Personal Narrative: Racism

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Racism, everyone has experienced it at least once in their life and some even more. It’s something that has clouded this country ever since the signing of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, to the Civil War, and to the controversy of police violence and the Baltimore riots. Some people today argue that racism is dead but others beg to differ. I personally have experienced racism in my life. I am a quarter Korean, a quarter Black, and half white but the only things that show are the black and Korean side of me. The first time I ever experienced racism was in the 4th grade. When I was in 4th grade I went to Remington Elementary School. Remington was just like every other school in Colorado Springs, except for one thing, ninety-seven…show more content…
While waking back to the classroom, I overhear Damien mumbling about Mrs. Taft being racist. As I listened to him I began to think the same thing. Later that day after school ends, my dad meets me outside the school and we start walking to the car. As we walk I give my dad the referral sheet and exclaim that my teacher is racist. Right as I said that you could see a shift in his demeanor. You could see the anger in his eyes as we turn around and head back for the classroom. Next thing I remember, my dad and teacher screaming back and forth at each other. At the end of it all, my dad despised Mrs. Taft. Next thing that came around was the end of the year parent teacher conferences. My mom and my grandma attended the meeting because my dad refused after the previous altercation. During the conference Mrs. Taft explained that Damien, terry, and I differed from the other kids. After the conference, my mom told me what she had said. My heart felt numb. “Different? What does she mean by different?” Those the thoughts raced through my head for the last two weeks of school. I began to realize and convince myself that she was…show more content…
That year left a scar in my heart and all I filled it with is hate. I hated the thought of being branded as different, but I accepted it. Looking at the people around me didn’t help me realize why she thought that my friends and I were different. I didn’t fully understand what racism was or how it worked at that age but by the time 8th grade came around and I had moved to Fort Collins I began to truly understand what racism really meant. I understood that hate is what causes racism. Sometimes I would walk down the street and some stupid redneck in his truck would poke his head out and scream “Nigger” at the top of his lungs. It bothered me but I can’t allow myself to let a few people build hatred towards a whole race. If I let the hatred build in my heart all it would do is build more racism. After I found Christ my sophomore year, finally gave me the ability to let go of all of the hate in my heart. Know I embrace the title of “different”. Not different because of the color of my skin but different because of my character. Even considering all this I still believe racism isn’t truly gone from this

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