as refugees till we came to the U.S. in 2011. Growing up in Syria as a gay man was as hard as growing up in the jungle with predators. I was being beat up and raped several times by Syrian regime militias.
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Growing Up in Poverty. Growing up in poverty was the best was the best thing that ever happened to me. Living in a house full of 5 siblings‚ and having to share everything I have with all of them‚ sure did take a toll on me. Especially while being the youngest sibling‚ I have to do all the chores in the house‚ by myself. All of my siblings were always worried about themselves‚ so every time I had a fight in school‚ I had to deal with the person I’m fighting and their older brother‚ by myself. I
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handling my anxiety and panic attacks. The summer before my sophomore year my mother remarried and moved me and my family from Atlanta to a small town in Northwest Georgia. This move was incredibly hard on me: I was unaccustomed to small town life and did not know anyone my age; I was a new student with no friends and found that cultivating friendships in a small town was a daunting task. I was overwhelmed by having to start fresh in the middle
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Since I grew up in a family with an abusive father‚ my response to conflict differs from most people. My father resolved conflict by shouting‚ degrading‚ and often physically abusing the other person. My mother’s response to conflict was to try to settle a compromise or walk away until her own frustration was no longer there. I think based off the conflict responses I observed growing up‚ my responses are a mixture of my parents. When in an intense argument with someone‚ I attack their character
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Growing up in Rwanda one of the smallest and fast emerging nation in Africa has inspired me to take part and be the change that I want to see in my country. Rwanda is under African average of physician per persons‚ where one physician is accountable to more than ten thousand people and of course that could be a different case in villages where I grew up. I grew up in village near the local hospital‚ and I could see people going there but never come back alive and many of those were my friends or
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Growing up as a female in Afghanistan in the 1900’s was extremely and still was bad. Women are equivalent to slaves‚ they are denied education‚ and they are finically independent‚ were they can’t make money of their own. Amongst being raised during the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan‚ and the living in the poor treatment of women Juliaia Afghan serves as a gentle yet mighty defender for peace. Living with the trauma of being shot in the head at the age of14 Jumila knew that it was definitely a time
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Growing up as a Latina and a girl I was constantly reminded of the differences between me and other people around me. Firstly‚ belonging to a minority group that is always seen as exotic or foreign‚ becomes tiring and overwhelming because you constantly feel like you don’t belong to the society you live in. It is tiring because I often hear people talking about how they went to a Mexican restaurant and had amazing food or how they love tacos but the tacos they associate as tacos have hard shells
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Growing up in rural Kansas was boring. Especially since I grew up in the seventies. There were no cell phones or game systems to occupy my time. My family had an old black and white television set. I loved to watch The Price is Right in the days before Bob Barker’s hair turned white. After the show was over‚ the only way to kill time was to play outside and wander down to the creek that ran parallel to our property. There was a secret trail buried in the wall of trees that lined our two acre yard
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Growing up in Ghana in the mid-nineties was a very challenging moment of my life. The West African country was recovering from an economic recession mainly attributed to series coup d’états that destabilized the economy and crippled most state institutions. These coup d’états‚ to an extent‚ left the country that once championed the emancipation of Africa in a deplorable state; a state of despair‚ hopelessness and economic hardship. The then government –National Democratic Congress – implemented
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I grew up with a father who knew best how to take a pill. The night he died‚ the forty xanaxes went down easily. It was the rum that burned his throat a little bit‚ but that burn meant he was still alive‚ didn’t it? Somewhere in between the sips of fire‚ he passed out‚ and eventually he passed away. I would like to tell you I am angry with him‚ but I will not be angry anymore. I sobbed this over his still warm body one hundred times until my throat burned a little‚ too. My dad was a drug addict.
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