Personal Narrative: My Racial Identity
As a young child, I never really understood the concept of having a healthy racial identity. Racial identity was not a topic of conversation in school; however school and other factors have had major effects on my racial identity. I was not even familiar with what it meant to be a Black individual. When I was younger, I did not focus on being black or white, I solely focused on playing with other children. However, it was not until racist events began to occur did I begin to question my identity. Anyone would think that a child whom was raised in a family where racial pride is prominent would evidently grow into an adult that also projects this racial pride. However, distinct racist events, micro-aggressions, and other events have a major impact on how children and adults contract their racial identity.
Personal experiences with racisms in school …show more content…
Therefore, we moved to Brentwood, located in Long Island, in 2004. At the time, Brentwood’s population was predominately white; most of the families that lived on my block were upper-middle class white families. Even though I was only eight years old at the time of the move in, it seemed apparent that our move-in was unwanted. I recall hearing the sound of children playing outside in our neighbor’s yard and running outside to attempt to play with them. Unfortunately, the adults seemed to snatch the children up and ran inside as though there was a catastrophe outside. I also recall sitting in our living room and hearing my mother tell my step father, “Those people next door always slam the door closed whenever they see me coming outside.” Even though I was very young and may not have been able to fully comprehend the reason for our neighbors’ doings, it became clear to me that they strongly disliked my family and
Personal experiences with racisms in school …show more content…
Therefore, we moved to Brentwood, located in Long Island, in 2004. At the time, Brentwood’s population was predominately white; most of the families that lived on my block were upper-middle class white families. Even though I was only eight years old at the time of the move in, it seemed apparent that our move-in was unwanted. I recall hearing the sound of children playing outside in our neighbor’s yard and running outside to attempt to play with them. Unfortunately, the adults seemed to snatch the children up and ran inside as though there was a catastrophe outside. I also recall sitting in our living room and hearing my mother tell my step father, “Those people next door always slam the door closed whenever they see me coming outside.” Even though I was very young and may not have been able to fully comprehend the reason for our neighbors’ doings, it became clear to me that they strongly disliked my family and