Personal Narrative: Racism In Chicago

It was not until that one night in Chicago that I realized I had racist tendencies. I did not hate people of a different race, but on that night I was afraid. Afraid that he was going to rob me or worse. It did not stem from a hatred of African American people. Growing up in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Chicago, I had met my fair share of violent people both African American and Caucasian. However some of the most kind and compassionate people I had ever met were African American. That night brought out a side in me that I did not know I even had. I had grown up in the south side of Chicago. My mother and I lived in a small apartment. Since my father had left before I was born, she had to support me on her own. My mom was always jumping between two or three minimum wage jobs just trying to stay afloat. Since she worked so much, she was usually never home. I found friendship in the other kids. It did not matter what color their skin was. They treated me like an equal, so I did the same to them. I heard people talk of racism, but I never thought I would be one. As I grew older I started to see just how bad my neighborhood really was. The blue and red lights became more and more common. It seemed that every night a particular pattern would occur. First either the sound of gun shots or …show more content…
Reed I did some thinking. I remembered all of the the fond memories with her. While searching my memories, I remembered an old quote from H.G. Wells that she loved, “Our true nationality is mankind.” I would ask her what it meant. She would smile and say, “It means that no matter the differences in our skin color we are all the same, and we are all equal.” As I looked back on that night I realised that it was just my emotions taking control. As I sat in the room with all of Ms. Reeds family and friends I did not feel hatred or anger. I felt loved and accepted by everyone there. There was no division because of color, and we were all