Personal Narrative: I Am A White Woman

I was the first girl born in my family. About two years later, my sister came into the picture. Then a few years later after that, my brother came as well. Growing up in a predominantly female household, you’d expect the rooms to be cluttered with Barbie dolls or frilly dresses and skirts but that was not the case for me. I was the “tom-boy”; I would’ve rather cut my own toe off than put on make-up. I grew up playing basketball; I can’t even count to you how many hours my parents spent at this gymnasium for practice and games. I always had a tennis ball in my hand wherever I went, and that didn’t stop until high school. I loved being physically active, and that lifestyle still lives on to this day. That being said, taking on the more masculine role made it harder to relate to the feminine side. I never got into taking pride in my appearance, and I didn’t start caring until high school due to the fact that you were now at an age that dating and romantic relationships were all people talked about. I never wore dresses or skirts, or even bothered with my hair, it was always

This is not the case, however, for language or race. I am a white woman in a man’s world. I grew up in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood, went to a white elementary and middle school, and it wasn’t until high school that I was exposed to the diversity of the world. Another thing I am not a part of the dominant group of is religion. I don’t believe in a specific entity, and have never done so either. Religion was never a substantial belief in the family, we never stressed about it. The first time I went to church was in high school only was for the sake of a friend, I had spent the night at a friend’s house and I was subjected to going to church with her family before my parents could pick me up. I think it’s fantastic that people believe in a single entity and do so wholeheartedly, but that life is definitely not for