I am so much more than just a blank white piece of paper but I don't have anything to show for it. I have friends with rich culture including their own language passed down from generation to generation, their own handmade drums, carvings, artwork, a strong spiritual connection, and even a second name identifying who they are and where they come from. I do not not have a people, a sense of belonging, or older generations to live and look up to. White culture is so disconnected, people just move to get a job and leave their roots and extended family behind. I spent nights crying in my room because of how alone and empty I felt over having the simplest past and no sense of culture. During those pity parties I would listen to rain softly falling on the evergreens and ferns as they lovingly take in everything that gives them life.
The only thing I have ever felt connected to is the culture of the Pacific Northwest. Being in those wet, rainy forests makes me feel at home. Hiking over mountain ridges to watch the trail unravel in front of you is something magical. Mama Nature helps you along the way and somehow the birds and squirrels that stop and greet you …show more content…
In some ways I resent my white privilege because it makes me feel guilty and sad for the people who don't have it. In a class project the first thing about my identity that I “gave up” was my race, maybe because I think that is something I would like to give up. I wouldn't give up the way I was raised, my ancestors stories of their adventures, hardships, and huge examples of bravery. My paternal grandpa rode his motorcycle across the United States. At sixteen my maternal grandpa and his friend built boat and drove it from Iowa to New Orleans until it blew up. For my mom's 50th birthday she backpacked for four days in wilderness by herself. Bravery and wanderlust come hand in hand with my