I often feel that I got the raw end of what should have been a great deal. I was born to white, upper-middle class parents who owned their own franchise of a shipping company, drove a brand new car, lived in an up and coming town, and had a spacious house. I had blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and was a happy child. But at age two, all that changed. The parent business for my father's franchise went bankrupt and sold out to FedEx. My parents lost the business, the brand new car, and their home. They moved in with my father's parents in a small farming community. Eventually they moved into government housing. My twenty-one year old mother was left at home alone pregnant with her third child while my father was forced to drive cross-country to make ends meet.Me: my kindergarten school photo
Unfortunately, I do not remember the good ol' days when my family had plenty of money and upper-middle class ranking- though I never really realized we were poor until I went to school. I always woke up with mixed emotions of the first day of a new school year. I was always excited to go back to school and learn and meet my new teacher. But I had never had many friends, so I wasn’t excited to see the other kids. In fact, I disliked going to school and seeing everyone else's shiny new brand-name school supplies and their new school clothes and lunch boxes. My clothes were made by my two grandmothers, my sandwich in a brown paper bag, my shoes were hand-me-downs from an older cousin, and my school supplies the off-brand that was bought at the local dollar store.
Many minority students feel that racial tension or class distinction is directed at them because of the color of their skin or their accent when speaking English. White students are often lumped into the same mish-mash pile of "privileged" students who have tons of friends and never get made fun of or feel degraded by others. As Toni Morrison states in The Bluest Eye, that the fair skin and blue eyes of baby dolls and little white girls brought out a certain "possessive gentleness" in adults and "enchanted" fellow classmates (BE: 23,62). I, however, never felt privy to this type of differential treatment. Having the whitest, most un-tannable skin or brightest blue eyes in my school did not make me a popular student. I was a poor outsider. A smart poor outsider that was spoken to when someone needed help with an algebra problem or topic for a paper, but still an outsider. Between the grades of four and eleven I was not invited to any parties or gatherings with fellow students. I think I excelled in the classroom because I had no other option, no other distractions, nothing else to do with my time. When papers were handed out in class I often felt like Miguel Ramirez in "The Unknown Want" as he described making a "100/100" on an assignment the rest of the class had bombed (X:838). That certain mixture of pride of accomplishment, yet anxiety of ridicule from your peers was a real part of my public school education. Being told I was intelligent- more so than most of my peers- did nothing to boost my self-esteem. I still felt poor, under-dressed, and ugly when compared to my fellow classmates. Being told I was superior to them only helped to alienate me further. The accolades that were met to cheer me up only made me feel more different. The many awards given to me at various school ceremonies only made me sad when my parents never appeared in the audience.
I further identified with the stories presented by other students when they spoke about the chasm between the lifestyle and customs of their parents and themselves. Much like Norma Andrade in "On Being Canel
a," I often felt embarrassed at my mother's occupation, or lack thereof. My mother came from old-school traditions. She believes that my father should provide for her and she should spend his money. That is fine when you have money to spend, but often my father did not. My mother only worked when it was absolutely necessary for her to do so, and then it was odd jobs that were not high earning: fast food industry, daycares, etc. I was often embarrassed when a classmate would tell me they had seen my mother at work. I would claim, like Andrade, that they must have been mistaken because "my mother was a housewife" and did not have to work, our father supported us (X: 848). My mother's refusal to work and help support our family is still an issue that we disagree violently over. But I understand that she was raised in a different time period and family setting than I was. The events in my life that make me determine to work and support myself are different from those that she experienced. I have come to realize that if my parents are content, who am I to try and change them.My mother and I: so alike yet so different
Overall, I feel that any student can feel the effects of alienation from their peers despite their ethnicity, skin color, back ground, class, caste, intelligence level, or social standing. To say that a blue-eyed, blonde haired, quintessential American child has it easier simply because they are the quintessential American child is absurd. I like fashion, to say the Hispanic child has it more difficult because they are Hispanic is equally absurd. Everyone has felt judged or discriminated against for some aspect of who they are at a point in their life. Whether it is for their skin color, their good grades, or their raggedy clothes doesn’t matter. We are all human. We have all been hurt by it, and we should all learn the lessons experience has to offer and not reciprocate that judgment to others in our lives. How is it that the diversity that sets each person apart and makes them unique often makes them feel alienated from the greater blur of people around them? It is time we accepted each other as we are.
