Exercising Your Sociological Imagination

Assignment #1: Exercising Your Sociological Imagination

Working hard has never been a problem in my life; it’s the question of “Will it ever be enough,” that plagues my mind. I am from London, Ohio, which is a small town twenty minutes west of Columbus. The town in which I grew up is predominantly white; blacks make up about 5% of the total population. By the standards of our society I am within that 5%, being born of a black man and a white woman. It wasn't far along in my education that I learned I started behind. Not only was I African-American but a member of the poor working class. The school system was a decent one, but it doesn’t compare to that of private schools. A private Catholic High School that is twenty minutes from where I live ranked among the top in the state involving Senior Graduation test score with 97% passing. My public school was nowhere near that with only 60% that passed all sections. My father would always tell me, “You can’t squeeze a dollar from a penny,” now I know the truth in that. Having only so much to work with, working hard barely competes with a $4,000 a year high school education.

The reason I am here today is because of the hard work and inspiration of my parents. My mother grew up in an all-white neighborhood and graduated at the top of her high school and college classes respectively. Now I cannot say that it was solely because of her race because that is simply untrue she I a smart, gifted individual. It was her that first instilled on me the importance of my education. Growing up I figured it was just because she was my Mom and that is what Moms do. Now I know she knew she had to prepare me for the many hardships and prejudices that awaited me in the “real world.” My father was not as blessed as a child. He grew up the oldest of eight children, caring for them at the age of 17 when his mother and father died. Education was never a priority or an option when caring for his family. It was many years after he graduated high school that my Father knew he had to go to school to have any chance of succeeding in life. He eventually ended up a few credits shy of a degree from Michigan State University. He also pressed upon the importance of my education, “You don’t want to end up like your old man.” My Dad is now a Big-Ten Conference Football Official and a high school janitor. Growing up in the “Ghetto” as those so fondly refer to it is not the easiest thing in the world. Many just overlook you as another lazy, for the politically correct, African-American.

Some might argue that all these adversities are not all that major, that with the opportunities available to minorities race and class should not be an issue. Quite simply, that view is mistaken. In my case the problem comes back to those two issues, who is to say that a poor black young man has all the opportunities to succeed as a rich white young man in the same circumstances. The deck is clearly stacked against people of color. Even in my hometown to which I am comfortable I see the difference every day. When people see me they don’t see me, all they see is some black kid with a do-rag destined to fail. Society has an evil perception of those they see as poor, Black, Hispanic, Arab, etc. The one question I would ask those people is, why? Why do I have to fail, Why are the odds so clearly against me, Why do I have to work so hard to be equal, why? Although I cannot speak for every nationality or ethnicity I do know this to be true for blacks. I believe that my race has taught