Rebels Without a Cause Not very many people have affected me in the same way as my friend Jake Fernholz. I have never realized the influence he has had on me until someone pointed out that we talk and think the same way. I only met Jake two years ago in track, when a pulled hamstring injury caused Mr. Kellerman to have me practice with the long distance kids. Mr. Kellerman forced me into staying on the long distance team and that is where I started to hit it off with Jake. It took me a long time to be comfortable with Jake, but when I did we quickly found our common interests.
She explains how it affected her family to come to the U.S. in seek of the American Dream. She also
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.
I think that the theme for this story is family is worth saving. Max almost died several different times just to save Angle or Fang. Also, in Intex one of the workers revives his son in a worse form just to be able to have him be alive for two more years. On both the good and bad sides there has been sacrifices to make family last longer. This whole book seems to revolve around family and resilience.
I’m able to resonate with a plethora of things, yet the thing I consider my identity is I’m an adopted, Haitian immigrant. I was born in Haiti in 1998, in a small village in Thomazeau, I moved to Croix-des- Bouquets right after my birth and I lived there until I was 9 years old. My family's financial situation was adequate. My mom was always able to find a way to make ends meet. This cause our neighbor to be envious of us.
She was one of the kindest individuals I have ever met and was always there to lift my spirits when I was feeling down. I was always very excited to see her. She inspired me to become a Physician Assistant because I wanted to have the opportunity to have
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 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.
Growing up there were many time where things would happen but I was too young to realize it or even know what was happening. As time went passed thing got better and less noticeable but that is when things normally take a turn for the worse. But most people when looking at me would say he is African American but in reality yes I am partly African American
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.
Although I, my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and previous generations were born in the United States; being an involuntary immigrant is something that has always crossed my mind since I was a young child. I always wondered what life would be like now if our ancestors were never taken from our home and brought to “America”, but what African American hasn’t. Growing up a young African American female with sickle cell anemia I’ve encountered several socio-cultural dynamic situations. As a child, my parents somewhat sheltered me from the reality and negativity of the world, partly because I would be too young to understand, and because they wanted me to make my own decisions. I went to an elementary school that was predominantly black,
I cringe at the smell of alcohol floating around the apartment. A cold shiver simmers down my spine as I hear footsteps making their way to my room. 3 loud, hard knocks bang on the door. I open the door waiting for it. Waiting for the rock solid slap that pierces my face everyday leaving bruises and black eyes the size of tennis balls.
She said, “My life now is not how I predicted it to be. I must rely on my family, especially my daughter, to help take care of my husband and I because I’m getting to where I can’t. If it wasn’t for her coming over every morning and night, I don’t know what we would have done. My son doesn’t live as close as she does, but he will help us by driving us to the doctor sometimes. We have both been to a nursing home in the past, and although they were good to us, it is nice to be home.
Getting off the plane and being blasted by the hot, humid air was only the beginning of my long two week stay in El Salvador. It was only my second time going to El Salvador but it had really changed compared to the last time I went, but for my mom it was her first time back in 20 years and it was a sight to see when my mom and my grandma got reunited. From there, my little brother went with his dad's side of the family and the rest of us went with my mom's side. It was a 2 hour drive from the airport to my grandmas and it was around 2am, the usually crowded streets and markets were empty and the heat just as unbearable.
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.
