Literacy Memoir Sydney Cunningham English 1101-9 Date: 09-30-2013

Literacy: The Prologue My mother was adopted and never really knew much about her immediate family. Us as a family, being my mother, brother, and myself, was brought up not knowing who we are. As I grew into a more mature young lady, my mother informed me that she has tried to contact her biological father and mother. She found out that her father, my biological grandfather, was mysteriously murdered when she was two months old. When I asked about my biological grandmother, my mother calmly said, She is not your grandmother and she will never be. I soon learned that while my mother went to meet her, her mother said that she wished she had an abortion with her and to never seek her out again. Literacy: Shaping Who I Am Literacy, in broad aspect, is how well someone can understand a topic or subject. To Sylvia Scribner, literacy can be described in three metaphors: adaption, power, and a state of grace. Although both definitions are true regarding literacy, literacy in my world is more than just reading and writing. It is a way for me to connect with the little bit of my ancestry I know. I have never really known who I was ethnically. All throughout my life I get the same questions: What are you mixed with? Are you a mutt? What are you? With

these questions always come the same feelings of confusion and low self-worth. Due to my mother being adopted we have not received any conformation directly on who we are as a whole ethnically. To grow up in a place where your equals place you in category by race is heartbreaking when you are set aside simply because you have no idea who you are. My Mamo and Papa Fletcher, my mothers adopted parents, have really played a significant role in my life educationally but culturally. When I was young every summer break they would hold a summer school just for my younger brother and me. They called it the Fletcher Academy. My Mamo would teach us reading, writing, and math skills while my Papa would teach us arts. My grandparents where retired school teachers, so they would constantly have us writing and practicing research techniques. I have grown to love writing research papers because of my Mamo. It makes me feel like a journalist who has to get all facts before publishing. One summer, I believe I was ten, I remember sitting at the table having Mamo explain to me what adopted means and the only bit of cultural background she was aware of my mother having. I remember her saying in a deep southern accent, Now Sydney, I think its time for you and your brother to know a lil about yourself. She went into detail about how they picked up my mother out an orphanage in Kings Mountain, and the small amount of papers they had on her. One of the licenses my Mamo focused on was a Native American license. My mother is a certified member of the Haliwa Saponi tribe of North Carolina. Although my mother has a license that identifies her as Haliwa Saponi, it is very difficult for my brother and I to get one because a member of the tribe did not witness our birth.

That same year I found out the news of the tribe, my mother and Mamo thought it was time for my brother and me to be exposed to the little culture background we are a part in and took us a POW WOW. I cannot speak much about what goes on, but every time my mother would go there, she would sing and present poetry she had written. After seeing how nice and inviting the tribe was to my family, I picked up writing poetry from my mother. I would go home and sit with my mother while she taught me basic poetry. She would have me sit down with one word on pen on a paper and have write down five synonyms of that word in pencils. My favorite was the quick writes she would have me do before bed. They were similar to diary pages but I had to be poetic in my writing. The next day I would base my poem on how or what I feeling the night before writing. When it was time for us to attend our POW WOWs, I would be one of the ones presenting my poetry in front of new and old members. For once in my life I felt like a part of something, it felt good to not be judge on my ethnicity. I continued learning about poetry and my heritage long after that. I have joined poetry clubs and contest several times over the years. My mentors would have to be my Mamo, Mother, and the Haliwa tribe. They have all contributed, not only to my literacy, but also my self-efficacy. My of love writing is due to all of them. If any of them have given up on me or gave me any grief on writing, I would have quit poetry and would be slipping past not trying my best. Even to this day I still read with my Mamo and write poetry with my mother. In school it feels more natural to write and to let ideas just flow on the paper. This past spring the tribe

asked me to dance in the POW WOW and has rewarded me with a hand woven dreamcatcher for being one of the few attending college. After reading more about Mr. Alexie (although I remember his name from years ago) I have gained even more appreciation for people who had to go through hardship to find them selves through literacy. Alexie mentioned he read for pleasure and desperation and until my freshman year in college I never fully knew what that meant. It wasnt until my freshman English course where I got to read more about him that I understood what he meant by that saying. We read and write for enjoyment of course, but we must keep doing so in order to stay true to who we are, achieving more than we could without. This may seem clich but just as Alexie read to better himself I wrote to feel equal and wanted. In a way I did write in desperation. I enjoyed writing but I felt the urge to better my self-worth and by doing so I found a sanctuary.