Hi, I'm Orange, a 17 year old unicorn sailor scout. This is my personal blog. Hope you enjoy your time here, and please have a wonderful day.
Are you serious? I am not ethnically white. In my complexion I am white, but I grew up under extreme Native American influence. The only part you got correct was that I didn’t live on a Reservation but I go to a Mattaponi Indian Reservation because they adopted us into their tribe. My grandmother divorced her husband and remarried a wonderful man named Chanco Red Cloud. He is Mattaponi and my grandmother is Cherokee. I don’t speak for you, I speak for myself and my family. I am so proud of my heritage and I wouldn’t want to be anything else.
I still feel the pain my ancestors had to go through, EVEN IF I WASN’T NATIVE AMERICAN I WOULD FEEL THE PAIN BECAUSE I AM EMPATHETIC. And empathy is a wonderful trait to have, just as painful as it can be.
You cannot tell me my problems and troubles are any less valued because I did not live on a Reservation. I still acknowledge the pain of those who do live on Reservations. So don’t act like mine do not exist.
It’s all good. Thanks though!
What offends me does not have to offend you. I am white in skin complexion. My skin colour has nothing to do with my ethnicity. I promise you this ordeal would still bother me even if I was anything other than what I am. No culture is up for consumption.
I am white, and racist remarks towards POC, Indian (as in India), Iranian Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Taiwanese, Thai, Vietnamese and any other people that I have and haven’t heard racist remarks to BOTHER ME. Because RACISM = BAD in the most simplest terms
It offends me because RACISM = BAD
When I was little, I was told everyday or at least reminded that I was Native American. I was so proud, and told everyone that I met that I was Native American.
This is me with my Native American and Irish father. His mother is Native American and Irish
My father’s father is completely descendant from Irish
My mother’s mother was Irish and Welsh. She died when I was little. My mother didn’t know her father was actually a man she called uncle when she was little. He died when she was four. She found out he was Irish and Swedish.
I’ve shared more than enough with you.
depression is when you don’t really care about anything
anxiety is when you care too much about everything
and having both is just like what
Truth bomb if I ever saw one.