Chapter 10: Language, Culture, and Identity: Immigrant Female Students in U.S. High Schools

I grew up in a small southern town in the mid-1960s. My parents were both school teachers and struggled to support five children. Although we had little in a material sense, I later realized that I was one of the privileged (McIntosh, 1998) simply because of the color of my skin. Growing up in this small town, I felt that something was wrong with a system that allowed discrimination against others. These others were the Blacks who went to separate poor schools in neighborhoods overrun with poverty. When I was old enough to drive, I used to go these neighborhoods to pick up our maid. Yes, as poor as we were, there were those willing to work for practically nothing. I recall the empty feeling I had when I saw this very sweet and gentle woman who would always be standing on her rickety porch waiting patiently for me. Against her many protests, I always insisted that she sit up front with me, not in the back, as we chatted on the way to the house. As I grew older, I began to examine my own privileged life in comparison to those not so fortunate. In doing so, I realized that I owed much to my ancestors who fled other countries in pursuit of a future that held hope for a better existence. My paternal grandfather’s family left Ireland during the potato famine. They were also Protestant and sought more religious freedom. Some of the family emigrated to Canada while others sought work in the West Indies on sugar plantations. In Canada, my grandfather and his brothers became wheat farmers while some of my great uncles lost their lives working the plantations. Again seeking a better life, my grandfather emigrated to Georgia to find a more substantial living. He was never able to reach his potential.