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How to respect other cultures
How to respect other people in our society
Racism in the eyes of children
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“You are only allowed to make racist jokes if it’s about your own race.” This saying, which radiated through the halls of my middle school that prided itself for its diversity, managed to make me feel more comfortable in my own skin. Why did the ability to make fun of two different races, while many of my peers could only make fun of one, validate my own racial identity? I should not have wanted to tease my race and my ancestors but it helped me feel comfortable, even though I knew my knowledge of the cultures I was born into was lacking.
In my life, while my race is apparent to everyone on the physical level, I think it often goes unnoticed how important race and heritage has been in my life, both in the way I’ve been treated by those around
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The only connection I had to my Asian culture was my slightly darker, olive skin; my eyes that didn’t quite open as wide as the eyes of others around me; and the occasional conversation between my mom and her family in mandarin. This void was filled easily by the Asian jokes that seemed to follow me wherever I went. Whether within the walls of my school, throughout my neighborhood, on the sports field, and even within the walls of my own home; the constant reminder that I was Asian haunted me. I was so used to hearing steryotypes like, I should be extremely smart or a horrendous driver, that I began to share these jokes thinking that this was how I would embrace my race, my family, and myself.
My Asian heritage would continue to confuse me until I left the comforts of my own home and country, to a place where I didn’t speak a lick of the language. The thick, hot air of Taiwan stuck to me like a layer of lotion and was a constant reminder that I was no longer in my comfort zone. It wasn’t until I saw the small patches of grass sprouting between the cracks of concrete in the remainders of my Ahgong’s (grandpa) tiny and now non-existent ancestral home that I began to understand my cultural
According to Harris and Sanborn (1989), media portrays Asians more positively than other minorities, as they are shown to “succeed academically, commercially, and socially” (p. 104). Though London is certainly not an example of this, her father still expects nothing but the best, suggesting her upbringing is not far off with the stereotypes that go along with Asian
What culture they had was to be forgotten – a difficult and practically impossible feat. The Chinese-Americans faced a wall of cultural difference that could only be scaled with the support of their parents and local community. The book review of Bone by Nhi Le stated clearly how “ … the first generations’ struggle to survive and the second generations’ efforts to thrive … ” made the transition into American culture possible. Overcoming barriers such as language, education, work ethic, and sex roles was just a beginning to the problems that all Asian – Americans faced.
We cannot deny the fact that, as Americans, racial realism has always affected us and our way of thinking. In my personal experience, being an Asian, I have had
One of the most destructive forces that is destroying young black people in America today is the common cultures wicked image of what an realistic black person is supposed to look like and how that person is supposed to act. African Americans have been struggling for equality since the birth of this land, and the war is very strong. Have you ever been in a situation where you were stereotyped against?
In the early years of my life, adapting to the foreign customs of America was my top priority. Although born in America, I constantly moved back and forth from Korea to the US, experiencing nerve-racking, yet thrilling emotions caused by the unfamiliarity of new traditions. Along with these strange traditions, came struggles with accepting my ethnicity. Because of the obvious physical differences due to my race, the first question asked by the students in elementary school was, “Are you from China?” These inquiries were constantly asked by several of American students until middle school which transformed to “You must be good at math” referencing the stereotypical intellect that Asian are perceived to have. Through continuous insult on my Asian heritage, I began to believe and later hate the person I was due to criticism made by teenagers which I started to see true despite all the lies that was actively told. This racial discrimination was a reoccurring pattern that
Race has been a controversial issue throughout history and even more so today. The idea of race has contributed to the justifications of racial inequality and has led to the prejudice and discrimination of certain racial groups. Race and racism were constructed to disadvantage people of color and to maintain white power in America. Today, race has been the center of many political changes and actions that have affected people of color. The idea of race has played a role in how people from different racial groups interact amongst each other. Interactions within one’s own racial group are more common than interactions among other racial groups, at least in my own experiences. Therefore, because I have been positioned to surround myself with people from my own racial group since a very young age, I have internalized that being around my own racial group is a normal and natural occurrence.
Just like the durian, my Vietnamese culture repulsed me as a young child. I always felt that there was something shameful in being Vietnamese. Consequently, I did not allow myself to accept the beauty of my culture. I instead looked up to Americans. I wanted to be American. My feelings, however, changed when I entered high school. There, I met Vietnamese students who had extraordinary pride in their heritage. Observing them at a distance, I re-evaluated my opinions. I opened my life to Vietnamese culture and happily discovered myself embracing it. `
Amy Tan’s “Fish Cheeks” describes Tan’s upbringing as a Chinese-American caught in between two cultures. In “Fish Cheeks” Tan’s crush Robert and his family were invited to Tan’s house for Christmas, Amy was embarrassed of Robert’s impression of her Chinese relatives, cuisine, and culture (Tan 110). Tan’s situation is not uncommon as millions of first generation Americans encounter similar situations while living within two cultures. Albeit the extreme embarrassment Tan endured throughout the encounter, she contends that her mother taught her a valuable lesson in appreciating her Chinese culture (111). Ultimately, Tan's purpose was to implore first generation Americans to embrace both of their cultures, in spite of its unique traditions (Tan
As a kid, I didn’t understand what race meant or its implications. I was pretty much oblivious to it. Race meant getting some kids together and running a foot race. The one who made it to the end of the block won. I never felt that I was special because of my race. Nor did I feel discriminated against. Of course, I was sheltered from race and racism. I never knew any people of color because I grew up in an all-white, lower-to-middle-class blue-collar neighborhood. I never encountered someone of another race, and my parents made sure of it. I wasn’t allowed outside of our own neighborhood block, as my mother kept a strong leash on me. Not until I was much older did I wander outside the safety net of our all-white neighborhood.
Knowing that it would be four years of relentless pestering, I knew that someday I would surpass my tormentors; I would keep under cover of my books and study hard to make my brother proud one day. It would be worth the pain to someday walk into a restaurant and see my former bully come to my table wearing an apron and a nametag and wait on me, complete with a lousy tip. To walk the halls of the hospital I work in, sporting a stethoscope and white coat while walking across the floor that was just cleaned not to long ago by the janitor, who was the same boy that tried to pick a fight with me back in middle school. To me, an Asian in an American school is picking up where my brother left off. It’s a promise to my family that I wouldn’t disappoint nor dishonor our name. It’s a battle that’s gains victory without being fought.
Identity-“Ones personal qualities.”Identiy is something only he or she can fully define. My uncle says I am affectionate,cheerful, and calm. My grandmother sees me as slim, pretty and sweet. My dad described me as perky, cheerful and happy, my mom says beautiful, gentle, and self-conscious. These adjectives describe me accurately, yet they are only abstract versions of me. Adjectives cannot begin to describe me and I aknowlege these descriptions for what they are, a condensed translation from my outward self to the world. It is impossible for anyone to understand me completely because nobody has experienced the things I have. My mother has never cherished a raggedy doll named Katie and my father never spent hours upon hours making collages and scrap books for his future children. My uncle never hid in the back of a pick-up-truck and traveled four hours to New York and my grandmother has never walked hours in the rain looking for the Queen of England. My identity is something only I can define.
For those Asian Americans who make known their discontent with the injustice and discrimination that they feel, in the white culture, this translates to attacking American superiority and initiating insecurities. For Mura, a writer who dared to question why an Asian American was not allowed to audition for an Asian American role, his punishment was “the ostracism and demonization that ensued. In essence, he was shunned” (Hongo 4) by the white people who could not believe that he would attack their superior American ways. According to writers such as Frank Chin and the rest of the “Aiiieeeee!” group, the Americans have dictated Asian culture and created a perception as “nice and quiet” (Chin 1972, 18), “mama’s boys and crybabies” without “a man in all [the] males.” (Chin 1972, 24). This has become the belief of the proceeding generations of Asian Americans and therefore manifested these stereotypes.
On my day of vacation, I had a sleepover at my friend's house. I am so tired, waking up early, the cold breeze rushing into the room as I open the door, seeing my friend’s parents getting ready for work, dozing off, I slowly made my way towards the bathroom to shower, but I turned back and went back to bed. As I woke up in the afternoon, we started to play monopoly with my other friends that came over and they made me become the banker. I asked them out of curiosity, "Why did you guys make me the banker" as I sat down getting ready to play, and one of my friend yelled out, "Because you're Asian and you're good at math!", that was my first time experiencing a stereotype was directly towards me. I was shocked because I never really liked math nor want to solve any of those problems. I insisted on asking him, "What else am I good at then?" which he replies, "You probably know Kung Fu too". From that moment I felt out of place because most of my friends were either Hispanics or white. When I heard them telling me that I started to remember what I saw on social media. The negativity towards other racial groups were really bad in the United
People often times come into the world and grow up without really knowing who they are. Individuals are being raised in an environment where they do not know their own cultural background. Although recently there seems to have been an increase in the number of people who are aware of their heritage. Even with that increase the number is still small, while vast majority know very little about their culture. It is important knowing the value of one's racial/cultural heritage. Knowing about the traits and tradition of one's own race could provide insight on how important one’s cultural heritage is.
Wait. Be still. Don't go over the line. Don't let go. Wait for it. "BANG!" My reactions were precise as I sprung out of the blocks. The sun was beating down on my back as my feet clawed at the blistering, red turf. With every step I took, my toes sunk into the squishy, foul smelling surface, as my lungs grasped for air. Everything felt the way it should as I plunged toward my destination. I clutched the baton in my sweaty palms, promising myself not to let go. My long legs moved me as fast as I could go as I hugged the corner of the line like a little girl hugging her favorite teddy bear. The steps were just like I had practiced. As I came closer to my final steps, my stomach started twisting and my heart beat began to rise. The different colors of arrows started to pass under my feet, and I knew it was time.