I Hate White People
Throughout my years of schooling, I moved towns every year for seven consecutive years. With every new town came a new school, new friends, new teachers, and a new environment. I learned to adapt and am now extroverted because of it. However, the first day in a new school is always the most difficult because of the culture shock. The first day of the first grade, by far, was one of the worst experiences I’ve had. I was to be attending a private Christian school that had various unique features including khaki uniforms, a chapel, and most importantly, predominantly white people.
My mom and I arrived early the first day in order to ensure I had my schedule down. I took a few steps into my classroom, and looked around while …show more content…
I wanted long blonde hair, fair skin, and blue eyes. I wanted a pretty, girly name like Jessica or Courtney. I wanted it all so badly I started hating the ones who had it. My face and my eyes were red from using the rough paper towels on my face and from crying. I ripped the hair tie out of my hair and undid my braid, resulting in a frizzy, thick, mop on my head. “Unattractive” and “repulsive” were the only words that came to mind when staring at my reflection.
“I hate white people!” I thought. “I hate their smooth hair, their beautiful eyes and skin!” However, the rage I felt wasn’t hate at all, but intense jealousy. In fact, I didn’t hate my mom, or my teacher, or people with white features. I hated myself.
I continued to hate myself for a long time. The culture I witnessed portrayed dark as bad, impure, or ugly. From the things I watched on tv to the books I read, almost everyone was white. Actors were white, singers were white, disney princesses were white, even the president was white. It seemed to be that almost every successful person or character was required to be white. Therefore, I would never be as successful or as talented as a white person. I saw that in the eyes of many other people. I grew sick the shocked look on their face when they found out I was an intelligent human being, or people disbelieving that “I actually don’t speak spanish.” I was tired of pronouncing my name, taming my hair, and proving myself to society that I’m capable of doing anything anyone else can do. Most of all, I was tired of seeing most white people not have to deal with the same
Throughout my years of schooling, I moved towns every year for seven consecutive years. With every new town came a new school, new friends, new teachers, and a new environment. I learned to adapt and am now extroverted because of it. However, the first day in a new school is always the most difficult because of the culture shock. The first day of the first grade, by far, was one of the worst experiences I’ve had. I was to be attending a private Christian school that had various unique features including khaki uniforms, a chapel, and most importantly, predominantly white people.
My mom and I arrived early the first day in order to ensure I had my schedule down. I took a few steps into my classroom, and looked around while …show more content…
I wanted long blonde hair, fair skin, and blue eyes. I wanted a pretty, girly name like Jessica or Courtney. I wanted it all so badly I started hating the ones who had it. My face and my eyes were red from using the rough paper towels on my face and from crying. I ripped the hair tie out of my hair and undid my braid, resulting in a frizzy, thick, mop on my head. “Unattractive” and “repulsive” were the only words that came to mind when staring at my reflection.
“I hate white people!” I thought. “I hate their smooth hair, their beautiful eyes and skin!” However, the rage I felt wasn’t hate at all, but intense jealousy. In fact, I didn’t hate my mom, or my teacher, or people with white features. I hated myself.
I continued to hate myself for a long time. The culture I witnessed portrayed dark as bad, impure, or ugly. From the things I watched on tv to the books I read, almost everyone was white. Actors were white, singers were white, disney princesses were white, even the president was white. It seemed to be that almost every successful person or character was required to be white. Therefore, I would never be as successful or as talented as a white person. I saw that in the eyes of many other people. I grew sick the shocked look on their face when they found out I was an intelligent human being, or people disbelieving that “I actually don’t speak spanish.” I was tired of pronouncing my name, taming my hair, and proving myself to society that I’m capable of doing anything anyone else can do. Most of all, I was tired of seeing most white people not have to deal with the same