Personal Narrative: My Life As A Minority Community

Unknown Hi i’m Bella. I look like a happy go lucky African american woman. Well to all that say that they only got one part right in that whole statement. I’m an average african american woman. I have nothing and no one to truly call my own.

I am a free African American, but in a since I am not free. I am not a free person because I am not allowed to vote or speak out for myself and my country where I live in. I want to have rights, but I am not allowed to due to some circumstances. Even though I am a free African American, people are saying that there is no proof that I am a free African American. Also, when a white American captures me, I do not have proof that I was a free African American, and I will be sent into slavery.

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.

March On Yelling, screaming, blood, that 's the first thing I remember. A punch to my face, I went down, all I could see was blood as I became one of the 17 hospitalized that day. Yelling, screaming, blood. The day of March 7, 1965 the day I went down in history, the day that what I did mattered.

Diversity Practicum #1 For my first diversity practicum outing, I went to Lalibela’s Ethiopian restaurant in Sioux Falls. I am typically adventurous when going out to eat to hole-in-the-wall restaurants like this, but this was definitely different. Upon first arrival, the place was empty except for a table of young adult males in the back who all stopped to stare at me when I got there. They soon returned to their conversation in a language was that was completely beyond me.

Challenges are events that are used to change you for the better should you choose it accept it. The challenges I have faced wasn’t a matter of choice but of something that I have no control over. Some people will tell you it’s a burden, some say it’s an entitlement or free ride. Science says it’s just having a high amount of melatonin due to geographical location for survival. To me though, being black probably one of the biggest challenges a human can have in America at least I find it terribly perplexing.

Culturally, family is the base of my Hispanic heritage. As a child my mother taught me that family is the most important aspect of life. I remember my abuelita and uncle visiting every Thanksgiving and telling stories about their youth, from my uncle getting lost in Yosemite National Park to my abuelita regularly being dragged by the ear to Mother Superior’s office. When she came to visit, my abuelita would always share the family albums that she had stuffed in her suitcase. With every picture there was both a story and a lesson.

Heaved I ever experience racism? How did it make me feel? Yes, I have experience racism. It was not the best feeling ever it made me feel like crap. It’s funny how people make you feel if you’re a different race.

Although my family dealt—and still deals— with it every day, the racial identity never was pointed out. As a little kid, I never understood why my dad sometimes was treated differently for me he always was just my dad. Later on I would understand why, but my idea “you are whoever you are” still was my life credo that I never doubted. I have never questioned myself on what I identify as before the conversation with the person that I met once and thought I would forget the next day, but it became the turning point of my life.

I identify as a Latina. I have always considered myself as a Latina, but throughout time, I believe that I have assimilated more into a white individual because of the privilege that I hold and because I have lived in the US most of my life. I have received mostly negative messages from those who are not from my ethnicity. My peers and I were told we wouldn’t graduate high school and be laborers for the rest of our lives. With the current politics, I believe that this still holds true where some people still hold stereotypes and give oppressing messages to Latinos.

The negative treatment and pain I received as a black girl, and still into my adulthood, it amazes me how I'm still standing tall and strong. It amazes me how people have tried to break me, even my own kind, but I'm still here. Truth is I gotta to have thick skin and protect myself, because I got no choice. If I don't... who will? And that is the everyday life of living as a black woman.

Being a five-foot tall Hispanic girl, I literally see the world from a different perspective. I was never the type of person to feel confident under my own skin because I belittled myself instead of embracing my physique, culture, and gender. As a young girl, I was inspired to run for president after reading a biography of George Washington, become an astronaut after seeing Apollo 13, and a computer scientist after learning about Bill Gates, but I was discouraged to pursue those careers because I am a girl. When the teacher would ask what we wanted to be when we were older, some boys would say, “You can’t do that! You’re a girl!”

To begin with, I have a diverse cultural background and identity. I was not born in the United States. My family immigrated from El Salvador when I was four years old. Because of this, I am a minority in many aspects; I am a first generation college student, English is my second language, and I identify as a Salvadoran. In addition, my diversity increased due to the fact that I grew up being "the new kid," because I moved schools at least nine times from kindergarten to high school.

“Bang!” The gun fires off, and the race starts at that instant. As I spring from my starting position I look in the corner of my eye, to see another runner leading the pack. I concentrated all of my energy into the race, my legs burning from the intensity, however, it was not enough for me to clench the sweet taste of victory. I turned up at the finish line with 2nd place.

For my individual community project, I volunteered at the MUST Ministries Donation Center located on Chastain Road in Kennesaw for ten hours. I did the first five hours on Saturday, October 24th and the other five hours on the next Saturday of the same month. Prior to arriving at the donation center, I received a PIN number to log in and out of the computer to identify when I started and ended my volunteer shift. On both days, I had the same experience and work to do. I had to wear gloves and go through the racks of clothes and make sure the articles of clothing were in the right section where they are suppose to belong.