Stereotypes, well where to begin. A stereotype isn’t only a derogatory term, it’s also an identifier that stays with the victim. When you come from the small town of Linden, California you experience quite a bit of this hate, this negative connotation that somehow connects you to others that may seem like you, when in actuality you are not the stereotype, you are you.
For me the main stereotype I have to face is that I must have had an easy life. As a white woman in small, rural California I must have no worry in the world except school and work. Growing up must have been a breeze and my parents probably pay for everything.
Actually, I barely even have parents. My dad died when I was six and my mother got addicted to drugs so I lived on the streets and in shelters and anywhere I could until I was adopted at the age of 12. That was when I had an easy life. Easy by societies standards, but of course I still had so much anxiety and depression over my shitty life, but no one seems to ask me about the past. This is because they assume that my life has been easy and, yes, maybe the last six years have been heaven-sent, but I have the memories of nights spent in shelters and days spent in empty parks. Stereotypes, what a funny concept.