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Controversial Subjects
I Agree With Destin Williams (5/18) I’ve listed controversial topics that I agree with. I'm not here to discuss. If I say something you don't agree with, don't talk to me anymore. Simple as that. Now, without further ado:
Hazel Loving (Capstone) Lauryn Darden 3/18 I’m tryna figure out America without minorities. America without pork fried rice, fried chicken, baked mac n cheese, salsa, and plantains. Tasteless. What’s the use for a mouth? I’m tryna figure out America without black folk and latino folk. America without jazz, hip hop, rock, salsa, and rap. Dissonance. What’s the use for the ears? I’m tryna figure out America with just the 1 percent. America without railroads, farms, buildings and even the freshly painted wall in ya living room. Unsustainable. What’s the use for them hands? I’m tryna figure out America without color. To have never seen an array of shades, naive to the notion of a rainbow. What’s the use for those eyes? No wonder the color in all these movies have the same shade. There used to be black and white movies, now it seems like it’s just white. Where’s the color? But I guess, the true utopia is the color on the big screen --only white. They have their ideas of the rainbow, their stereotypes, biases because they enjoy being color blind. They don’t want to see us. America without brown is a soulless American. America without brown is stagnant. Lips that’s surrounded by melanin should portray story. I bet everyone would listen. Then, and only then, would we have use for a mouth. Film is dark, but our stories are bright.You see, people who look like me been hungry for that story. Wilson fed it to us. You see, we been humming that story. Miranda rapped the beginning, middle, and end. You’re wondering where this talent lies? Ms. Hansberry proved that it’s on our fingertips, and white folk denying to even shake such a hand. The sad thing is, because whites eyes are useless, not many brown artists think their art is useful. Quite the contrary, though. Brown plots. Brown characters. Brown words. Brown creation. Brown profits.We’ll just keep on creating. But don’t fret, we won’t stop offering it to you. No matter how many times you refuse to taste it, deny you’re able to hear it, or shut your eyes. The flavor, the harmony, the color, the excluded got a story. Watch the big screens and soon, you’ll realize you just chewing on the stale included. The Pen Leizhor Boateng 1/18 In my Freshman year of high school, a girl called me a mystery. She said that I made people wonder about me. I didn’t talk much so I understood why. I honestly didn’t think that I mattered that much to people to where they actually wondered about me. I didn’t speak much because I had another way to express what was on my mind: writing. Writing was a way for me to say things that I wouldn’t say aloud. I could voice my opinions on topics nobody would care about at the time, such as rap music I liked, skateboarding, or just random topics I’d come up with. All the thoughts and feelings that I felt I couldn’t let out were put onto paper. I used to write every day during class and at home. When we used to do writing in class I was always the most excited. My teachers would ask me if I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, but I honestly didn’t. I didn’t want to be a writer; it was just something I did to get my words out. I soon learned that writing wouldn’t be enough. In 6th grade there was a school talent show. My teacher wanted me to participate and perform one of my poems. At first I really did not want to do it, but he told me that this was the first step to being able to open up to people. I needed to be able to voice what I needed to say. There was no point in voicing my opinion on paper if nobody was going to see it. So I ended up reading my poem for the talent show about my thoughts and what I felt about school at the time. I got very good feedback. The writing definitely helped me figure out what I wanted to say when the times came to speak and it helped me overcome being unheard. After people heard or read my writing it made them start conversations with me. People actually wanted to hear what I had to say. I went from not saying much to being able to voice my opinion with no problem, all because of a pen and my 6th grade teacher. The Definition of a Black Woman Adia Sakura Lemessy 12/17 My room is situated in my mind, and it’s pretty small. I try to make do with the few things that I have in here to make it more comforting. The sheet that I sleep with in there is woven from hopes and dreams, so that I may swaddle myself in my optimism. There is a journal that was once full of blank pages, but I’ve recently begun to change that. There are so many things I have to say that don’t leave the confines of my mind. They say that I’m allowed to share my thoughts, unless I don’t think like them, of course. Sometimes, I’m ashamed to speak up, but that shame is still there, whether I speak or not. This room can occasionally feel like a safe space, encompassing the person that I’m allowed to be. The radio in here usually plays my life’s soundtrack, until the station is changed to judgement: too loud, too weak, boring, goody-two-shoes, thinks she knows everything. I didn’t choose to be born female. If I was offered the choice, however, I probably wouldn’t change anything, because my voice on how women are treated would not be respected otherwise. Of course, men have a different set of impossible standards, but that’s a story for another day. The problem arises when I have to tamper with my personality, which always returns to its presets of its own accord. If I talked less, I’d be told that I’m too quiet. If I stood up for myself more, I’d be told that I’m boorish and defensive. If I tried to do what I’ve been told is less prissy, I’d be told that I’m too loose. Apparently, I should expect this, because society stuck a label on me marked ‘girl’ and said “This is what a girl is, and this is what she’s supposed to do.” Because of that, me and countless others like me have to cram ourselves into a little box in order to feel ‘safe,’ but you’re never really safe anyway. The moment you stop fitting exactly into this container, you get harassed until you retreat back there. I would go back to the little room, which could make me feel claustrophobic, because I was deluded into believing that I would be happier in there. Social constructs state that I have to look a certain way to be accepted. I will likely be expected to wear makeup and dress in outfits that make me uncomfortable because I am supposed to please the eyes of others. I actually like hoodies and sweatpants, but as I get older, some people would see that as a sign of a lack of pride in appearance. This is how I feel as comfortable in my own skin as I can, and I shouldn’t have to conform to anyone’s image of me other than my own. This is me, so take what you get or leave. Am I supposed to just accept that, at times, I will be treated like an object? The truth is, I don’t owe anyone my body. No one owes anyone their body. So many girls think that because of their gender, they are obligated to meet other people’s standards, to the point that some engage in self-destructive behaviors because they don’t meet the status quo, whatever that is. They think their thighs are too thick, their chest is too flat, or they just don’t think they are pretty enough. I am more than just an attractive face or slim build. I am more than my secondary characteristics. What’s in my pants does not define me. The meaning of femininity is a rather personal thing, but expectations are superimposed. Now, I branch off from just women in general to talk about women of color, since this the life I have to live. Remember the room I was talking about? I tried to be hopeful and make it as cozy as I could, but that only works until I run out of energy to continue pretending. That blanket can only keep me happy until the anxiety finds me; the journal actually keeps my true thoughts hidden away from the rest of the world, and the radio is a just gateway to vulnerability. The more time I spend in there, the less it feels like a room at all. It’s morphed into a cell marked “black girl” that has been crafted from assumptions, guarded from the outside by a monster named Insecurity that preys on my self-esteem. As a woman of color, based on media representation, it seems that I will only allowed to be either curvy or voluptuous. What happens if you are not as ‘well-endowed’ as these idols? My hair is only allowed to be a certain way: weaved, box braids, relaxed, or ridiculously long, thick, and curly, but not too curly. What about those with short hair, or thin hair, or z-shaped curls? The hair that grows out of my scalp doesn't naturally have the spirals of ‘good’ hair, so now I need to fake my way through? Is this what I'm being told? What if I just wanted a change? Those of us that are dark might be patronized. No one should respond to being called ‘dark chocolate,’ or be told do they are ‘pretty for a black girl.’ This internalized hatred manifests itself in hostility from both sides. How is one supposed to be happy when people of other races are less likely to take them seriously and people like them are yelling at them that they don't meet their standards? No one talks about black women with mental illness, or black women who are LGBTQ, or black women facing discrimination from each other. Why should we let this go on any longer? Some people will deny black women’s sentiments when they try to talk about important issues and point to their ‘fiery tempers’ that render them defensive. Don’t dismiss the actual message because you can’t handle who’s delivering it. This is the world my generation has to grow up, and subsequently live, in. Society is broken: it says it wants the best for us, but it lies. It wants to indoctrinate us. Society will define us, and therefore, we will become society. This cycle must be stopped. I'm cracking the bars of this prison and setting us free. Black woman. Black woman. Black woman. This is who we are, and that is whatever the hell we want it to be. So, what is the definition of a black woman? I can’t tell you what it means to you, but you can leave with this: people are not computers that can be programmed and only come in certain makes and models. We are uncontainable. We are undefinable. That is what makes us human. Isn’t it beautiful? Life Isaac Sanchez 10/17 Everything is black. You’re born. You remember nothing. But now you’re alive. You grow up and gain memories. You see bullying. You witness misogyny. You experience discrimination. You’re an aloof child. You fall in love with the blues of the sky, the greens of the grass, and the feeling of piggyback rides on your parents. You see the duality of life. You witness both sides of the coin. You experience the lows and the highs. Life. It isn’t easy for everyone, some grow up holding a gun, others grow up with their parents on the run. Whether you’re the only son or one in hundred, life is never a walk in the park. But up till now we’ve never really had a problem. Adolescence is the coming of age. You think you know it all and have had every ball thrown your way. But you’ve seen nothing yet. The feeling of change is rarely accepted because we like to feel in control of what’s happening, yet from the second we’re born we were accepted into a world that we don’t accept. A world where everything changes and rearranges. People gain an affinity for you, but behind that friendly face is a thing called expectations. You no longer focus on those dreams you had when you were a kid. The dream of being an astronaut never took off. The idea that you could be a superhero was never strong enough. The thought of being happy has faded away for most. You focus more on fulfilling those expectations of the people around you. You get good grades, neglect physical and mental health, and get lost in the cycle of work. While in the background, people are making a mess. You reach your late teen years to adulthood. You learn about the government and presidential elections. You see your choices don’t make too much of a change. You watch as a man ruins the country you were born into. You experience the feeling of uselessness. Uselessness: The inability to achieve an intended purpose or desired outcome. In the face of all the hatred that has been surrounding us it feels almost impossible to make a change in the world. Organizations that are devoted to hate are on the rise and our president does nothing about it? A Neo-Nazi rally and our president claims there were “good people there too.” A chance at peace and at repairing our broken world and our president declines these. Declares that America doesn’t need help and doesn’t need to lend help since we can make the change ourselves. The only change that I see we need is not in the people, it’s not in the land or the agriculture, not in our cities' worth or the amount of money in our pockets. It’s in the leader that we’ve elected. Here in America we are given little choice or say in important matters though we feel we do. We wake up, go to our jobs, do them, head back home, and go to bed--while people like our president are working Bravely and Diligently to ruin our home. Times have been wonderful up until now, but if we continue to go the way we are we’ll secede from this love we’ve come to know, and will resort back to hatred. Our choices may feel like they aren't weighted, but one life can affect billions for generations. We don't have to sit back and let someone ruin our futures; we can be the change. It's our Lives. |
Racism Is Dumb
Sam Sims 6/18 If possible, do not allow yourself to be insulted by a racist. The racist is not insulting you, your culture, or your people, but instead themself, to feel more self entitled and more accepted within society. Racists show not only ignorance by participating in extreme acts of hatred, but also incompetence and weakness in their ability to be a functional and wholesome being who can form strong and meaningful relationships with people of all kinds. Ironically, racists are inferior when they behave in such a way, showing their lack of respect and myopic vision towards diversity, the inevitable future. When racists close off their minds and purposefully seek out other racists and false ideologies to support their beliefs, they are limiting themselves. Essentially, racism does more harm to the aggressor than we think. With the presence of an open and accepting mind, a person is able to absorb more much knowledge and understanding than one who isolates themselves and acts coldly toward a group of people they “dislike.” To be a racist is the failure to be an intellectual, one who actively discovers new information and manipulates it to improve the quality of their life and their mentality, all in hopes of becoming a better and more compassionate human being. Racism is easy. It requires no desire or hunger for positive change and encourages the laziness of the perpetrator, seeing that he or she can remain stuck in their bitter way of thinking. The exclusion of a group of individuals based off of physical characteristics beyond their control is also the isolation of the one who appears to thrive off of the said group’s distance in their lives. The racist will try to disguise that fact by honing a new identity where he or she is supported in their hate. This support can be found in the home, within groups, online, or even the most disappointing yet least surprising, in government. Racists are cowards. They quaver in fear at the thought of the “mixing” of peoples and exposure of their true individuality—immature men and women who reflect their insecurities onto those different from themselves with intense criticism behind the illusion of power. Racism is not a solution, but an epidemic named by many psychological professionals. We spread the disease by sitting, obligingly, subject to the bigotry of our family members, friends, strangers, and ourselves. We must remember racists do not have power over us, in regards to how we receive their negative and derogatory comments and actions. Rather than accepting racist behavior as defeat, we must use it as fuel to reveal the face of the racist—the lonely soul in need of love and a sense of belonging. When encountering a racist, remember an insult is only an insult if it is received as one. Therefore, if possible, do not allow yourself to be insulted by a racist, because now you know that the racist is the one we should feel sorry for. Letter to Myself/Excuses Raven Joseph 4/18 Psalms 63:1 says, “O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is.” Do you remember reading those words as you flipped through the yellowish-brown pages of that publication titled “Holy Bible”? C’mon! Think hard! Okay, forget about it! Of course you don’t remember. It’s pretty hard to remember something that you’ve never read or seen. What else would you expect when you create all of these excuses as to why you can’t take five minutes out of your day to read the Bible? Don’t you remember the promise that you made to yourself? Reading your Bible once a day,continuing your journey closer to God? Did that all fly out of the window? How much do you really want to further your relationship with the Man that you claim to believe is the ruler and preserver of your life, the Father of your lord and saviour, Jesus Christ? How pure is your desire to connect with God? The aching spiritual hunger that once fueled your yearning for His presence and power in your daily life seems to slowly escape you each day. James 4:8 says, “Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” Does this make you believe that God will put in all of the work to salvage this relationship? Just like any other relationship, your relationship with God needs nurturing through communication, quality time, and mutual desire to put in the effort to make the relationship work. You have allowed spiritual apathy to creep into your life while God gets pushed to the side. You have the amazing privilege of being invited into the very presence of the king of all kings - to come before his throne of grace and to partake in all that He is, yet you have repeatedly refused to do just that. You are too busy not to pray, Raven! The Criminal Justice System Jasmine Cari-Pergee 1/18 The criminal justice system has been corrupted. Victims who finally found the courage to stand up to their attackers are being sentenced to life in prison. For instance, Cyntoia Brown, who was sex-trafficked basically her whole life, finally stood up to her pimp and killed him. Now I know that it’s wrong to take someone’s life no matter how bad the person may be, but he made her have sex with men. He repeatedly drugged her and raped her. The judge looked past the fact that she was a victim of a SERIOUS crime and tried her as an adult, and sentenced her to LIFE in prison. She will only be eligible for parole when she is 69 years old. Just hearing about this case and knowing that there are others like Cyntoia is really upsetting. Women like her are victims of serious crimes and when they finally have the courage to do something about it they are looked at as if they are the criminal. The judge in her case just looked past the fact that she was a victim and that she did what she did out of self-defense. He made her seem like she was a crazy person with no heart and that she killed for fun. This is just the beginning of why the American justice system is messed up. For example, think about how the American justice system treats juvenile offenders. Police officers, lawyers, and judges treat them with disrespect and unfairness. They know that young people's relationship with the justice system has powerful, long-lasting consequences for them and their families, yet they just don’t care. At least that’s how they make it seem. Judges, lawyers, and police officers seem as if they have no morals, no cares in the world; they seem like they enjoy seeing people suffer. Men and women in law enforcement pretend they want justice for their clients, but the truth is they don’t care. They don’t care what happens to people; they just want to get paid. Color also plays an ENORMOUS part. All you see is police killing black people left and right. They always use the same excuse: “I thought he/she had a gun,” but we all know that's not true. Our society is filled with people who have no heart and don’t know the meaning of mercy. People who have never heard the word “NO” don’t recognize it when they see it. People who have so much hate inside they take it out on others, others who have hearts and who know positivity in life. Some people say “It’s not their fault; it’s just how they were raised,” but I don’t believe that. I believe you have a choice. You have a choice whether you go down that same path of hatred and disrespect or you choose the other path, the right path. The path of positivity and kindness. I see posts on the internet about mentally-challenged people being killed and beaten up. People are so reckless and filled with so much hatred that they’ll just kill everyone and everything. Why take someone’s life? Do you have no soul? For goodness sake, what is the point! How can a person feel so much hatred that they feel it’s necessary to take someone’s life? At the end of the day we are all the same inside; we all bleed the same blood. So why do it? What if it was your son, daughter, brother, or sister going through the same thing; what would you think then? Would you still feel the way you feel when it’s a random person? No, no you wouldn’t. Why would you? Is it because their feelings aren’t important because you don’t know them? Well, maybe they should be. Just because you don’t know someone doesn’t mean their feelings aren’t important. They matter as much as you and the next person. It doesn’t matter who the person is; their life should be treated as if it was your own. I believe if we all stand together, we can fix the criminal justice system and bring justice to everyone and their families who have been victims of the corruption, incompetence, and lack of mercy that the criminal justice system has done. We need to show them that it is not okay to push their anger onto someone else who has done no harm to them in any way. Justice will be served! And everybody in the criminal justice system will know that it is not okay to do what they have done/what they are doing. Think Twice About "the Truth" Mariah Dillard 12/17 Right-wing groups like the Proud Boys say they have no tolerance for racism or white supremacist groups. They believe that the “west is the best,” which, one of them points out, is not such a big jump from the “whites are best.” Their leader, Gavin McInnes, disavowed the white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, but later on we found out one of the Proud Boys DID organize the rally after all. So, what should we make of groups like this? I believe groups like the Proud Boys find ways to make themselves sound innocent so that people who aren’t fully educated on the topic of inequality wouldn’t really know if the group is prejudiced or not. The Proud Boys and many other white supremacist groups were coached on how to flip their words around and make people think twice about the truth, but the truth is they are racist, prejudiced, and they always believe whites come first no matter how good their rhetoric sounds.What is Net Neutrality and Why Do We Need To Save It? By Joan Benson 12/17 Recently I’ve been seeing a lot of talk on social media about the concept of “Net Neutrality”, but it’s something that isn’t really being covered in the mainstream news. I had never heard anything about this before, so I took it upon myself to see what the big deal was. Net Neutrality, by definition, is “the principle that internet service providers should enable access to all content and applications regardless of the source, and without favoring or blocking particular products or websites.” So basically, the government is trying to get rid of equal access to information on the internet. Getting rid of Net Neutrality would allow big internet provider companies, like Comcast and AT&T, to charge more for Netflix or Hulu and can completely block you from using certain sites or search engines like Google. Besides having to pay more and not being able to visit certain sites, getting rid of Net Neutrality would be terrible for small or new businesses. Big internet providers will make it difficult for smaller shops and companies online to come up as results when you search. The same thing goes for activist websites if they are not what the provider supports. This would make internet providing an even more competitive business and would most likely lead to people having to switch back and forth between providers depending on what deals they have at the time. One of the great things about the internet is that you don't need to be rich to access it. You can access it in the comfort of your own home or go to a public library to use the computers there. Without Net Neutrality, we wouldn't be able to access whatever websites we want. Our freedoms on the internet would be limited and there is no explanation to how this could help the everyday person. The only people this would benefit are those bigger businesses who would be manipulating the way we needed to spend our money in order to access the content we want. Who knows what else these companies could limit once they have control over what we can see on the internet. The internet is the only place where the average person is able to voice their opinions and speak their minds for many to hear. That's how movements are organized and gain popularity. If we don't speak up now, we may never get that chance again. On December 14th, the FCC (Federal Communications Commission) met to vote on whether or not Net Neutrality should be taken away. The vote was 3-2 in favor to repeal the Net Neutrality rules. The three Republicans (men) voted to repeal and the two Democrats (women) voted to protect free access to internet. But don’t lose hope just yet. Congress has the final say, so this issue still has to go through the legislative process. Congress is supposed to give the people what they want, so let your voice be heard. If you think that Net Neutrality is important and something that should be saved, then take action. If you text ‘BATTLE’ to ‘384-387’ you can join the fight to save our internet. It will give you a number to call to tell Congress to fight against the decision to repeal Net Neutrality made by the FCC. If you don’t want to call, you can keep signing online petitions and giving donations if you can. There is always something you can do to change the things you see happening in the country and government that you don’t like, even if it is just signing your name to show support. Stay tuned for my next piece when I will talk about all the quick and easy things you can do to make a difference in politics, even at a young age. We need to protect our rights so that we can live in a better world in the future and part of that is being able to find out information we are currently entitled to freely on the internet, but we can only do that with Net Neutrality. |
The Nails That Were
Elizabeth Condall 5/18 “Take your fingers out of your mouth.” I’ve been hearing this all my life, along with other variations like “Taste good?” or “want any salt with that?” Hello, I’m Elizabeth Condall and I’ve been biting my nails for 15 years. No breaks in between either. At this point in my life, I think it’s too late for me to stop. I often hide my nails and don’t like showing my hands. I get too many questions that are either too embarrassing to answer or that make me angry. I don’t think anyone really believes that biting off actual parts of your body is something that brings joy. It’s the opposite; nail biting masks underlying issues that others are too oblivious to see or understand. As a young girl growing up, I often got mistaken for a boy because my hair was cut short and, as everyone pointed out on a daily basis, “I had boyish hands.” I got mocked and called “Nubbs” so many times that at first, I would just laugh to avoid the awkward conversations as to why, how, and “why not just stop?” Which to me was like saying “why not just stop being depressed?” That’s not how it works. Now I hear questions so often that it hurts because half of the time I hear them from “friends,” It also sends a rage through my body because I support my friends and family so much, but when it comes to my turn everyone is gone like a “dine and dash.” For all the people who made fun of me and put me down instead of lifting me up, you’re 50% of the reason I do what I do. Actually figuring out a way to help me not bite my nails would have helped ten times more than making snarky comments. I wouldn’t have gone home and cried and thought “why am I like this?” I get it, nail biting is gross, but again, I don’t do it because I like the taste of broken skin, like the sight of blood trailing down my fingers, or like the taste of fresh blood. No, I do it because I’m a nervous and anxious mess with emotional problems linking to childhood and I’ve never had time or support to process any of that. I’m trying to stop, but quite frankly you’re not helping. Too many people view nail-biting related to beauty standards and not as a mental health ordeal. Everything has a cause and effect. Thinking back to middle school, I was always treated like the clown of the class and I was always picked on. Someone would make a joke and point out how dark my skin was. I would always laugh it off and leave it alone, but a minute later I’d be biting my nails and then I’d be called out for that as well. Then I’d stop and start right up again. It’s a cycle that doesn’t stop and can’t be broken. If you know anyone who does bite their nails, whether they have just started or have been doing it for a long time, provide support and not just a shocked face, slick comments, or jokes. No one needs that, especially people who bite their nails. Try to help them to stop biting their nails because it can cause much larger problems in the future--problems that I’m trying to understand and solve. For me, it may be too late. My fingers are ruined like a red wine spill on a white couch, but it’s not too late for other people, so please reach out and help. Childhood Trauma and Violence the Story of Dylann Roof Ioanis Torres 1/18 I believe Dylann Roof has some sort of mental illness and when he didn’t get enough attention from the people around him, he lashed out and did something that caught everyone’s attention. I’m not making any excuses for him, but Dylann’s mental health wasn’t right. Maybe he didn’t want to do it or maybe he doesn’t feel guilty about it, but one thing is for sure--in Dylann’s messed up brain he “had” to do what he did. Now, whatever it is that he means when he says this, we can’t ignore the obvious trauma behind Dylann’s actions. He was a poor kid living with a mother who not only forced him to be friends with someone, but also favored said friend over him. His father walked out on him, so any sort of paternal figure he had came from a drunk, abusive boyfriend his mother just loved to have around. Dylann went through a lot of emotional damage. He was traumatized by his mother, his father, and even his own mind. He was tormented by his own brain, not understanding why he didn’t fit in, but not being able to make any effort to either. If I haven't mentioned it yet, Dylann has autistic and sociopathic traits. There’s no way for me to tell which of these disorders he actually has, but from what I can perceive through my research these types of behavior stood out to me. I guess it's understandable for him to resent people so much. His friends couldn’t even remember who he was because of how shunned he'd been. He felt like he had no place, so instead he sought out a place where he could fit in. Unfortunately that was a neo-Nazi, white supremacist group where all he learned was how to be a racist. He was trying to find someone to blame for his misfortune and he decided to train his anger on people of color. It is scientifically proven that “poor kids who grow up in dangerous neighborhoods are far more likely to be traumatized as children and less likely to overcome their adversity.” (David Gorn) Not only did Dylann live in a less-than-ideal environment, he was also under the care of a mother, who, in my humble opinion, was not qualified to properly take care of a child, especially one like Dylann, who had autistic traits. His father wasn’t much help, abandoning him. Even when Dylann reached out to him, he would ignore him as if he wasn’t even his son. People ignored Dylann because of his “weird” behavior and even when he tried to reach out he was shunned. His “weird” behavior also affected his work life, earning him scoldings and over-the-shoulder comments from his co-workers. It is also proven that some people’s brains aren’t fully developed until their early to mid-20’s, meaning that they can’t make long or short-term decisions. So between Dylann’s brain development and his trauma, there’s a possibility that he didn’t even acknowledge what kind of consequences would follow his crime. There is no way for me to know if Dylann really wanted to commit the crime he committed or if he just wanted people’s attention for once. But I’m certain of one thing--Dylann Roof was a troubled child who needed a little attention, patience, compassion, and understanding. I don’t want you to think that I’m making excuses for him, because I’m not. I hope he rots in jail for what he did, but I also hope he gets the help he needs because even though he is a murderer, he is also a human being who went through a lot at a very young age and maybe someone who could’ve been stopped if he was just cared for a little more. Is That All You Got? By Nadia Gaskins 12/17 There has always been a stigma against people with mental disorders and mental illness in general. It is sometimes believed that people with mental illness are violent and unable to function normally. The media has stereotyped humans with mental illness: making society view them as mass murderers and more. Portraying them to be dangerous beings. I, myself, have judged people with mental illnesses, until I was diagnosed with multiple mental disorders. I didn’t know how it could have happened to me. Everyone knows that labels are just names for things but stereotypes are built around labels. Two years ago, I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, Bulimia Nervosa, and Unspecified Anxiety Disorder. I am a unique person, so how can your label actually help me when it's so (purposefully?) vague. Were you too lazy to properly diagnose me? Or was it easier to force indistinctive names on me because it covered a wide range of things? At first, I didn’t know how to react when the news was delivered to me. I was afraid that I had contracted them from someone else who had these “diseases.” I was terrified; I thought I couldn’t get rid them. Major. Depressive. Disorder. What kind of crap is that? Basically, the doctors were telling me that my depression was really, really bad. Was that the best they could do? Was this “diagnosis” the greatest thing they could come up with to describe what I was feeling or experiencing? Out of every type of depression there is, they decided I had Major Depressive Disorder. Okay; so yeah, I experienced severe symptoms such as: suicidal thoughts and tendencies, weight gain and loss, irritability, restlessness, withdrawal from family and activities, binging, and purging; but does that really boil down to “Major Depressive Disorder?” This label does not properly describe how I feel or what I deal with on a daily basis. I am able to function properly (most of the time) and I am not a violent person. Yes, life has made me different, but it hasn’t drastically morphed me into someone who doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Speaking of the mirror, we have a long history together. I hated it and it hated me. I hated it more, because it seemed to taunt me every time I would step in front of it. I would see this girl; a girl who was sickening to the eye, well my eye. I was so fed up with looking at this appalling image staring back at me day after day; I eventually stopped looking. Any form a mirror took, I avoided it for a fairly long time. I just didn’t want to look at that repulsive being any longer. I wanted to make her disappear, vanish from anyone’s sight, especially mine. I didn’t need a constant reminder that I wasn’t pretty. I didn’t need an image to evoke memories of the put-downs my assailants spoke; every word they catapulted at me, and every stony term they flung my way. I hated myself. (I still hate myself sometimes.) I thought I was ugly, pathetic, and fat. So, I threw up immediately after every meal. After a few weeks of doing this, my family began to worry; they were afraid I had lost too much weight. I, on the other hand, was still not satisfied with how I looked. I didn’t need a mirror to know that I was still fat. So, I kept binging and then purging; day after day, meal after meal. That was only when I decided to actually eat, but that is an entirely different story. As far as the binge eating and purging goes, that’s what they call Bulimia Nervosa. Interesting, huh? I thought I was fat and was constantly trying to get skinnier. They didn’t diagnose me with Anorexia Nervosa. Why, Bulimia? Was that the easiest thing the doctors could think of, the first thing that came to mind when they heard that I would eat a lot, then throw it up? Was Bulimia the only “illness” that could sum up my “symptoms?” Do I even really have a “disorder?” I only do it when I feel I need to lose a few pounds. I’m not intentionally trying to hurt myself, even though I kinda know that I am. Why couldn’t it be a temporary phase? Did they really have to slap this medical label on my file; attach it to my name, causing me to believe that this “disease” is forever apart of me. Is it, though? I guess I’ll never know for sure. I have Unspecified. Anxiety. Disorder. They really couldn’t have made my diagnosis any more vague. I am a mess when it comes to controlling my anxiety. They could have said I had anxiety disorder and it would’ve been fine with me, but unspecified? What the hell is that supposed to mean? My doctors told me that I have this unknown type of anxiety. I felt numb when those words came out of my psychiatrist’s mouth. I didn’t know how to react to such information. Am I really that messed up to the point they can’t even name the kind of anxiety I have? So much for doing their job, right? I had some great doctors. Every year, when the anniversary date of my diagnoses rolls around, I cry. I cry because another year has gone by since I was delivered the news and I have managed to live with this. I cry because I know that the year has been one hell of a rollercoaster, but I’ve managed to withstand the ride. I don’t let these medical labels define me as a human. I don’t give them the power to dictate my life or my choices. They are just terms for what others think I have. That’s all they are and all they will ever be, just stupid, ridiculous terms(to me.) |
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Cultural Learning in the American Education System By Benie N'sumbu 10/17 (AP Essay)
My fingers, cold and stiff from the vent blowing cool air down on them, reach out and trace the powerful self-portraits that stand blatantly against the white wall of the art gallery. It’d be very hard to ignore my skin, brown and glowing in the photograph. In the photograph, I'm standing straight with my arms behind my back as if they were chained, facing the camera with an American flag covering my face. This photo stands out amongst the other photos that are rife with personal truths. The three photos of me, which showcase my inner struggle with embracing my Congolese heritage, also reveal a problem that’s hidden underneath our nation’s proud stance on diversity and personal liberty; how does a nation that prides itself on being so beautifully integrated not encourage race and ethnic studies in our education system? I moved to the United States when I was five and left behind a culture that I underappreciated and a sister who got an extra chance to embrace and learn the life that I missed out on. For years this never affected me or even popped into my thoughts late at night when I couldn’t sleep. I never knew the big things that most people know about the places they were born in, like why it suddenly became unsafe for my family to live there or the little things like why my mom makes chicken in such a peculiar way that never seemed weird until my American friends saw it and asked me what it was. It wasn’t until freshman year of high school that I started questioning things. I like to say that that was the year of transformation for me. I was starting to become my own person, yet I was plagued with the question of how could I become my own person when I didn’t even know anything about who I was? When people asked what nationality I was, I’d say I was African without fully understanding what that meant. Sometimes I felt like that was a lie because I haven’t been to Africa since I was five and even though I speak Lingala (my regional native language) and French at home that doesn’t mean I’m African. People speak different languages all the time; that doesn’t mean they’re from that nation or that they represent that community. The questions plagued me, but I never pursued answers until recently. In my sophomore year I discovered a budding campaign called PREST--People for Race and Ethnicity Studies Today--whose sole purpose is to get all Connecticut High and Middle Schools to make Race and Ethnic Studies a class requirement, just as the cities of Los Angeles and Albuquerque have already done. As a developing advocate for cultural learning I immediately joined, thus erupting a burning need to learn more and more about my own heritage. My first task when joining the campaign was to walk around the New Haven Green during The International Festival of Arts and Ideas and ask people to sign our petition so that we could have something to present the New Haven Board of Education when the time came. On the petition there was a question that asked why the person thought Race and Ethnic Studies should be a class requirement and everyone said something equivalent to: students need to learn about themselves and each other so that they can better understand one another. One quote from a woman particularly stuck with me; she said, “Kids these days don’t know anything about themselves.” She was obviously referring to our history and cultural backgrounds. I agree with that. Learning about ourselves is so important and I think we underestimate just how powerful that is. Learning about something that your ancestors did can erect a sense of pride just as much as it can create shame and a drive to make sure that you and your descendants don’t repeat the same mistake. Everyone wants some kind of tradition they can pass down to future generations; even Barbara Ehrenreich who couldn’t find any real traditions within her family took pride in the fact that her children had inherited her secular way of life. These traditions, which eventually come together to create a culture, are what bind us and aid us when we start becoming our own person. The fact that schools don’t teach us about our heritages or encourage us to learn about them is very unsettling to me. We live in such a diverse country where there are cities dedicated to specific cultures and buildings built so that we can all worship our respective deities, yet in school we hardly learn about why these cities were made or why these buildings were built. Sometimes when I think about the future I fear that my kids won’t get a chance to learn about my culture. I can only cook them so many family recipes. And when my sister expresses that she doesn’t want to introduce our culture to her future children that worries me as well, because it makes me wonder what could possibly make her say that. Has this American lifestyle completely corrupted her heritage and eradicated any chance of her embracing it again? I can’t seem to understand why one would want to absolutely cut out such a vital part of their life before they could even understand it enough to make such a final decision. Maybe her reasoning has to do with the fact that she got to live in Congo longer than I did; maybe she became so accustomed to that way of life she envied my opportunity to see a whole new world and live so differently. She probably couldn’t wait to leave and when she finally got the chance she shed all evidence of who she was. It shocks my parents every time my sister struggles to say a full sentence in French or Lingala, despite her having lived there longer than me, whereas I can hold an entire conversation in both languages. Knowing this I wonder, could a school curriculum that encourages cultural literacy reverse this choice? If my sister was exposed to an environment besides our home that promoted cultural learning would she feel differently? I believe so. I think teaching students to be more open towards other ways of life can incline them towards accepting their own cultural norms and make them more eager to learn about their ancestry. It can also bring families together; what better way to get parents and their children talking than by digging up family history! When my youngest brother asks questions about our grandparents I can see my parents’ face light up as they talk about them. This not only proves to me that there’s a chance for young people to embrace their cultural histories, but that there is something truly wrong with our education curriculum. The fact that my brother, who is seven, is so curious about our parents’ lives back in Congo and never ceases to ask them about it with undiminishing interest shows me that we are taught, whether it be overtly or subliminally, to lose interest in our family history. I don’t want him to ever lose this curiosity and I hope he’s encouraged in school to continue asking questions about where we come from. Even though he has never stepped foot in Africa, I want him to know more about our homeland than I ever did growing up. He deserves a chance to embrace his culture. Everyone deserves this chance and schools should support that. Los Angeles Unified School District has already made Ethnic Studies a course for ninth and twelfth graders and their curriculum mirrors that of UC Berkeley, Department of Ethnic Studies. In their course description they point out that the major purpose of this course is to get students to be “conscious about their personal connections to local and national history.” This stood out to me because I feel like none of this would really matter if no one was able to connect this to their own lives. A lot of the times I see on social media people who say that because they haven’t experienced a certain advantage or even a disadvantage that it must not be as serious or as real as everyone thinks it is. That’s always frustrated me because we all should know that just because we didn’t see something or feel something doesn’t mean it didn’t/doesn’t happen. That’s why it’s so important to connect this curriculum to the students’ local and national history, so that they can personalize the issues that they are learning about. This curriculum is such a good one to emulate because not only does it focus on race and ethnicity as it should, but it also touches upon LGBTQ history and gender stereotypes. A course as successful as this would help so many more students that belong to minority groups if it was replicated in all schools. In a study done by Stanford University’s Center for Education Policy Analysis examining the causal effects of cultural relevance, based on an Ethnic Study course for ninth graders (at risk of dropping out) in San Francisco's Unified School District, it was found that the class improved attendance by 21 percent and increased the cumulative ninth grade GPA by 1.4 points. This just goes to show that we need ethnic study courses in our schools because they can actually help us not just understand ourselves, but as we feel more connected to the curriculum, it helps us do better in school. I hope in the future the U.S. education system embraces this new subject and incorporates it in our everyday curriculum. We need to stay true to our claim that we are a diverse country and expand it into every classroom in America. My hope is that this Race and Ethnic Studies courses will one day become as common as algebra. Works Cited Dee, Thomas, and Emily Penner. "The Causal Effects of Cultural Relevance: Evidence from an Ethnic Studies Curriculum." Stanford CEPA, vol. 16, no. 01, pp. 1-3, cepa.stanford.edu/sites/default/files/wp16-01-v201601.pdf https://achieve.lausd.net/cms/lib/CA01000043/Centricity/Domain/226/Ethnic%20Studies%20Survey%20Course%20.pdf |
Letter to My Dad 11/17
Dear Stranger, Hey, Dad (if I can even call you that). I am just writing you this letter to ask you something. I want to know why? Why did you leave? Why did you hurt mom? Why were the drugs more important to you than your damn children? Why did you let the streets take you away from me? Why do you stand by and watch as my whole world comes down? Why do you treat my sister and I like some part-time job? Why do you treat us like a bank? Why did you break me? Why did you become one of the monsters that keep me up at night? And why do you keep doing it over and over again? Don’t you see what it’s doing to me? Don’t think I didn’t catch on to what you were doing. Yes, I fell for it, but it was so obvious. Promising me a free life. Telling me that I was going to be able to do whatever I wanted and that you would treat me like a princess. But I caught you. I knew it was all too good to be true and it only took me an hour to figure out. And don’t think I didn’t notice those conversations with that strange man or when he handed you the baggies. Are drugs seriously still more important than me? You couldn’t even wait until we left to get your damn drugs? I know you know that I saw them clear as day and even after that you still desperately tried to hide them. I’m disappointed (but has that ever been news) in you for thinking I would stay after all the lies you told me. But I’m more disappointed in myself for believing you. I should’ve known. I should’ve expected something so sick and twisted from you. You tricked me into staying with you and for what? So that you could get money out of it. You are a horrible man and I wish I didn't have your DNA running through my veins. I wish I could erase you from my life. But sadly I’m stuck with you. You have no idea how many times I wished you weren’t who you are. I’m so tired of having to make up excuses not to talk to you. I’m so tired of hearing people say “but he’s your father; you should give him a chance.” And I’m so tired of all the lies that keep pouring out of your mouth one after the other. I wish I wasn’t raised the way I was so that I would have the emotional strength to look you in the eyes and tell you that I don't want any part of you in my life. Do you want to know the funny thing, though? I can be the coldest person anyone has ever met. Once you mess up with me, there is no turning back, but somehow for some damn reason, I can’t do that to you. I don’t know if it’s because you are my biological father or if it’s all the constant comments from people saying to give you a chance that just makes it impossible for me to give you the cold shoulder without feeling guilty. And it makes me angry, because I know I don’t deserve to be treated this way by you, but I can’t find the courage to tell you. To yell at you that you need to grow up and assume your responsibility as my father. Don’t you think it is unfair for me to have to tell you to be my father? Sixteen, can you believe that? I’m sixteen and you’ve missed every year. Every birthday, every achievement. You’ve missed every single important thing in my life. Did you expect an instruction manual on how to be a dad? Being a dad is not something you are taught; it’s something you learn on the way. I didn’t need you to be a perfect father; I just needed you to be there for me, you know. But hey, I get it. You had more important things on your mind. I don’t even know why I’m writing you this letter. It’s too late now for you to want to be my dad. I already have one. Yes, maybe it’s not his blood that’s running through my veins, but he has taken care of me since I was three years old and that is something you will never be able to do. So I guess this is where it ends. I hope you have a nice life and that all the other things you put above your children were worth it. Sincerely, Your daughter |
Making & Losing Friends By Joan Benson 11/17
Some friendships come and go. Some friendships last a lifetime. Some friends look out for you. Some friends aren’t really friends at all. Sometimes, it can be hard to tell what people's motives are and you can end up getting hurt, just like in any other relationship. I've been used by a friend once. I was constantly there for her when she needed me, and even though people say that you shouldn’t expect anything in return, she never once showed me the same open arms that I tried my best to always show her. You will eventually learn, after being used over and over again, that you need to put your feelings first and choose the people you surround yourself with wisely. Friendships always have some complications. You might have small arguments and episodes of bickering, but it shouldn’t be that way all of the time. If you start to notice that you feel uncomfortable around someone or you feel the need to start filtering yourself and can’t be who you really are when you’re around them, then to me, that's one of the first signs of a toxic friendship. You may not want to “cut someone off” because you’ve known them for so long or don’t want to hurt their feelings, but sometimes that’s what needs to be done. I’ve had friends in the past that I felt like I had to be different around. It had nothing to do with them necessarily, but for some reason being in their company made me feel that way. Sometimes, especially while you're growing up, you start to grow apart from people and I think that’s what happened to us. Friends can also come in many forms and can serve different purposes. You have the one you talk to to have a laugh, you have the one you talk to in English class to complain about school to, and you have the ones you tell everything to. I think as we get older we realize that we don't need just one person to rely on like you might have had throughout elementary and middle school. You shouldn't pressure someone to do it all. It's nice to be able to talk to different people who have experience with different things than you or your other friends do. You can also meet friends in many ways. Growing up, all of my friends were just kids I went to school with, because there weren't many kids that played outside where I lived. Recently, I've met some of the best friends I've ever had online. I think that talking to people online is something that has made me a better person and has given me more of an open mind. I don’t mean that you have to tell someone personal information that can put you in danger, but it’s nice to talk to people from different communities who share similar interests as you. I think that reaching out to people from other countries or just talking to people with different views of the world can help you understand more about the mystery of why things are the way they are in our society. I strongly recommend making a social media account and find a community that you can become a part of, whether it’s because of different movements you support or just what music you like to listen to. The last thing I want to say is that if you miss someone, reach out to them. I found myself reminiscing about my past a lot lately and I realized that my best friend from middle school and I stopped talking for no good reason and that that was one of the reasons I’ve felt like I was missing something (someone) in my life. I always felt a little guilty for never messaging her since I started high school and when I finally did, she told me they felt the same way. I don’t know if this is going to last, but I want to try to continue talking to her. I think I have definitely been wiser with the people I let stay in my life and I hope that you can realize that wanting the best for yourself is nothing to be ashamed of. Wanting to live a happy life with as little stress as possible is not a selfish desire; it’s a natural part of a healthy life. |
You 2.0: Deep Work
By Brookelyn Hazelwood Have you ever heard of the term Deep Work? It refers to the ability to focus without distraction on a cognitively demanding task, which is something many people have difficulty doing, including myself. I am just like a normal teenager. I tend to put my social media accounts and my phone before anything else 99% of the time. I know I can not be the only one. It is like this: say I am studying for a test but I decide to take a break. The more minutes I spend on my phone, the more time passes me by. Deep work is a very challenging task for me to do. It is hard to stay focused during a specific task when there are other distractions around that prevent us from doing so. Technology is one of the top distractions in today’s world. Technological distractions make it almost impossible to focus on anything else. I am a victim of this and therefore, Deep Work seems almost impractical. Emails, texts, and notifications from social media accounts are a major distraction, especially if I am doing the most important assignment ever! As it is, I am a pretty distractible person overall. I get distracted very easily which makes it difficult to get my work done in a timely manner. The podcast I viewed, You 2.0, refers to Cal Newport’s book called ‘Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World,’ argues that “dithering on our phones and inboxes incinerates our ability to focus on activities of cognitive worth.” The author defines Deep Work as “professional activities performed in a state of distraction-free concentration that push your cognitive capabilities to their limit, which then create new value, improve your skill, and are hard to duplicate.” I didn’t read the book, but it seems like I can relate to that one little blurb so much because it is insane how much attention is lost just from one glance at a phone. I never realized it that way until looking deeper into what Deep Work actually is. Newport states that some habits that people who struggle with distraction need to develop are to maybe block out time, embrace your boredom, know the outcome, and adopt a zero-tolerance policy toward distraction. Sometimes we just not need to allow distractions. Even glancing briefly at your inbox will reduce your cognitive capacity to focus, which I am well aware of now! I’ve had some sort of electronic device since I was about 7 or 8. It never really affected me until I entered high school and started to get a lot more assignments. I always thought that having all the popular electronics was so cool just because everyone else had them, but I never realized how much of a negative impact it made on me and my attention span. Distraction does just not circulate around schoolwork. When I go on my phone my attention span immediately drops rapidly. Someone can be talking to me about something very important while I am on my cell phone and I will not hear anything they said because I am focused on something else like texting a friend, or looking at the latest celebrity news. It sometimes feels like my cell phone controls my brain more than I do; it’s like I can’t control my own attention span. Watching this podcast taught me a lot about Deep Work and the benefits of it and why it is hard to accomplish. What I learned about myself was that I get more distracted than I should and I should attempt Deep Work by putting away my phone while doing an assignment. I know that accomplishing Deep Work may take a while since I am so used to picking up my phone every second of the day, but I believe taking it step by step will allow me to get better at not being distracted. I researched a book and book reviews about this topic and I am so relieved that I am not the only one who gets distracted easily. Deep Work is important for everyone. Anyone can accomplish deep work if they can just put their phone or any other distractions away and focus. Just focus. |
