Looking for my Identity

The flipbook animation shows three characters and three buckets of paint. Each character represents a color and the color represents a group of people.  The reason why the colors are in the holes in the ground is that the group of people reflects borders of people that society created like race, background, and gender and the ground represents the borders. The animation shows the main character (pink icon) being pressured and pushed into different colored paint by green and blue icons. The paint symbolizes the societies expectations of each group. Beneatha is like the icon. She and her family were forced into living in the standards of the more dominant white culture of the time.

Because of that, Beneatha also struggles with finding her identity. As the pink icon’s color gets mixed her self-identity becomes muddled and she loses the idea of where she originated and belongs to the point where she doesn’t fit in with the place she originated from. One of the themes in the play is the assimilationism of culture. The idea of living to the standards of the dominant culture.


“He’s ashamed of his heritage” (pg. 80)

Beneatha is referring to George Murchison, a person of the same color, as someone who is ashamed of their heritage. Beneatha believes that the reason George said that is because, in her eyes, George is an assimilationist. Someone who lives in the standards and expectations as the white culture. This included being against “his heritage”. The blue icon was against their (pink) heritage.


“I am looking for my identity” (pg. 62)

Beneatha wasn’t able to relate with a lot of people because her viewpoints did not align with the societies viewpoint for a woman, especially of color. Even in her family, she was the only one that was driven to become something and saw more in people than just wealth and status. Adding on, she faced a lot of suppression from people because she was a female with thoughts and motivations. Something other women couldn’t relate to. Beneatha’s curiously driven mind causes a lot of issues like discrimination, segregation, and overall, a vaguer sense of identity.


“express me” (pg. 121)

Because of the lack of sense of identity, Beneatha finds different ways to express herself and who she identifies as. The animation shows the pink character being mixed in different colors and eventually changing the color of its own paint in the end. Beneatha experienced different groups of people and culture like her home, school, heritage, neighborhood and, the rich folk neighborhoods. In the end, wherever she goes, her identity was never one thing/color. It was her experiences which she went through like changing her hairstyle from the expected straight hair to curly and “raw… natural”hair.

Personal Narrative : A Boar is a Breed of Dog


The personal narrative is about a time in my past where my family and I traveled to the tropical island and decided to wonder into a wild jungle like tourist park. This story is about the time where I, a 8 year old girl, thought I spoke the language of pig.


A Boar is a Breed of Dog

The tickets were already paid for and the gate to civilian life closed behind us. My mother, father, brother and I took a giant step into the hot, and humid wilderness of tropical island of Guam. I remember I was so excited, I snatched the white envelope from my brother and I bolted into the shady areas of the sleepy forest. Chasing after me, my brother and I ran behind and around bushes and rocks in search for our potential new friend. The sky was bright and clear with a few chirping birds soaring by, and soothing wind that tickled the long blades of flourish grass. That day was going great. At that time, I was eager to become buddies with the creature. I imagined myself hugging and running around with the fellow. Me and the wild pig. It’s been years since my family was in Guam but, thinking about those lazy beasts still makes me smile. Maybe as a kid, I watched to many “Air Bud” or other emotional animal movies however, at the time, I expected a meaningful companionship to occur. Ecstatic at the thoughts of a squishy snout resting on my lap peacefully, it was enough motivation for the little girl that I once was, to be the first to find and introduce myself to any four hooved creature I come by.

I had my tangled black hair tied in a long pony tail and we continued to climb the muddy, wet juggle like terrain with no sound of oink, hooves or rustling of leaves. Pointing, I heard my brother shriek into explosive laughter. Laughing with joy, he saw a black blob run between the bushes and so, he started to chase after it. What was it?  I shouted after him,

“Stop, don’t chase after them. You’ll scare them!”

I was good with dogs and I know what’s right and wrong and, what he did, was definitely wrong.  My “pig whisper” skills were only just being discovered. My child brain could only compare these wild pigs to dogs.  Also, don’t judge me, I honestly believed wild pigs are just heavier dogs because, my dog and that boar, both have talented smelling abilities plus, they look alike. Taking advantage of that, I gathered some kibbles into my hand and started to scatter some into the bushes. I was luring my potential best friend.

I could remember it crystal clear, like it only happened yesterday.  Just like I planned, swiftly, a black figure emerged from the bushes. I wasn’t sure if it was going to charge at me or simply ignore me but, its snout was kept on the ground. I don’t recall if it saw me yet, the pig slowly shuffled awkwardly to our feet. When there was no more food on the soil, it took a few steps back, and it lifted its head. Her hair and skin looked dark and tough. I wonder what she was thinking then. What did she see through her squinting eyes? Her big head was accompanied with two dim marbles like eyes. Around her snout, drool, leaves and dirt was dripping down her chin from digging around in the ground for kibbles. The deep eyes looked at us briefly, made a few snorts, and it started to turn away. But then, her eyes twinkled, and it seemed that she changed her mind. My eyes lightened to see her sniffing for more food near my sandals and I could feel the warm exhales on my toes. My grinning brother, trying to get her attention, threw fistfuls onto the ground.  The bunch that was chucked towards her, hit the soil and ricocheted into individual pellets. Some of the pellets disappeared upon contact but most of them got muddy and soggy and soon, hard to see between the leaves on the ground.  I thought it was wasteful, so I grabbed a fistful, and I presented it in front of her. She didn’t notice my gesture as she continues to snort and dig her snout into the mud cracked ground. I revealed my hand to her and she inched closer while still eating food from the muddy floor.  On my hands, I had the premium quality kibbles. And might I add, lightly glazed with the grape juice, that I spilled on my hands earlier. I stared at her face as she snorted and licked dirt into her mouth. I was sending her a mental invitation to enjoy a special treat from my hand. I put my hand on the ground like a plate and she turned her body to face my sweaty palm. She accepted my offer! I started to breath heavily; my heart was pounding, and I was focused on her diligent movements. I raised my arm a little until, it was at her snout level so, she didn’t have to bend down. It was a luxurious service. I only wanted my future buddy to have the best of the food so, I continued pushed my hand under her nose and her eyes darkened and locked on the food. I was thrilled, I shuffled closer to her. Staring, she revealed two long cream-colored teeth. My body went cold. I immediately pulled back at the sight of her open mouth, but she charged forcefully and bit the food out of my hand! Right after she bit me, I shrieked. She bolted back into the dark unknown and I bolted to my familiar unaware parents who were still slowly walking up the hill. I still had all my fingers, but they were wet, smelly and covered in kibble dust. The boar was long gone, and my brother was still looking for the her. I felt so betrayed because I thought I could make a new friend. We could have been on animal channels together! I fed her; everyone loves food. I even gave her special, top notch treatment yet she still bit me. The pain took a few minutes to disappear, but I was still shocked. My heart was still pounding, and my clueless brother continued to chase after another pig and I didn’t even call him out. All I wanted after that experience was my parents. At that point, they were finally nearing the scene where my fingers and dreams was crushed. I ran and grabbed my father’s thumb which was a weird comfort habit that I had only as a child. Not turning back, we continued to walk around exploring the acres of Guam the park offered. I now realize that my little brain, at the time, could only comprehend the pig’s biting as an evil intent and not as a mistake and my not so good “pig whisper” skills. The poor pig wasn’t evil, it was afraid and fled. It was traumatizing however, because the tropical island was so relaxing and beautiful, I’m sure I soon forgot the incident where a boar bit me…



My internal conflict, the moment I didn’t get what I wanted and feeling betrayed is emphasized by the use of contrast, and narrative technique to reflect on the situation. The conflict was the moment I was bitten and feeling betrayed by the pig.

The writing starts with me being in a positive mood (“excited” and “ecstatic”). As the emotions intensified until the moment the boar bit me, the emotions changed to sadness and confusion. When first approaching the boar, I was determined. I knew what I wanted, and I showed that through repetition (wanting to be friends with the boar). After the biting, I can clearly see my child self and brain processing when I assumed that the “pig’s biting as an evil intent”.

I used color of the boar to intensify the contrast. I described the pig using dark colors that connotes with mystery because I was weary and unaware yet, I thought I knew the pig enough to approach the wild creature with my hands. It turned out that I wasn’t familiar and therefore, it bit me. To recover, I went back to my parents to find comfort in something familiar. I felt betrayed because I thought I was familiar enough and the pig knew that however, that wasn’t the reality.