Page 30 - Reflections on the Danger of a Single Story

Have you ever experienced having others have a single story about you/your ethnic group? Reflect. Have you ever had a single story about someone? [reflect]. Upload one pager reflection to google group. Respond to 2 other reflections from peers.
My story is that I grew up in the projects in Chelsea Manhattan. I had both parents in my life but eventually my mother became a single mother when I was 15 years old. Before that, both of my parents worked a lot and so I was primarily raised by my grandmother, whom by the way does not speak English. I witnessed a lot of domestic violence in my home and because I am the oldest of 3 girls, I always felt it was my duty to make sure my sisters were in the room and to make sure that my parents didn’t hurt each other too bad. Eventually it changed once my father was told to leave the house.
I was always the smart one in my group of friends and was constantly referred to as a nerd, which I was totally okay with because who wants to be labeled as dumb? I ended up attending Fiorello H. Laguardia High School with a major in Art with the intent of being an artist. What better way to achieve this then to go to a specialized high school in the city.
While attending LaGuardia I was always asked where I was from and there was always shock when I said I was from Chelsea. The immediate response was always “I thought you were from the Bronx”. Now I love the Bronx, my “titi” and “tio” lived there with my primohermanos (cousins that are like siblings) and I always enjoyed going to their house in the Bronx with the backyard and the cuchifrito spot right down the block. But I never really understood why it was an automatic assumption that I was from a borough that was an hour away from my actual home.
But that wasn’t the only response that I would get from saying I was from Chelsea. The immediate comment after “I thought you were from the Bronx” was alway “so you must be rich”. I was clearly not rich either, I grew up in a small two bedroom project apartment with at least 5 people where people got shot in front of my building every summer and there was always someone getting robbed or something crazy happening. I couldn’t even hang out with my friends because my mom was scared for my safety.
In college it was no different. I roomed with other Latino women and because of my slight accent and because I spoke in slang they thought differently of me. They viewed me as not as smart as them or as someone who just didn’t know how to do anything.
The interactions with the people from High School and College had this assumption of me because of the way that I spoke, because I’m Puerto Rican it was an automatic assumption that I was from the Bronx when there are Puerto Ricans all over New York City. People also had assumptions based on where I grew up, since I lived in Chelsea I must be rich. Or because I grew up in the hood I must be dumb, when the reality is the opposite.
Being a teacher now, I don’t really let those single stories bother me anymore. I just correct people and keep it moving. I talk to my students about the reality of life and hope that I get through to them about how hard it can be for someone who doesn’t have a “regular” name (whatever that means) or white skin or an accent or speak a different language and how important it is to stay true to yourself and your values and to always work hard to accomplish your goals.
KYLAH BRUNO