A Cultural Pot Luck
Racism. A term most people would have hoped to be vanquished by this time in society, but nevertheless it is still prevalent in today’s era, especially for my family. Growing up, I never thought of my relatives as “different,” yet that term became frequent as I grew up. I heard it everywhere; it described my troublesome sister, or my brother who had trouble learning, or me, the misfit who seemed out of place.
My family to me was not unique. I grew up accustomed to having a half-sister who was African American, a brother who has Autism, and I never gawk at myself in the mirror for being Hispanic. These representations of us are just that, representations. Nonetheless, in my community a person’s color, mental condition, or anything that is “out-of-the-norm” is like a beacon to years of prejudice. I live in a small, mostly white conservative town south of Dallas. The closest thing to culture is the run-down Italian restaurant at the corner of Main Street. The townspeople here perfume the streets with a strong sense of close-mindedness. Locals will come up to me and begin over-exaggerating their accents, as if I am deaf to the English language. They even go as far as to not let their children interact with me. Even more so, my entire family is the subject of these …show more content…
They live with me, and are a constant remembrance of my fight. Despite the presence of this oppression though, I find that these experiences do not define me. Instead, these incidents propel my motivation and character. They help sculpt my heritage, and make me even prouder of my ethnicity. I have come to learn that I cannot earnestly seek approval from strangers. I have to find it in myself. Bigotry is everywhere, and although most people do not want to admit it, it is prevalent outside their front door. I have chosen to refuse my stereotype, and to allow myself to flourish. I am proud of who I am, and look forward to who I will
Racism. A term most people would have hoped to be vanquished by this time in society, but nevertheless it is still prevalent in today’s era, especially for my family. Growing up, I never thought of my relatives as “different,” yet that term became frequent as I grew up. I heard it everywhere; it described my troublesome sister, or my brother who had trouble learning, or me, the misfit who seemed out of place.
My family to me was not unique. I grew up accustomed to having a half-sister who was African American, a brother who has Autism, and I never gawk at myself in the mirror for being Hispanic. These representations of us are just that, representations. Nonetheless, in my community a person’s color, mental condition, or anything that is “out-of-the-norm” is like a beacon to years of prejudice. I live in a small, mostly white conservative town south of Dallas. The closest thing to culture is the run-down Italian restaurant at the corner of Main Street. The townspeople here perfume the streets with a strong sense of close-mindedness. Locals will come up to me and begin over-exaggerating their accents, as if I am deaf to the English language. They even go as far as to not let their children interact with me. Even more so, my entire family is the subject of these …show more content…
They live with me, and are a constant remembrance of my fight. Despite the presence of this oppression though, I find that these experiences do not define me. Instead, these incidents propel my motivation and character. They help sculpt my heritage, and make me even prouder of my ethnicity. I have come to learn that I cannot earnestly seek approval from strangers. I have to find it in myself. Bigotry is everywhere, and although most people do not want to admit it, it is prevalent outside their front door. I have chosen to refuse my stereotype, and to allow myself to flourish. I am proud of who I am, and look forward to who I will