Personal Narrative: My Identity In New York City

I was once told that I am a double negative; I am both a woman and hispanic. Being young, and still in the process of shaping my identity, I do not know exactly where I fit in, but that these two parts of myself are constant. I was born in New York City to parents who both emigrated from the Dominican Republic. I grew up constantly surrounded by different cultures, including my own Dominican culture. Taking the subway with my parents was a new adventure everyday, with our destination being an exciting place to explore. I quickly picked up on the life of the city, learning to guide my grandmother to my favorite places. In the midst of this busy city life my idea of culture was established, spending Saturday evenings at my aunt’s house, eating

The seemingly insignificant details of my life in the busy streets New York were replaced with the lonely desert and casino lights. In New York, I found myself every where, in the signs of Dominican culture, truly making me feel like home. In my new classrooms I became the only dominican girl. These situations seem trivial now, but at the time were silent battles that I fought everyday. My whole idea of identity was quickly erased, I was no longer the simply a minority, but a minority within a minority. Starting a new school year would mean explaining my culture to everyone, biting my tongue and pasting a smile on my face every time the words, “You’re Mexican, right?” rolled off a classmate’s tongue. Something that had always seemed infinite was now finite, and I had to learn how to accept it. The first few years of change were hard, my identity seemingly shrinking everyday. The colorful beat of merengue and bachata on Saturday mornings subtly replaced by american pop music. My last couple years of middle school, the differences in myself became more apparent. My summers in the Dominican Republic visiting family would leave me feeling comfortable at ease surrounded by what I knew