Personal Narrative: A Part Of My Cultural Identity

To begin with, a part of my cultural identity is that I am an American. I was born in Tucson, Arizona. For the beginning part of my life, I grew up in a small town called Safford, Arizona. In this town, there were mixed races, and overall good people. Some things in life ended up changing for the better, but also for the worst, and so my sister, my mother, and I moved here to Tucson, Arizona. I was then raised by my mom and my step dad. My dad’s side of the family is also part American. My Dad’s mother is Caucasian, and therefore, so am I. There is only a small part of me that is Caucasian, and yet that part of me seems to show the most. When people look at me, they automatically assume that I am fully Caucasian, or in their terms white. The
I grew up on the South side of Tucson. In this area, the majority of people are Mexican. The area I live in is filled with Mexican restaurants, stores, and family businesses. The family that I am always with is Mexican. From my mother's side, to my stepdad’s side of the family. We follow Mexican events and traditions like most Mexicans do. Some traditions we follow are spending time with family for any celebration, or at times when we need each other. My family is always together and there is always time for more. My family loves, quinceaneras, weddings, births of new babies, and more. For me, growing up in a place like this can be fun, but that’s not always the case. There are many who judge, and don’t accept me because I have colored eyes, lightly colored/ white skin, and don’t speak Spanish. There has been bullying and name calling because of it. I remember the name calling. I remember the laughing and the jokes, and I remember, “Hey Gringa,” and the, “It’s because you’re white,” statements. It has happened for so long, that it no longer phases me, and I just laugh it off, because at some point you have to learn to accept yourself, even when others