repressing our insatiability for violence

In our society, the uncommon is normalized and the unique is standardized. The unthinkable is integrated into everyday lives: it is permitted, accepted, and even glorified.  

A prime example of this social principle is our "compulsive fascination" with violence. Perhaps it is the fact that its intensity has the power to bring individuals from the realm of life to the cusp of death. Unfortunately, violence is an all-too-common occurrence that, despite its horrific nature, never fails to lure us into an eerie captivation. Though we condemn and decry it, we continue to secretly hunger for it. This obscure craving is what fuels media to persist and increase in the portrayal of violence, which essentially throws us all into a vicious cycle that remains yet unbroken. 

Chet Raymo would advocate for this kind of obsession to be tempered with “a measure of restraint.”  As he observes, our quest for scientific discovery reveals “what is best and worst” within us. Likewise, the exposure of violence is justified when it brings about an awareness of injustice and engenders sympathy for the victim that eventually catalyzes a reaction to end the oppression. However, the “other face” of it is that it makes the very viewers victims of an acute desensitization and repulsive fascination. 

The media’s portrayal of violence and our constant beholding of it “demands…a judicious self-restraint.” Because though such videotapes are capable of “channel[ing a] path through time, [of] giv[ing] things a shape and a destiny,” that path is a dangerously benumbing one that is “hemmed with peril.”

maus close read

On page 125 of Maus I, Vladek describes his and Anja's escape from the Srodula ghetto. At the bottom of the page is a panel of Vladek and Anja holding hands and looking out over the bleak scene ahead of them.

The path they walk on is shaped curiously like a swastika; this implies that though both have escaped the clutches of the Nazis this time and are free to go wherever they want, they remain continually under the threat of recapture. Their very lives, their paths to the future, are laced with the horrors of Nazi oppression.

In the distance looms the silhouette of a factory building; the smoke spewing from the chimney reminds viewers of the crematoriums of Aushcwitz. This serves as a silent warning to the forlorn pair that any decision of theirs will lead them to this terrible fate; their freedom is only short lived, and their struggle to survive will soon be reduced to mere wisps of smoke.

The majority of the landscape—the grass, hills, homes—is mercilessly striped. Vladek and Anja's shadows, too, are striped both ways, making a rough crisscross pattern which resembles prison bars. Although they try to outrun their own shadows, their imprisonments of fear and panic, they are surrounded with the jailbird stripes associated with inhumanity.

Earlier, on page 114, Vladek says to Art, "At that time it wasn't anymore families. It was everybody to take care for himself!" However, through the depiction of Vladek and Anja holding hands, Art is hinting at the strength and comfort his parents found in each other. Vladek and Anja exhibit true love and care for each other before, during, and after Auschwitz which is what unites them across bars and barracks and allows them to survive and ultimately produce their second son, Art. It is this son that lives on to revive their story, to not only air the suffering, but also to reveal the power of undying hope and unselfish love.

paternal links in maus

Art Spiegelman once remarked about Maus, "From the book, a reader might get the impression that the conversations depicted in the narrative were just one small part, a facet of my relationship with my father. In fact, however, they were my relationship with my father. I was doing them to have a relationship with my father. Outside of them, we were still continually at loggerheads."

Just as Art seeks to reconnect with his father, Vladek himself spends his life under the shade of various father figures: his wealthy father-in-law, his dreamed up grandfather, the rabbi who consoles him at the POW camp, and the Catholic priest at Auschwitz. These men fuel Vladek's will to survive; they praise his ingenuity and identify him as a recipient of God's choicest blessings.

Vladek, though, does not seem to make his son feel this way. In fact, in a conversation with Pavel (his Holocaust-survivor-psychotherapist), Art says he remembers "arguing with [Vladek]... and being told that I couldn't do anything as well as he could." The entire discussion revolves around the duality of his damaged relationship with his father: his guilt and anger at feeling inconsequential next to him yet also his reluctance to place his father's deepest core in the light for potential ridicule.  

In a similar vein, it's interesting to note that Art dedicates the second book to his daughter (and to Richieu, who is also a child). This gives us a glimpse into the inner workings behind Maus. While it is a means for reflecting upon and mending the relationship with his own father, it is also a catalyst for Art's ruminations on what kind of father he himself will be. As he writes the tale of his father, he wonders: what kind of story will he impart to his own children? 

a bit of dark humor

the quirky behaviors of the nacirema, continued

The elders among the Nacirema believe that the continuous intake of a certain magical potion aids in transporting their souls through the various stages of the day.

The members of the tribe religiously create this magical potion each day at the crack of dawn. First, they carefully gather some of the "holy water" and place it into the mouth of a sacred container. They then take out a jar full of dark enchanted dust, measured amounts of which they sprinkle into the holy water. They close the container and turn away. As their eyes remain averted, they utter silent prayers in their heart until the container sends out a signal for them to stop. Reverently, they retrieve their half-done potion—transformed from a pure, pristine liquid to one now murky in color—and proceed to add the finishing touches. For this, they require a bit of the sweet, bewitching dust and another liquid white in color.

The older Nacirema take considerable pleasure in downing this warped form of their holy water multiple times daily. Although their medicine men have repeatedly told them of the benefits of consuming holy water alone—that it causes the skin to glow and the body to function more smoothly—they do not care much for it. The medicine men have repeatedly warned them that this magical concoction causes insomnia, nervousness, restlessness, stomach upsets, and  headaches. But the Nacirema pay no heed.

"It is to be hoped that, when a thorough study of the Nacirema is made, there will be careful inquiry into" their unusual dependency on EEFFOC. 

consider the trampoline

On any balmy day, you will find American backyards awash with people soaring sky-high on familiar big, bouncy contraptions. 

"For practical purposes, everyone knows what a [trampoline] is." It's a conglomeration of metal legs connected in a circular fashion with a round, elastic mat stretched across the rim with sturdy metal springs. If you have one of the more expensive ones, you can also expect a series of metal rods sticking up at evenly spaced intervals around the circumference of the trampoline, supporting a net that supposedly prevents jumpers from falling outside. Trampolines come in various sizes, can be circular or rectangular, and are supplemented with safety pads in bright, appealing hues. They can be used by children, teenagers, and adults alike.

Undoubtedly, the trampoline serves as an avenue of fun, entertainment, and healthy exercise. But have you ever thought of the potential risks associated with jumping on it? What would the doctors say about this deceptively merry medium of play and enjoyment? Can the harms be avoided by rule-abiding users? "Is the whole thing just a matter of personal [carefulness]?" 

If an unsuspecting child jumps close enough to the side rail, broken arms and legs could be the result. If you are unfortunate enough to let your head come in contact with the side rail or even with other people's heads, then not only will you see stars, but the whole Milky Way galaxy too, as you slip into the dark realm of painful concussions. Jumping off the trampoline and onto something on the ground can bring about lacerations; bumping into others may produce abdominal injuries. Ramming into the evil side rail is also a cause of the latter two grievances. And let's not get into the broken necks and spinal cord injuries, which often end in permanent paralysis or even death for the victim.* 

But that's not to say that one should flee from even the slightest shadow of these monstrous man-injurers. Not at all. In fact, I myself have a jumbo-sized trampoline sitting in my very own backyard.** Whenever Michigan's hormonal weather slips up into a breezy, wonderful day, I zip outside and onto my lovely trampoline. After all, jumping on one can essentially improve the quality of life by keeping you active, fit, and healthy!

*The American Academy of Pediatrics says, "Parents should never purchase a home trampoline or allow children to use home trampolines." Their high concern for child safety is evident in this strongly-worded piece of advice. 

**No, seriously, I do. 

virginia, laura, clarissa

The Hours: a film that transcends time and space to tell the story of three women whose lives are undeniably intertwined and utterly tainted with the unyielding speculations about the volatile vulnerability of life.

Who are they, exactly, and how do we see their lives reflecting those of the characters in Mrs. Dalloway?

Virginia Woolf is much like the character she herself created: Septimus Warren Smith. Like the war veteran, Virginia longs to return to the life before her mental illness took hold. Because of their disillusionment with life and the ebbing away of their freedom, both commit suicide—leaving behind spouses who loved and cared for them, yet ultimately failed to understand their true condition.

Laura Brown is also comparable to Septimus in many ways. Like Septimus, she has a devoted spouse who cares for her more than she cares for him. Post-war Septimus prefers to spend his time away from people; Laura, too, is shy and removed from society. Septimus's feelings for Evans are parallel to Laura's relationship with Kitty. Both are sick of leading a meaningless life, one that neither had ever imagined living. In response, Septimus kills himself while Laura resolves to leave her family.

Clarissa Vaughan is the modern version of Clarissa Dalloway. Not only do they share the same name, the two also have many of the same experiences throughout the day: preparing for a party, buying flowers, hearing a loud bang, and meeting friends they haven't seen in years. Clarissa Dalloway's ephemeral kiss with Sally is protracted into Clarissa Vaughan's open, decade-long relationship with her Sally. Both women dream of a different life with lovers past, and grapple with startling questions about the meaning of life. Though living in New York City eight decades later, Clarissa Vaughan is an equally revolutionary model of her fictional counterpart. 

the end of mrs. dalloway

"But what an extraordinary night! She felt somehow very like him—the young man who had killed himself. She felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away. The clock was striking. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. He made her feel the beauty; made her feel the fun." (186)

In this passage, Clarissa ruminates about Septimus's boldness in so freely throwing away what she deems most coveted—life itself. Up till this point, the inevitability of death has always produced emotions of anxiety, dread, and panic within her. She fears death because she believes she has no control over its undefeatable force. Thus, Septimus's willful suicide initially flabbergasts her. She considers the enormity of such a deed as she realizes that the only thing she has flung from her is "a shilling into the Serpentine, never anything more." Her thoughts lead her to believe that his suicide was a way to conquer death; he strove to place himself in power by treating death as inconsequential. In the end, Clarissa feels "very like him," because she can finally come to terms with the reality of giving up life. 

In the midst of her contemplation, Clarissa notices the time. Once again, the resounding chimes of Big Ben remind her that one man's death doesn't end all. Life goes on, and the realization that the sun will still shine, that the birds will still chirp, that her memory will continue to resonate in the minds of her loved ones fills her with awe at the "beauty" and "fun" of time's continuity.  

the waves of time

"The leaden circles dissolved in the air."

This short, recurring sentence appears whenever Big Ben strikes, and if traced across the whole book, could represent the gongs of the clock itself, the reverberations of which leave an ominous air in their wake. Big Ben's chimes are beautiful, "musical," yet they reveal something more chilling within them: that time, life is "irrevocable." 

I think the "circles" refer to man's tendency to seamlessly, subconsciously weave the tenses (past, present, future) of time into every stage of our existence. The use of the word "leaden" connotes a heaviness, a weight, a burden. Time is oppressive. It ruthlessly, stealthily flows onward, onward, eroding our life by the droplets of each second. "Leaden" also brings to mind, quite literally, a block of lead: soft, malleable, visible, perceptible. Time is not pliable yet it is fluid in nature; time is not transformable—it is the transformer; time is not physically seen yet it is discernible all around us, on us; time is imperceivable, elusive; time dissolves.

In the words of Benjamin Franklin, "Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff that life is made of." If we cannot capture or control time, the least we can do is to ride the waves with an appreciation of the beauty of every moment that is life. 

pies are sinfully delicious

This week we wrote an in-class essay on an amusing anecdote of a child’s struggle with wrongdoing.  Although at the time I was frantically focused on composing an AP student-worthy masterpiece (only Ms. V knows how successful I was with that), I can now allow my mind reign to ruminate over the central message of Soto’s story. The connotative diction and vivid imagery he uses show how the irresistibly “sweet” immediate effects of sin serenaded his not-yet-matured six-year-old senses, gently detaching him from the whispers of his tugging conscience. Soto portrays himself as caught in a “sticky” web of guilt, unable to distinguish between the pleasure and abhorrence of sin as they continually morph and transpose, until he finally concludes that sin is, essentially, “what you took and didn’t give back.”

Allow me to present a more articulate definition.

A wise person once said, “Sin is what causes uneasiness in your heart and what you dislike others to become aware of.” The first part of this concise yet comprehensive statement has to do with the innate gauge and inherent notion of goodness that exists within every human being. When a person breaks this notion, their inner gauge picks it up as a warning sign and alerts them that something is not right. In a similar vein, think about the second characteristic mentioned. If you have to quickly switch tabs when you hear your parents at the door, shove the phone in your pocket when the teacher passes by, or minimize the window when your boss steps in, you’re probably doing something you shouldn’t be.

It’s crucial that we respond to the disturbances in our heart by leaving and reversing what’s wrong; if we suppress them, our gauge will eventually dim out and cease to function—leaving us lost, as young Soto was, in a haze of pleasure and peccancy. 

othering

In “Disability,” Nancy Mairs scrutinizes with candid and humorous language the lack of realistic portrayal–if at all–of disabled people in media culture. At one point in the essay, she switches abruptly from her wry quips to a serious tone with one forthright statement: “This kind of effacement or isolation has painful, even dangerous consequences, however.”

These blunt words reveal another aspect of the multifaceted concept of othering. While I know that people are commonly outcast from society based on appearance, race, religion, or gender, it never struck me till now that there are many in this world who are banished to the fringes of humankind solely owing to their disabilities. 

When people shun others based on certain characteristics they deem repulsive, they do so secure in the belief that they are more powerful, more superior because they are removed beyond the other’s fatal flaws. Yet this is precisely where disability differs. Because as Mairs unflinchingly posits, “the fact is that ours is the only minority you can join involuntarily, without warning, at any time.” Those who view disability as “a chronic incurable degenerative disease” and thus attempt to blot out the presence of the handicapped should use their narrow-mindedness as a catalyst for an acute awareness of their “own physical vulnerability.” For then it should come as no surprise that they are labeled by the very people they avoid as mere “Temporarily Abled Persons.”

Chief Justice Earl Warren’s words in the famous Brown vs. Board case ring true even in light of Mairs’s piece, almost as if they are an elucidation of the “painful, even dangerous consequences” she foretold. He said that such baseless othering of those different from us “generates [within them] a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely to ever be undone.” And as long as we don’t bother to “insert disability daily into our field of vision,” these words will remain as applicable and valid as they were to society six decades ago.

travis: innocence and a hope for change

Dear Diary,

Today sure was an unusual day. 

A cracker came to our house late afternoon, lookin' all formal-like with his big ole briefcase and thick glasses. He walked in the door with a huge smile on his face, as if he just done chase a rat as big as a cat and beat it to a pulp beneath his feet (I am strictly forbidden to do that anymore). But Mama and Grandma and Aunt Beneatha and them all looked so tense, as if the rat they had been chasin' fly right outta their hands and underneath a building where they couldn't reach him no more. 

And, Daddy—well he was tryna say somethin' to the man, but I done noticed that he looked mighty nervous. He kept wiping his sleeve across his mouth and faltered in his speech. At one point, he grab me and say, "This is my son, and he makes the sixth generation our family in this country." Oh, gaallee! I sure must be something if Daddy say that to the white man so proudly! 

And then, Daddy said something even more strange. He said, "And we have decided to move into our house because my father—my father—he  earned it for us brick by brick. We don't want to make no trouble for nobody or fight no causes, and we will try to be good neighbors. And that's all we got to say about that. We don't want your money." And then the white man, he was jes' lookin' all flustered and whisking away his things in a flurry, parting with a warning, "I sure hope you people know what you're getting into."

That sorta struck something in me. I remember Daddy's strong voice, Grandmama's tear-streaked face, Mama with her head bowed, and Auntie with her head raised in pride. I mean, what exactly are we gettin' into? Why it such a big deal if we move into Clybourne Park? I never met none of them white boys before, but I know we could get along just fine. After all, Daddy say I am the sixth generation in this family. If Granddaddy and his ancestors weren't able to stand up shoulder to shoulder with a white man, then by gallee, I will be the first one in my family to do that. And when that day come, Mama and Daddy will say to me, "Yes, son. Ain't nobody out there that can tell you you ain't fit to walk this earth. Thrive, prosper, live alongside the others. You done make us proud."

Now that sounds like a lot more respectable goal to work for than to trade marbles or chase them rats down the streets. 

Yours truly,

Travis Younger

an allegory of youth

Anyone who has read The Diamond as Big as the Ritz would agree that Fitzgerald does an admirable job of manipulating rhetoric into creating a piece that has all the elements of a heartwarming “Once upon a time” tale: a castle situated on a supernatural diamond mountain, a magical bathtub, an evil villain, a beautiful princess and her Prince Charming, and even a moral-of-the-story that’s painfully true. What it lacks is the “happily ever after.” It’s quite ironic, really, that instead of rising from rags to riches, our wonderful Kismine and her beloved actually descend from the “floating fairy-land” into a pit of Hell. So maybe they aren’t so wonderful after all.

Although Kismine is deemed the “incarnation of physical perfection” itself, none can match the naivety of her mind. She reveals her foolishness when she claims, “I believe that girls ought to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way”—much like Daisy, who thinks girls are better off being “beautiful little fools.” Frankly, the fact that Kismine “never…read[s] anything” nor knows “any mathematics or chemistry” convinces me that she would better fit in with a herd of pink elephants rather than the human race. (At least I’m not saying she can only have water as a beverage.)

So what’s wrong with John T. Unger? Doesn’t he rescue, heroic and Moses-like, the damsels in distress? Shouldn’t he have been spared the torments of Hell? Unfortunately, our main character lacked the nobility and wisdom of Moses; he allowed himself to get caught up in the “warm enchantment” of luxury and began “measuring up the day against [a] radiantly imagined future.” Like Gatsby, his fantasizing about the “unattainable young dream” eventually results in a hard fall back to reality.

And so, although DBR was written decades ago, its message is very applicable even today. The shiny, gaudy opulence of the Washington estate is representative of the excessive, dreamy way in which we live youth. Like Unger, it is a time when most everyone experiences the flush of first love sitting atop their mountains of unrealistic aspirations, a time when one is first exposed to the “terrible and golden mystery” of life, a time that abruptly ends with “the shabby gift of disillusion.” 

nostalgic memories

The single biggest disadvantage of romanticizing nostalgic memories of the past is that it makes it easier for us to fantasize and ignore the problems of the present. When we put on our rose-colored glasses to peer into a different time, desperate for something that is fundamentally out of our reach, we cease to think about the consequences it may have on our present, perhaps harming our future as well.

Jay Gatsby is a prime example of this. The goal of his life is to recreate the sweet memories he shared with the Daisy Fay of the past. Her "bright ecstatic smile" (90) and "lovely" (13) face had captivated him as a young soldier—but she gave it all to another. Five years later, he stubbornly believes that the dim romance that was on the verge of blossoming between them still has a chance to bloom into the fragrant flower of true love.

With his eyes set on this target, Gatsby becomes blind to what he has made of his present life. He has reduced himself to a man with an unhealthy eagerness to climb the social ladder—as he forges “gonnegtion[s]” (75) with shady people—and a desperate greed for amassing wealth—as he becomes involved in organized crime. His emotional frame is out of sync with the passage of time. In fact, the knocking over of Nick's clock during his first reunion with Daisy is a clear symbol of the clumsiness of Gatsby's attempt to stop time and retrieve the past.

By glamorizing the sentimental memories of former times, Gatsby essentially allows them to dictate his very existence. He thrives on the wild hope that Daisy will one day return to him, and when he realizes that she has slipped "out of reach of his hand" (117), he can no longer survive. Similar to Roger Chillingworth of The Scarlet Letter, Gatsby perishes when his life’s purpose is defeated.

an unusual wish

One of the first characters we meet in The Great Gatsby is Daisy, wife of wealthy, fractious Tom Buchanan. It is interesting to note that many aspects of Daisy’s character actually reflect those of the idolized 1920s flapper: a pleasure-seeking woman full of thoughtless giddiness whose superficial cares revolve primarily around her popularity, self, and beauty.

Nick first describes Daisy’s “absurd, charming little laugh” and “low thrilling voice.” He also draws our attention to her face, “sad and lovely, with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth.” Although these sensual descriptions highlight Daisy’s singular beauty, her speech and actions reveal the immaturity and impetuousness of her inner nature. For instance, when Nick tells her (out of common courtesy) that everyone in Chicago misses her, she emphatically demands to return right away—no doubt to revel in the adoration of her devotees.

When Nick politely enquires about her little daughter, Daisy startles readers by replying, “I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” While revealing her belief that a girl can have more fun if she is beautiful and simplistic, Daisy's flapper-mom-like wish for her daughter is not so unusual when viewed in light of the fact that she is the product of an age that values women for their sexuality over their intelligence. Just as Daisy conforms to the social standard of American femininity in the 1920s in order to avoid her tension-filled life—such as her strained marriage and tangled love affair with Gatsby—so too does she hope for her daughter to be protected under a shield of lovely naivety.

The Value of Punctuation Usage in an Ever-Changing World

Claim Sentence: Although the debate over the flexibility of punctuation rules in an ever-changing world may seem trivial, it is in fact crucial in terms of today’s concern over decreasing literacy. Furthermore, fixed punctuation rules make for clarity and precision in one’s writing, lending ethos and expression to authors, from past and future alike.

Having set rules of punctuation is crucial to the English language as it makes for coherent, expressive writing and allows writers to demonstrate their intelligence and credibility. Additionally, there is the danger that in an ever-changing world, flexible punctuation rules may very well lead to “the downfall of literacy” (Source A). The primary benefit of adhering to the rules of punctuation is that it accords expression in one’s writing, much like pauses and changes in tone of voice when speaking. Elizabeth Austen of “On Punctuation” personifies certain punctuation marks by attributing a special characteristic to each, such as the “voluptuous uncertainty” of the question mark and the “come-hither wave” of the comma. These sensual ascriptions show how punctuation has the capability to transmit subtle connotations that words cannot convey.

More importantly, adherence to punctuation rules is vital for a piece’s coherence, as it allows for effective separation and linkage of ideas; without this, many literary masterpieces would be plagued with confusion. Now, critics would argue that Emily Dickinson’s unconventional use of “the sweet interrupting dash” (Source B) and irregular sprinkling of capitalization in her poem as well as Austen’s complete lack of punctuation in hers do not hinder one’s ability to understand their message; rather, they lend an artistic, personal touch. To this, Hitchings would reply that both of these pieces are poems, avenues of “Possibility” (Source C) where one is encouraged to be creative and where flexibility with punctuation rules is perhaps to be expected. However, in prose, he says that set rules make for “clear, effective, and consistent communication” (Source A). Poetry is meant to be multilayered with deep meanings open to interpretation, but if one insists on applying its unique rules to other pieces of literature, it would result in general confusion and even lack of credibility.

In “Notes on Punctuation,” author Lewis Thomas seems to side with Austen and Dickinson as he pokes fun at the rigid rules of punctuation and bends them in original, innovative ways to create a humorous effect. Being a physician and scientist, however, he would be expected to abide by those very rules in his medical research and lab reports. In fact, all other professionals such as teachers, doctors, lawyers, and engineers must conform to the rules if they want any credibility or trust. If they ventured to experiment with punctuation in their documents as Thomas does in Source D, they would be harming their own integrity as it would no longer be possible to write in a formal and professional manner. It would also leave room for dangerous misinterpretations with, in some cases, possibly life-threatening consequences.

 Furthermore, without a concrete set of rules for punctuation, literacy rates and general understanding of the English language would suffer. An older generation reading literature by younger people may not understand or misinterpret it based on the punctuation usage of their days; similarly, current readers will not be able to relate to previous literary masterpieces as they struggle to decode the strange symbols such as the “pilcrow” and “hedera” (Source A).

Consistency in punctuation rules is as important as stipulated traffic rules: that even one person does not realize that a red light means stop can be costly. Like traffic signals, punctuation marks direct the flow of your ruminations, creating order and preventing your thoughts from going in unintended directions. If everyone is not aware of the rules because of the fact that they are constantly changing, the result is an unsightly literary accident that would be difficult to reverse.

the beauty of language

Throughout the novel Black Boy, Richard Wright uses beautiful language to describe his journey from innocence to experience in the Jim Crow South. In Chapter 2 of the novel, Wright uses an anaphora to convey the childish pleasure and depth of emotion that nature evoked in him as a young boy. He starts off by saying, "There was the breathlessly anxious fun of chasing and catching flitting fireflies on drowsy summer nights" (45). Readers smile here at the beautiful simplicity of a child's fascination with fireflies, as it is a common experience we all can relate to. He continues further, saying, "There was the aura of limitless freedom distilled from the rolling sweep of tall green grass swaying and glinting in the wind and sun" (45). Vivid imagery allows one to picture the scene and wonder at how a child could make the connection between swaying fronds of grass and the notion of freedom. We ache at the realization that despite his tender age, even young Richard yearns for true freedom from his oppressive society. His use of the anaphora furnishes artistic effect to the passage and adds rhythm to his words, making it more pleasurable to read. By relating himself to nature in each repetition, Wright succeeds in inspiring readers to reflect upon their own relationship with the natural world around them; the ability to find pleasure in it being a proof of lightness of spirit and the inability a proof of a soul darkened with the weight of societal concerns.

slavery: its crippling legacy

In 1492, Christopher Columbus made the historic voyage to the Americas. His excursion heralded a new, two-way traffic between Europe and the Americas. Across the eastern and western halves of the world, a large-scale movement occurred—a major transfer of plants and animals, as well as people and diseases. Named after the legendary voyager, the Columbian Exchange produced lasting effects which still reverberate today. A chief component of this exchange was the slave trade. Although this brutal human commerce was outlawed over 150 years ago, the inherent racism that fueled this system can still be felt today. Freed slaves suffered much emotional and psychological damage, which they passed down through the generations. Their feelings gave rise to a lot of resentment, anger, and pain felt within the black community today. Though not forced to toil long hours under the hot sun and the brandishing whip of an overseer, blacks still suffer in other ways. For instance, the poor housing, lack of employment opportunities, and the inadequate health care and education that many blacks cope with today are due to the fact that they have had to play catch-up, as they had been denied certain opportunities that were always available to those of the white race. Moreover, the enslavement of blacks by people who considered them inferior greatly diminished their self-worth, causing them to view themselves in the same light of inferiority. This lack of self-esteem then results in self-destructive behavior—as well as a serious doubt of their complete acceptance as equal members of society. The rampant crime rate that is spiraling out of control in America’s inner-city neighborhoods, the drug abuse and single parent homes, and the high abortion rate in the black community have all led to the breakdown of the black American family. These present unfortunate conditions of many blacks are all part of the crippling legacy of the original institution of slavery, the haunting effects of which rebound to this day. 

                                                 

the essence of beauty

One of the things we discussed in class this past week was Emily Prager’s piece titled “Our Barbies, Ourselves.” While I agree that Barbie portrays a twisted ideal of women, I believe that she is also representative of a society that has become increasingly obsessed with external beauty. Unlike what the makers of Barbie would have us believe, our body does not define who we are. Inner beauty, the beauty of the soul, is what truly matters. It is an illumination of the heart that manifests itself in one’s strength of character and unwavering moral standards. Think about it. A person with a beautiful face may succeed in appealing to your peripheral sense of enjoyment for only so long, but a person with pleasing character will captivate your heart for a lifetime.

This idea brings to mind a poem by John Keats titled “La Belle Dame sans merci,” in which he describes the encounter between a knight and a mysterious elfin beauty. At first, the lady’s “long” hair, “light” step, and “wild” eyes enthrall him and he eagerly follows her to her “elfin grot.” Because the soldier is so caught up with her external beauty, he fails to realize that her enigmatic smile actually conceals a heart of stone. As a result, once the lady has successfully trapped him in her cave, she swiftly delivers the knight to his chilling end.

This is similar to what Prager suggests in the last line of her piece: Barbie has “trapped” us in the need to conform to others’ ideals of superficial beauty, such that we become oblivious to what really matters. In order to escape, we can embrace the freedom of rising above petty societal beauty standards and develop our character, for the nurturing of inner beauty is what makes us a true human being. 

motherhood

After reading Giovanni and Jacobs's pieces this past week, I thought about the role a mother's sacrifice and love play in the survival of her children. In Harry's case, Lily Potter threw herself in the way of Voldemort's curse--giving up her life to save her son. Jacobs, too, risked her life to ensure that her children would not be sold into slavery.

The bond between a mother and her child is phenomenal. A mother is the sole being who is willing to sacrifice everything to see her child thrive and prosper, without any expectation of returns. The discomfort a woman endures while carrying her child within her for months on end, the excruciating pangs of childbirth, and the sleepless nights she spends thereafter mark just the beginning of a mother's path of continual sacrifice. Such is the natural affinity between a mother and her child that she understands the needs of her child before he is even capable of expressing them; she is aware of his fears without being told.

Like researchers have now realized about mother's milk, there is no substitute for mother's love. No one can extract and bottle motherly compassion. The warmth of your mother's love has the power to melt away your worries; the radiance of her smile can brighten your otherwise gloomy day; her gentle words and comforting hugs make you feel like you can accomplish anything.

In essence, your mother is your sanctuary.

the end of the scarlet letter

I’ve stepped through a book portal and transported myself into The Scarlet Letter, back to Boston in the mid-1600s. I’m looking for a certain Hester Prynne. Maybe you’ve heard of her? She was apparently an evil sinner turned motherly angel. She passed on not too long ago, and I hear her tombstone has an eerie inscription that no one can seem to figure out. Ah, here it is! The epitaph reads, “On a field, sable, the letter A, gules” (259). Well, let’s decode the words first. Field refers to background, sable means black, and gules connotes a reddish tinge. So this literally says, “On a black background, the red letter A.” Looking at it from the Puritans’ viewpoint, the black background represents Hester’s sin-stained heart, with the glowing symbol of her adultery burned into it with the very fire of Hell. From Hester’s—and Hawthorne’s—perspective, the blackness indicates the Puritan society’s hypocrisy and judgmental attitude. The letter A would then symbolize Hester herself, its red glow serving as a reminder of all that she was able to overcome, and her success at turning her deed from a mark of shame and dishonor to one of dignity and pride. Make sense?

Now let’s zoom out, and take a look at the surroundings. It looks like Hester’s burial site is between the prison and King’s Chapel. Very interesting. The prison was actually the place where Hester was first humiliated, forced to reveal her sin before the entire town. It was here where her path of penance began, the starting point of a seven-year-long journey full of sorrow and loneliness. During this journey, however, Hester’s steadfastness and ability to stay true to herself changed her from society’s object of scorn to society’s refuge. Her presence by the prison door stands as a symbol of comfort, compassion, empathy, and hope to incoming prisoners. Her spirit smiles upon them and says, “Don’t despair! Embrace your identity, accept your mistakes, stay strong—and the world will come to respect you for it.” It might also turn to the influx of churchgoers standing at the door of the chapel, frown slightly, and call out, “O hypocritical people! Do not be deluded by your flawless beauty and unblemished clothing. Deep within, you all harbor a secret, a sin. Accept the fallibility of human nature; you are not perfect.”

And see here, Hester’s grave is next to Dimmesdale’s, her lover. But it’s not quite next to—they’ve left considerable space between the two, “as if the dust of the two sleepers had no right to mingle” (258). Perhaps Dimmesdale was right in questioning whether he and Hester would be joined in the afterlife. But, you see, although they’re buried a few feet apart, they do share the same tombstone. In life, they were constantly separated, but in death, they lie under the same scarlet letter. And perhaps, by burying Hester next to Dimmesdale, the community is implying that they have moved on, and in many ways, forgiven them for their sin. They, too, agree that the legend of their love lives on.