Entangled in the roots of African American and Caribbean, lies my fascinating multicultural background. My culture, so delicately intertwined within my life, has become the background of my story. Many people wonder where I come from and how I came to be who I am today. I respond usually with a short narrative of my life, but the real story of my life is so much more than a brief account; it is a novella that is continuously having chapters added to it. The true anecdote of my life usually commences with an opening of events from my childhood, morphed into the events of being a teenager. I am a young woman fashioned colorfully with heritage, reminiscences, and innate qualities that sets me distinctly apart from other people. My story begins July 10, 2002 where I was a product of a young Caribbean woman, native of St. Thomas Virgin Islands and a young man who was born in London yet, was raised in New York with Caribbean descent.  I was born the youngest out of a family of six in the vibrant and eccentric city of New Orleans, Louisiana. There, I was instilled with the bold and southern traits of New Orleans culture and tradition. However, New Orleans was only the beginning of my wonderfully crafted tale.  Like every story, there is a compelling plot, a climax, and an ending, but my story is just starting to unfold.

During my early stages of life, I could recall some events that took place in New Orleans. For instance, I could remember my house full of African designs and crafts and the antique, wooden feel of my crib that I tried so desperately hard to escape from. In some memories, I could remember my other family members such as my grandads, my grandmothers, and my cousins. My immediate household, however, consists of my father, my mother, and my three older sisters Kimberly, Stephanie, and Ashley. Aside from memories of my family came a memory that I couldn’t recall, but was one of the most tragic events in history. The event of Hurricane Katrina in 2005 took a devastating impact on the state of Louisiana and had an influence on my entire family as well. My family and I were forced to relocate from our accustomed home and neighborhood to seek shelter from this deadly trespassing storm.  Weeks in advance, my family packed up theirs and my belongings to drive away from the impending fate of the city. Some neighbors decided to stay and their homes and valued possessions were withered and destroyed along with the rest of the neighborhood. Among those who stayed, some did not survive. My family and I were fortunate enough to leave New Orleans the day before the menacing and brutal effect of the hurricane took place.

My family and I arrived in Trussville, Alabama the night before the storm had hit. We stopped in a nearby Holiday Inn suite to finally take a rest from the overwhelming fatigue and exhaustion that was built up on the drive away from New Orleans. In the hotel, my family and I were greeted with the warmest hospitality and generosity from owners of the inn and people who were also evacuees from the storm. Later that night, everyone who resided at the inn huddled around a flat screen television like a litter of puppies surrounding their mother. We waited anxiously (even me in my pacifier and onesie, not knowing what in the world was going on) for the news to deliver the outcome of the hurricane strike on the city of New Orleans. When CNN finally flickered on the screen, the city of New Orleans was shown underwater. Millions of people were struggling for help and on the roof of their houses to avoid drowning in the rushing waters of death. Many were tiny infants and children who were separated from their families holding on to a wooden plank or piece of debris for dear life. My family and the people of the hotel were devastated. The blissful and jubilant city of New Orleans was replaced by what appeared as a scene from a horror movie. Our home was primarily destroyed by the storm and the city that we once lived in and loved would never be looked at as the same again.

After Trussville, my family and I drove down to Columbus, GA and decided to relocate there. Columbus was an enormous adjustment from New Orleans. The city itself was smaller and more compact, there wasn’t as much spunk and excitement that New Orleans provided, and moreover, the city was just plain and minimalistic. It didn’t seem to attract many tourists now and then and it seemed that everyone knew everyone there. When I was 3 ½ years old, my family moved into the Lullwater Apartments and we had to adjust into the southern city. I grew up in Columbus, GA along with my sisters learning to live there too. Now reaching the childhood phase of my life, I had to get used to Columbus and go through another journey with my family, facing school, neighbors, and other relationships.

At the age of four, I did not go to Pre-K, due to all of the Pre-K facilities being booked up. As a result, I stayed home with my mom homeschooling me until the next grade. I built a loving relationship with my three older sisters who were just starting to adjust to their new schools. Kimberly, the oldest, was the fashionista and captain of the group and was always there to give crucial advice on school and girl problems. Stephanie, the second oldest, was the serious one, who was very thoughtful on what she wanted to do and how she wanted to do it. She was also fun at times involved in her own genre of music and artistic niches. Ashley, the third oldest, would bring the humor to the group. She’d always be the one to make people laugh even with her own goofy laugh that she had.  Then, there was me, growing up watching The Little Mermaid on repeat and learning to read early, still figuring out who I was going to be when I grew up and what kind of character that I would have growing up.

My parents have taught my sisters and I the basics of life and how we should approach it. They have always been the caring and supportive parents who stress the significance of getting an education and doing something essential with your life. Education is a crucial part in our family. For as long as I can remember, my sisters and I have always been told to strive for excellence and to make all A’s on our report cards. We weren’t allowed to perform mediocrity. These same standards that my parents taught me growing up are the same beliefs that I will instill in my children when they grow up.

After years of living in Columbus, my family and I were able to make lasting relationships with the kind neighbors around us and finally get used to living there. My sisters and I were able to form some of the best relationships with friends and teachers here and we enjoyed the peacefulness and tranquility Columbus had to offer. To this day, my family and I still visit New Orleans for jazz festivals and the famous summer Essence Fest. Although we miss our home terribly, we know that we cannot go back to live there, due to the susceptibility of hurricanes.  I am fourteen years old now, attending Columbus High School, and my story is incomplete. I am apart of various cultures, cities, and places that shape who I am today. My story isn’t a fairytale or a folktale with imaginary characters in it describing my life. It is an autobiography of my life events recalled from my memories and recollections. To all of the fellow readers who expect an ending, there isn’t one. There isn’t a concluding chapter because I’m determined to have as many chapters in this story as possible.