Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
Culture influences on adolescents
Relationship between sport and education
Sports and its impact on student
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: Culture influences on adolescents
The term “African-American” is one that I hold with great pride. When I look in the mirror, I am proud of my skin and I am proud of my ethnicity. My family is originally from Imo State, Nigeria, and as most foreign families, my parents came to America in search of a better life and higher education for their children. Being born in Boston Massachusetts, at times I could never truly understand the position my parents had on certain topics due to the differences in the culture that we were both raised in. During my first two high school years at Belmont Hill School, my parents would scarcely allow me go to Saturday games and practices for football, basketball, track, or any Saturday event that I needed to go to at my school. I am part of the …show more content…
5-day boarding program at my school and I return home to Randolph Massachusetts on the weekends, which is over an hour away from school. I knew it would be hard for my parents to provide transportation for those weekend events, but I knew that other families that were part of the boarding program were allowing their kids to go.
When my parents and I decided that I would enter into Belmont Hill from my middle school Derby Academy, I believed that my parents would fully buy into the culture at Belmont Hill and I thought they had a full understanding of the requirements of the school. Their decisions always left me struggling for answers when my friends, teachers, and coaches asked why I wasn’t where I needed to be for the sake of the team or the event. Coaches would minimize my playing time and threaten to kick me off teams due to my absence during weekend team events. Occasionally, my teammates and classmates would even joke about me missing all my required events, but I could only laugh along with a tinge of sorrow and anger hidden behind those laughs. At many different points of my time at Belmont Hill, the wishes of my parents, and the requirements the school set in place came into direct conflict; as a result, I was left in the middle and was forced to bear the weight of both societies on my shoulders. I never understood many of the decisions that my parents made for me until my 2017 December
vacation. During the most recent Christmas holiday, for the first time, my entire family was able to travel together to see our home in Nigeria. We flew a total of 14 hours to get to Lagos, the former capital of Nigeria, an hour plane ride into the city of Owerri, and a thirty minute drive into our compound that our family has lived in for generations. Throughout the compound and the entire village, mango trees and plantain trees were located everywhere just waiting to be picked and eaten by the inhabitants of the community. Despite rampant poverty, I would see my beautiful community, hear the air ringing with laughter and play of children of the village who had come to play with my little brother, a side of African beauty that is almost never exposed by the media or imagined by those outside the continent. Although I have lived with my parents for my whole life, I never truly understood the perspective my parents had in life. I was finally able to see all that they sacrificed for me before I was even born. I now understand that although they may not be accustomed to certain American customs, they will do whatever it takes to make sure that their sacrifices were not in vain. I now have the ability to understand and combine the two perspectives that have often been in conflict in my life and embody the person my parents raised me to be and my school expects me to be.
People do not acknowledge the struggles that African Americans had to endure for them to be treated equally, the way a true American is supposed to be treated. One of the ways they were not treated equally was by not being able to participate in sports with whites. From the beginning of our nation, colored people were highly disrespected and treated as if they were some type of animals, which have no say in what happens to them. They were not given any opportunities and were treated harshly because their skin color was different. Whites were able to practically do anything they wanted, unlike blacks, who were racially discriminated or beaten for no apparent reason. African Americans were among the worst treated races in the US; however, this did not stop them from fighting for the rights that so many had died for. It seemed as if black people would never be treated respectfully, but just like in comic books, there is always a hero that will fight for his people. This hero soon came to the scene and he was fierce enough to change the lives of many people. Most importantly, he broke the color barrier and created a path that would allow others to follow. However, something that was inevitable was the threats and racial remarks they had to face.
Everyone is raised within a culture with a set of customs and morals handed down by those generations before them. Most individual’s view and experience identity in different ways. During history, different ethnic groups have struggled with finding their place within society. In the mid-nineteen hundreds, African Americans faced a great deal of political and social discrimination based on the tone of their skin. After the Civil Rights Movement, many African Americans no longer wanted to be identified by their African American lifestyle, so they began to practice African culture by taking on African hairdos, African-influenced clothing, and adopting African names. By turning away from their roots, many African Americans embraced a culture that was not inherited, thus putting behind the unique and significant characteristics of their own inherited culture. Therefore, in an African American society, a search for self identity is a pervasive theme.
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?
The aspect of African-American Studies is key to the lives of African-Americans and those involved with the welfare of the race. African-American Studies is the systematic and critical study of the multidimensional aspects of Black thought and practice in their current and historical unfolding (Karenga, 21). African-American Studies exposes students to the experiences of African-American people and others of African descent. It allows the promotion and sharing of the African-American culture. However, the concept of African-American Studies, like many other studies that focus on a specific group, gender, and/or creed, poses problems. Therefore, African-American Studies must overcome the obstacles in order to improve the state of being for African-Americans.
I was late for school, and my father had to walk me in to class so that my teacher would know the reason for my tardiness. My dad opened the door to my classroom, and there was a hush of silence. Everyone's eyes were fixed on my father and me. He told the teacher why I was late, gave me a kiss goodbye and left for work. As I sat down at my seat, all of my so-called friends called me names and teased me. The students teased me not because I was late, but because my father was black. They were too young to understand. All of this time, they thought that I was white, because I had fare skin like them, therefore I had to be white. Growing up having a white mother and a black father was tough. To some people, being black and white is a contradiction in itself. People thought that I had to be one or the other, but not both. I thought that I was fine the way I was. But like myself, Shelby Steele was stuck in between two opposite forces of his double bind. He was black and middle class, both having significant roles in his life. "Race, he insisted, blurred class distinctions among blacks. If you were black, you were just black and that was that" (Steele 211).
Growing up an African American female in poverty is hard. You constantly see your parents worry about making ends meet. They wonder will they be able to make their paycheck reach to the next paycheck. Being young and watching your mother struggle is something you do not understand. I was born in Cleveland, Ohio and raised there until I was 5. In 2005 I move south to live in Abbeville, Al. By this time my mother and father separated and I was being raised by my mother, a single parent. Having moved to a smaller town from the big city was one of my very first obstacles. Everything is done differently in the south from how I was raised. They spoke differently and acted differently. This was just something I was not used too. I always knew how my mom raised
I am a girl with two heads. At home, I wear my Chinese head, in school I wear my English head. Being an Asian, or Chinese, as it is commonly referred to, my culture plays a key role in the development of who I am and what I do, my personal identity. An identity is the distinguishing character or personality of an individual. Parents are often one of the key factors of this culturally developed personal identity.
I am an chinese and mexican american. You might think those are the best mixes of race you can get but you are truly wrong? Growing up in a small farm town in the outskirts of San Diego I truly wish I was white like the rest of the kids at my school. For the hardships I have faced with race discrimination I am truly ashamed of being the color and human genetics I have.
To wrap it up, African Americans lived an unfair past in the south, such as Alabama, during the 1930s because of discrimination and the misleading thoughts towards them. The Ku Klux Klan, Jim Crow Laws and the way they were generally treated in southern states all exemplify this merciless time period of the behavior towards them. They were not given the same respect, impression, and prospect as the rest of the citizens of America, and instead they were tortured. Therefore, one group should be never singled out and should be given the same first intuition as the rest of the people, and should never be judged by color, but instead by character.
While I never knew my father, I did grow to know the challenges faced by African Americans. I first began to feel different when I transferred from public to private middle school. People began asking about my ethnicity for the first time in my life. Until this time, it had never seemed important. Although I had never been overly fond of my curly hair, it, along with other traits deemed too 'ethnic' looking, now became a source of shame. I had a few not so affectionate nicknames because of those curls. I was shocked to realize that people considered me different or less desirable because of these physical traits. Being turned away from an open house in my twenties was just as shocking as being ...
With more and more children participating in some sort of organized sport than ever before, there is a constant concern regarding the pressures kids are brought into to excel. Emotionally over-involved parents often think that it is their responsibility to persuade, push, or support the children's fantasies or sporting objectives, even if the kids themselves do not share the same aspirations as his/her parents. Part of growing up is learning what interests you the most. It's how one becomes familiar with who they really are and what they enjoy doing in life. Unfortunately, for many young children, his/her parents seem to take his/her own lives into their own hands. Most parents want their kids to grow up to be "superstars", make it big after the college scenario, and perhaps go on to play professionally or succeed in the Olympics. We all know that there are the few that make it professionally, and having your parent paint a picture for you as you're barely going into grade school is unethical. Yet for the unfortunate, these kids are helpless to the pressure that is put on them at such a young age. Take Todd Marinovich, for example. For the child's entire life he was exercised, fed, schooled, and drilled with his fathers' one g...
It wasn’t easy being an African American, back then they had to fight in order to achieve where they are today, from slavery and discrimination, there was a very slim chance of hope for freedom or even citizenship. This longing for hope began to shift around the 1950’s. During the Civil Rights Movement, where discrimination still took place, it was the time when African Americans started to defend their rights and honor to become freemen like every other citizen of the United States. African Americans were beginning to gain recognition after the 14th Amendment was ratified in 1868, which declared all people born natural in the United States and included the slaves that were previously declared free. However, this didn’t prevent the people from disputing against the constitutional law, especially the people in the South who continued to retaliate against African Americans and the idea of integration in white schools....
an African American has made some moments in my life hard. It has showcased to me that I considered a subordinate as Tatum would say. To add, being a subordinate inside and outside of the classroom has also played a huge part in my life. My first revelation of my race and how it defined me and how people perceive me can be at the age of six. Leading up to this point I was the type of child who found joy in things the many black kids would not. For instance, I would read books before I would think about going outside to play with other kids. To accompany this passion for reading I have a proper dialect, or as people in the African American Culture would say, I talked “white.” I did not
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.
This is a story about my miss conduct. We all skated over to the long blue bench, after the jam was called off, and sat down winded and tired. Going to grab my water bottle to the side of me, just before I could take that big gulp of room temperature plastic tasting water, my coach says this: “can you go out again?” of course I say yes, and she throws the start panty at my chest, partially looking where she is throwing it. Me, I barely catch it, but I had to. There was no time to spare. Everyone was already skating out to the track, so I grab the panty and race out to the track, just before the official blew the whistle. Legs shaking, arms tapping,