A light in a dark tunnel Hey African boy come over here, I need you”. That was when everything changed. When I first came to California in 2002, I didn’t really have any thoughts of what American life would be like. As a five year old the only thing in my head was how huge the plane was, and how small our house was compared to the one we had back home. The first day in school was a shock. I hadn’t seen so much diversity in one area before. Then came the comments and misinterpreted information that came from the students, which hit me off balance. This was a shock to me hearing all these rumors and stereotypes about where I had come from. “Do you live in a hut? How do you hunt lions? Or can you catch a cheetah?” I had no idea how to take this in. I was confused. I questioned myself with the same questions. Do I really hunt lions? I came home and I told my mom what had happened at school and all of the comments the kids made. I was surprised at her reaction. She laughed and smiled at me, repeating the same questions in a humorous matter. She then kissed me on the head and told me it would be okay and that they’re just curious. Years passed and I was middle school.
The comments and stereotypes intensified. At this point I had to go with the flow and entertain the people and agree with the fact that I hunt lions and run down cheetahs, with the intent to shut them up. It backfired, they took my sarcasm as the truth and that was a negative influence in my life. I had a passive nature and the lack of confidence in middle school. My peers took advantage of my kindness. Their brutal word that made all my peers laugh, and made my already sore heart burst in tears in which overflows and come out of my eyes. I was a tall kid. I had a slim stature, big feet and hands; my hair was night black with little strips of gray. People were amazed and said that I was wise and was going to have a good future. I took it lightly, knew that these were the same people who had called me samba from lion king. I had low confidence level and stress from middle school through the tenth grade.
One cold rainy day in November, I heard a knock at our door. By this time we had moved and lived in Hawthorne. It was my cousin Peter. He was a college student at UC Davis and had come to visit. Instantly he sat down, and I tasked him how he had survived high school. He also emigrated from Africa, so I knew he could relate to my problems. I told him all of my problems and stress that I had been through. He laughed and looks at our sealing; I expected the same response I’d gotten from my mom. Suddenly he looked me in the eyes and asks me a question that changed my life and goals forever. This question was like light piercing through a dark and lonely cave that I was in at the time. “Who are you?” he said,” and what do you want to be in life, and how are you going to accomplish your goal?”
I rested my head on my hand and for hours tried to answer those questions. It so simple but when I thought about it there are many factors in answering those kind of questions.in that time period I figured out who I was and what my goals and accomplishments, and was astonished. Usually questions like that do not take very long to answer, but in a case like mine where you don’t know who you really are from within, then you really have to think about it and really analyze the questions.
From that time on I was a new person. I was a new, confident and more ambitious person. I’ve learned to love and be proud of were I come from. I had learned how to tune out the negative influences and to absorb the positives and benefits of my culture. I respect people’s connotations and when needed correct and teach them my true culture and how important it is to keep your roots. I’ve learned that being yourself is the best thing that you can do.