Personal Narrative: How Race Changed My Life

As a child race was something I did not really recognize. I am not sure when race started to become such a noticeable thing when seeing people. I noticed as I got older my parents and the rest of my family started to hint more to race. Them hinting to race and race related topics probably happened when I was younger too and I just could not understand at that time. Race, as I started to understand the concept, was always used as a reason or justification for events and the way the world was and is currently.
It was utilized to explain why some people were better educated, had certain things, and did certain things. When I was young I was taught unintentionally by my family that blacks are expected to be sturdy. Blacks are expected to fight …show more content…
I know this because I was told by other kids I was dark skinned. Not being black enough had everything to do with my speech pattern, my lack of understanding of popular “black” music, shows, jokes, and dances, and my love for old music “black” and “white” alike. The fact that I openly expressed my love for Barry Manilow and other old white artists, was a Girl Scout, and played the viola, a classical string instrument definitely did not help my case of being more black. Me not twerking, not knowing who Waka Flocka Flame was, and just being me was in fact why I was not …show more content…
It was being attacked. Being black to me was not only about being resilient and working hard for opportunity, it was also going to church on Sunday, having Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ house and eating soul food, and the experiences of being disciplined like almost every other black person -ruled with and iron fist and spanked with a belt-. Having these shared experiences and stories are what I thought gave me my black card. However, contrary to what I believed apparently I was like a white girl and being labeled as white was not really what I wanted to identify