A Multicultural Experience
written in:
PSY/400 Social Psychology
2011
Professor:
Dr. Linda Johnson
Snow flurried around our van twirling with gusts of wind and performing a welcoming dance as we drove through dark, winding roads into a new and strange land. We had arrived at our destination, a place I would have to call home. Subjected to such an unfamiliar way of living, I felt disoriented. This paper will describe my experience while analyzing the effect of group influence on me. Preconceived notions will be explained and reactions of individuals to my presence will be described. The effect these reactions had on my behavior will also be addressed.
At sixteen years old, in the middle of high school, my parents decided to move our family to Turner, a tiny rural town in Maine. Houses were miles from one another and the scenery was breathtaking at every turn. My father was doing business with his best friend, building homes and communities in the surrounding areas and we were blessed to move into one of the recent creations, an oversized and strikingly beautiful three-story home that lit up like it was decorated for Christmas every night. I had previously attended a high school in Irvine, California that was home to over 2,000 students – a diverse population that encompassed and embraced many different ethnicities and cultures. My best friend and I, undaunted by superficial teenage illusions, stuck together and managed to maneuver through the crowds unnoticed. We would eat lunch comfortably and quietly together in a tight corner tucked away from the sea of gossip, facades, and cliques. The new school, where I would spend my junior year, was indoors and housed fewer than 800 students. I immediately noticed the students were much less concerned with outer appearances, a complete contrast to the fashion shows I witnessed every day during my sophomore year. I had never been a fan of brand name clothing, expensive jewelry, excessive makeup, or even shopping but I still felt that I stood out in the mix of oversized hoodie sweaters, undone hair, and bare faces. It seemed the main concern at this new school was practicality. It was awfully cold and during winter, layers and shoes that could withstand snow and slush were a necessity. I started school a few days late which only aided in spotlighting my attendance. I quickly realized everyone already knew everyone else, having grown up together; they had attended all the same schools. I stood out immediately and could practically hear the murmurs traveling from mouths to ears, through hallways and classrooms. By the end of the day everyone knew I was the new girl from well-known and idolized Orange County, California.
A few months prior to my departure from my hometown, I became heavily engrossed in a Christian youth group within Calvary Chapel Living Word, a small church I attended. My best friend and I went through the religious experience together, hand-in-hand we performed the rituals of accepting Christ and getting baptized. We only spoke of righteous living and “saving” others – perceptions shaped and embedded into our tender minds by the hands and words of the church’s elders. As a result of my strict adherence to prayer and acceptance of God’s plan for me, I sought and attained comfort in scripture, despite the life-changing move that loomed around the corner. My preconceived notions about the upcoming change were non-existent; with naivety I embraced the new experience and believed I was a tool for Christ’s hand to direct. I knew nothing of Maine or of the school I was to attend, knew nothing of the culture, or even the population of the town I was to live in – I was blind and enveloped in faith. I went from having a readily accessible Christian support system, from operating within the safe walls of like-mindedness, and from being able to shy away from typical teenage drama easily to being the center of attention in this new pool of strangers – of prying eyes and curious minds. All I wanted was to remain unnoticed, to quietly complete necessary tasks before returning to the only place of comfort in this new environment – the confines of my new room which I decorated with memories of a sweeter, simpler, and warmer time. An introvert by nature, I fought the urge to run away and instead answered the many questions that came my way from both students and teachers. One of my teachers was a fellow Christian and that simple fact allowed me to feel safe in her presence. She directed the Christian club also, a much smaller, seemingly neglected version of the Christian club at my previous high school. My religion was my identity and I clung to it for safety. Always known for my boldness, I did not hesitate to share with new acquaintances my love for Jesus. The heavy armor of religion I wore was not what my peers expected.
A few months prior to my departure from my hometown, I became heavily engrossed in a Christian youth group within Calvary Chapel Living Word, a small church I attended. My best friend and I went through the religious experience together, hand-in-hand we performed the rituals of accepting Christ and getting baptized. We only spoke of righteous living and “saving” others – perceptions shaped and embedded into our tender minds by the hands and words of the church’s elders. As a result of my strict adherence to prayer and acceptance of God’s plan for me, I sought and attained comfort in scripture, despite the life-changing move that loomed around the corner. My preconceived notions about the upcoming change were non-existent; with naivety I embraced the new experience and believed I was a tool for Christ’s hand to direct. I knew nothing of Maine or of the school I was to attend, knew nothing of the culture, or even the population of the town I was to live in – I was blind and enveloped in faith. I went from having a readily accessible Christian support system, from operating within the safe walls of like-mindedness, and from being able to shy away from typical teenage drama easily to being the center of attention in this new pool of strangers – of prying eyes and curious minds. All I wanted was to remain unnoticed, to quietly complete necessary tasks before returning to the only place of comfort in this new environment – the confines of my new room which I decorated with memories of a sweeter, simpler, and warmer time. An introvert by nature, I fought the urge to run away and instead answered the many questions that came my way from both students and teachers. One of my teachers was a fellow Christian and that simple fact allowed me to feel safe in her presence. She directed the Christian club also, a much smaller, seemingly neglected version of the Christian club at my previous high school. My religion was my identity and I clung to it for safety. Always known for my boldness, I did not hesitate to share with new acquaintances my love for Jesus. The heavy armor of religion I wore was not what my peers expected.
Shy and wishing to be invisible, I roamed the unfamiliar halls my first day, dreading lunch time when I would have to find a place to sit, where everyone would watch as I pulled out a single chair and sat alone. To my relief, a trio of cheerleaders waved me over to their table and proceeded to ask me about Orange County – if it was like the movie and reality shows and if I knew or had met any celebrities. They then walked me through the gossip of every group around us, pointing, laughing, sharing, over-sharing. I understood their intentions and I quickly realized I did not want to be a part of their world. I played nice but remained distant, a typical characteristic of mine, keeping all at arm’s length. I have always sought sincerity in others and within a week, the petty girls, with their superficial expectations, had fallen away from me. My personality remained the same: quiet, quirky, bold about my passions, and honest. Even at that age, I did not seek acceptance. I had already attempted and failed at being anything other than myself so I remained true to my ideals. Those girls weren’t the only ones to try to adopt me to their clique; a sought-after, known-for-his-wealth, admired boy approached me one day with a single question “Was that you this morning that got dropped off in an Escalade?” My response was terse. I felt as though I could see through everyone’s intentions, as though I had entered through a twilight zone portal into a familiar and cheesy movie plot. I was not the girl they wanted me to be: posh and superficial. The student population was predominantly white, there were only five Hispanic students, including me. I was appalled by the amount of ignorance that sat in my peers’ minds, ashamed that the first time I was stereotyped, it was from a fellow minority. “So which trailer park do you live in?” She asked, unaware her words were drenched in oversimplification, unaware they immediately changed my perception of her. “What?” I responded, unable to fathom the moment. “Well don’t your parents work at the chicken farms?” Again I was in awe, disappointed and deflated.
For six months I pulled further into my shell, unable to understand the stark contrast from everything I had known. There was an underlying rebellion in my behavior, against the popular population because they wanted to mold me to their expectations instead of accept me as I was. Eventually, perceptions shifted and like a child does with a new toy, I was cast aside after the initial enthrallment and new distractions took my place. I felt much more comfortable when my pedestal was removed, as though I could breathe again. Back on solid ground, I attracted kinder souls and a few good friends emerged to greet me. I too emerged from my shell, feeling safe in the presence of sincerity. Perhaps I would have found those friends sooner if the other opportunistic individuals had not swarmed around me upon my arrival, clouding my essence from sight and clouding the clarity of my sight. All was well after I found genuine hearts to share love and joyful experiences with. The remaining six months of my stay in Turner, Maine became highly enjoyable and produced many fond memories.
