Sociological Autobiography - Sayndia Sando SOC 101-O1...

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Sayndia SandoSOC 101-O1Sociological Autobiography11/7/19A lot of the person I am today has been shaped by the sociological factors around me. As I grew up in the world, I learned what was expected of me due to my race, culture, gender, age orplace of residence. I never knew much about sociology before I got to college. I simply associated the word with social workers who rescued children from bad homes, and that was that. But taking my freshman year sociology class has taught me that it is so much more than that. It is a study of the world around you, while taking in and noting everything in that world that makes it, “the world.” All of these factors can affect how one behaves, who they associate with and what biases and prejudices they might hold. I, for one, believe that all of these things and more shaped how I grew up as a child. Growing up as a child, I was raised in a strict, traditional “African” household. Notice I didn’t say African-American. That is because, despite being born in the U.S, we were through and through, African and would be raised as such. We ate traditional food, spankings were a simple fact of life, and education was so ingrained in our daily routine, that my twin sister and I were reading by the age of three. However, as we started school, we noticed differences. The daybefore we started school, my grandmother called my sister and I into her room and told us that she didn’t come all the way to this country for us to play around, and that these”black Americans” were not our friends. This simple statement, and my experiences afterwards, would shape how I viewed black people for a long time afterwards.Even though our family was adamant that we were nothing like the Black Americans, go
to school and interacting with them, was making it increasingly hard to separate “them” from “us”. Going to school, we all played the same games, did the same things and despite my slight accent, no child had ever picked on my sister and I. However, this happy little farce came to an end the day we were invited to our first sleepover. Now, I can't recall the friend who asked, all I know is she was Black American and we had never been to a sleepover before. We were about to find out why. We came home and told our mother and grandma, and that was when all hell broke loose. My mother was listing all the things that could go wrong and my grandma was screaming about how we wanted to kill her by going off to of of those “black” house to go and die. Bottom

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