Cultural Identity
...t baskets” canned goods and fruit from the church at Thanksgiving and Christmas time. Anger and disillusionment came from being barred access to that same church to worship because we didn’t have the proper Sunday clothes. Worse yet were the whispered fears that we would steal from the collection plate as it was passed around. In school most were treated like imbeciles because we did not have the money for school supplies and books. The kids, whose parents were rich, often used us as the butt of their jokes. “”K-Mart King” and “Dirt Merchant” were some of the names that were casually thrown around. The majorities of my friends were black, and referred to as “niggers” or worse, while “nigger lover” was reserved for me. The truth is told, I never thought in terms of color or race. People were people, and people with money were always jerks. Growing up, we had to fight for every opportunity we got. We’ve had to prove our-selves every step of the way. We were taught the value of money at an early age. If you have no money, you have no value. Years of hard work have allowed me to leave behind the poverty of my youth. I have had the good fortune to find a field of employment that I have prospered in. I have worked my way into management, and this has given me the opportunity to provide for my family in ways that my parents could only dream of. I feel that I am blessed with the background that I have had. It has colored the way I look at life, and allowed me to be appreciative of littlest things. It has given me the nerve to be an advocate of the less fortunate. It has given me an eclectic taste in so many of my interests. I am at home listening to the music of Shania Twain, as well as Ice Cube, or even Mozart. I love the comedy of Bernie Mac, but also find the Honey-Mooners funny. The experiences my background has given me are not all pleasant or positive. When I was...