My parents are from Haiti, a small island in the Caribbean with a fascinating history. They where born in the late 50’s and early 60’s in a town named Cap Haitian, which is located on the north side of the country, it is known for it’s kind, and romantic population. Which is mostly due because of the French colonial influence on the nation. I don’t know too much about sex in the lifestyle of the Haitian society during the 50’s and 60’s, but I know they where very conservative, and sex at that time was something very taboo, that not many people talked about. In Haiti at the time the men where encourage to be very gallant and romantic to women. And marriage was seen as very special and beautiful thing.
My parents grow up in an era of big change in the Haitian society, social norms where evolving because of the Haitian diaspora and the American influence. Life was becoming more and more difficult, many people started to have unprotected sex and as a result more couples started to have kids before marriage, which reflected badly on the women reputation at the time. And with no sex education to teacher the younger generation, it was the beginning of the HIV break out in the island.
My life story begins on the evening of September 29, 1989. My mother gives birth to my brother and I, and we are identical twins. But from that evening only one of us made it to the next day. That was a very hard, sad and emotional time for my mother; she blamed her self even though everyone told her it wasn’t her fault. Growing up as a young boy, even before my parents told me that I was a twin I always felt something missing in my life. And the day my parents did tell me, a lot of things suddenly made sense. They also told me that I was a child born befo...
... middle of paper ...
..., her name was Alicia, we started hanging out just before the end of sophomore year, and during the summer we talked pretty much every single day. That summer remember I couldn’t wait to go back to school. We were together for almost years and and even though we were young and crazy I will never forget that first time that I fell in love with her, it was like everything was they way they should be, and my heart was full of joy or something. It was unlike anything that I felt before.
I am very comfortable with my gender and with my sexual expression; because I know how I am I’m not try to figure out what I am. I like my gender because it’s simple and really easy, I can’t imagine my self as a girl at all. Because been a girl there certain responsibility that I would not want too assumes. For the future I don’t see myself getting married or having kids anytime soon.
I have many things that I love in this life, one of those things is wrestling. I have been wrestling for seven years and I have developed quite the passion and love for it. Wrestling has always been an interesting sport for me. Growing up in Oregon I watched my uncles wrestle in high school. I watched both of them win their state tournament in their respective weight classes, this is one of my fondest memories of my childhood. One of them went on to wrestle division one, I thought this was the coolest thing in the world. I looked up to my uncles and wanted to be just like them. I did not always wrestle though. The process of pursing my dream as of becoming a wrestler started of with basketball, then went to a rocky start, then being on Worland High School wrestling team.
In the summer of 1998 my family fled the newly created independent country of Croatia (Former-Yugoslavia) to the United States. My parents came here in hopes of finding a better life as the economy was still recovering from Croatia’s war of independence. We first settled in Amarillo, Texas for a few months. We traveled around the states for a year or so looking for other refugees. After some searching my parents decided to move to Connecticut as it offered the best incentives for refugees. Listening to stories about this time of my life has given me a chance to appreciate the help we received from various government programs that settled us, clothed us, fed us, and helped us become independent American citizens. Now I want to give back and the best way I know to do this is by teaching the future generations of Americans.
My mom always told me about the story of my birth. It was the cold, blizzardy night of January the 4th. She had been in labor for nearly 24 hours, and when I was finally born, she was happy to have a son. Up to this day, she jokes that I have been stubborn since before I was born. That was the first story of my life, and you can bet that there were many more to come.
The purpose of this short interview is to ask an elder person, at least the age of 40 years old, about their view of sex during their time and their perspective of how the society has changed. This experiment will illustrate societal and sociological changes that have occurred. For this project, I interviewed Mrs. Ebony Jackson, a 41 years old Africa-American women. Mrs. Jackson was born in 1975 and grew up in Los Angeles, California. Her family that she grew up in consist of her two sisters, mother, grandmother, and grandfather. I asked Mrs. Jackson if her family ever talk to her about sex or sexuality and the respond I got was a 'no. ' She continued to explain to me how parents and their children are not supposed to mention anything
Songbirds whistling melodies on the treetops. Windows misty with condensation. Car engines rumbling at a steady frequency; usual characteristics of a dreary September morning symphony. Around this time, an average elementary schooler would be cuddling under their blankets, chowing down on their morning cereal and listening the theme song of Curious George. Not for me, however, as I had to attend school early to have a chance at participating in the before-school band program. Little did I know, walking into that classroom was the most important decision of my life.
February 13th, 1979, Janae and I were born in Sunrise Hospital, four minutes apart, to two anxious, ecstatic, and not to mention exhausted parents. Immediately following the birth, the doctor glanced up at my mother and father and announced that they were the proud parents of identical twin girls. My sister Janae was born first weighing a mere four pounds 11 ounces and I swiftly followed, weighing a hefty seven pounds zero ounces (very large for the average twin). The doctor proceeded to tell my mother that identical twins automatically have a special bond that exists between them, and that she was to enjoy the many fun, challenging, yet exciting experiences to come. One of the most challenging experiences to come would be the dreadful day when the two of us would realize that we couldn't be together always. That memorable day we slept together, side by side, in our rectangular clear plastic hospital beds -- determined to be inseparable for the remainder of our lives.
Growing up a female has been quite an experience. While in my younger years I felt as if my gender was somewhat pre-determined for me, I soon fell into the natural groove of being a female. I am not only comfortable in my own skin now, but I am proud to be a woman. My family is very supportive of all my decisions regardless of gender and they make me feel that I have the ability and power to do anything.
I grew up as a Southern Baptist. My family has always belonged to the same church and to this day my parents and my brother’s family still attend First Baptist Church in Forest City, North Carolina. One of the reasons Baptists are given this name is because they are not baptized as infants, but when they are old enough to understand the full concept of Jesus and the sacrifice He made for us. I accepted the Lord as my personal savior when I was thirteen and made a public profession of my faith by walking to the front of the church one Sunday morning. Many factors in the past have influenced my relationship with God and continue to do so daily.
Autobiography is an act of a conscious self that documents significant events through the active help of memory to construct historical facts rather than truth. It is a western phenomenon which has its root in the Greek literature. The Western autobiographical tradition has started long back in an ancient time while documenting military achievements or important lifespan of the worriers or the kings. In the late middle ages, i.e. in the period of Renaissance, the intense unusual experiences on the part of the authors have formed their autobiographies. Even the genre was used to expand their personalities as well as psychological development.
When someone asks me what I want to be when I grow up, I say that I do not know, but I do know. At a very young age, I discovered my passion for the field of medicine. Growing up, my parents were very sick, and even though they would not admit it, I could tell they were constantly in pain. My father had diabetes and my mother chronic arthritis. I hated to see them suffer and promised myself that one day I would help them. After my older brother went into nursing, he began to help people like my parents; I knew that was what I wanted to do one day. I wanted to make people feel better just like he did, and I am doing everything I can to make my dreams a reality.
Up until March 5th of 2009, I had been an only child. Many big changes occurred in my life the year prior to the birth of my new brother. My mom became remarried, we moved to a bigger house down the same street, and there was talk of a new baby in the future. The remarriage was a small celebration held at a quaint location on a chilly fall night, a night you would rather be snuggled up on the couch with warm, fuzzy blankets drinking from a mug of hot cocoa. The move was a breeze, as I can just about see the old house through the tall maple trees from the new. I carried whatever I could back and forth, running quickly back down the street to grab more. The excitement of a new house chasing me to and from. Lastly, the talk of a sibling. I wasn’t sure what to think. The thought of a sister excited me, but a brother not so much. I wanted to share my dolls and dress up, not have to play with mud and trucks. Despite my wants, I had a feeling it was going to be a boy. The day of the ultrasound, I made a bet with my step-dad the baby would be a boy. After, I was a dollar richer and a sister of a brother to be. Having to wait a few more months to meet the little guy would be torture, as the anticipation was killing me slowly. I may not have been ready for the changes made and the ones to come, but I took them like a champ.
Two-thirds of children who participate in extracurricular activities are expected to attain at least a bachelor’s degree, whereas only half of children that do not participate do (National Center for Education Statistics, 1995). Childhood is a very important time in our lives, a time when we develop many vital skills that follow us into adulthood. Some people laugh or scoff at us parents that keep our children to busy schedules. Those same people would also argue that our children should be allowed to have a childhood, to not be so tightly scheduled in their daily lives. Before jumping on that bandwagon, I would suggest doing a little research. Participating in after-school activities has shown to benefit children in many ways. Children should
Interested in writing the story of your life, but never thought of yourself as a writer? Maybe you once had aspirations of writing, but critique, or the responsibilities of life, derailed your dream? Or do you believe that only celebrities have life experiences worth recording for posterity? Autobiography writing can be described as, “the story of your best friend told by your worst enemy.” What is discovered through participating in a weekly Autobiography Writing Workshop is that it is not about grammar or exceptional prose, grades or competition. Living a life of destructive abandon isn’t required to have a story to tell. Autobiography is the journey that is uniquely your own, lived
I was twelve when THAT happened. It was the last day of the one week vacation to the Sydney Harbour that blew our mind by its admiring beauty. We were driving back home, when my dad suddenly changed the route. “Where on Earth are we going?” I remember how I kept asking my dad with a surprising face, but he kept ignoring me as usual. We kept driving in a very high speed and suddenly stopped in a very populated place. As I got out of the car the cold morning breeze gushed through my hair, welcoming me to the paradise. I remember the scent of wild berries and eucalyptus that enhanced my senses by letting me to track down the location of paradise. Then THAT happened! Suddenly I caught my eye on THAT. “OH MY GOD!!!” I shouted as I saw the view that stole my eyes. As a person that come from another country, I felt so lucky to witness this view.
My aspiration toward a better education starts all the way back to when I started school in Russia. Out of the short educational experience that I had in Russia, I remember that almost everybody wanted to be the straight-A student (or straight-"5" by Russian grading). That, combined with the constant pressure from my family helped me get excited about school and made me want to learn. My education in Russia was cut short, however, when we moved to the United States.