Personal Narrative: My Life As A Woman

841 Words 4 Pages
When we were announced to break into two groups, those that feel privileged and those that feel non-privileged. In those few seconds, I knew we were going to be split up into girls and boys, however, I felt more accustomed to going with the guys then the girls, yet I stayed. It felt weird to say we were the oppressed group because we are women, yet I never felt that until I got into college. I never had to think about being a woman, only at times did I ask myself why was I born a woman. I think I felt weird due to being the oldest in my family, my family consists of my parents, my younger sisters and I. Being the oldest in the family, I was taught to be the strongest and watch over my younger siblings. I would spend my summers going to work …show more content…
It could be due to never having a job or never being mention during my years in High School, but it was one of the first times I’ve heard of people say that and not deny it. This was also something that made me think about being a woman, why will I be winning less in the future? Till this day I still don’t believe it and have a hard time understanding, why is it taking a long time to change this type of system. Recently today, I went to visit my grandmother, my uncle and his little one-year-old son was too. As my little cousin began to cry, my uncle began to say “Boys don’t cry, only girls do so stop crying”, I wanted to say something but I didn’t not because I was scared but because I know my family is stubborn. Since a young age, my uncles and aunts had a certain way they wanted us to grow. The girls had to know how to cook and clean but had to have a good education. With the boys, they had the ideal image of them becoming strong working with either my dad in the Pallet Business or working with my uncle in his repair shop. If we were doing something a “women” or “girl” wasn’t supposed to do, they began to bicker of how I wasn’t taught right and should be taught better or else I will grow into a trouble maker. Family events were a hassle, though I had fun visiting my cousins, it was my Aunts and Uncles that always gave me the headaches. Both my school and neighborhood were never a problem in letting me see if I was oppressing or privileged, which was good in a way. Yet due to school being a big part of my life, it wasn’t until I got to college and noticed I was part of the Oppressed

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