Personal Narrative: My Most Young, Modern African-Am
At first glance, I am like most young, modern African-American girls. School is a top priority for me; I have goals and dreams for the future that I am determined to make happen. I don't expect anyone else to do the hard work. What makes me different from others is how I overcame the struggles I experienced and became the striving young woman that I am today.
I was born in Douala, Cameroon, a country located in Central Africa, and at the age of 4, I was brought into the United States along with my mother and older brother in hopes to have a better life. Unfortunately, after the first year of being in America, my mother’s Visa expired causing her to leave my brother and I behind under my uncle's care. Because I was so young, I had no idea as to what was happening. I believed wholeheartedly that she would return so I continued living life with no worries. I remember while growing up being so excited every time I would hear the doorbell ring, like a dog waits for its owner’s return. Now it’s been over a decade since I’ve last seen my mother. …show more content…
Gradually these feelings turned into pure hatred towards my family for the way I was being raised. I would always come back home and question myself “ why was my mother not here? did she not love me?” I didn't grow up like most kids having someone to call a mother or father, and because my uncle never made it easier for me, I never really felt like myself at home. Being that he was strict, my uncle would put time restrictions on the tv and computer for a lot of unnecessary things. And during the summer, instead of enjoying my time outside with friends, I was forced to read books and study after a long time of me already being in
I was born in Douala, Cameroon, a country located in Central Africa, and at the age of 4, I was brought into the United States along with my mother and older brother in hopes to have a better life. Unfortunately, after the first year of being in America, my mother’s Visa expired causing her to leave my brother and I behind under my uncle's care. Because I was so young, I had no idea as to what was happening. I believed wholeheartedly that she would return so I continued living life with no worries. I remember while growing up being so excited every time I would hear the doorbell ring, like a dog waits for its owner’s return. Now it’s been over a decade since I’ve last seen my mother. …show more content…
Gradually these feelings turned into pure hatred towards my family for the way I was being raised. I would always come back home and question myself “ why was my mother not here? did she not love me?” I didn't grow up like most kids having someone to call a mother or father, and because my uncle never made it easier for me, I never really felt like myself at home. Being that he was strict, my uncle would put time restrictions on the tv and computer for a lot of unnecessary things. And during the summer, instead of enjoying my time outside with friends, I was forced to read books and study after a long time of me already being in