I very rarely find myself incredibly moved by a personal essay other than mine. No, I’m not saying this arrogantly, but I always end up with very tragic personal essays. “The Home That Made Me Doesn’t Exist Anymore” is an inspiring piece of nonfiction work. This essay incorporates a myriad of social disconnections and victims of stereotypes. When the word victim comes to mind, our brain automatically thinks of a person, a human being. However, places and homes can be victims too. There have always been the poor, middle-class, and high-class standards of living. We have a definite picture of how each of these classes lives. When you see an apartment building with chipped paint and a broken window, those are signs of poor or middle-class habitats. It is too often people are judged by the place they lay their head at night, cook dinner for their children, or bathe the day’s dirt away. A home is a home.
In this essay, the main character is the writer, and it travels through her young years to her present self. She is an African American woman from Chicago, which is the setting of the essay. There are many descriptions that give the piece great visuals and a sense of the Chicago lifestyle, more specifically the way she saw Chicago. In the beginning, the little girl is naïve about the place she lives and doesn’t understand why others see her home differently. As the piece progresses, she becomes more and more aware of the faults in her surroundings. For example, the once crystal covered playground is now shards of glass from liquor and beer bottles. It takes a very harsh but gentle turn because the narrator understands now.
There are a ton of great verbs used in this piece such as shimmers, affirmed, ensconced, mythologized, bathed. The writer does very well with progressing the story with interesting words. There also nouns that stood out to me such as haints and maws.
While reading this essay, it became an emotional journey for me. I felt what this writer was feeling and saw this world through her eyes. She gives this place that everyone looks down on admirable characteristics. “Our neighborhoods are broken in so many ways, but there is light here as well.” That was one of my favorite lines from the entire essay because it embodies so much character. It adds depth to the setting and the personality of the writer. This essay also dips into the division of races. “I didn’t learn whiteness as a default, or the limitations placed on those who exist outside of it, until I was much, much older.” This line is powerful because it shows that sometimes you have to learn the hard way of the inequality of the world, and in a way, you must accept it.
Another great thing about this essay is the constant references to other writers. She explained how they were introduced to her and the importance or impact they had in her life. Overall, I wholeheartedly enjoyed reading “The Home that Made Me Doesn’t Exist Anymore.” If you’d like to give it a read, like always, just click here. 
