<p>Hey Guys!! I could REALLY use some advice with this essay…I’m just lost. I have two ideas, please help me! Be brutal in critiques.
Prompt: Everyone belongs to many different communities and/or groups defined by (among other things) shared geography, religion, ethnicity, income, cuisine, interest, race, ideology, or intellectual heritage. Choose one of the communities to which you belong, and describe that community and your place within it. </p>
<p>Upon entering my bedroom, you see multiple yards of multicolored, cotton fabric spread across the desk and small glittering gems placed carefully in marked spots on top. To the left, small needles lay bunched in their binding and blue thread stands straight and upright on the bobbin of the sewing machine. It only takes a few moments for it to register that I sew, and quite often. There’s no thrill comparable to that of removing a newly finished skirt and twirling about the room with it, knowing you’ve made it yourself. In sewing, the hard work, and blistered thumbs, put into every project is a contribution to helping the community of us thrive in keeping a tradition alive. Unfortunately, sewing seems to be a dying fashion, or something people are taught for emergency purposes rather than pleasure. My place in my community is to make mistakes than learn from them, to teach others and be taught, to flourish in my art. Sewing is, after all, a learned talent; you can never know enough. Even if you have sewn a thousand shirts, you may slip and make a mistake any day. In this case, practice does not always make perfect and it is my place to practice to get better, not perfect.</p>
<p>Or this</p>
<p>My community can be summed up in two words-Las Vegas. The city that’s larger than life, that lures people in with dreams of grandeur and promise is home to one, large multicultured community. In only takes a few moments to recognize it all around. When I enter my best friend’s home, I immediately spot notes written in hasty, somewhat messy Tagalog on one side of the table and a carefully placed Book of Mormon on the other half. In school, a Mexican dance troupe performs for a special Christmas festival alongside a booth with translations of the Spanish words spoken in the song they dance to. Polynesian and Chinese booths are set up in designated areas of the famous Las Vegas strip and the smells of fresh dumplings fill the air. Even on my own street, I espy men and women, dressed in their Sunday best, walking to or from the local Synagogue.
I, being African American, contribute a small, but a significant amount to the multiculturism in the city. I bring with me my own ideology from my hometown, Detroit.
The ideology of the hard worker, the man or woman that puts in long hours in order to achieve what they will. I share my choice in music, varied R&B and Motown classics, with my Filipino, Chinese, and English best friends. My family and I have put together and presented a demonstration of our holiday of choice, Kwanzaa, to share with friends and their families in school. In Las Vegas, African American ideals and culture is only a piece of something much greater in a city of multiple backgrounds and people.</p>