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In my life, there have many instances where I have been forced to adapt to different cultures, but the biggest culture shock by far was switching from Catholic school to public school. It could not have been any more different. The size, the people, the town, the curriculum – everything was different. It was such a different environment from what I was used to, but I soon grew to love it. I attended a small Catholic School in from kindergarten to fifth grade.
The first couple is an Egyptian white couple came to California six years ago, the husband is working as an accountant and she is working as a preschool teacher. They have two male children, nine years and six years. They own their house and their socioeconomic level is average to above average. They have been married for eleven years, both are Egyptian, Christian, and straight sexual orientation. I know them because the wife is working at the same place with my wife, but we are not close friends.
Growing up in a family where my mom was a doctor and my dad was a musician, I was exposed to a lots of things in my life. For example I was able to see Broadway plays and and go on family trips to Disney every year in the winter. A lot of people would say I was very fortunate to be one of the family where I knew both my parents and they did there best to give me a lot of life experiences. But me being an African-American male it seems like I not supposed to how do experiences, I was supposed to not know my father not to be able to go on these trips with my family.
I was going through boxes looking for something, anything that would help me finish this project. My teacher just handed out an essay that we have to do on the history of a family member . My Dad told me if we have anything it would be in the trunk upstairs, but there were only trinkets in the trunk. I resorted to scavenging through the boxes in the attic. I gave up after finding nothing except a picture of some man sitting on a pony.
I felt my heart hammering in my chest. I knew I was next and my anxiety was trying to get the better of me but I knew better. When I heard my name called, I slowly got up from my seat. I glanced around me and caught my brother’s eye.
I have blond hair and pale skin. On the color wheel, my father is a rich mocha, my sister is a warm copper, and my mother is a perfectly tanned caramel; I am somewhere between cream and eggshell on the opposite end of the spectrum. Being stereotypically white can be difficult when you’re African American. The beginning of high school was when I first began to feel that my fair complexion hid my true identity.
I was born and raised in the southernmost past of Texas in a city named Brownsville where diversity is almost non-existent. Growing up in a city with one of the highest poverty rates was surprisingly not as much a struggle as you may think. My father had a decent job with a salary of around 48,000, but that number varies every year. He is the captain of a shrimp boat and has owned his very own boat a few times. For this reason, my father was frequently absent in my life and still is to this day.
Even though I have never been on an airplane, I consider myself an international traveler. I live in the U.S. but I also have Lebanese immigrant parents. When I was younger, I used travel back and forth across international borders to fulfill my daily routine in one city. But; I was never Arab enough to fit in with “Arab” natives, and being Arab means that I would never be considered “American” enough.
For me, my racial and cultural identity has always been at the forefront of my life experience. I grew up in an Iowan rural small town that was founded on Swedish heritage. My home town of Albert City, Iowa was founded by my Swedish ancestors, many of which still have family there today. Therefore, I have always known that my Swedish blood was an important aspect of my life. However, I am also of German, Norwegian, and Danish heritage which has conflicted my views of my identity.
Growing up with a Catholic mother and Jewish father, I was often oblivious to the major differences between my extended families. Although I was raised Catholic, I was content in exercising parts of Judaism; it meant I received double the presents during the holidays. As I grew older, however, I became exceedingly conscious of the prejudices Jews face here in America. I never really understood why until the summer of 2014, when my father brought my family to Israel.
The world is filled with people, and like snowflakes, each person is not the same as another. Each person identifies with different aspects of their lives to create their own personal identities. I personally identify with my Italian side of my family to help form who I am today. I have found myself connecting with this side more so than the other parts of my identity. It affects how I live my life by becoming the center to the culture surrounding me.
Stepping off the plane as a cold breeze welcomed my family and I to the land of the free. We stood in confusion at the Gerald R. Ford international Airport. No one in my family spoke english so asking for directions was the last thing we could do. Then this young lady and two others came up to my mother asking for her name and when she answered a big smile appeared on her face then she started speaking arabic. At that moment joy filled my heart assuming there were more sudanese people in the united states.
Imagine if one man destroyed the life you were accustomed to. In my case, this man was the president of Syria. Tensions in nearby Middle-Eastern countries had finally spilled over into Syria in 2011. People were tired of their so-called democratic government acting as a dictatorship. The rule in Syria at the time had been “speak out against the government and disappear.”
As a Muslim convert, who has a tragic story of hardship after coming to Islam. This is a very brief idea of my situation and what had happened to me. I have suffered and faced a lot of abuse and insults from my family and community after I became a Muslim. My family is very racist and my sister was involved with white supremacist groups. My story is a long story-
Kindergarten to 8th grade I attended a private school called Holy Family Catholic School. The school was very small along with classes, teachers extremely strict and hallways always quiet, the totally opposite from Dr. Henry A. Wise. My first day of high school I was very nervous I was not used to big classes, endless amount of students in the halls and the loud ruckus. This was an educational challenge for me because it was a totally different learning environment for me that i had to get used to quickly. My studying habits also challenged me through high school because test and quizzes were given out frequently and if you didn't know how to study you probably wouldn’t get a good grade.
