Galloway1

Akayla Galloway
Rebecca Agosta
UWRT: 1102
9/23/2014
Identity?
Language. Thats a part of my identity that outsiders have noticed first. Language
has always tipped people off to what kind of person I was. Ever since I was a little girl
people commented on how I talked. Adults that my mother knew and talked to referred to
it as proper and it didnt help that I was super perky whenever I talked. Because my
teachers talked in singsong voices I began to talk like that too. Drawing out all of my
syllables.
For instance, I remember I came home one day and I told my mom and my
grandmother about how I made friends. Except when I said friends it came out like FROND-S, and to my grandmother a native of Mississippi it sounded foreign and she
thought my speech was a far cry from her Mississippian roots. I didnt think anything of
it for a while.
Until I heard it from people at school, it was the sixth grade. My friend told me
that I talked like a white girl, because when I used certain words and annunciated, I
was doing things black girls dont do. At that moment I knew I had to start acting
different.
I began to start adding slang into my vocabulary. At first it didnt sound right
because I was stuck in my proper roots I would say things like I am not doin dat but
I wasnt doing it right because I used am not instead of aint. So once I had that down I

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was pretty okay with my friends I was no longer the outcast. However, when I was
around my white friends I knew I could be myself. They allowed me to use the language I
was confortable with. Then I began to see that I knew how to switch my language up.
Junior high is when the explicit language came into play. My mother always used
it when she talked. So I thought I was a pro already. I began to use curse words but I
knew I couldnt use them when I was near family. So at school is when I used them the
most. I combined my slang and my swear words and all of a sudden I was on the track to
being the most popular girl in my grade, just because I looked and acted like I didnt care.
My language enforced that, most importantly my body language. I sat in the back with
my hood on and rolled my eyes whenever someone got the answer correct to a question I
already knew. However there was one teacher that saw through that. He called me out.
He made me feel little, but while there was an audience I continued to play my role.
Freshman year I learned that my language played a role in how other people saw
me. Guys told me I was pretty but because I was loud, sassy and used too much swearing
they lost interest. The way I looked at girls made them think I was better than them, I also
learned I had a bitch face. However, I continued to use my slang and mean looks until I
transferred schools.
When I transferred schools, it turns out that I wasnt going to a normal school. I
was going to a school in the middle of the suburbs where a couple guys owned cars with
confederate flags painted on the back and the students referred to the spots where black
students hung out as little Africa. Prior to transferring to the school I was on the honors
track although I acted like an ass in class I was truly a smart girl. But when I went to this
school as soon as I put on my tough girl act I began to see that other viewed me as

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ignorant and laughed when I got riled up at their racist and insensitive comments. The
slang had been a part of me so long I couldnt turn it off completely. It was worse when I
was angry. So when I heard people call black people coloreds or niggers my fiery
side came out and words I never heard before came out of me. My teachers even made
comments about my race and how I was acting as a true stereotype.
When I figured how they expected me to act I found my inner voice that I had lost
that day in 6th grade. I went back to school talking how I normally talked. My teachers
were shocked. I remember having to explain, society has attempted to make me conform
to how black people should act but I refuse to comply with these rules. The people I have
encountered in this environment have only made me recognize that they are truly the
inferior ones. While I am superior, you cant bring me down. Meanwhile while we are
holding true to enforce stereotypes, my grandmother was a part of sharecropping, but
overcame the oppression and got her PhD and is one of the most successful Sociologist in
the COUNTY. I walked out of the class and I remember the next day only two people
made racist comments in my presence things along the lines of Angry Black Girl Makes
Speech and Storms Out Of Class another was Niggers finally learned how to speak the
language.
After that year I transferred back to my old school and I knew when to use slang
or swear words and when to talk with my properness. In class I used my articulate
manner, and it helped me get a job in the office and a job as a mentor. My friends began
to learn that certain language is ok at the right time or in the right place.
Language has molded me because my language has changed from year to year.
My language has evolved. As of right now Im working on body language because

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people constantly tell me I seem distant or have bad facial expressions. Everyday presents
a new task.