Personal Narrative: My Personal Identity

672 Words3 Pages
I sit quietly in Spanish class with just minutes before the bell rings to signal class change. My eyes are glued to my phone screen as I play an intense game of Sudoku, attempting to place the number 8. To the left of my seat, I hear someone calling my name. As my classmate comes into my line of vision, she asks, “What are you?” I look up and pause, contemplating whether to answer. That question has been a constant throughout most of my life. Over the years, my answer has changed many times until I finally found the one best suited to how I feel. I sigh as emotions flit through my mind- aggravation, reluctance, patience. Then, I answer. I’ve never considered my life anything other than fairly ordinary. I have not experienced great luxury, but I’ve never been homeless. Despite some unfavorable experiences in my past, I am content with my life. The only aspect of my existence I consider slightly abnormal is that I am biracial. Most of my young life I struggled with my identity. People had difficulty placing my lighter eyes with my darker skin and curly hair. I’ve been called everything from Mexican to Hawaiian to Cuban. It was distressing to have my existence continuously questioned by children and adults, especially since my parents separated when I was a toddler. I couldn’t answer…show more content…
I only have a few vague, unimpressionable memories of Florida, like picking fruit from our pineapple bush and my fascination with our neighbor’s iguanas. In addition, I was too young to fully comprehend the concept of relocating or to wonder why. I didn’t realize it was likely I’d never see my father again. At six years old, the world is black and white. I thought of moving as an adventure, and it excited me to be closer to my aunt and my cousins. When we moved, my mom gave up her passion to work at my new elementary school and have the same schedule as my brother and
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