then I moved to Mexico at a really young age so I was raised there until I was five years old. I can’t really remember much from Mexico mainly because I was too young.
I’ve completed my move to Houston. I traded in my Maryland license for a Texas one. With that said, I’ve found a new church home. I joined Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church on January 13th. The church is very similar to STCF. It has a long history of community outreach and strong biblical teaching. It even has a strong men’s group. I’m looking forward to continuing my growth in the Lord.
Growing up in Cypress has been a phenomenal experience to say the least. I was raised in a supportive middle class family. With a strong backbone behind me. I grew up to become independent and mature. Along with many friends that helped me get through rough times to make me the person I am today.
Growing up in southwest Atlanta, Georgia, I have been surrounded by ‘black success’ instead of just ‘success’ for the duration of my life. The blacks in my area are equally as successful, if not more accomplished than, the non-blacks, but we are always titled separately and put into a captive box. The box we are held in told young girls that they should aspire to be athletes, cosmetologists, or plain unemployed. The same box told young men that they could only be considered “somebody” if they were able to catch a ball well. These are occupations we would ‘best be suited for’; these are occupations that perpetuate the box. My dream since I was twelve years old has been to break down that box. I wanted to be known as ‘great’ and not just ‘great…for a black woman.’
Growing up in the small town of Port Arthur, Texas was very tough. The city’s crime rates are higher than the percentage that chooses to attend a college or university. With all of the crime, poverty, and near death experiences, the city has made me into a stronger and more motivated person wanting to help the poor.