Never have I taken my culture into consideration, but I would more than likely classify my culture as Latino/Hispanic. For starters, I was born in a lovely place called Chihuahua, Mexico. This place is the reason I consider myself a Latino. Why is this my culture you ask? My whole daily lifestyle revolves around this Hispanic heritage.
In the past I have struggled with my biracial identity. As a child I was confused about which community I belonged in because I am a mix of Navajo and Caucasian. As I got older, I began to question myself and who I was. I felt like I did not belong to either the Native or Caucasian community because in both groups I felt like someone else. I felt as if I had to live two lives that were completely separated.
We are often told that it’s ok to be different. My younger version would definitely agree. Growing up Indian, I had the benefit of teachers repeating instructions a bit louder and slower. I never worried about getting injured on the baseball field, because I got to sit on the bench. My parents never had to worry about driving me to sleepovers, though I was seemingly friends with everyone in school.
With PDVSA being the largest employer, any troubles that may occur within the business of PDVSA will always result in a large effect to the economy. During 2002, “nearly half of PDVSA’s employees walked off the job” (national geographic) in result of a protest they were holding against the actions that President Chavez was doing as acting manager of the company’s operations. President Chavez then fired all 18,000 employees who walked off in protest. This protest resulted in a drop of 3 million barrels being exported a day to 25,000 barrels. (el universal)
For my first diversity event I decided to attend the 43rd annual Mankato wacipi (Powwow). I chose this event because I attended some like it when I was younger. I always have admired Native Americans and their deep connection with their spirituality. I remember in fifth grade my elementary school hosted a Powwow that my mother and I attended. This was the first time I have ever been exposed to the Native American culture and the memory has stuck with me till now.
When I first received your letter I was a tad disordered to be completely frank, I had understood things were going fairly smoothly, I comprehend the distance is challenging for me to suitably govern thou. Yet is it really necessary for you to not state these grievances in person? Do you seek me as unreasonable gent, is that why you didn’t do this all face to face? I consider myself to be one of the fairer rulers; back to the matter at hand- If you wish to leave I will not stop you.
Shuffling through the grocery store, I hastily pushed my shopping cart along, crossing items off a crumpled list. After eyeing up the prices, I scribbled a line through my mother’s elegant cursive font. I smile at her misspellings of certain foods, despite her previously asking me to correct her. This goes on for some time. I have my items rung up and exchange pleasantries with the cashier, and carry on with my day.
January 11, 2013, I wake up to yelling, prayers, and crying. I walked into the kitchen where all the noises were coming from and I found my mother on the floor crying, talking on the phone with my godmother. My father was there by her side, trying hard not to cry while supporting his wife. I didn’t know what was happening, this was the first time I’ve seen my mom so vulnerable and broken. My parents didn’t tell me anything other than my grandmother was in critical condition at the hospital, but with god's help she would overcome this hard time.
Native American Ceremonies’ When I was ten years old I learned of my Indian culture. I learned I was of the Cherokee tribe. My dad had always hung Indian decorations in our home, but I have never given much thought of why he has done so. This peaked my interest, so I started asking questions. He told me we were part Cherokee and part Choctaw native American.
“Ma 'am, I 'm gonna try my hardest ta keep myself straight. I might’ve fell off the wagon, but I’s got back up, didn 't I?” “Yes, sir, you sure did! “ “And, I’s a keep pickin’ myself up as long as I has y’all ta lean on…” “I talked with Henry last night and we have decided to move up to Cherokee County.
As the crow flew across the sky, I felt a thick breeze of wind hit me in the face, I heard several voices talking a language I'd never heard before. I was born in southern Europe, and everyone around me was just another figure. I saw men, women, and tiny children, looking like they had been starving for quite some time. I, however did not look much different, but I guess it is the thought of more people starving than just myself. I am 14 years old, I was born in 1877, my parents have been separated from me, and my little brother just died.
On one brusque day, I was running from the cops knowing that I shouldn’t have held up 7/11 while on probation. Now i’m really gonna get locked up now. I don’t care i’ll miss my sophomore year or if the judge gives me grace again. I’ll end up with my dad in West Cali, and i’ll end up working at his retarded library. My mom and he were divorced when I was three.
Life as a Native American sucks. I realized this when I was a little kid. I’ve come to accept that what other people label or describes us as are true. I’m not happy to admit this they are right. My people don’t do anything to prove these people’s claims, or better known as stereotypes, about Native Americans wrong.
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.
Moving to a completely place to another with so much unfamiliarity completely shapes who you are as a person and teaches you unique values. I decided to interview my mom, it was interesting to see how much I did not not know about her and the stories she told me about her life experiences. I learned about her struggles growing up and how being an immigrant affected her personally. We have a really close relationship and I feel that this brought us a little closer because I was able to ask her questions that I have never thought of asking her.
