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Multicultural Foundations

South University

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Takia Owens

Dr. Campen

02-16-2021

 

“I can sum up what I’ve learned about life in three words: it goes on.” This is one of the three quotes I live by, since I began my paper with it. You might be wondering why. First and foremost, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Takia M. Owens. Monique is my name, although I go by Kiki and O. I was born and raised in Queens, New York. I moved to South Carolina when I was in sixth grade. I despise having to relocate with my folks. I’m the only girl in a family of three boys, which is known as “middle child syndrome,” but to rewind a little, I wished I could stay in New York, but the judge granted my mother custody. How did a functional drug addict get custody of their child?

 

I was a tomboy growing up in a household full of boys. We couldn’t afford too much. We were impoverished, truly impoverished. Growing up, I always felt like I could not be myself. I was shy and didn’t say much. I didn’t know how to express my feelings. I used to tell my mother that I had a speech problem. So she would never put me in speech, so I suffer from it a lot now. I liked school, because I disliked being at home. Instead of being at home dealing with my family, I usually find a friend who I stay with. I wasn’t really a good student at the time. I didn’t do much at school, but I actually participated in the yearbook club. I didn’t care since I wanted to major in fashion and that was my passion.

 

My godmother, who was my only form of assistance, was not supportive of my plan to attend fashion school. She said she was going to not help me off. So I went to college and majored in biology before switching to sociology. My journey, begins with an examination of how my own life impacts my therapy experience.

I used to think I wasn’t gorgeous as a dark African American woman. When I was younger, I was picked on. Because, as I already indicated, we were impoverished and my mother was addicted to drugs. When I was younger, my mother was extremely harsh with me, and I was never told to love myself. Returning to the black community, we are traumatized. You might be wondering how I can become a therapist when I’ve been through so much trauma. That is an excellent question. Let’s return to the African-American community. Some black parents, I’ve noticed, don’t know how to raise their children. They are learning while they raise their children. The African American community is shown to teach their children tough love. In the end, this harmed us.

As I grew older, I observed that my mother was more affectionate toward my brothers than she was toward me. I had no idea how to deal with my emotions, which had a significant impact on me, particularly expressing my anger. We all learn from our mistakes and try to improve. As a result, the transition from New York to South Carolina was jarring. There were a number of low-key racist educators. There was a huge diversity in the north, but when I went to school down here, it was just whites and blacks. I constantly told myself that when I finished high school that after I graduated, I never would look back. You know, life does not really work that way. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself that life happens and everything will be fine. I was a people-pleaser who preferred to keep to myself. I disliked drama and preferred to simply go. Transitioning from youth to adulthood was a huge change. With little assistance, transforming into a woman was terrifying.

My grandmother always told me that a lady should never leave the house undressed, and that, as a black woman, you should never appear to be an angry black woman. You might be wondering what she means. It simply portrays black women as more hostile, aggressive, overbearing, irrational, irritable, and bitter than white women. So the big question is: how come I can’t speak my mind without seeming so ghetto? She will say you don’t want people to feel threatened by you. As I previously indicated, I hoped to pursue a career in fashion and modeling, but life does not always go as planned. At times, I wish I had gone with my decision and not the basic opinion of others. Which I do have a hard time dealing with. I take everyone’s opinions and always back out of doing what is best for me.

Thinking back, I should have followed my dreams. Being African American, I believe, is difficult. We constantly feel as if we’re going to be left behind. I grew raised with a father as well, as I constantly mention my mother. She was in charge of everything. He didn’t have a lot of say in the matter. My mother is African American and my father is Jamaican. She does have a slight amount of Indian blood in her. As I notice in life we encounter a lot of things in life and don’t know how to deal with them.

Growing up as an African American, you’re often told to “get over it” or “things will happen.” I don’t think mental health was allowed back then, or whether it was, parents didn’t believe their kids. I often quote, “Everything occurs for a reason,” As thrilling as it was to enter college and meet new people, you really had no idea how much I struggled with being sociable in college. This was a major problem for me. I really went to an HBCU because I needed to feel pretty. I’ve realized that my social skills have become dry. How can it be that I’m supposed being in college for 4 years but I get nervous when I talk to people or even when a guy speaks? So tell me why I chose to take public speaking lessons. What was I doing? Then I decided to join a sorority that I could speak up. I was a broke college student try

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