Voices of Compton: Compton Literary / Arts Journal (2013

Acknowledgements
Voices of Compton
Compton Literary / Arts Journal
Dr. Keith Curry, CEO
(Painted by Student, Daniel Felix)
Ms. Barbara Perez, Vice President
(Painted by Student, Alejandra Chavez)
Mr. Robert Butler, Student Life Office
Mr. Cleveland Palmer, Contributor of Student Artwork
Dr. Chelvi Subramaniam, Student Success Dean
(Painted by Student, Bryan Ortega)
Dr. Donald Roach,
Roach Humanities & Math Chair
Humanities Faculty
Mr. Jose Bernaudo,
Reader & English Faculty
Ms. Aurora CortezCortez-Perez
Ms. Amber Gillis,
Advisory Team Member
& Faculty Member
Mr. Gabriel Gomez
Ms. Lauren Gras
Mr. Chris Halligan
Ms. Dalia Juarez
Ms. Shemiran Lazar
Mr. David Maruyama,
Reader & English Faculty
Mr. Patrick McLaughlin,
First Year Experience
& English Faculty
Mr. Thomas Norton
Ms. Liza Rios
Dr. Ruth Roach,
Publication Coordinator
& English Faculty
Ms. Toni Wasserberger,
Reader & English Faculty
Ms. Nikki Williams
&
Associated Student Body
20132013-2014
Cover Artwork:
Keys by Stephanny Peralta
Publisher:
Southern California Graphics®
©Copyright 2014
All rights reserved.
1
2
Table of Contents
Emilio Zapata [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Samuel Isidoro [ 31 ]
No Desire to Tweet [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Chrystle Scott [ 32 ]
America Writes for American Rights [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Carlos Ornelas [ 33 ]
The Causes and Effects of Liberal Arts Education [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Charlesie Brisco [ 35 ]
The Other Side of an American Story [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Latasha Scott [ 37 ]
American Dream: American Reality [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Victoria Ngemegwai [ 38 ]
Amiri Theory [Spoken
Spoken Word Art]
Art by Carlos Ornelas [ 40 ]
Matty Matter Man [Poem
Poem]
Poem by Maor Lain [ 41 ]
Growing up in Los Angeles County: My Childhood Memories [Ess
Essay
Essay]
ay by Erica McCovery [ 41 ]
A Day in the Police Cell [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Aderonke Omole Turner[ 43 ]
Problematic [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Depresha Allen [ 44 ]
Do Not Judge Others by Their Appearance [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Graciela Gutierrez [ 45 ]
A Destination to Leave [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Stephanie Ramirez [ 46 ]
American Culture
|Page
Dr. Cornelia Lyles [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Oscar Monterroso [ 4 ]
Water Bottle [Sketch
Sketch]
Sketch by Stephanny Peralta [ 4 ]
Eagle [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Linda Ray [ 4 ]
Untitled 2 [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Linda Ray [ 4 ]
Visiting Detroit, Michigan [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Nydja Minor [ 5 ]
Friendship [Spoken
Spoken Word Art]
Art by LaQuita Smith [ 6 ]
Educational Benefits [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Justin Villanueva [ 6 ]
My Life’s an Open Book [Poem
Poem]
Poem by Michelle Naranjo [ 8 ]
American Trends: Trendsetting Television [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Theodore Ousley [ 8 ]
Teacher and Student Rehearsal [Poem
Poem & Photo]
Photo by Guadalupe Salazar [ 10 ]
Music at Heart [Poem
Poem & Photo]
Photo by Roxana Gomez [ 11 ]
How Much Time Do You Spend on Facebook? [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Karina Zapata [ 11 ]
Then and Now [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Karen Jackson [ 13 ]
My Peaceful Second Home: The Diamond [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Kaleb Farley [ 14 ]
Impact of a Death: My Experience [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Brenda Jimenez [ 15 ]
Cancer: An Natural Cause of Death [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Francisco Azarte [ 16 ]
Nursing Home Blues [Spoken
Spoken Word Art & Sketch]
Sketch by Brandon O. Segovia [ 19 ]
Community Service Hours [Spoken
Spoken Word Art & Sketch]
Sketch by Ariel Rufo [ 19 ]
Liberal over Vocational Education [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Kumba Varnee [ 20 ]
Beauty [Poem
Poem]
Poem by Maria Flores [ 21 ]
It Is You [Poem
Poem]
Poem by Josephine Jones [ 21 ]
Rethinking the Thinking Process [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Kehmena Ockiya [ 22 ]
America: The Continuous Change [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Christopher Jacobs [ 23 ]
Subculture
Self Portrait: My Excuse To Go See You [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Isabel Herrera [ 25 ]
Audrey Hepburn [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Jazmin Rodriguez [ 25 ]
Untitled 1 [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Linda Ray [ 25 ]
A Woman’s Drag Strip [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Shaina Anderson [ 26 ]
16 Bars of Procrastination [Song
Song Lyrics]
Lyrics by Marcus Coleman [ 27 ]
Portland, My Friend [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Jaclyn Holst [ 27 ]
Visual Analysis [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Chesselle Summers [ 28 ]
The City of Las Vegas [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Marvin Cruz [ 29 ]
Counterculture
Sammy Davis, Jr. [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Carlos Vergara [ 31 ]
Ab Sol [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Egypt Muhammad [ 31 ]
Robert Downing, Jr. [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Brian Macias [ 31 ]
John Coltrane [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Edelbert Alvarado [ 31 ]
Ché [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Daniel Felix [ 31 ]
Al Pacino [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Nicolas Uscanga [ 31 ]
Religious Culture
Folkloric Dancers [Photo
Photo]
Photo by Carmen Raman [ 49 ]
A Room away from Home [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Roni Serrano [ 50 ]
My Son [Poem
Poem & Photo]
Photo by Anita Johnson [ 51 ]
America: Mexican American Parents’ Beliefs [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Rogelio Zamudio [ 52 ]
Salvation: My Story [Essay
Essay]
Essay by April Watson [ 53 ]
American Ideal: Freedom of Religion [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Alicia Mullins [ 54 ]
Testimony [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Makayla Hidalgo [ 56 ]
Competition: Light in the Dark [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Celina Hidalgo [ 57 ]
Love [Poem
Poem]
Poem by Josephine Jones [ 58 ]
Ethnic Culture
Dr. Cornelia Lyles [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Alejandra Baños [ 59 ]
Dr. Ricky Shabazz [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Tyler Washington [ 59 ]
Dean Wanda Morris [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Stephanny Peralta [ 59 ]
Dr. Rodney Murray [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Alejandra Chavez [ 59 ]
Pamela West-Lee [Painting
Painting]
Painting by Isabel Herrera [ 59 ]
Male Face [Sketch
Sketch]
Sketch by Justin Aguilar [ 59 ]
Poem]
Poem on House on Mango Street [Poem
Poem by Brandon O. Segovia [ 60 ]
Unforgettable Childhood Gemstones [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Mayra Paz [ 60 ]
My Nest [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Melissa Hernandez [ 61 ]
In the Eyes of an Asian American [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Alexandria Pitts [ 62 ]
I’m Black and I’m Proud [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Cheyenne Brown [ 62 ]
Does Wearing Weaves Mean You’re Ashamed of Being Black? [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Kathina Cormier [ 64 ]
Portland: My Utopia [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Samantha Ackerman [ 65 ]
My Sense of Poverty [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Freddie Lee [ 66 ]
My Home away from Home [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Martha Montalvo [ 67 ]
Baba and Quila’s House [Essay
Essay]
Essay by Egypt Muhammad [ 68 ]
Party ‘till the Death of Night [Poem
Poem]
70]
Poem by Maor Lain [70
70
3
4
American Culture:
All of Us
Prefatory
Prefatory Note
Though other volumes of Voices of Compton: Compton Literary / Arts Journal have indirectly examined
culture, this volume directly examines culture. It examines culture in several manifestations: the broader
American culture, subculture, counterculture, religious culture, and ethnic culture. The first section, called
American culture, opens the discussion and examines a plethora of cultural experiences and ways of dealing
with death and sickness, which include institutionalization, next our schools’ culture, also our youth culture,
and finally our all-American pastimes, such as baseball, which is tinged with the racial identity of the
African American male students who wrote these essays about their “black leather glove” and the
experiences of “blacks and browns.” The section on subculture examines who some of us are. The section on
counterculture highlights both those who go against our cultural ideals and those who deliberately resist
unfavorable trends in the American culture. In a word, the volume focuses on multiculturalism in America
today. Toward the end, the volume explores religious and ethnic culture in America, which provide rich soil
for nourishment, strength, and knowledge, as illustrated particularly by one or two essays that conflate
religious and ethnic culture.
-Humanities
[Note: Language is preserved as part of the art.]
As American as
sunglasses…
Dr. Cornelia Lyles
By Oscar Monterroso
…water bottles
Water Bottle
By Stephanny Peralta
…and bald eagles
Eagle
By Linda Ray
… yellow school buses
Untitled 2
By Linda Ray
5
6
Visiting Detroit,
Detroit, Michigan
By Nydja Minor
Before the automobile progression, people had to work near their homes because there was
no way of transportation. Due to the automobile industry in America, people were able to live outside the
city and be transported into the city to work. Near the beginning of the 20 century, Henry Ford began the
production of the automobile in Detroit, Michigan. It was so successful that Detroit became famous as the
world’s car capital. The progression of the automobile industry formulated hundreds of thousands of jobs.
Not only did current residents of Detroit seize the newly established opportunity, but many Europeans moved
into the city to take advantage as well. This industry helped create the middle class.
My aunt and uncle are a part of the middle class. Their cultural upbringings, like many other
Americans, have been greatly impacted by the automotive heritage. When I was a small child, around the age
ten, my mother took me, my sister, and brothers to Detroit, Michigan, to visit them. When we arrived at the
airport, Aunt Shirley and Uncle Troy picked us up. There was so much traffic outside of the airport. Cars,
buses, taxis, and vans lined the street in front of me. It was the beginning of December and snow was on the
ground. I could smell the snow in the air. It was a cool and fresh smell. The cold air against my face felt
refreshing. People were looking inside the taxis trying to spot one vacant to flag down. Luckily, we didn’t
have to access public transportation. Together, Uncle Troy and Aunt Shirley owned only one car, so they
picked us up in groups of three. They took me, my sister, and my younger brother first. Afterwards, Uncle
Troy came back to fetch my mom and my two older brothers. We lodged comfortably in their large
basement.
The basement was perfectly prepared for our visit. The bed was made, four folded blankets
were stacked neatly at the foot, and fresh and folded towels sat on a shelf in the bathroom. It was very clean
and spacious. Dinner was already prepared prior to our arrival. After Aunt Shirley escorted us to the
basement, she let us know that, after we settled ourselves, to come straight upstairs to the kitchen to eat
dinner. The kitchen was very small. All of us could barely fit at one time. Some of us had to eat in the living
room on the plastic couches because there weren’t enough chairs at the dining table. Dinner was delicious.
She prepared flavorful collard greens, hot water cornbread, creamy macaroni and cheese, buttery mashed
potatoes, and a moist white cake. She also offered us cold soda. Or as she called it, pop. Domesticity was an
important part of her role as a mother and wife. Her mother taught her how to run a household. During the
Great Depression, her mother’s most important role was tending to the family needs while her husband went
out looking for work. In Aunt Shirley’s upbringing, her mother taught her how to cook, how to clean
properly, how to sew, and how to keep her children and husband happy.
Aunt Shirley stopped working once she and Uncle Troy married and started having children.
Uncle Troy earned all the money in the family. He made his living as an auto mechanic. During the
progression of the automobile industry, Uncle Troy’s father became a mechanic. It was a great opportunity
for him and his family during their financial struggles. Uncle Troy brought along my brother and me to visit
his job. The auto shop was small. The walls of the shop were very dirty. The prices for service were probably
low. There was enough space for only two cars at a time to be worked on. There seemed to be a lot of
business. A few cars were lined up, waiting to be serviced. One of the cars being serviced was elevated high
in the air and a mechanic with a tool in his hand was underneath it. Uncle Troy was very friendly to his coworkers. He showed us around the shop. He even showed us the functions of the different levers and buttons.
His dad used to work at the same auto shop. Uncle Troy told us a story, how he started working alongside
with his father to acquire all the skills his father possessed. You could tell, based on the tone of his voice,
that he was proud to show us. This was his daily life. This is the work he woke up at 6 a.m. and fought
against the bitter Detroit winters to get to work and provide for his family. My uncle’s hands were rough
and stained, with the scent of oil from years of working on cars.
The automobile industry influenced the culture of the people of Detroit. It created many new
jobs providing people with income to support their families. With automobiles in the American market,
people were able to live outside of the city and have ways of transportation to their jobs in the city. This
industry has drastically improved the life of millions. It is still an important part of the American culture
today.
th
Friendship
By LaQuita Smith
You forever hold a place in my heart, and no one can ever tear that apart.
When I cry, you cry harder, when I want to give up, you’re there to push me farther.
You are like my Main!!!! The dreads to my 2 Chainz!!!!! (lol)
Crazy days and crazy nights, you roll with me, even to new heights.
Girl our friendship is unbreakable, it's the best relationship; and you better remain faithful!!! =)
No other friendships can break our bond, because you and me together are worse than a BOMB!!
Educational Benefits
By Justin Villanueva
Have you ever thought about what education can do for you? Good education does not always
happen within the classroom. It can be obtained anywhere in any form. Obtaining a good education is
beneficial in many ways. Having a good education can help one achieve knowledgeable information about
society, helps one understand oneself, and enables more opportunities for a better future.
The events that happen in society are always good to learn. Being aware and informed about
what goes on in society and different people can really help you for future references. Having an
understanding about these two concepts can help clarify many occurrences. When you learn about the people
in life, you can obtain an open mind. With an open mind, it is easier to work with other people and develop
bigger and better things. For example, learning about different countries and the people within the
countries decreases the chances of disagreements and bigger problems. Let us take a look at a scenario. If a
person wanted to visit a country, it would help to learn about the history, tradition, and people. Otherwise,
you may do something that might be considered offending or against their beliefs. I watched a movie called
Outsourced. In that movie, a man has to go to India to teach a resident of India about his job. When he is
there, he does not know about the traditions and beliefs of India, so he constantly finds himself in trouble.
One instance where he gets in trouble is when he offends their beliefs. Indians find cows to be sacred. When
7
he gives a speech about America, he talks about hamburgers and how they are made. Many Indians are
offended and start to have bad thoughts about him as well as America. If that man took the time to educate
himself about India, all of the problems could have been avoided. Also, learning about society keeps you upto-date with current events that are happening socially, politically, economically, and even personally.
Having a good education about our government, social, and economic problems can help you, for instance,
when you are voting. If you are unaware of what is going on in our country how can you vote for the right
candidate to give our country what it needs? It is important to have that knowledge especially if it affects
you and everyone else. When certain candidates run, it is also good to educate yourself about them so you
can see what kind of background that particular candidate has and what they support. I personally did not
vote, but if I were able to vote I would have voted for President Barack Obama. To be honest, I did not know
much about the issues that were being debated upon. I did not even know much about President Obama or
Mitt Romney. If it were not for my political science class, I would not have obtained any knowledge of the
issues of education, jobs, the war in Iraq, or healthcare. Being taught that information opened my eyes to see
how much of a difference it was to be aware of these because all of these issues affect my future.
Next, understanding oneself is essential. With a good education, it is easier to get an
understanding of who we are and what we want throughout our lifetime. When we find an understanding of
ourselves, we get an idea of what we prefer, support, and believe. There were many instances where I
thought I knew what I wanted, but I ended up changing my mind. For example, growing up, I wanted to join
the army. I always wanted to be in uniform and shoot the “bad guys.” It is a great honor to fight for your
country. As I learned other subjects like math and science, I found other interests and grew a liking to those
subjects. Now, I am studying to become an engineer. Education allows you to make better decisions and
choices. If I did not take any math or science classes, I would not have looked into engineering. Education
also allows you to develop new skills you never thought you had. A friend of mine found that his new hobby
was poetry just from taking an English class and listening to rap music. He found that his experiences
related to the music, and the English class allowed him to put his experiences into words.
Finally, achieving a good education allows opportunities for a better future. Going to school
for a degree allows you to have a chance for a career. With a career, you can make good money and be able
to support yourself. We all know money is hard to get if we do not have the right education. By having good
education, you can advance in society. People respect an educated person.
A good education offers many benefits. It benefits you socially and personally. Having a good
education can help one achieve knowledgeable information about society, helps one understand oneself, and
enables more opportunities for a better future. It happens anywhere and in any form. This is a sufficient
condition because education would be the cause for all these effects. A good education can enable these
outcomes.
* “You” deliberately used throughout
Works Cited
Outsourced. Dir. John Jeffcoat. Perf. Josh Hamilton, Ayesha Dharker, Asif Basra, Arjun Mathur,
and Siddarth Jadhav. ShadowCatcher Entertainment. 2006. Film.
8
My Life’s an Open Book
By Michelle Naranjo
Take a look inside
And open up your eyes
If you really want to know
You have to dig a little deeper
Let your mind grow
If you really want to see her
Look past your old assumptions
And start a new page
My life’s an open book
There’s nothing for me to put away.
Only a chosen few
Can really relate
You want to know about me
I laid it out on the table
Free your mind
And then you’ll be able to take a look in my life
Isn’t that what you want?
American Trends: Trendsetting Television
By Theodore Ousley
Introduction
Television shows heavily influence the pop culture of today. They set the standard for what’s
in and trendy to do. These television shows constantly push the line with their sexual content and immoral
subject matter. The fact that this is entertaining is what draws in the culture. Unfortunately, with the
influx of this computer savvy nation, it generates information at such high speeds that it’s now more like a
phenomenon and now American culture becomes world culture.
Love and Hip Hop
On the television show, “Love and Hip Hop,” the characters display somewhat peculiar
activities. In some situations, they seem to all be in a heightened state of anger and discontent with each
other. Upon further research, the cast are almost always under the influence while the show is filming.
9
10
any given time frame. Being that promiscuous while in your youth is almost excusable, but the fact that
there is no protection is the real concern. The majority of Maury’s guests are the impoverished black with a
sprinkle of the occasional hillbilly or trailer trash.
Figure 1 Women with butt injections
Also, the women almost unanimously have perfect bodies. Although some are natural, there are some on the
show that obviously have undergone “fat grafting,” better known as the Brazilian butt lift. These women
also undergo other cosmetic surgeries, such as Botox, breast augmentations, nose jobs, and more. These
televised activities produced to the masses influence many of the younger generations to have such
treatments and act outside of normal human behavior.
The Bad Girls Club
On the television show, “The Bad Girls Club,” women in their early 20’s are placed in a
mansion in which there seems to be nothing else to do but to party, drink, and fight. Young female viewers
get the impression that erratic partying and dressing provocatively are the only means to have fun.
Excessive drinking is beautified and pitched to viewers as being a normal every day part of life. In the
beginning of the show, the women start off as friends, but as the show progresses each season, they divide
into cliques to keep the “undesirables” out.
Figure 2 The show Bad Girls
They pick a victim and bully her by doing everything in their power to make her living condition miserable
until she decides it’s not worth being on the show any more and leaves. This type of bullying is seen widely
throughout the school systems today. There are countless students committing suicide because of constant
bullying as portrayed on this television show.
Maury
The talk show “Maury” is also responsible for influences on the pop culture of today. It
highlights women with numerous men who could potentially be the father of their child. Subconsciously, this
show sends the message that it’s ok to have unprotected sexual encounters with countless men or women in
Figure 2 Guest on the Maury Show.
Not having many positive television outlets, this makes the black urban culture seem ignorant.
Conclusion
With these findings, I’ve concluded that all we do is being guided. From what’s cool to like to
the way that you’re supposed to dress.* The most influential device you could use is subtle inclinations to
guide America’s mainstream. It’s no one’s fault for being who they are, but nowadays, it is televised. We have
countless media outlets broadcasting sex, drugs, and violence, something you would have never known if it
were not the focal point of 90% of news stories.
*Deliberate fragment
Teacher and Student Rehearsal
By Guadalupe Salazar
I see teachers singing
I see students singing
I hear the melodies
I hear the celebrities
I feel the good clarity
I feel the good environmentally
I see, music successfully
11
12
Music at Heart
By Roxana Gomez
Whether slow and soft,
or fast and hard,
music comes from the heart.
Eyes are bright,
smiles are long,
their bodies moving
throughout the song
Music comes from the heart.
How Much Time Do You Spend on Facebook?
By Karina Zapata
Introduction
How many social networking sites have you joined? According to Lee’s (2006) article “Social
Sites Are Becoming Too Much of a Good Thing,” social sites are taking up too much of our time and adding
that to more time spent on the web. According to Lee, Facebook and MySpace’s audiences have dropped from
8.9 million to 7.8 million and 49.2 million to 47.2 million, respectively, because there are so many other new
social sites competing for those users (p. 152). As a personal Facebook user, I can say that Facebook is not
something that I need; it is a social site I joined to stay in touch with old friends and family. Facebook is a
site where you can not only have friends who you can talk to, but also look into millions of other
informational pages, such as news broadcast pages, university pages, or political pages. I am against the
point made by Lee that social sites are becoming too much of a good thing because people can be registered
to a lot of those social networks, but it all depends on how long they spend on them, or how they prioritize
their time and tasks to be done other than being on sites. I believe that the Facebook page for KTLA 5
Morning News provides factual information occurring in our country which uses a rational appeal, provides
its viewers with the ability to interact with others and share points of view which uses the emotional
appeal, and also provides viewers with stories pertaining to ethical decisions.
Rational Appeal
Appeal
The KTLA 5 Morning News is a very informative page that provides its viewers with videos
and posts of important latest news in our communities. This Facebook page uses rational appeal by stating
facts and statistics in their news; they are trustworthy when it comes to knowing what is happening outside
of our homes. On the actual Facebook page, you can scroll down and see all the stories that are provided. A
recent story includes the LAUSD teacher firings occurring for teachers who have a history of sexual, verbal,
or physical abuse toward children.
This is crucial information for anyone who has children, younger siblings, nieces, and
nephews because we want to know what the school board is doing about those situations and, most
importantly, if our children are safe in their schools. Another story on this page talks about killer whales
being spotted off the coast
Figure 1
This Facebook page is factual and gives us more options on Facebook, instead of socializing; or while
socializing, we can also inform ourselves on the latest news from the KTLA 5 Morning News Facebook page.
of Malibu. A lifeguard on a boat was out in the ocean and videotaped the killer whales following him.
Information like this is very important for us; we want to know what’s really going on.
Emotional Appeal
The KTLA 5 Facebook page not only provides us with the latest news, but gives its viewers
the opportunity to discuss how they feel about a story under the Comment link. The fact that it is a
Facebook page allows its viewers to comment on every post they make on the page, sharing each of their
perspectives toward the stories. Being able to interact with others for discussion or social networking
applies to emotional appeal. Interacting with friends gives us a sense of being well liked and if you’re doing
it while reading news stories, it’s a plus. Although catching up with friends and others is nice, “it’s not
something you need every day” (Lee, 2006, p. 152). This is where most people go wrong; although you want to
talk to friends, think about what’s more important, “changing [your] layout” or “doing [your] homework”
(Lee, 2006, p. 154). In this way, viewers can share emotions toward a certain subject and read on what others
think or feel about it. Set your priorities first, and then socialize later. There is an ad on the right side of
Figure 1 for San Francisco State University offering summer sessions. This ad appeals to emotion and
integrity and even encourages people to enroll and continue their education. This page does a lot more than
just provide news, as it offers a place to socialize and obtain information about continuation of education.
Ethical Appeal
The broad varieties of the stories posted on the KTLA 5 Morning News Facebook page also
apply to our personal human ethics. One of the recent top stories reveals Angelina Jolie getting tested for
the BRCA gene which tests for possibilities of developing cancer. KTLA 5 posted this story and asked its
audience if they would get tested for the gene and if they would undergo a procedure to remove it if it
resulted positive. This question poses an ethical decision upon the audience due to religious affiliation, our
13
14
present health, and many other personal factors. This story brought news to the public about a Hollywood
star, about latest improvements in medicine, and made us ask ourselves about major decisions we would
make ourselves. Another story which depicts a young 15 year old teenager accused of the murder of her
mother and stepfather also uses ethical appeal. The teenager will be sentenced to life in prison. These kinds
of stories are what get people involved, and they make us think about what we really think is right or
wrong in society. Again, as fans of the page, we can comment and tell others our feelings towards these
stories. The Facebook page attracts fans by depicting controversial topics, making us think about human
ethics.
Conclusion
Overall, I believe social networks are not all bad. Facebook not only allows you to interact
with friends and family, but it’s a place where you can share your opinions and ideas, and watch the news
that’s happening, not only in this country, but all over the world. Facebook can help you find a university or
find a job. Facebook is a site where you can do a lot more than just socialize. I believe it is all matters of selfcontrol, and those who find themselves on social networks all day just have to learn to prioritize their time
and tasks. I disagree with the idea that social sites are becoming too much of a good thing because I myself
am registered to two social networking sites, but I don’t go to them every day. I prioritize what’s most
important and may go socialize if and when I have time to do so. The KTLA 5 Morning News Facebook page is
a good example of a page that has rational, emotional, and ethical appeal by providing us with statistics and
facts, gives us the chance to interact with others, and posts stories that make us think about what is right
and what is wrong in our societies.
References
KTLA 5 Morning News. Facebook. (2013). Retrieved from https://www.facebook.com/ktla5morning
news?fref=ts
Lee, E. (2006). “Social sites are becoming too much of a good thing.”San Francisco Chronicle.
parents should protect kids from danger, they cannot protect them from the laws and rules we are all
subject to. Cleaning up all of a child’s mistakes eliminates the possibility of them feeling what consequences
of bad decisions are, therefore, prompting them to act without thinking in later years.
Putting Kids before Spouse
Spouse
Prioritizing children over spouse not only weakens the marriage, but also the child’s respect
for the parents. Spending the majority of time with kids and neglecting time with a spouse teaches kids not
to value or make time for relationships. Growing up in this kind of environment often causes people to act
out the same behavior in their own relationships. Allowing children to interfere with time or things set
aside for the spouse sends a message that they are more important than marriage, and therefore don’t have
to respect it. Although this lesson is learned from the parents, it can also manifest in the form of not
respecting other people’s marriages. Taking the children’s side, and undermining the other parents’
authority, makes children feel that they can avoid rules by playing one spouse against the other. This
contributes to an adult point of view that they can circumvent the legal system and moral standards by just
jumping from one situation to another. People often show more patience and compassion for their children
than for their spouses. They hold the opinion that children are deserving of patience because they are still
learning, and adults therefore deserve none because they are grown and know better. However, this
attitude teaches kids that adults aren’t allowed to make mistakes, and that they shouldn’t be patient with
other people.
Kids before You
Many parents spend so much time catering to their children’s every desire, that they have no
time left over to properly take care of themselves. A parent who forsakes all of their interests cannot model
healthy self-expression, individuality, or perseverance in an activity. A person who is constantly fatigued
and stressed from all of the demands of their children will inevitably display signs of stress to their kids and
possibly take it out on them. This way, the children never see the importance of having stress relief and
taking time to rejuvenate one’s self. In addition, it sends a message to kids that their parents are slaves to
them, thus making them very selfish. Putting aside all of your life’s goals for your children’s sake teaches
them that once you have children, you can no longer accomplish anything in life, which can lead to dread of
having a family or a defeatist attitude once they do. Parents who abandon everything that made them who
they were before becoming parents are not teaching their kids how to manage being a parent as well as
person. By suppressing one’s identity for the sake of child raising, the children will never have all of their
parent, rather a stressed-deprived version of them.
At the End of the Day
In conclusion, although treating children as more than second class citizens was necessary,
our culture has carried it from one extreme to the other. Though it may seem that making kids top priority
a social standard combats deadbeat parents, it has led to a lot of spoiled children that grow into selfish
adults.
Then and Now
By Karen Jackson
For many years in many cultures, children were regarded as better seen than heard. Children
survived by adapting to their parents’ lifestyles and staying in their places. Over time though, our culture
has developed the practice of parents adapting to children’s lifestyles. People have switched from treating
children as second class citizens, to being the center of their whole world. Although many believe that this
defines good parenting, in fact, it has proven detrimental to the family unit.
Being
Being Your
Your Kids’
ids’ Superhero
Trying to be your children’s superhero by protecting them from everything actually makes
them more vulnerable to danger when they go out into the world. Of course, nobody wants their children to
get sick, but an adult who has never even experienced a common cold would likely panic if any health
problem ever occurred. Males who are not allowed to participate in contact sports or rough housing of any
kind often find it difficult to handle themselves around other men. Children who never learn to resolve
conflict with their peers without parental interference often depend on their parents’ protection even into
their adulthood. Parents who never allow their children to figure out problems on their own never give
them the opportunity to learn problem solving skills. Taking children’s side whenever they are up against
an authority figure at school, in the world, or elsewhere weakens their respect for authority. Though
My Peaceful Second Home: The Diamond
By Kaleb Farley
Why does every person need a place of comfort and peace? So they can relax and enjoy the
quality of life. My special place is the baseball field. The baseball diamond is my peaceful place for countless
15
16
reasons. Like Gary Kamiya said in the story, “Life, Death and Spring,” “It’s good to have a place where you
can go to watch the world get old and young, live and die.” Mine is the baseball field.
The field is covered with tan dirt, fine cut green grass. The game’s season is in spring
because of the perfect weather. It’s the most relaxing, but also most intense sport at the same time, which
makes it such a great sport. It requires patience and persistence. I think it’s one of my peaceful places
because of the combination of being outside in the fresh air and the game itself.
The sound of the bat connecting with the baseball is one of my favorite sounds of baseball.
Especially when you hit the “sweet spot” of the bat where the ball jumps off the bat perfectly and travels
far.* Also, the soft thud sound when catching a baseball, and my teammates cheering me on while I’m up to
bat.* The music in between innings and the walk-up songs create a good vibe. The fans going wild when a
good play is made is something I enjoy as well.
Feeling on the seams of the baseball when I throw it and my black leather glove are some
other things that I like about the sport. The feeling of butterflies and the thrill in tight situations where
you have to clutch up are more reasons. I call this peace because I look forward to this sport, and it relieves
me from stress. Even though baseball can be stressful in tough situations, it gives a good feeling to perform
well under pressure.
There are many things and examples a baseball player can explain as to why they love the
game. “It’s my place of peace and a place I cherish,” like Gary said in “Life, Death and Spring.” The game is
90% mental and 10% physical which makes the game unique. Like the ranch for Gary Kamiya, the baseball
field is a place during spring where I enjoy staying because it provides me with peace.
Later, we started calling funeral homes and were all amazed by high, ridiculous prices for the funeral. My
uncle and his oldest son asked, “How will we pay for this?” Thankfully, all of our family members helped pay
for it. The overwhelming support from our family was beyond what we expected. My mom and her brother
are very close, but they don’t speak to the rest of their family. Once they all heard about the death of my
uncle’s wife, they all came and visited my uncle and gave him a lot of support. I was amazed that, after so
many years, they would come and show their support and even help financially. Nobody thought that the
funeral or the cemetery services would be full as they were.
Death in a family shouldn’t be a way for a family to be closer, but my aunt’s death brought us
all closer as a family. We used to visit my uncle and family once every three months; now, we visit them
weekly or they come over to Long Beach and visit us weekly. My uncle and cousin have been closer now.
Before my aunt’s death, they were distant, and now my cousin and his wife and kids have moved in with his
dad to help him. They offer help to each other and help cope with the death.
Death can teach one many things, especially in one’s own family. One thing a death can
reinforce is showing people that family is important. Nobody knows when they will lose a loved one, so it’s
important to spend as much time with them. It’s not a good feeling to regret something. Another thing is
that family will always be there for you, no matter what.
Work Cited
Orwell, George. “Shooting an Elephant.” The Longman Reader. New York: Pearson, 2012. 148-153.
Impact of a Death:
Death: My Experience
By Brenda Jimenez
I never knew that my life and my family’s would change radically on that cold Friday morning
on December 21 of last year. It seemed like a regular day until we received a call around eleven in the
morning. My uncle called my mom, and we were all in shock, very stunned, and saddened. Nobody expected my
aunt to die. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a dream and I knew it was going to be hard and it would
change a lot of things. Death can be unexpected and change your life in many ways.
My aunt had been sick earlier in the year but was doing better. She had a heart procedure
done in the beginning of 2012, in order to prevent a heart attack. I saw her for the last time the Sunday
before her death, and she looked healthier and stronger. On that Friday morning, she walked my cousin to
school. When she was one her way back home, she fainted one block away from her house. People called the
paramedics right away. On her way to the hospital, she passed away from a heart attack. It didn’t take long
for her to pass away, so she didn’t have to suffer. In George Orwell’s essay, “Shooting an Elephant,” he
explains how long it took for the elephant to die. Orwell says: “I heard later than it took him half an hour to
die.” Animals like humans can have slow or fast deaths.
When my uncle called and told us, his voice sounded sad, discomforted, and heartbroken. We
traveled as soon as we could to Santa Ana to be with him and my cousins. There were so many decisions to
be made. While the adults were deciding whether to bury her in Santa Ana or to send her body to Mexico, I
was sitting down in the kitchen feeling awkward, sad, and confused. It hurt me that my aunt died because
when I was a baby she took care of me and my brother because my mom had to work since she was a single
mother. I have always been thankful and will always be because she gave me love as if she was my mom.
st
Cancer: A Natural Cause of Death
By Francisco Arzate
Introduction
Living a healthy lifestyle is a challenge for Americans because we encounter more unhealthy
choices than we do healthy. The choices we make daily can determine our future health and life expectancy.
Making unhealthy choices can lead to acquiring of many unwanted diseases. A disease does not only cause
great harm, but can also cause death, also known in America as death by natural causes. Being educated and
aware of how to live healthy is vital to everybody to promote health and prevent illnesses. Cancer is one of
the many illnesses a person is fearful of having due to cancer being the leading cause of death for Americans
under age 85 and the second leading cause of death overall (Facts About Cancer, 2009). Since cancer is one of
the leading causes of death, how can it be prevented, and what are its causes?
Death
Dying from cancer is considered as natural cause of death to Americans. Cancer death rates
have continued to increase during the years. In previous years, cancer deaths were at a minimum. Many of
the causes of deadly diseases are caused by advertisements of products that cause more harm to us than they
do good. Some causes of cancer are alcohol, tobacco, diet, exposure to certain chemicals in the environment
and decreased physical activity. Most of these causes are habits adopted in many American cultures. The
drinking of alcohol and poor diet is greatly advertised in commercials through promoting fast food, beer,
and tobacco products. The smoking of tobacco exposes the smoker and others around them to many toxins
harmful to the human body. Many Americans expose self to tanning beds and pollution by industrial cities
high in pollution. Unaware of the harm of ultraviolet light coming from direct sunlight can lead to cancer.
Being unaware or ignorant to the causes of illness plays a big factor in deaths of Americans. The death of a
person not only affects the person dying, but also the people closely involved with them. Dying diagnosed
17
with cancer can be traumatic to the people involved. The increasing amount of death in America is due to
our lifestyle as Americans. We seem to expose ourselves to a really unhealthy lifestyle. A study has shown
that in 2012, there were 1,638,910 new cases of cancer where 577,190 were expected to die (Cancer Facts and
Figures, 2012). The next section will talk about the common causes of cancer that could be prevented to
reduce the risk of having it.
Causes
Much advertisement is presented to Americans daily while watching TV, driving, listening to
the radio, surfing the web, and almost everywhere we go. The advertisements presented provide a great
influence to our culture and lifestyle. Many of these advertisements are for products that are unhealthy to
the human body and are the cause of many cancers. Fast food restaurants that serve Americans unhealthy
greasy food lead to overweight and physically unfit people. The abuse of alcohol is another cause of cancer.
Many harmful agents are found in our environment that are known to cause cancer, such as certain
chemicals, sources of radiation, and viruses. Cancer can also be hereditary, meaning if one family member
had it, there is a great possibility that another member could have it. Stress for long periods can also be a
cause of having a cancer since it weakens a person's immune system making it less effective in destroying
abnormal cells in the body. Although cancer can strike at any age, older people are more susceptible; this is
because they have a weakened immune system, their powers of adaptability are weakened, and they have
been exposed to carcinogens over a longer period than have younger people (deWit, 2009, p. 161). Now that
we know about the common causes, we should be aware that these could be prevented through following
some simple measures.
Prevention
Prevention is better than cure as what many people say. There are different types of cancer,
but mostly all of them can be prevented or one can reduce the risk of having it by living a healthy lifestyle.
One way is through maintaining a healthy diet and being physically active. Adults who are active in any type
of physical activity at least three times a week gain health benefits. Another way is through avoiding
tobacco or choosing to stop using it because using this has been linked to various types of cancer, such as
cancer of the lung and bladder. This is a very important part of cancer prevention. Making healthy selections
at the grocery store and at mealtime does not totally guarantee that cancer can be prevented, but it will
help reduce the risk. Even though advertisements of fast food can be deceiving, people should learn how to
be more curious and should be aware of its nutritional facts. Avoiding ignorance can make a great difference
in prevention of cancer. Having the knowledge to identify prevention tactics, symptoms, and identification of
cancer will allow us to be a step ahead of death by natural causes. Getting immunized to be protected from
certain viral infections can also help with cancer prevention since some viral diseases can increase the risk.
Lastly, having regular doctor visits and screening for different types of cancers can help identifying cancer
early where treatment is most likely to be successful. There are certain cancer foundations that were
established supporting cancer research on causes and treatment with the goal of prevention and cure. One of
the organizations widely known is Susan Komen where their logo is a pink ribbon showing support
specifically for breast cancer (see Figure 1 below).
18
Figure 1 Chart of known cancers.
Starting cancer prevention methods early will be beneficial for healthy living: “The price of allowing
ourselves to truly live, to love and be loved, is the knowledge that the greater our investment in life, the
larger the target we create” (Johnson, 2012, p. 211).
Conclusion
Death due to cancer can be devastating, but it can be prevented. Making healthy choices may
be hard with advertisements enticing us to do otherwise. In order for us to help prevent deaths caused by
cancer, we need to make changes in our lifestyle and culture. In the reading “Bombs Bursting in Air,” the
author shows us how we can deal with a devastating event when she said, “Bombs bursting in air. They can
blind us, like fireworks at the moment of explosion. If we close our eyes and turn away, all we see is their
fiery image. But if we have the courage to keep our eyes open and welcoming, even bombs finally fade
against the vastness of the strarry sky” (Johnson, 2012, p.214). We can face the facts of cancer being a
leading cause of death in Americans, or we can turn a blind eye and avoid facing the facts.
References
Cancer facts and figures (2012). American Cancer Society. Retrieved from http://www.cancer.org/ac/
groups/content/@epidemiologysurveilance/document/acspc031941.pdf
deWit, S. (2009). Medical surgical nursing: Concepts and practice. St. Louis, MO: Saunders Elsevier.
Facts about cancer (2009). Research America. Retrieved from http://www.researchamerica.org/
uploads/factsheet1cancer.pdf
Johnson, B. (2012). Bombs bursting in air. The Longman reader. Tenth Edition. Upper Saddle River, NJ:
Pearson Education Inc.
19
Nursing Home Blues
By Brandon
Brandon O. Segovia
Elderly, wrinkled, and silent
Most of them are migrant
The nurses speak in terms
And sanitize unhealthy germs
They listen to the morning news,
I call this nursing home blues.
Not allowed to do as they please,
Or even feel the afternoon breeze.
How can you live in a place like this?
Where there’s a change of nurses every shift.
It’s bright and sunny right through the glass doors,
As they wait inside and remain a corpse.
Community Service Hours
By Ariel Rufo
Walking in, I am welcomed with noise.
The activity room is filled with stuffed toys.
I say my name and they all smiled;
They say “too young, you are only a child!”
I help pass out the morning tea
And watch nurses run wildly.
There is a code that has been called
There’s not one person that is stalled
I wait for things to simmer down
And look for things to do around
Lunch time comes and then I wait
As everyone finishes their plate.
After a while we start to play
Bingo and cards throughout the day.
The routine repeats for several weeks,
Of nursing home life that I have seeked.*
My hours are up and it’s time for me to go
They say they’ll miss me, very much so.
I walk out of the doors with warmness in my heart
Of an experience that I will never depart.
[*verb maintained deliberately as art]
20
Liberal over Vocational Education
By Kumba Varnee
Life after high school is usually a resilient time for students in this generation. After
completing both primary and secondary sets of schooling, attending college might be the last option on
several students’ minds. On the other hand, for the students that want to pursue a future career, they
understand attending college is crucial, and it must be done to achieve a better life. The only problem is
choosing the right college to attend. Many students are in a rush to make quick money and usually pick the
vocational over liberal schools for their degrees. The only complication with that is the students are limited
to their professions in the future. By choosing a liberal education over a vocational education, students will
observe the numerous effects that will result from this decision.
By selecting a liberal education over a vocational education, the student’s profession will not
be restricted. One can use a bachelor’s degree in several professions while students with vocational degrees
can only use that degree on one specific occupation. For example, a student who obtained a pharmacy
technician license after attending a vocational college can only be occupied in that position. If the student
feels inclined to become a pharmacist, they cannot use their pharmacy technician license to move up or even
acquire that position. Instead, the student must go back to school for a couple of more years to gain the
knowledge needed to become a pharmacist. The student that chose to attend a liberal college and received a
degree in biology can pursue a career in several different professions since it is such a large field. They can
use their degree to work in environmental labs, in the pharmaceutical field, clinical, and more, seeing that
liberal degrees offer a variety of fields to choose from.
Another effect from choosing liberal over vocational education is that students will have
more knowledge on logical thinking, comprehensive skills as well as mathematical skills. Liberal education
doesn’t just provide information on one subject; it gives students the ability to handle real life situations. It
can also be beneficial in solving business or personal obstacles because they’ve obtained the knowledge of
logical thinking as well as decision making. A student with a vocational education that specializes as a
medical assistant only has the skills that come with that profession. For instance, a medical assistant would
not be able to calculate and answer a question about the dosage of medicine that a two year old under 30
pounds would have to take. Knowledge is also limited if a student chooses to obtain vocational education.
They might be extremely well-informed on the subject they studied while in college and able to pass this
knowledge on to others, but are limited on information on other subjects.
The effects of having a liberal education over a vocational education can also benefit the
student by having a better future for either themselves and/or their spouse. One's family can live better by
obtaining a liberal education because they will be able to provide much better for their family. If a student
gets a degree from a vocational institute in engineering, yes, he or she would be able to provide for
themselves and/or family, but it wouldn’t be enough. With this salary, the student would be living paycheck
to paycheck, just managing to get by. With vocational degrees, their career isn’t stable as well. The way
technology is going, what if doctors used machines to check their patients’ vital signs instead of a medical
assistant. This job isn’t secure and because the student achieved a degree as a medical assistant, their
options are inadequate. They have no choice but to go back to school to get a degree that has a wider means
of field or to try to find a job that still uses medical assistants in their offices.
Choosing college after high school conveys students are enthusiastic about their future.
Deciding which path to take is very significant, so choosing the right school plays a major part in decision
21
making. I personally believe that obtaining a liberal degree is more beneficial over a vocational education.
Students should be able to choose from a variety of careers after graduating college with their degree, not
just one profession. Vocational degrees are good to get a step into the working field, but to pursue this as a
career for the rest of their life is only limiting their options. With a liberal education, one will gain the
knowledge of several different subjects and will acquire more skills than a person with vocational
education. Graduating with a degree can be an advantage when applying for a job, but students should be
aware that the amount of money and time they spent at a vocational college could have been more beneficial
by obtaining a liberal education that would last them a lifetime.
Beauty
By Maria Flores
Beauty, for many people is the physical aspect of a person, but to me is the soul of a human being.
Beauty in my opinion, is naked to the human eye, is what you can’t see, but when you really know a person
you could feel.
Beauty in my opinion cannot be physical because everyone could be beautiful, if being beautiful would be
physical, with just a little bit of makeup and name brand clothing.
Beauty is the kindness, the compassion, the gentleness and willingness to help someone who needs help
without wanting anything in exchange.
Physical beauty would wear off with time, but the real beauty will last forever.
Physical beauty could be bought, but not even all the money in world could afford real beauty.
It Is You
By Josephine Jones
That anxious feeling of watched
To turn around and nothing appears to be there.
It is oneself, chasing you. Telling you
Not to be afraid, stand tall, and go for what you want.
It is yourself who you fear.
Who can only defeat you, if you allow it.
Turn around and face your fear.
For your fear only appears to be you.
22
Rethinking the Thinking Process
By Kehmena Ockiya
In the United States, the average high school classroom consists of a teacher, the teacher’s
students, and a standardized curriculum mandated by states that help determine a school’s worthiness.
Unsurprisingly, many of America’s political figures and world leaders have gone through the previously
mentioned standardized process, as a complete education almost always guarantees a certain level of
elevated respect. On the contrary, there are those who have chosen not complete their education as the
traditional schooling process may have hindered their now-successful careers. Although the traditional
education system is widely used and accepted in most of today’s classrooms, the systemized curriculum that
follows may lead to unexciting learning environments which also possibly encourage delinquencies that
ultimately prevent the few willing students from becoming educationally successful. The effects of
traditional education are powerful enough to create an imbalance between students in terms of how
successful they will be as they progress through their education.
Courtesy of state testing, most public schools must follow predetermined curricula that
encourage tight schedules at the expense of student individuality and creativity. Since students tend to learn
differently simply because they are all different individuals, standardized curricula quickly create a division
between the smart and the challenged. The smart students, or those who experience little trouble when it
comes to adapting to the learning system already in place, will have little trouble maintaining desirable
grades and completing their education. “Reading was, at best, only a chore,” mentions Richard Rodriguez, a
now-avid reader and UC Berkley graduate, implying that he did not initially understand the purpose of
reading as a young student (Rodriguez 264). It is one thing to manipulate the traditional educational
process to obtain favorable results and another to understand and apply what is actually being taught.
As the majority of the concepts presented through traditional education cannot be easily
applied to real life situations, students who have trouble adapting to the traditional system quickly lose
interest. Since most children, in particular, end up spending their free time entertaining themselves, the
task of having to endure an unentertaining environment can be mentally and emotionally taxing. As a result,
the previously mentioned children seek out other forms of entertainment through creating various
distractions that include bullying. According to a dated British study on primary school students, students
tended to bully others when they had nothing better to do which suggests that environmental entertainment
plays an important role in student conduct within K-12 education (Stein 1). With traditional education
catering to the few students who are able to skillfully manipulate the system for good grades, it is
unsurprising that bullying and other delinquencies exist within school.
With an increase in conduct issues, it becomes increasingly difficult for the few students that
are willing to learn to focus under the traditional system. Although it may not be as difficult when compared
to what the early American abolitionist Fredrick Douglass had to go through to learn to read and write as a
child, an environment filled with uncontrollable conduct will inevitably impede the learning process
(Douglass 257). In fact, a 2011 study suggests that test scores are generally lower in schools that have been
surveyed for an environment high in bullying. Students that are bullied are typically more concerned with
how they will go about dealing with bullies as opposed to being concerned about maintaining focus within a
classroom (Womack 1). If the traditional system is creating bullies and encouraging other delinquencies as a
23
24
result of its boredom-inducing curriculum, perhaps education-style alternatives may prevent some of its
negative effects.
As the traditional system disregards individual learning capabilities, loses the interest of
students who cannot apply concepts learned to their own lives, and possibly makes way for conduct issues
due to an unentertaining environment, it is clear that there should be some sort of change in the system.
Even though there are people like Microsoft founder Bill Gates who set off to become successful without the
help of higher education and people like President Barack Obama who went through the system possibly for
the qualification aspect, the traditional system may ruin the great potential of creative thinkers who have
little choice but to complete their education. Alternative education methods exist, but the likelihood of their
implementation in a society that has used the long-running traditional method is very low. Nonetheless,
knowing the various drawbacks of the traditional educational system will be useful when the time comes,
when society decides to go about rethinking the thinking process.
have never been possible. I will never understand why times in America must become so ugly and
misfortunate before resulting in togetherness and triumph. So much hate for it to turn to so much love and
respect, presidency is even an example of such.*
Being rewarded to play a live game at Dodger Stadium was like heaven on earth. I recall us,
Westchester High School varsity baseball team, pulling up to the stadium on the school bus. We were all
undeniably and indescribably ecstatic. I recall us just screaming, “Oh my gosh, bro, we actually made it. We
are literally playing at Dodger Stadium today in front of an entire crowd. Bro, this can’t be life, man!!”
Thinking back, I believe everyone explained how it was the happiest day of their life thus far. For me,
although I have been a baseball fan and player since age six along with other sports, baseball being my first
love, it did not dawn on me until the moment we walked on the diamond and I gazed up in a complete turn
that I realized how far we had come as a race, sport, and nation. In that moment, I put myself in Jackie
Robinson’s shoes and how we were taught on how he was treated. I’m not sure if I would have the willpower
to be respectable and humble despite how I was being treated. Soon after that thought, I knew my
teammates and I had to put on the best show we could, both for our ancestors that made today possible for
us as a team to be brothers and for the future generations.
Both Robinson and Castro, along with others, took a chance on their life and something they
loved, putting pride aside, knowing it was not just for them but for many generations to come. As the game
began that day, there was no booing or hatred just a bunch of kids competing at a game that meant just as
much to them as life. The stands and dugouts integrated cheering one another on.* From this day forward, I
always continue to question why things must go bad before good, but I also knew it was my duty to never
prejudge or segregate. I realized I needed to do my best at everything I set out to do or be because I never
know what part of America or future generations I may be a stepping stone for. Also, because I have to
remember today may not have been possible: we could still be in fields or segregated. Racism lives on in some
people, but the day the varsity team stood together, competed, and won that game, I knew there was hope
for America. Even playing today at Compton, standing integrated in the dugout and on the field and hearing,
“Let’s go, #1! Go, CJ!” even when my family is not able to make a game, I smile inside and enjoy the game
even more. Someone risked it at all for this to be possible.
As we know, America has gone through many changes when it comes to race and in general.
Both blacks and browns have been known to be segregated against and outcast solely because of the color of
our skin, including in sports. The way we were once treated and decisions we were forced to make are
disturbing. However, my first time playing at Dodger Stadium--blacks, browns, and whites all together,
looking in the stands, seeing it integrated as well--made me realize and appreciate the change America had
made. Although I do not understand why things must go bad before good, I appreciate those that made this
day and life possible for me and for my dreams to be able to come true. I will continue to make them proud
from this field and in life.
Works Cited
Douglass, Fredrick. "Learning to Read and Write." The McGraw-Hill Reader: Issues Across the Disciplines.
Ed. Gilbert H. Miller. 9 ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2006. 257-61. Print.
Rodriquez, Richard. "The Lonely, Good Company of Books.” The McGraw-Hill Reader: Issues across the
Disciplines. Ed. Gilbert H. Muller. 11th ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2011. 264-267. Print.
Stein, Jeannine. "Bullying Climates at Schools May Be Linked with Lower Test Scores." Los Angeles Times.
11 Aug. 2011. Web. 7 May 2013.<http://articles.latimes.com/2011/aug/11/news/la-heb-bullying
testscores-20110811>
United States. Department of Labor. U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, 17 Apr.
2013. Web. 08 May 2013. <http://www.bls.gov/news.release/hsgec.nr0.htm>
Womack, Sarah. "Boredom Leads to School Bullying, Says Report." The Telegraph. Telegraph
Media Group, 7 Oct. 2007. Web. 7 May 2013. <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/
news/uknews/1565456/Boredomleads-to-school-bullying-says-report.html>.
th
America: The Continuous Change
By Christopher Jacobs
For the first time in the life of my teammates and me, we stood on the diamond of Dodger
Stadium. This was the beginning of a dream come true. We were seniors in high school who dreamed of one
day drafting to the major leagues and having the opportunity to play in this very spot. With hard work and
dedication, we were able to get a taste of that dream long before we thought; it was our high school
championship game being held at Dodger Stadium. It was not only an amazing and flabbergasting
opportunity because it was a glimpse of a dream come true, but because of the history that’s behind the
Dodgers and the stadium and the impact it has on the culture of baseball and America as well as black and
browns today. We were blacks and browns integrated in the world and in baseball.
Being only 21 years old, I, of course, was not born during the time of segregation in the world
or in baseball; however, that does not make it less real or important to me. Knowing, reading, watching, and
listening to how times were for blacks and browns in America a little over 60 years ago is saddening. At the
same time, it is empowering because without individuals like Jackie Robinson and Louis Castro and teams
like the Brooklyn Dodgers, as they were previously named, days like this that mean the world to me would
*Deliberate fragments
25
26
Subculture:
Some of Us
< Self Portrait: My Excuse To Go See You
By Isabel Herrera
Audrey Hepburn
By Jazmin Rodriguez >
< Untitled 1
By Linda Ray
A Woman’s Drag Strip
By Shaina Anderson
Drag racing, car racing, and riding motorcycles have always been done by men. Women never
seemed to race because, in this world, stereotypes for woman have always been to be a housewife and take
care of their children. Typically, men were the ones working on cars and riding motorcycles. Even today,
race tracks are filled with many male racers. To be a female racer, you would have to work twice as hard to
get men’s attention and to get the respect that we deserve. As for me, I race motorcycles on the drag strip
and the sights, sounds, and smells give me the drive to continue racing.
Bright colorful lights are what stand out as you pass the drag strip on the freeway. It takes
about four and a half hours to reach the Las Vegas drag strip. Many people would commute from everywhere
around the United States to compete or spectate. The road leading to the stadium is filled with hard driedout rocks from the extreme temperatures. In the parking lot, there are thousands of motorcycle riders and
unique colored motorcycles. As I am walking up to the check-in, I can see the whole track from start to
finish because of how high the rugged announcer booth was. In Gary Kamiya's essay "Life, Death and
Spring," he uses several descriptive details about life on the ranch and nature, including colorful language
and adjectives, to get his point across. He says, “No one could ever understand why people would rather live
here." This ties into how you grow up and what you love to be around. In my case, it just so happen to be the
track. The sight of this stadium gives me the courage to win.
HaHa! The clashing sound of laughter coming from men who are taunting the very few female
racers, including me.* Judith Ortiz Cofer's essay "Partial Remembrances of a Puerto Rican Childhood"
gives examples of how women were not treated equally with men. She says, "Women are not meant to be
classified as the weaker species of mankind," which meant women have the same right to do what men do
without being taunted. A racer by the name of Richard McKenzie is the ringleader of the trash-talking men.
It's time for me to race, and just my luck I'm competing against McKenzie. I couldn't concentrate on
preparing myself for this race because of the energetic, annoying pitch from the voice of the announcer and
the babbling noise of trash talk from McKenzie. As we are lining up at the starting point, he says, "You
might as well go sit in the stands and watch real men race." At this point, his ignorance is giving me the
drive to win this race to represent for female riders. As the race was coming to an end, we were both neck
and neck. Pow! The sound of the exhaust pipe blowing out from McKenzie's motorcycle.* Degrading women
is a perfect example of what not to do at a drag strip because karma can make anything happen.
As the exhaust pipe blew out, an unwanted stench from the smoke was inhaled by everyone at
the dragstrip. The attractive smell from the concession stand was no longer in the air. It took about thirty
minutes for that awful smell to disappear. As I was standing next to the spectators, I heard a few of them
saying, "Where is this funky breath coming from? Maybe, it's from everyone yelling." When they finally got
rid of the smoke, the announcer finally says who the winner is. He starts off with the second place winner,
which was McKenzie, and from that point I knew that I had won first place. The essay "The Storm This
Time" by David Helvarg explains how people are not prepared for disaster. Helvarg says, "People are not
prepared for a natural disaster." This ties into McKenzie’s race because he was so concerned about saying
females can't race that he forgot to do his checks before he raced.
The life of a woman trying to fit in with the male gender can be quite challenging. As a
woman knowing that you accomplished something even when somebody is discouraging you gives great
satisfaction. Despite the harsh comments of doing the so-called "impossible," it should give you more drive
27
to make it possible.
*Deliberate fragment
16 Bars of Procrastination
By Marcus Coleman
Getting dressed for school and I’m putting on my socks
I see my book laying there right up under my shoe box.
What I’m wondering now is to do it or to not.
I’m bored; I’m lazy getting nagged by my old lady,
and I won’t be working for a while unless you want to pay me.
I got a universal skill; the only one I need, you can use it trying anything
But probably won’t succeed. You can learn it easily ‘cause there’s no need for concentration
It’s a tool for slackers everywhere; it’s called procrastination.
The ancient art, of starting everything too late
Although it’s seen as a negative, it’s a common trait.
One of the main things you can do that your parents hate…..is procrastinate.
A little facebook then I’ll work. Check my email, then I’ll jerk.
When I hear mom coming up, act like I’m writing, then I’ll smirk.
Procrastination is tight, procrastination is fun,
And if you time it just right, you might just get your work done.
A thing that you might do if your attention span isn’t great……..is PROCRASTINATE.
28
We watched a line form outside of Voodoo Donuts, a brick building with a cotton candy pink
door and a bold sign proclaiming, “The Magic is in the Hole.” There was a buzz of tourists and locals alike,
awaiting rare concoctions like the Marshall Mather’s Doughnut, Bacon Maple Bar, and Ain’t That a Peach
Fritter. A group of mangy, young gutter punks with a plump Chihuahua, propped themselves against a tree
nearby, asking if anyone could “spare a dunker” from their dozen.
It was Saturday. We were in close proximity to the Portland Spirit. Its horn sounded from
the Willamette. Heels pattered the asphalt. A roar of chatter came from taverns and microbreweries on
each street and patrons, young and old, enjoyed beer and pickled foods. A couple’s parchment paper
crinkled as they bit into a savory treat they obtained from The Dump Truck food cart on SW Alder Street.
We heard the echoing of the TriMet, hauling its way through the narrow streets and the dinging of petty
cab bells, offering an economical, “$1 per street”, ride. We were aware of a soft rattling of trees, but it did
could not drown out the vivacious hum of the city.
The air was a tolerable humid. Every so often, a gust of green, northern wind would swoop
out from around a street corner, soothing our moist faces and overcoming the smell of fuel from passing
cars. It drifted from the river and its distinct aroma reminded us that the city still belonged to the forest
and that our stay was only temporary.
Portland will always remain with me. Its nuanced and complex character cannot be
completely recaptured with words, but it still lives vividly in my memories. The winding gears from a 10speed, the faint smell of greenery, a well muddled mint julep, or the sultry twang of live blues amidst a
stirring crowd, can lead me right back.
Work Cited
White, E.B. Once More to the Lake. The Longman Reader. 9 ed. New York: Pearson, 2009. Print.
th
Portland, My Friend
By Jaclyn Holst
“It was strange how much you can remember about places like that once you allow your
mind to return into the grooves which lead you back,” E.B. White writes in “Once More to the Lake.” A
friend and I decided to take a road trip to Portland, Oregon. We heard it was a place that understood the
true meaning of American freedom, shared our liberal views, and accepted eccentricity with warm smiles.
“Keep Portland weird.” We saw it on passing bumper stickers, spray painted outside of buildings in Old
Town, or heard it strummed into the lyrics of a folksy song. Today, memories of that trip still speak fondly
to me.
The July sun was bright over Northwest Davis Street, but in the distance, fog lingered over
high cliffs, lush with enormous Redwoods. Just below, the silhouette of the city emerged. Modern
buildings reached skyward. They were juxtaposed with nature, but mimicked the large trees around them
and seemed more organic than their steel structures would suggest. The streets were a texture of damp,
overgrown verdure and cool, hard pavement. Sepia, green, and grey tones encompassed us as we took in
our surroundings.
A man waved as he passed us, heading south on 13th. He sported an ironic French mustache,
wayfarers and an effeminate, retro gold outlaw helmet. He had a large leg tattoo, an image of Johnny Cash
glaring antagonistically and giving onlookers the finger. His T-shirt read, “livin’ the dream.” He was a
perfect metaphor for the city: enigmatic.
Visual Analysis
By Chesselle Summers
Sandra Raynor’s photograph, “Unspoken,” describes the story of a young female who isolated
herself from the rest of the world. However, the artist has left it for the audience to decide the nature of
isolation. We must work out whether the isolation is factual or emotional. It could be either a result of
alienation or being rejected in the society and the rough treatment she might have received from others.
Throughout the work, the artist gives us several signs, such as the bearing figure in the background apart
from the posture and the body language of the woman. On the whole, all these aspects combine to form a
strong image of emotional separation and withdrawal from the society.
The body language and facial expression of the woman suggest that she is in internal distress
and discomfort. The artist has created a body position which suggests that she has little or no connection
with society.
Figure 1 Photograph entitled “Unspoken”
29
30
Moreover, the photograph shows that the knees are being pulled tightly to the chest with the elbows
drawing inwards. Also, the photograph shows the woman looking down and holding her head. This shows
that she is alienated and is going through severe depression, and there is something deep going on inside
her.
This claim of emotional abandonment is further supported by the passive and non-interactive
association among the different aspects of the photo. The woman does not recognize the viewer’s existence
in any way although we are watching her from close range. It seems as if we are watching her through
binoculars from a distant place, raiding a secret moment both uninvited as well as unappreciated. The
solitary other personality in the photo, an unclear male body in the backdrop, also fails to bond with the
woman.
This impassable partition among people is extended by the parting of the photo into two
parts, a forefront along with a background. Primarily, the bars are used as a separator among these two
different, as well as far-away, spaces. Ahead of the bars, the backdrop is unclear, making evident the
thought of an overwhelming space among the girl and the surroundings. The ghostly backdrop body disturbs
her but fails to materialize and stop her loneliness. Mutually, separation as well as dimness implies that
these two people might have at some point in time shared an association. However, at present, something
unfortunately keeps them away from each other.
Furthermore, the iron bars dividing the photo clearly demonstrate isolation although we are
still not sure if the isolation is self-imposed or is a result of external factors. However, the facial expression
links her distress to internal factors rather than external factors. Since there is nothing in the photo which
suggests that the woman is in the surroundings of a prison, we interpret that the bars are used as a means
to describe the woman’s internal state of distress and discomfort.
In addition to that, the title of the photo “Unspoken” also helps us to analyze the scene. The
picture demonstrates a blurred figure of a man walking away from the scene and the young woman. This
distance might be reflecting on the lack of emotional or verbal exchange between the man and woman. The
author hasn’t given solid answers, but she has left it on the viewer to interpret, keeping all the possibilities
open.
References
Raynor, S. (2010). “Unspoken.” Retrieved from http://www.google.com.pk/imgres?q= Sandra+Raynor
%E2%80%99s+%E2%80%9CUnspoken%E2%80%9D&hl=en&biw=1280&bih=827&tbm=isch&tb
nid=ANSAEU15PzWM:&imgrefurl=http://faculty.smcm.edu/lnscheer/IVT/3_essayassess.htm
&docid=GZHLCvSflwewAM&imgurl=http://faculty.smcm.edu/lnscheer/IVT/3_essayassess_
files/image002.gif&w=338&h=234&ei=umuxUfCVL8SIhQfktYHYBw&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur
=250&page=1&tbnh=136&tbnw=200&start=0&ndsp=37&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:79&tx=110
&ty=71
Doctorow, C. (2012). When Gloria Steinem and Samuel Delany clashed over Wonder Woman. Retrieved from
http://boingboing.net/2012/12/27/when-gloria-steinem-and-samuel.html
and die.”* His place was a ranch, but mine is a city called Las Vegas. Why this city in particular, you may
ask? Well, it’s because this city gives me a sense of freedom and anxiety. Even though many people visit this
city to gamble, my visit to Las Vegas is for a different reason.
As soon as I arrive to the beautiful bright-lit city of Las Vegas, the first thing I notice is the
tall breathtaking buildings. During the night, the city seems to be more “alive” in a sense, because of all the
bright casino lights and the overcrowded sidewalks. You could say that these beautiful bright buildings are
like a “blue heron” to me, and just as Kamiya mentions: “It felt like a benediction” (Kamiya 113). Another
noticeable thing is the overwhelming traffic on the main street where the casinos and hotels are located.
Luckily, they’ve built a bridge over the street, so people can walk across the main street without disrupting
the cluttered traffic.
A couple of things I dislike are the constant clashing of other people’s conversations as well
as the blaring horns of the cars. Strangely, the loud beeping noises of the slot machines don’t bother me at
all. The thing I like most about visiting Las Vegas is getting to see and hear all the live bands perform. The
type of music that these bands play may sound to some people, as Kamiya mentions, “like a war zone”
(Kamiya 113).
During the day, if you happen to be walking around outside on the main street in front of the
casinos, you’d feel the hot blazing heat from the blinding sun. However, instead of walking outside in the
blazing heat, I enjoy the cool refreshing water of the hotel’s pool by going in for a swim. This is one of my
favorite things to do when I visit this unforgettable city. As my time in Las Vegas passes, I feel as though I
had just arrived, even though a few days had already gone by, like the feel of wind left by a speeding car. At
times like these, I wish the same thing Kamiya mentions in his story “Life, Death and Spring” about
something “you wish could last forever, but that fades almost as you look at it,” just so I could see what
more this city had in store for me.
In almost every single casino I visit, there is always an excessive stench of cigarettes. This
overwhelming scent of cigarettes is almost like the smell of an animal that has been dead for weeks to me,
like Kamiya mentions: “Almost all the flesh was gone, but there was still enough to raise a powerful stink”
(Kamiya 111). There is also the scent of different types of colognes and perfumes clashing in the casinos and
hotels. All of these odors can really overwhelm you, but I usually just try to find a nearby food court or
restaurant so that the delicious and unique scent of the different foods overpowers the disturbing stench of
cigarettes and colognes. However, as soon as I walk past the food court or restaurant, I’m attacked by all
the aromas of the delicious food being cooked or served.
In the end, this beautiful city has many sites to see, not just the casinos. Life in Las Vegas
seems to pass by in just a blink of an eye. Every time I visit this city, it’s a wake-up call because I’m reminded
that time passes so fast that I have to stop for just a moment and look at the surroundings around me to see
the beauty of the world. Most people in our time now usually don’t bother to slow down or stop during the
day to see the world around them or the people surrounding them, old and young. Kamiya’s place is the
ranch, where he mentions that he watches “the world get old and young, live and die,” but my place is Las
Vegas (112).
The City of Las Vegas
By Marvin Cruz
I have a place where I like to go other than my usual home. Just like “Gary Kamiya” mentions
in his story “Life, Death and Spring,” about a place where he can “watch the world get old and young, live
31
Counterculture:
Critiquing Us
32
No Desire to Tweet
By Chrystle Scott
As one cartoon would suggest, today’s society is in a social media whirlwind. I may be one of
the very few who stands against the belief that one needs to have a Twitter account to maintain social
relevancy or as a means to connect with today’s youth (See Fig. 1).
While reading Farhad Manjoo’s article “Do I Really Have To Join Twitter?” I was in total
agreement when he stated, “In other words, it’s hard for many to shake the feeling that Twitter is a waste
of time” (Manjoo 148). Not that I am against such media types, but is it an absolute necessity? To some, a
Twitter account and having a business are a rational must-have--the belief that social media such as Twitter
offers the opportunity for business to reconnect to people.
Figure 1 Cartoon illustrates the changes in society caused by Twitter
Top Left to Right: Sammy Davis, Jr. By Carlos Vergara | Ab Sol By Egypt Muhammad | Robert Downing, Jr.
By Brian Macias | John Coltrane By Edelbert Alvarado | Ché By Daniel Felix | Al Pacino By Nicolas Uscanga |
Emiliano Zapata By Samuel Isidoro
While there are obvious benefits to “connect” and advertise with the likes of Twitter, what about the
advertising of long ago? Television ads, radio ads, newspapers, and even billboards still have the potential to
reach the masses. In an article by Forbes magazine, it reported that in 2011 television ads reached over
283,302,000 people, and ads on social media reached 211,633,000 people.
Then, there are some who would like to argue the emotional standpoint that students who
use social media sites, such as Twitter, are at a better advantage of being accepted into college than those
who do not actively engage. According to journalist Amy Jo Martin, “Students with a robust social media
presence and clearly defined personal brand stand to become more influential.” In the author’s opinion,
“Universities want to recruit the students that they believe will best represent the university.” I beg to
differ. Like previously stated, I do understand there are benefits to certain social media outlets. However, to
say that one child will or could have an advantage over another child because of a Twitter account, in my
opinion, is quite absurd. There are many parents, like myself, who cannot afford the new types of “smart
phones” which make the numerous social media sites so readily accessible. There are many households that
33
34
do not have computers or access to the internet for that matter. And while the school library computers are
always available, I would suggest those students, including my own, are using the time for actual homework
and not for building a “robust social medial presence.”
In his essay “Do I Really Have To Join Twitter?” author Farhad Manjoo claims that “Twitter
is a cinch to get into: you sign up, pick a few people to follow, then start typing out your thoughts, making
sure to keep each post below the 140 – character limit” (Manjoo 149). Then, after reviewing several more
articles explaining how social media sites, such as Twitter, are revolutionizing how humans are
communicating, now there are some who say that there is a need for a Social Media Detox. You see it
everywhere! Social media has become overwhelming. Even when you drive through your favorite fast food
restaurant drive-thru, or when you finish watching your favorite television show, the infamous hash tag
sign, Facebook logo, or Twitter bird icon pops up. There are so many social media sites, it’s hard to keep
track. Which site do you choose to stay “relevant” or “connected” to your students? And once you do sign up
and log on, when is enough – enough? Author Chris Pirillo said it best when he stated ,“You don’t need to be
everywhere in order to make a difference in this world.”
I don’t want to sound like the little old lady who is scared of change. My opposition isn’t even
with “Twitter.” I understand the purpose behind social media; I would even agree with some and admit it
has been helpful for me. The idea that you NEED such media sites to stay “socially relevant” is what tends to
bother me. Maybe, I am just too old to care about my popularity. Or it might just be I am too busy keeping my
children healthy and alive to worry about a hash tag every time I decide to make a move – but I wouldn’t
label that “socially irrelevant.”
References
Glasbergen, Randy. "Twitter." Cartoon. Today's Cartoon. N.p., 28 Apr. 2011. Web. 21 May 2013.
<http://www.glasbergen.com/cartoons-abouttwitter/>.
Manjoo, Farhad. "Do I Really Have To Join Twitter?" The McGraw-Hill Reader: Issues across the Disciplines.
By Gilbert H. Muller. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2011. 148-49. Print.
Martin, Amy. "The Truth About Kids And Social Media | FastCompany | Business Innovation." Fast Company.
N.p., 24 May 2013. Web. 25 May 2013. <http://www.fastcompany.com/3010034/the-truth
about-kids-and-social-media>.
Pirillo, Chris. "How Much Social Working Is Too Much?" PBS. PBS, n.d. Web. 24 May 2013.
<http://www.pbs.org/mediashift/2009/01/warningdependence-on-facebook-twitter-could-be
hazardousto-your-business029>.
While most American writers are known because of their virtuous works about the greatness of American
values and their creative and trendsetting methods of writing, some of America’s finest writers are known
for their struggle in simply attempting to exercise their right to write. Therefore, the role of the American
writer, American Literature and the idea of America as well, shall always carry controversy for its
contradictive views and its injurious yet stylistic critique of itself.
America’s rights have always depended on what America writes. Since the “Declaration of
Independence”, American Literature has been the spokesperson for American values and has been the voice
of oppressed people everywhere. The American writer is therefore synonymous with struggle. Langston
Hughes’ greatest material is about the inadequacies in treatment of “minority” American citizens by
America’s first group of immigrant citizens. It is ironic that America, or the idea of America, has always
been there for any who have run to its bosom for the comfort of “Justice for all.” The first European exiles
who fled their unjust Monarchy, found refuge in the idea of America. Then, when they were the ones in
power, they began to become like the Kings and Queens which they once were oppressed by. When slaves
begged for the idea of America and ran away from oppression through the racist fields of its new monarchs
and traveled to freedom through its undergrounds and shadows, America was there. When Mexican children
refused to sit in horse stables and call themselves American Students, America listened. Henceforth,
American literature reflects a nation with internal conflict and suppressed potential for greatness.
Besides critiquing itself, another role of the American writer is its contribution to the world
of Literature by introducing the rest of the world to the variety, honesty and originality of its American
literature. American writers like Twain, Stein, Dubois, Hughes, Howell, and Plath, to name a few, have taken
the idea of America and dressed it up, and down, and taken it on a world tour for everyone to see. Though
brutish literature has been around far longer than its American counterpart, the contributions of American
literature have been exemplary and unique because of its diverse range of culture and perspectives of
literature. While Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn uses the word “nigger” indiscriminately, Hughes uses the
word American defensively. While Hurston uses the word “colored” facetiously, Stein uses all words
artistically; while Howell uses his words professionally, Richard Wright’s characters speak colloquially.
Therefore, American Literature’s prestige is its multi-versatility due to its multi-cultural perspective within
its contextual boundaries. But yet, despite its multi-dynamic global potential, the American writer is too
busy writing for its rights against itself.
America was built out of an idea of freedom and equality, yet the writers of its constitution,
made sure to contradict themselves by stating that “All Men are created Equal” and then writing the value
of a black man as “Three-Fifths” of a person. The idea of America would later show up in the written form of
the 13 Amendment to, using other American writers, justify its inhabitants’ inequities. The American
writer’s role in America is to represent the views of his particular group. Whether it is a white supremacist
group, a Black Nationalist movement, or an immigrant picket sign, America’s writers have a duty to the
whole rather than the sole. It is this same quality which, because of the lack of an integrated sense of
country, creates internal conflict within America, creating an “Atlantis” type of nation, leaving it
submerged beneath the cold, dividing waters in a sea of segregation. This unsettling fact brings the
greatness and downfall of the idea of America and places it in the hands of each American writer, who then
uses it against itself.
Though the idea of America existing in a world run by ethnocentric beings can be considered
an imaginary theme in the world of literature, American writers have made that imaginary notion a reality
The American Writes for American Rights
By Carlos Ornelas
The idea of a country like America ever existing in a world mainly run by ethnocentric
creatures can be categorized only as a theme in the literature genre of fantasy fiction. The idea of freedom
of speech, gender equality, and cultural acceptance is a dream envisioned by the enslaved, the just, and the
oppressed. Other than those few people, the idea of America is an inconvenience to those who benefit from
slavery, oppression, and injustice. The idea of America is what makes this country great, not the country
itself. The intention of “Justice for all” is, and has always been, the true potential strength of America,
Americans, and American Literature. The role of Americans in literature, however, is one which, depending
on the Author’s skin tone and ethnicity, may be seen as patriotic or radical, depending on whom you ask.
th
35
36
which the world now recognizes. The objective of “Justice for all” still remains the true asset of America,
Americans, and especially American Literature. And though the role of Americans in literature is one which
can either be branded as patriotic or extreme, it is nonetheless, an American role, depending on whom you
ask. Besides being known for their virtuous works about the greatness of American values and the horrors
of their American struggle, American writers are known for their literary value to the world of literature.
In the world of writing, all writers write for their particular reasons and motives; in the case of American
Literature, amongst its poets, authors, politicians, and artists, the American writes for American Rights.
predominantly white public schools” (p. 291). The availability of a Liberal Arts Education far exceeds Jim
Crows’ biased way of educating black youths. Through the contributory causes (advocacy and voting rights)
of the Brown v. Education case, students (both black and white) now have the opportunity to take a positive
position in society through a higher learning system equally available to all student races.
It is through contributory causes that a Liberal Arts Education prepares students for a
supportable life. Graduating students are equipped with skills that allow for a life of significance and
achievement through several causes: dedication to the achievements of higher learning, possessing
competitive skills, and becoming a valuable member of society. These causes are sufficient in bringing about
the developmental effects of obtaining a sustainable life. Just as Frederick Douglass wrote in “Learning to
Read and Write,” he adopted a plan by which he was most successful in learning to read. The writer made
friends with all the little white boys, as many as he could, to accumulate knowledge from as many sources as
possible to convert them into teachers. He wrote that he obtained their help at different times and different
places to learn to read. The writer read while running errands, he used bread to bestow upon the hungry
little urchins, who in return, would give him valuable bread of knowledge. Frederick Douglass’ contributory
causes of encountering and utilizing his surroundings caused the effect of learning to read.
A Liberal Arts Education can fulfill a student’s need to acquire a sustainable life. Its
influential effects are positive and substantial in the interaction of society. It is through a Liberal Arts
Education that students become familiar with micro-societies, which reflect society itself. It is through this
system of learning that students not only acquire an education, but aspirations and drives of becoming
successful Americans. The Liberal Arts Education can provide a stage for which a student can be ready to
enter a wide variety of careers. Fortune 500 Magazine reports that 38% of American CEO’s majored in
Liberal Arts during their education and eight out ten U.S. Nobel Prize winners acquired their degree from a
Liberal Arts Education.
Works Cited
Carson, Clayborne. “Two Cheers for Brown vs. Board.” The McGraw-Hill Reader: Issues across the Disciplines.
Ed. Gilbert H. Muller. 11 ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2011. 285-290. Print
Douglass, Frederick, “Learning to Read and Write.” The McGraw-Hill Reader: Issues across the Disciplines.
Ed. Gilbert H. Muller. 11th ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2011. 258-262. Print
Gelernter, David, “Unplugged: The Myth of Computers in the Classroom.” The McGraw-Hill Reader: Issues
across the Disciplines. Ed. Gilbert H. Muller. 11th ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2011. 278-280.
Print.
Money.cnn.com/magazines/fortune
The Causes and Effects of a Liberal Arts Education
By Charlesie Brisco
The causes and effects of a Liberal Arts Education are contributory causes that can lead to a
sustainable life. It requires a student’s dedication to the achievements of higher learning, possessing
competitive skills, and becoming a valuable member of society. It is a complete area of interconnected
educational experiences of language, math, history, and science that prepares students for higher learning
in fields such as healthcare, law, commerce, and other specialized fields. The experience of a Liberal Arts
Education allows students to be able to compete in the workforce, understand government, and have societal
skills to become valuable and influential community members. It also progressively influences the way
students think and feel about society, and its imbalance of the distribution of wealth, which encourages a
life that will lead to a viable future.
A Liberal Arts Education can increase a students’ chance of becoming an expressive and
educated person in society. It comprises a thorough knowledge of history, and its teachings include the
importance of why and how our laws and politicians are elected. A Liberal Arts student can be an expressive
member of society by invoking the right to vote and impacting the outcome of many political fallacies.
Those who lack knowledge of politics or law may not be able to effectively determine if certain politicians or
laws are deceptive and misleading in their presentations to society for election.
An example would be the last Presidential election. Defeated Presidential candidate Mitt
Romney advocated for American corporations. In reality, the candidate was in charge for the bankruptcy
and the winding-up of several American corporations while he made millions of dollars by doing so. Romney
was publicly exposed for his involvement in the demise of American corporations, but still his numbers were
up in the polls. There were Americans who either refused to see the untruths this candidate advocated or
who just did not execute the common sense to know better. In failing to execute the common sense to know
better is a reminder of Gelernter’s “Unplugged: The Myth of Computers in the Classroom,” where the writer
is emphasizing computers and their contribution to educational nightmares. “Because to misspell is human;
to have no idea of correct spelling is to be semiliterate,” the same as not being versed on laws and politics is
human; but not to realize what or who you are voting for is to be semiliterate (p. 280). The advocates for
the Voting Rights Act of 1965 helped pave the way for such an education to ensure common sense. It would be
a shame not to have one.
Gone are the days of the Jim Crow system. A system of segregation amongst blacks and
whites in segregated school systems that restrict the ability to achieve the goal of becoming expressive and
educated through a Liberal Art Education.* Clayborne Carson, author of “Two Cheers for Brown v. Board of
Education,” wrote “The Jim Crow system no longer exists, but most black American schoolchildren still
attend predominantly black public schools that offer fewer opportunities for advancement than typical
th
37
The Other Side of an American Story
By Latasha Scott
Living in one of the richest countries in the world, it is surprising that we have people living in
poverty and unsafe conditions. In America, our government spends money overseas to rebuild the conditions
of other countries, while our communities are plagued with drugs, crime, and hunger. In “Flavio’s Home,”
Gordon Parks writes: “I’ve never lost my fierce grudge against poverty.” This reminded me in a small way of
the housing projects I grew up in. Surrounded by people with little education, limited health care and oh-soeager to stand in long lines for free food and hand-me-down clothes.* Parks writes: “It is the most savage of
all human afflictions, claiming victims who can’t mobilize their efforts against it, who often lack strength to
digest what little food they scrounge up to survive.” Being raised by a single mother, I watched as she had to
work a lot, leaving my siblings and me unattended frequently. My childhood best friend’s home is where I
spent most of my time. Unfortunately, she lived with a grandmother who survived on public housing and
welfare and a crack-addicted mother. Even though my mother was nothing like hers, I pondered if I was also
affected by her home life experience. Yes, I was affected and so was our whole community, because crime and
drug abuse had become so transparent. The first step to a solution would be like in “Flavio’s Home,” Gordon
Parks does not ignore the needs of Flavio, but takes action where he can.
Sometimes, our childhood experiences affect our adult choices more than we realize. For example, like
Flavio, as a child, I had some freedoms and responsibilities of an adult, yet the innocence and lack of good
judgment as a child. Spending time at my friend’s house was not a good environment, because of exposure
and susceptibility to drugs, crime, and everything else. We became so accustomed to seeing these things, it
was almost animated; these things became funny to us. Children not exposed to these behaviors would never
find humor in the things we had seen; they would be afraid. Somehow, we thought we were in control of
ourselves and our environment and could protect ourselves if we needed to.
Sometimes, we would stay around just to see “the show,” we called it because we knew what they had
in those brown paper bags would change them. For instance, we’d sit and watch as her mother and her
“crack-head friends,” we called them, stumbled around, falling on the ground--how we’d laugh! Sometimes,
they would argue and even fist fight. How slow and out of breath, we thought. The things they said and the
way they cursed, we got a kick out of it. We even used those same curse words when we played with other
children. I remember acting out their silly antics in funny little skits; falling and rolling on the ground,
laughing loud, and slurring our speech. Like Flavio in Gordon Parks’ “Flavio’s Home,” we were adapted to
our environment and did not realize how sad it looked from the outside looking in. We adjusted as a way to
cope, because, when we were not laughing, there was sadness, especially for my friend. The things we’d seen
were only funny amongst us, without judgment from the outside world. It was not funny to find out her mom
had stolen her grandmother’s food stamps or taken the last of the food from the house in exchange for
money or drugs. Sometimes, we’d see her mother outside of our middle school begging passing students for
money; we’d hide. Most often, in the following days, we would join in with fake laughs, when everyone talked
about, “The crazy crack-head lady,” how she smelled and asked for everyone’s snack money. Like Gordon
Parks in “Flavios’ Home,” I wanted to help her. I did not have much, but she found solace in sleeping over at
my house from time to time, even though it was only around the corner.
When you are surrounded by poverty and disparities, your expectation for yourself is not high. It was
not until years later that I realized how that experience had affected me. The goals I set for myself were
38
substandard, to say the least. I did not realize my own potential. The friends and men I involved myself with
suffered the same low self-worth issues, therefore, had nothing to offer me except a false sense of
confidence. Being around peers of equal status allowed my lack of motivation to go unnoticed. I was normal.
I was like everyone else.
Realizing that child neglect, crime, and drug abuse are not the problem of few in a community, but
realizing these disparities become everyone’s problem, this is the first step to a solution. Being a positive
role model for a child who is susceptible to negative influences can impact not only that child, but the whole
community. My question is, do our childhood experiences limit our future potential? Of course, they can if we
allow them. I realize these issues can seem too big or too far away from our own truths and realities, but
recognition is the key and action is the answer. Gordon Parks writes: “Now it’s time to get Flavio to a
doctor.” As a child our choices are limited, but after that, life is what you make it.
Work Cited
Parks, Gordon. “Flavio’s Home.” The Longman Reader. New Jersey: Pearson Education, 2012. 95-101.
American Dream: American Reality
By Victoria Ngemegwai
Jamaican singer-songwriter and musician, Nesta Robert “Bob” Marley, believed in the notion
of “one love” – not black love or even white love, but a universal love. According to Marley, “Until the
philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and
abandoned… Everything is war. Me say war. That until there’s no longer 1 class and 2 class citizens on
any nation… Until the color of a man’s skin is of no more significant than the color of his eyes, me say war.
That until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all with regard to race me say war!” Racism
establishes categories, divisions, and sub-divisions within the human race. This leads us to believe in the
freedom of one while oppressing the other. Until we understand why racism is woven into the fabric of
American culture, we will continue to fight fire with wood. Therefore, America’s racism continues to
perforate the foundation of equality and is often supported in our social interactions with each other.
Growing up in Nigeria, West Africa, I perceived America as a place of social equality and opportunity, but my
family vacation in Las Vegas, Nevada, unraveled my notion on racism in America, which mirrors Audre
Lorde’s experience with racism in her essay, “The Fourth of July.”
I remember my summer vacation in Las Vegas, Nevada, with my four children. It was my
children’s first time there. Three days before our trip, I reviewed our plans with a travel agent that
included flight tickets, car reservations, hotel accommodations, and family activities. Although it was
cheaper to drive, I decided to buy airline tickets to give my children the experience of flying for the first
time. It was a blistering and parched afternoon the day we started our vacation, and the whole family was
buzzing through the house trying to pack last minute items. This scene mimics Lorde’s “The Fourth of July,”
in which “Preparations were in the air around our house before school was even over. We packed for a
week. There were two very large suitcases that my father carried, and a box filled with food” (Lorde 127).
My girls neatly stowed their suitcases with several multicolored cotton dresses, weathered jean shorts,
Coppertone kids’ sunscreen, and a disposable Kodak camera to capture memorable moments with the family.
My son stuffed all his Pokemon and Sponge Bob clothing and a few of his toys into his children-size suitcase.
Within an hour, we were on our way to the airport.
st
nd
39
40
At the Los Angeles International Airport, we watched other families partake in their own
family vacation. We were right on schedule even though we had to enter two medium- size lines for our
boarding passes and check-ins. The service we received was courteous and informative; the middle-aged
female attendant generously gave my children a Southwest Airline keychain, since it was their first time
flying. While lounging in the airport terminal, my children and I gazed outside the wall-of-glass window at
the planes shuffling through the tarmac for their departure or arrival. My two youngest children pressed
their moist fingers against the glass to point and predict the plane’s destinations. “Uche and Sam! Look over
there…that plane is going to Hawaii because the plane’s art decal has a woman wearing a hibiscus flower in
her hair,” explained my eldest daughter, Ngozi, as she reclined on the faded blue cushioned chair. “Flight
2745 to Las Vegas, Nevada, McCarran International Airport is boarding,” announced the well-dressed airline
attendant by the boarding gate. We were well on our journey from smoggy Los Angeles to all-you-can-eat
Las Vegas.
As I drove the rental car past the historic ‘Welcome to Las Vegas’ neon sign and on the Las
Vegas strip, my children took several pictures of the amazing structures. The car was parked under a
shaded structure, but it was not enough to keep us from sensing the scorching heat and the bright white
sunrays as we entered the Circus Circus Hotel. From the outside, the hotel was designed as a weathered
pink-and-white circus tent, but the inside resembled the richness of royal England with a splash of crown
molding on the pillars and vivid acrobatic paintings on the wall. Before we were able to enjoy our
surroundings, we were met with intense stares from white staff and patrons. It was as if we were secondclass citizens. I approached the counter to check-in, and a young lady with a shoddy temper regarded me
with intolerance as if I had done something horrible to her. I gave her the necessary information, but was
met with a sharp response, “Our records show that you are not listed under hotel accommodation.” In a
calm voice, I said, “Here’s a copy of my online reservations,” and it was as if I annoyed her even more than
before. Worst of all, my children witnessed the ill-mannered and brash behavior of the hotel staff belittling
their mother; it was hard for them to enjoy the vacation. To my children, “American racism was a new and
crushing reality,” but I used this opportunity to teach them to speak out and fight against racial injustice
(Lorde 128).
William Pickens--an African American orator, educator, and journalist--has said, “To cheapen
the lives of any group of men, cheapens the lives of all men, even our own…And it will not be repealed by our
wishes, nor will it be merciful to our blindness.” Racial oppression negatively affects the oppressor and the
persecuted. Although individual life experiences mold and shape our understanding of racial inequalities, it
can bring about positive changes in our social and political environment. The American life experience
should support our rights to freedom and equality, thus changing our behaviors and perspective towards
racism.
Works
Works Cited
Lorde, Audre. “The Fourth of July.” The Longman Reader. 9 ed. Brief Edition. Eds. Judith Nadell, John
Langan, and Eliza A. Comodromos. Boston: Pearson, 2011. 127-130.
Marley, Nesta Robert “Bob.” Good Reads. 10 March 2013. http://www.goodreads.com
/author/quotes/25241.Bob_Marley?page=2
Pickens, William.
Good Reads. 10 March 2013 http://www.goodreads.com/author/show
/214229.William_Pickens
th
The Amiri Theory
By Carlos Ornelas
Legacy of legend
Which I’d never met
Never heard or seen, yet
Never will forget.
Struggle, love, and sweat
Are amounted yearly
May I speak it clearly?
The Amiri theory.
From diverse diversions
Idealist conversions
Jazz or blues infusions
Cons or constitutions
To the spoken wordsmiths
Or the staged rehearses
All Amiri’s verses:
One Verse. Universes.
We honor thee in Women’s Month
For Goddesses give birth
To Men that travel Earth
And plant seeds beneath the dirt
As to reverse a process
And give rebirth to prophets
And we are in the process
Of all that which is progress.
No more “I am the Walrus”
For now I am the Man.
From crucified in crosses
To cruising cross the land
At times I’ve been the panther,
The deer with broken antler,
A simple baggage handler;
A product of the past.
A product of adversity;
Baraka University
Of gun-powder and potpourri
A spermicide and ovary.
For morons homeruns hunting
But me, I’m into Bunting
From master and the hunter
I rather be the Butler
If chose to be the coach
I’d rather be the RoachThe teacher to approach;
I never met Amiri.
But I know that what he gained
And lost were both the same.
To giving up awards; and allIn all our names.
Surprise! Surprised?
A movement in disguise
Revolution’s evolution
Amiri in your eyes.
Brown lips speak
Black thoughts because
Brotherhood is beyond
Black power and brown pride;
I keep my colors inside.
For they might bleach the hide
To bee or not to be all I can be
To teach the hive.
Why would politiciansTake Amiri’s art to heart?
When in every century’s start
Somebody blew America apart.
(Put that in your shopping cart)
What under Compton weather
One man has brought together
Can never be abolished;
Can never be in vain
My tribute is indebted
To all who earned the credit
For chaos and destruction
Is made for those who let it.
And I Have put my foot down
And never put the book down
For ties that fail to bind us
Put hands and past behind us
Amiri will remind us
41
How to appreciate
For all our struggles great
In that we can relate.
My mother was a farm worker
Who earned a meager pay;
Let’s show appreciation
To women every day.
We equally contribute
An underrated tribute
A legacy continued
Of struggle, love and sweat.
And though I never met him
I profit from his legend
And though I never knew him
I never will forget.
For those who may not hear me
Let me just speak it clearly
“Live, Love, Respect”
This is Amiri’s theory.
P.X
2.27.2014
4:44 P.M.
Matty Matter Man
By Maor Lain
Opposed to normal paradigms
Intrigued in life’s curiosities
Matty lived life as “Matter Man”
Old acquaintances made,
By the walls, matters shelved
He would see them; Speak
As often as offers sprung
Often by the covers discovered
The learning line turned
42
It was safe, it was a place
To be at peace; adored
Until he met the one
Conversation which was now
Different than any other before
“Matter Man” Matty thought
Special substance in this sphere
“How would I not fear?”
Life is a-taken back
Here
I
Am…
Here
I
Can…
Words without worms
Left the second place as well
Unfearful, there Matty Man began
To see light in life
In ardent adorations
His corporeal form consumed
There Matty Man
Found himself
No longer Matty
No longer Man
Just Matter
All that remains.
If you look for him
You will find him
Shelved among
The friends he had
The friends spoken
The ones,
He adored before.
Growing Up in the Los Angeles County: My Childhood Memories
By Erica McCovery
It was 2 in the afternoon when we see the police going from door to door. I was about 6 years
old the day we were forced to evacuate our home by the police. They were looking for the uncle of my best
friend. Living in Southern California was a life changing experience due to poverty, culture differences, and
anxiety of feeling unsafe. The things we saw and heard on a daily basis made it become a normal life for us.
Watts and Long Beach are cities in the Los Angeles County full of minorities. It has become some of the most
dangerous areas in the LA County.
Driving down the streets of LA on our way home was an awful sight. So many of the streets
were covered with dirt and trash. It looked as if the street was a dump yard. The gutters were so packed, it
was hard for the water to drain in the streets. Whenever it rained, the streets would flood and it would take
a long time for us to cross the streets. Watts was known for being a drug-infested city. We had bums and
strung-out drug users all over the streets. Many of the bums were homeless guys that were once veterans
that refused to get the help of shelter from the government. There were a constant of abandon homes that
the drug addicts would take over and eventually burn down. My mom and I went to go look at the house we
used to live in. We were surprised to find out that a fire had been set after an argument between two bums.
There were so many different gangs in Watts, it made it difficult to walk down the streets just to go get
something to eat. We had to wear neutral colors just because we didn’t want to get confronted by them.
In the story “Flavio’s Home” by Gordon Parks, he talks about what they saw around his town.
They were poor and looked like they were living in hell. It was full of dirt and odd smells that the visitors
were not used to. There were three different parts of the town. You had the area where they were really
poor at the bottom. The toilets ran down the hill into this area. Then you had the part on the hill where
Flavio lived. It was the middle area. They represent the middle class of the poor. Then, you had the upper
class. Even though they were upper class they were still poor. I relate to this story because that’s how I felt
living in Watts. There were many areas that didn’t look as bad as others, but you could still tell there was
poverty. Flavio was sick, and it was hard for him to see a doctor because his family couldn’t afford it. They
took him to a clinic and the doctor didn’t really do anything for him. He gave them an estimate of how long
he thought he was going to live. Because Flavio was poor, the doctor didn’t give him the service that he
should have. Going to a clinic or calling 911 was the same way in Watts. If you lived in certain areas, they
didn’t feel it was necessary to serve you in the same time frame as people in the upper part of LA.
It was hard to sleep at night. The sirens of police cars and noise of helicopter propellers was
all you heard throughout the night. I would wake up and say a prayer, hoping my family would be okay when
I woke up the next morning. Being eight years old, I was always scared. I watched things on the news and
automatically thought every time I heard the different hoods arguing someone was going to get shot or
stabbed. Seven years later, after we moved, I can remember so vividly being at a friend’s house and we were
having a little get together for her sister’s mom. We stood outside the door discussing who was now dating
whom. Everyone was having a good time until we heard a gun being shot about a yard away from where we
were standing. It sounded so loud we knew it wasn’t just an ordinary handgun. We ran upstairs and hid on
the floor. The screaming of the mom of the guy who got shot stayed in my head all through the night. I
blacked out, but I could hear myself breathing. I had my first asthma attack in four years that night. Fortyfive minutes later, we heard the police and ambulance coming to the rescue. He died before they even got
him out of the apartment complex. The police station and hospital were just down the street. The shooting
was a last priority because of its location. I haven’t been over there since that night.
We moved to Long Beach after my sister graduated high school. I was excited to get away
from Watts, but what I didn’t know was every city has its own pros and cons. To the right of my house is a
park and the high school I attended. I had some good times, hanging out at the teen center at the park and
making new friends at school. I also had bad times. I saw so many fights that led to dangerous activities and
drug and alcohol abuse by people my own age. I started getting myself into after school programs because I
43
44
knew I didn’t want to be affiliated with that crowd. The school campus was always empty by the time I went
home. When the time changed, it was dark outside. Walking home was scary for me because I was always on
alert watching my surroundings. That’s when a guy I knew from middle school started to walk me home
every day. I felt so relieved knowing I had someone to protect me.
Living in the Los Angeles County has taught me that you can’t always run from violence,
but you can make a difference by not submitting to it. Having the opportunity to change and do something
positive with my free time kept me away from trouble and that’s what the young kids need today. It’s not
always about where you came from, but about the journey you took to get where you are now and where you
plan to go.
After all this, one would have thought that we would head to court for the injustice, but for
my parents, just like Lorde explains, ”American racism was a new and crushing reality that my parents had
to deal with every day of their lives once they came to this country. They handled it as a private woe. My
mother and father believed that they could best protect their children from realities of race in america (sic)
and the fact of american (sic) racism by never giving them name, much less discussing their nature” (Lorde
143). This made me feel sicker, that we were doing nothing -- because my parents wanted it so-- for being
treated unjustly and differently because of our color. We knew that racism, injustice and discrimination are
still alive today in America in more than one form, even though this country is seen as a progressive nation.
Work
Work Cited
Lorde, Audre. “The Fourth of July.” The Longman Reader. New York: Pearson, 2009. 140 -143. Print.
A Day in the Police Cell
By Aderonke Omole Turner
This morning, the sun was bright and beautiful; the breeze was not too cold. One would think
it would be a beautiful day all through. And then getting out of the door, I saw a black cat cross my path. I
do not believe in superstition, so I thought it would be a good day. It, however, turned out to be a bad day
because I was wrongfully arrested and ended up in a police cell. In Audre Lorde’s essay, “The Fourth of July,”
she was filled with awe and excitement for visiting Washington, D.C., for the first time, but that was
shattered with the experience she had with racism against African Americans.
In “The Fourth of July,” Lorde describes how she encounters racism, her experience with her
family in the ice cream shop, being denied service because of the color of their skin. My brother and I
experienced a similar kind of racism, too.
On September 20, 2010, my brother and I were going for an appointment at the doctor’s clinic
in Los Angeles, in a rented car. That rented car had been used by us for over a week. As we drove past
Western Avenue, going east on Rosecrans Avenue, my brother told me he noticed a police car that had been
following us. We thought it was normal until we noticed four other police cars behind us. We were then
asked to stop, to come out of the car, our hands up, guns pointed at us. They told us to be on our knees, and
we were handcuffed. All these actions were going on without telling us what was wrong. Moreover, no
reason for this act in the first instance: we were not speeding and we stopped immediately when we were
told to do so. Then, the other officers left, leaving us with two white police officers, who we later learned
were the ones that called for reinforcement even when we did not resist arrest. As we sat at the back seat of
the police car with our hands at our back in handcuffs, my mind was just wondering, “What could be
wrong?” Neither I nor my brother had been stopped by a police officer before, we had no tickets before, and
we both have valid driver’s licenses. So what was it? Eventually, we were told that the car was reported
stolen by the owner. Which owner? This car was rented, the papers were in the car, and that they should
call the company. They claimed they could not get through to the company, so we were taken to the police
station and straight into the cell.
The cell was dirty and smelly, the toilet by the corner of the room, stained with feces all over.
The people in there, mostly black with stern faces.* Some, like us, were wrongfully arrested. Five hours
later, I was offered a snack to eat. Even though I was hungry, I could not put anything into my mouth. We
were released after eight hours of being detained wrongfully. The police officers claimed there was wrong
information. I felt really sad, knowing that the white officers would not have done that to the whites like
them. They would have called the car rental company much earlier than they did.
Problematic
By Depresha Allen
The problem with society is that they believe we should be this “perfect” human being. They
were/are wrong, but they have perfected ways to make us “feel” perfect. What is so bad about a person
aging graciously or having a couple of wrinkles here and there? Why is it pushed upon us by society to be the
perfect weight, color, height or to maintain a certain appearance, regarding age? There are a lot of
questions that this society needs to answer. But then we can’t just blame society for strongly implying what
we should look like because we go out and buy whatever products that helps us “look” the part of perfect.
We even get gym memberships to look like the size 2 model on the television screen when we know we were
made to be a size 12. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be healthy and toned. But neither should we neglect
enjoyment, in moderation, that certain foods bring us. Or neither should we feel we just have to be that size
2 with that “wonderful” 4 pack. Our problem is that we care entirely too much what the next person thinks
of us. By no means am I pointing fingers, but we all are guilty of doing so.
Instead of believing that we are something that needs fixing, why don’t we embrace it? If
someone told you everything was going to be perfect and all roses, honey, they were most definitely wrong.
Find a way to be proud of who you are, think of those wrinkles as trademarks of your life here on this earth,
not feel as if God burdened you with waves of imperfections to make a mockery of you. Those same
imperfections are what makes us stand out from the rest and what makes us as an individual. Point at a
wrinkle and say,“Yes, I remember this one; your mother gave me this when I was worried sick about her all
day and she came strolling in the house at 2 in the morning.” Why should you inject yourself with botulism, a
“severe poisoning from ingestion of botulin, which affects the central nervous system producing difficulty in
swallowing, visual disturbances, and respiratory paralysis: often fatal,” just to make you look younger… and
surprised all the time (“Botox”)? Ms. Goodman made quite a few good points when speaking of the vanity of
some women who find it unnatural for any woman over the age of 40 to have not had any “youthful”
remedies (plastic or minor surgery). She makes a mockery of people who get it and targets the famous
Botox: “It eliminates lines temporarily by paralyzing muscles. It offers an actual trade off. You trade the
ability, literally, to express your emotions--furrow that brow, crinkle that eye--for a flawless appearance”
(Goodman 707). We can choose the opportunity to not to worry about what others say, or do less partying
(drinking and drugs) in your younger days. Even your diet, make it so that you are not overly consuming any
food that could cause you long term health issues or make waves in your metabolic system.
45
46
When reading Dinesh D’Souza’s “Staying Human,” it was enlightening and also appalling. I
never knew it was ok to make your child, literally. The upside would be that you could modify and pick and
choose what you wanted your child to have versus having a child with special needs. But then again who
would want to play the part of God and take away what God has made, whether the child be special needs or
not? We shouldn’t try and make a perfect child because society pushes the children with special needs to the
side, sometimes. We should embrace the imperfections of that child. Who is to say that that child is not
destined to be great just the way he/she is? The even greater “advantage” to being able to make your child
with a mere checklist is not a good idea because--let’s just take out all of the morality and the obvious
wrong out of the whole equation--we would all have the exact same child. In my opinion, the imperfect child
will now be the perfect child. Why don’t we just act as if we tried the checklist baby thing and don’t. It’s
very repulsive to imagine a parent not being happy with their child not being a certain height, color, or
anything else for that matter. Children are to be a gift directly from God (or whoever you believe in), not an
experiment. I feel the same way about the surgical aspect of being or becoming a younger woman (males,
too). Why should we alter and pick and probe at something on our body and compare it to what we see on the
television screen? What is the purpose of making yourself miserable over it? Never should a woman feel less
than a woman because the television screen favors another physical type of woman. Plastic surgery is good
for cases of burned victims, major skin deficiencies, and hazardous health problems.
The best solution to this whole “what would he/she think” or people pleasing syndrome is to
simply not care. Do not care what others think about you and what you have going on. Everyone has an
opinion about what you should do and how you should approach things. Let nature take its course, and you
go with the flow. Make children the correct way by natural reproduction or adopting. Let your faces begin
to sag and wrinkle. I had to learn personally not to let people bother me. As a child, I was never skinny nor
was I overtly obese, but I was the target because I was the first one with breasts (size C cup in the 5 grade),
and my name was Depresha. I was called De-Breast and De-Pressed--all sorts of names. On top of that, I was
called “school bus” or “Twinkie” because of my light skin. I later had to learn to embrace my fast growing
bust and cling on to Depresha, accept me for me, and realize I am my own sunshine (light skin) and not care
what others wanted or believed I should be. It took a lot of strength, and it was not easy, but I did it.
Learning who you are is never easy, but having someone else try and dictate and imply you
are not perfect because of their idea of what perfect is just as hard. I really do not feel it necessary to
condone or entertain other people’s thoughts of what or who you should be.
Years ago, I faced one of the worst unpleasant moments in my life for trusting in people that
I thought were honest people. I just judged them for their physical appearance. They were people that
demonstrate “normal” or “common” as the majority of persons and people that spoke the same language as
me, Spanish, but with different accents. They were an example of those false and cruel people that exist in
this world. They were persons without scruples, able as far as to kill someone to obtain what they really
wanted, money.
Eleven years ago, I went to a bank to cash my income tax refund check. I received twenty one
hundred dollars in bills. I counted the money inside the bank, and this was my mistake. I was showing the
bills to other persons that were there. Next, I went to the Big Lots store. After I got in my car, I began
driving, and I felt something strange happened to my car. When I parked on the street and got out my car, a
man, thirty to thirty-six years old who looked like a good worker, told me in Spanish (he had a Salvadorian
accent), “Your tire is flat.” I said, “Thank you for warning me.” This man insisted on helping me, and he was
pretending finding a way to fix my tire. Then, a couple approached me and asked me in Spanish about
information as how to get to Los Angeles. The man was twenty or twenty-five years old, with blue eyes and
an Argentine accent; the woman was twenty-five to thirty years old and had a D.F. (Mexican) accent. Kindly,
I was giving directions to them how to get around in Los Angeles. Suddenly, the man that was pretending to
fix my car grabbed my purse and ran away. The couple also ran away with him. The three of them got into a
white car with no license plates and left.
Immediately, after the incident, I called the police. The police took a while to come. They
made a report about the robbery. They could not do anything or maybe they did not want to do anything
about this case. After analyzing the situation, I concluded that the robbery was planned by these three
persons: they punched my tire while I was in the store; the presence of the woman in the bank, the store, and
the street; the man pretending he was fixing my tire; the couple distracting me, asking for an address. For
days, I felt frustrated, very sad, and disappointed. It took a while to recover from this unpleasant moment.
Time helped me to assimilate and forget this negative event.
Finally, judging a person just by the physical appearance does not give us a guarantee that a
person is good. Judging a person only for the way she or he looks is not only wrong, it is unfair for a person
that has certain likes or differences from the majority of people. We have to be aware of people around us
that pretend they are good because they are involved in good activities, but in practice they really are
corrupt persons. What really tells us if a person is noble or cruel is the way he or she acts with others: if she
or he has compassion, or, on the contrary, if she or he does not care for the feelings of others. Nice people
really exist. However, we must try to be alert, because cruel people also exist.
th
Do Not Judge
Judge Others by Their Appearance
By Graciela Gutierrez
On some occasions, we judge people according to how they look, and we form an opinion if a
person is good or bad. Then, we try to avoid a person if we think he or she is bad. On the other hand, we trust
a person if we think she or he is good. Frequently, we think a person is bad only because she/he is covered
with tattoos all over her body. We think a person is bad because she dresses up with provocative clothes that
give the impression she could be a prostitute. We think a person is bad because there are earrings on some
parts of her body, such as nose, mouth, belly button, etc. We think a person is bad because she uses profanity
or inappropriate language. We think a person is bad for the clothes she wears, which appears like she may
be a gang member. But, we are a making big mistake if we just judge others on their physical appearance.
The actions, the attitudes, and the way that person treats others determines if a person is noble or cruel.
A Destination to Leave
By Stephanie Ramirez
To be in a city is to be surrounded by its essence. You see its landmarks in the distance just as
picturesque as in postcards, businesses with shiny windows and friendly faces beckoning you to enter,
smiling people walking around in the fresh air and sunshine. True, you see its beauty, but you also see its
less advertised dark side. One city with a reputation for beauty, glitz, and glamour is Hollywood. Hollywood
is world-renown for its Walk of Fame, mansions, and movie stars. But when you arrive in the heart of
47
48
tourists’ Hollywood, the corner of Hollywood and Highland, your heart sinks. You don’t see movie stars. You
don’t see mansions. Instead, you see the Walk of Fame covered in soot, trampled on by tourists, homeless
people who have set up camp, and costumed people hoping to make a dollar or two. As you turn to leave the
miserable scene, you come upon the Hollywood and Highland Metro station. The Hollywood and Highland
Metro station, much like the miserable residents of poverty-stricken Rio de Janeiro described in Gordan
Parks’ “Flavio’s Home,” is a melting pot, churning with indifferent passengers of different colors, creeds,
and socioeconomic backgrounds, all with a common goal: to be anywhere but here.
Descending the station’s escalator is like descending into a Metropolitan Limbo full of
metallic contraptions, beeping machines, unfriendly police officers and reclusive passengers absorbed in
their thoughts. Like the fumes that choked Flavio in his home, a milder smog rises from snaking, screeching
subways cars on the lower level past the chirping ticketing machines: “Smoke rose and curled up through
the ceiling’s cracks. An air current forced it back, filling the place and Flavio’s lungs with fumes” (Parks
99). A distorted overhead announcement fills your ears as you make your way past the stainless steel
turnstiles, elevators, and benches, their shine dulled by greasy hands or an accumulation of soot brought in
with rushing passengers. An equally dull abstract art figure meets your eye. The voices and footsteps, once
filling your ears with different volumes, speeds, and octaves, seem to fade into the background as it stares
you in the face like an elephant in the room; its presence seems to say “We at Metro understand what
humans find aesthetically pleasing.”
But its effect is rendered useless by the nonchalance of passersby, all keeping to themselves
yet their scents of too much perfume, too much cologne, or too much body odor comingle. Their heavily
lidded eyes making transactions and moving on.* This unblinking sense of duty is similar to the indifference
of the nurse described in “Flavio’s Home”: “In all, there were over fifty people. Finally, after two hours, it
was Flavio’s turn […] though he smiled at the nurse as he passed through the door […] the nurse ignored it;
in this place of misery, smiles were unexpected” (Parks 100). This disinterested attitude is shared by women
lugging their belongings and children. Like Nair, Flavio’s mother, these apathetic passengers are so
absorbed by their own tremendous sense of duty that their present setting is of no consequence: “Nair, his
pregnant wife, seemed tired beyond speaking. Hardly acknowledging our presence, she picked up Zacarias,
placed him on her shoulder and gently patted his behind” (Parks 97). Truly, their motherhood eclipses all
other surroundings, from the Metro Police, to men in suits with backpacks, clutching bicycles and staring at
the maps, to students fixated on beeping electronic devices.
Descending further into the station and entering the subway car, one finds a slew of people
who are hard to ignore: homeless people, beggars, peddlers, and performers. These mainstay occupants come
in all shapes and sizes, with all types of stories to boot. Homeless men and women have a chat with an
unwilling or intimidated passenger or casually nap in the corner surrounded by a myriad of plastic from
seats, scratched and grooved over the years by vandalism and use. Their smells keep surrounding passengers
at more than arm’s length, just as with the narrator as he makes his way through the streets of poor Rio
and “held [his] breath for an instant, only to inhale the stench of human excrement and garbage” (Parks 99).
Beggars mournfully announce their wretched situations, fact or fiction, hoping for a monetary donation.
This testament of woe is similar to the speech of Flavio’s father: “He awoke and commenced complaining
about his back. ‘It kills me. The doctors don’t help because I have no money. Always talk and a little pink pill
that does no good. Ah, what is to become of me?’” (Parks 98). As they make their pleas of “even small change
will do,” peddlers walk by advertising their wares and giving discounts to passengers who make even the
slightest eye contact with them. Even a glimpse of someone’s smudged reflection can rouse rampant offers
for Snickers bars at two for a dollar. Their sales pitches are cut short by performers, change jar in
proximity and guitar in tow, singing their rendition of “Somewhere over the Rainbow,” like a prayer for
somewhere else. Perhaps passengers are careful to not encourage the hopes of these hustlers for fear of
their poverty overflowing into their lives, choking out their empathy, squeezing out change destined for
some miscellaneous pleasure. Perhaps, like the narrator, they are simply cowards, repulsed by their
unfortunate situations. Parks writes: “As we were saying good night Flavio began to cough violently. For a
few moments his lungs seemed to be tearing apart. I wanted to get away as quickly as possible. It was
cowardly of me, but the bluish cast of his skin beneath the sweat, the choking and spitting were suddenly
unbearable” (Parks 97). Whatever the reason, these individuals are the primary occupants of this unhappy
realm, and standing, talking, singing, sleeping reminders or poverty living beneath the surface of Tourists’
America.
There is no city without poverty. Just as the narrator says, poverty “keeps growing,
multiplying, spreading like a cancer” (Parks 95). And just as Flavio’s neighborhood was to the narrator, the
crowded, grimy Hollywood and Highland Station, contrary to the glamorous name, has become a reluctant
destination to its passengers. It has unintentionally become a window to the poverty within the city. It
doubles as a (sometimes) necessary means of transportation for the apathetic and a haven for the
misfortunate. Although planners made attempts to make the station pleasing to the eyes of passengers, they
know the truth: this is not a place to linger, but a place to escape. This is a place to keep to one’s self,
remain quiet, and make eye contact with no one. As with the bowels of Rio de Janeiro, cursed with disease
and misery, what lingers in the belly of Tinsel Town isn’t pretty.
Work Cited
Parks, Gordon. “Flavio’s Home.” The Longman Reader. 9 ed. Eds. Judith Nadell, John Langan, and Eliza A.
Comodromos. Boston: Pearson, 2009. 95-101. Print.
th
49
50
Religious Culture:
A Better Us
Folkloric Dancers
By Carmen Raman
A Room Away From Home
By Roni Serrano
“Then Mama’s house belonged only to us women” (Cofer 121). Like Mama’s house in Judith
Ortiz Cofer’s “A Partial Remembrance of a Puerto Rican Childhood,” Nana Lupe’s room was a ladies-only
clubhouse. Nana Lupe was my great grandmother, yet everyone’s “Nana.” She raised my father and uncles in
my childhood home and as old age crept up on her, she confined herself to her room. Filled with more
religious pictures, crosses, statues, and other spiritual paraphernalia than the average Catholic Church, I
can honestly admit that it could make any outsider feel uneasy, but to me it was home. It was the place I
could go when no one would let me have control over the television remote, the first place I went after
school to tell how my day had gone, the place I ran to when I was mad at everyone in the house. It was my
home when home just was not cutting it and, fortunately for me, it was only a walk across the house.
It is important to acknowledge the fact that my Nana and I had a mass language barrier cast
upon us. In the year of 1922, at the mere age of twelve, she ran away from her hometown in Mexico with my
great grandfather and never fully grasped the English language, although I am not very sure if she ever
truly tried. I, on the other hand, born and raised in her home, never caught onto Spanish. It was never the
prominent language in our home, yet being the only language to communicate with Nana Lupe, you would
think things would be different. Like Cofer, I was a “cultural chameleon” (Cofer 119), cast as one of the
“gringas” in the household along with my mother, who is of Lebanese decent. However, upon entering Nana
Lupe’s room, all communication barriers somehow disappeared; like stepping into another dimension, we
could converse freely with no restrictions in our way. Our talks were filled with endless laughter, countless
pauses as we tried to find the perfect word to use, and numerous hand and body motions to get our point
across because, although we always understood each other, it was not always easy. Nana Lupe’s room is the
biggest foundation of who I am today; she made me the proud outgoing Spanish young woman I call myself in
this day and age.
Although I was in and out of that room on a daily basis, one of my fondest memories comes
from my childhood dog having puppies. With a whopping eleven-puppy liter, my dog fell under the stress of
being a new mother and unfortunately rejected one of her own. Being the hardheaded thirteen year old I
was, I zoned out the “there’s nothing we can do’s” from my Father and older sister, and ran straight to my
Nana’s room. Nana’s room turned from the safe haven that it was to an emergency dog hospital that night;
she did not even let me cry my sob story before I was ordered to get the “pepcita.” Running in circles for five
minutes, I not only realized that she was talking about the medicine dropper, but that I was truly thankful
for her. After cleaning up and feeding the puppy, she spent the night with the both of us dominating her bed
and as she caressed my head all night. She taught me the importance of willpower without even knowing: “I
felt my grandmother’s hands teaching me about strength” (Cofer 121).
Again, Nana’s room was my safe haven, the place I slept for years after my parents first
separated and the house I was born and raised in did not feel like home anymore. Yet, it was not only in
times of terrible trouble that I found her room my oasis. One of my fondest memories is running to that room
after my older sister made me sit and watch The Exorcist. Well, I cried through its entire length. I explained
myself in Nana and I’s* special language, and, to my surprise, I heard my tiny little bedridden ninetysomething year old great grandmother use a variety of English words I had never heard her use before. She
cursed every bad word in the English language to my sister that evening. Sure that she did not know what
51
half of them meant, Isabel and I looked at each other with tears that had turned from panic to laughter as
we tried as hard as we could not to laugh at the sound of them.
“They told real-life stories though, I later learned, always embellishing them with a little or
a lot of dramatic detail” (Cofer 118). Like previously stated, Nana’s room was a ladies’ affair, just like the
house of Cofer’s Mama, and just like Mama, I saw Nana and the countless friends she had made over her long
lifetime gossip, or “chisme,” around the clock. They talked about anything and everything, and although I
really did not understand much, it never stopped me from trying to sit in and try to act older than I was,
eating pan with the older gals and always trying to sneak a sip of coffee, although I never really was
successful. And when I say Nana’s room was a woman’s clubhouse, I meant it. The only times men stopped in
were when my father asked her if she needed anything, when friends of the family stopped by and said “hi”-since there was no way you could stop by “Nana’s” without doing so--or on Sundays when she was visited by
the local lay person who gave her mass. One of the reasons I do believe I felt so at home is because Nana’s
room was a woman’s sanctuary, and what young lady would not feel at home in that?
Nana Lupe’s room not only taught me a lot about myself, but also my backgrounds, as a young
Spanish girl and a Catholic school attendee, from dancing to mariachi music without understanding a word,
to joining her in praying the rosary whenever asked. She and that room shaped me. I was lucky enough to
spend eighteen years of my life in that room. Nana passed away in 2010 and I am more than fortunate for the
countless memories I have in that room. Cofer recognizes Mama, just the same as I recognized my own Nana,
“I saw her as my liberator and my model,” and that is why “A Partial Remembrance of a Puerto Rican
Childhood” struck so close to home (Cofer 120). Within reading just the first paragraph, I was taken right
back to Nana’s room. She was my liberator, my model, my best friend, and her room was not only home, but
magic. I am sure of it.
My Son
By Anita Johnson
Finally the day has come;
After spending nine months in suspense;
The room became silent;
Then a small cry echoed across the room;
He’s here! He’s finally here!
Said the voice of a proud father;
A smile so bright upon his father’s face;
Brought so much joy to my heart;
As he was given to me;
We stared at each other with lust;
Upon his innocent face;
A skin so soft and pink;
Ten tiny fingers and toes;
Picture perfect he was My Son.
52
America: Mexican American Parents’
Parents’ Beliefs
By Rogelio Zamudio
Are Mexican parents being a positive influence on their adolescents? In Los Angeles county,
many Mexican parents are seen forcing their adolescents to attend mass. That type of approach is dangerous
because it may cause an adolescent to have unwanted behaviors, embarrassing their parents, and fellow
church members reacting against the parents. However, there is always hope for that one child to turn his
or her life around. In Langston Hughes’ “Salvation,” the author shows how adolescents respond to the
congregation’s forceful conversion towards Jesus. Parents, do not become forceful towards your
adolescents; instead, be hopeful and understanding.
The authoritarian approach is the worse approach because it may cause the adolescent to
become more rebellious or do things more forcefully. The angry adolescent may tend to be noisy, disrupting
fellow church members from celebrating and living mass to the fullest extent. He or she may also be the one
pronouncing obscene words under his or her breath. In “Salvation,” Westley, an angry adolescent reacts very
angrily that he cannot leave the church revival. Hughes writes: “Finally Westley said to me in a whisper:
‘God damn’” (159)! On the other hand, there is the less aggressive adolescent who just fakes enjoying going to
church. Langston, the main character, fakes his encounter with Christ just to get it over with and get his
Auntie Reed off his back. Hughes writes: “So I decided that maybe to save further trouble, I’d better lie, too,
and say that Jesus had come, and get up and be saved” (159). These two behaviors are one of the least
rebellious and the most rebellious that Mexican parents may face when they are being forceful towards their
adolescents.
Behaviors set the mood in the environment. When an adolescent is very resistant and angry,
he or she may give the surrounding area a very irritating, unbearable feeling. There is also the annoying
adolescent whom mostly everyone knows that he or she is celebrating mass in a very forceful manner and
may irritate other church members and most likely offend them. But there are some people who may think
the adolescent is enjoying mass. The congregation thinks that Langston had a real encounter with Jesus
when he got up to go to the altar: “So I got up. Suddenly the whole room broke into a sea of shouting, as
they saw me rise” (159). Attitudes may set a hostile environment or may mislead someone to believe
otherwise.
Adolescent behavior may result in very embarrassing and unwanted reactions from other
people towards the parents. The parents of a very rude adolescent at church may have people yell at the
parents and things could get confrontational. On the other hand, the parent of an adolescent who seems to
be enjoying mass may have people think positive about him or her and may have a positive image on their
parents. Auntie Reed felt good about Langston when she thought he was saved: “She woke up and told my
uncle I was crying because the Holy Ghost had come into my life, and because I had seen Jesus. But I was
really crying because I couldn’t bear to tell her that I had lied” (159). Adolescents’ choice of behavior may
leave their parents with major consequences or may make them seem like they are good parents.
However, there is always that one adolescent who is very tired of how his or her life is
evolving. The rebellious child who is very disrespectful towards the parents and humiliates them is the one
who ends up breaking down in the presence of God. The first stage of repentance is seen on the girls as the
church revival gets strong with the spirit. Hughes writes: “And the little girls cried. And some of them
53
54
jumped up and went to Jesus right away” (158). Repentance brings joy in heaven and in the church because
God has touched a life and invited that person to a full conversion. The willing adolescent who listens to God
through the conscious is the only one who will be the pride and joy of his or her parents.
Is it worth the trouble for parents to force their adolescents to attend mass? Adolescents are
at a very rebellious age and will react in one of two ways: very resistant and vulgar or uninterested. Parents
should not give up, but encourage one another to work on their adolescent because there is that one who
will listen and open up his or her heart. All they want is to be listened to and understood. Parents may also
teach, not force, their adolescence about God because only God knows the perfect time to touch a tiresome
heart. The hardhearted child will be the embarrassment of their parents while the child who has a soft and
contrite heart will be the joy of their parents. Parents do not become humiliated like Auntie Reed when she
was begging Langston to convert to Jesus: “My aunt came and knelt at my knees and cried, while prayers
and songs swirled all around me in the little church” (159). This may definitely not be worth your
humiliation.
dancing; it almost felt like a performing arts studio. We would start off with singing and clapping, and then
they would talk about different things. The preacher would say something that I assumed was good or of
importance because the singing and dancing would start up again. This was different than what I imagined
church to be. However, I was open to it. I definitely never felt bored! When all the singing and dancing
finally died down and we cracked open the Bible, the preacher seemed to preach out of what I like to call the
scary part of the Bible: Revelations.
After my pastor would preach out of the scary part of the Bible and instill fear into our
hearts, he would say things like, “We don’t know when God is coming, so you better be ready” or “What do
you choose: heaven or hell? Well, if it’s heaven, get saved right now! Feel Jesus in your heart. Do you hear
Him calling you, child? Come, come in the name of Jesus!” I always felt a weird feeling when he would say
these things. I would think to myself, “What is up with him preaching about all of these dark stories from
the scary part of the Bible? Aren’t we supposed to be rejoicing in Him, not fearing Him, and why does he keep
telling us that we will hear Him calling us to get saved? Jesus talks to us?” I was hesitant about going up
to get saved. Should I do it because the pastor said I have to or else I would go to hell? Or should I wait and
go to him in the presence of love rather than in the presence of fear? I was so confused and frightened, I
walked off into the bathroom to get away to think clearly. I could hear the cries of joy from those being
saved in the church. I closed my eyes and for the first time spoke to God. I said, “God, why don’t I feel you?
Why can I not hear you calling my name? I don’t want to go to hell, so will you please call my name, please,
so I can get saved?” Right after that prayer, an older lady came into the bathroom and said to me, “Why are
you in the bathroom? Are you okay?” I replied, “Yes, I’m okay. I just don’t hear Jesus calling my name. How
do you know he is calling you?” The lady smiled at me and said, “Honey, it’s okay. Try to listen to him next
time you come to church. Keep trying until you feel a love and safety in your heart. That’s how you know. He
will speak to you but only when he feels you are ready.” I looked at her with confusion and told her, “Well,
the pastor told us he might come tomorrow! What if he comes and I’m not saved?” She replied, “Honey,
Jesus loves all of his children and knows your heart. He won’t let you go to hell.” She gave me a hug and left
the bathroom. I stood there and at that very moment I felt that love she told me about. I walked out of that
bathroom with confidence that Jesus was in my heart, and I got saved.
I was thirteen years old when I found my salvation. Not only did I find my salvation, I did not
buckle under pressure like Hughes did and lie to his loved ones and to himself. Unlike Hughes who “didn’t
believe there was a Jesus any more, [because] he didn’t come to help [him],” I became a believer by helping
myself and finding real salvation through truth (Hughes 162).
Work Cited
Hughes, Langston. “Salvation.” The Longman Reader. Ed. Judith Nadell. New York: Pearson, 2009. 160-162.
Salvation: My Story
By April Watson
What does it mean to be saved? How does one know when one is saved? Is there a feeling
inside that one feels? A voice that speaks to you once one is saved? In the essay “Salvation” by Langston
Hughes, his aunt explains, “[W]hen you were saved you saw light, and something happened to you inside!”
(Hughes 160). Hughes was a very young child confused as to what it meant to be saved. However, his aunt
along with the elderly of the church encouraged him strongly to feel Jesus. The preacher preached to
Hughes and the rest of the young sinners, “Won’t you come? Won’t you come to Jesus? Young lambs, won’t
you come” (Hughes 160)? This was followed by his aunt sobbing, “Langston, Langston why don’t you come?
Why don’t you come and be saved? Oh, lamb of God! Why don’t you come?” (Hughes 161). With all of the
hassle from his dear aunt and the church, Hughes felt pressured into being saved and feeling Jesus. To
please everyone, Hughes deceived everyone by pretending to feel Jesus. Much like Hughes, I, too, had an
experience with being pressured into feeling Jesus. Pressured by fear, I was told if I did not get saved or
receive the Holy Ghost, I had a first class ticket to hell. Even though I was scared, and hell was certainly a
place that I would like to avoid, I felt something was wrong, and threatening me with hell was not how
Jesus wanted me to come to him.
I was thirteen years old when I attended church on a regular basis. I lived in Mesa, Arizona,
with my aunt, uncle, and four cousins. One of the rules of my aunt’s house was anyone who lives in her house
must attend Sunday morning church. Being thirteen, I had better things to do on a Sunday morning, like
catch up on sleep. I never went to church, nor did I really know much about what went on in those
buildings. Church was new to me. Jesus, however, was not. My mom told me a lot about Jesus. She claimed
to be religious but rarely went to church. My mom’s poor life decisions were the reasons I was at my aunt’s
house in the first place.
Sunday morning church! Oh, how I remember those days. Six a.m. at my aunt’s house was
chaos. There was one bathroom for seven people to get ready in. After fighting each other for the bathroom
and finishing getting ready, it would be seven-thirty a.m., and we were off to church in my uncle’s white
work van that smelled like cigarettes and paint thinner. We would arrive at church at eight a.m. and
service would start soon after. It seemed to me that there was less preaching than there was singing and
American Ideal: Freedom of Religion?
By Alicia Mullins
To challenge our parents, or not to challenge, that is the question. We have been taught from
an early age that we must listen, follow, and respect the views and beliefs of our parents. However, must
children also share the views of their parents starting at an age in which they can not even fully
comprehend the complexity of the ideas that are being introduced to them? There must be an age in which
children start forming their own ideas and they start to realize what is important to them, right? If each
child were to do, say, and believe what their parents engraved into their heads, I believe the child could
55
56
possibly rebel much more than a child whose parents allowed them to question what was being taught to
them.
I can recall the first time walking into the church that my biological mother, Debbie
attended. From the outside it looked like any old church; smiling, carefree, joyous people greeted outside,
handing you the itinerary for the day’s sermon. Walking inside, a glorious smell would fill our noses and we
would run to find where the hidden donuts were. But just as soon as we found the donuts, we would then be
ushered in to the main worship hall, and my sister and I were not prepared for not only what we saw, but
what we heard as well.
Most people would think the sound of singing hymns would fill the church at the start of the
sermon, but what we walked into was anything but the sound of beautiful hymns. People were scattered
around the room as if they were possessed, speaking in tongues, and screaming at the top of their lungs.
How would it have looked if my sister and I ran out of there screaming as well? We were always taught that
because in America we have the freedom to worship anyway we please, that we must respect everyone’s
choice in how they worship. So naturally my sister and I stayed, frozen still, but we stayed in the main
chapel. Debbie looked at us with a huge smile on her face and told us that we would only be in there for a
few minutes before leaving to join the children’s Bible study. Now you can imagine the wave of relief that my
sister and I felt knowing that we could leave so that we would no longer have to keep fake smiles on our
faces. At this point, I feel very much like Langston Hughes in “Salvation.” I desperately wanted to enjoy my
time at church but how could I enjoy when I was mortified? The smile my sister and I had on our faces sent
false hopes to Debbie and just as Langston says in his essay, “I decided that maybe to save further trouble, I’d
better lie.” So instead of saying how we really feel; my sister and I sat there with fake smiles so that we
would not cause any problems.
After what seemed like forever, the children were taken out of the main chapel and brought
into a smaller room that was connected to the main chapel. Still, we could hear the cries and screaming
coming from the main hall. There was no escaping it. As Americans, we have the right to practice any
religion that we please, anyway that we please. As I sat there with the other children, hearing the screams
and noises, I forgot how lucky we were to actually have that right. All I could think of is how quickly I could
get out of there and back to my dad and step mom. It wouldn’t be until years later that I would witness
firsthand a country not allowing that same freedom to its citizens.
My biggest regret was “lying” and pretending as if I was not bothered by what I witnessed.
To this day, I wonder why I never asked what was going on or tried to get clarity on what was happening
around me. As a child, it was engrained into my head that I was not to question what I was being told to do
by my parents. So just as Langston Hughes did in his essay, I took what was being told me too literally and
didn’t question my surroundings. Langston took his aunt’s words literally when she had told him, “When you
were saved you saw a light, and something happened to you inside! And Jesus came into your life!” He sat
there as well waiting and waiting to see the light, and instead of asking his aunt, he chose to lie because he
was feeling ashamed that he was making everyone wait for him to be “saved”. If others were looking at
either of our situations, they might think that we were being disobedient or say that we were being
stubborn like most children.
So much unnecessary pressure is put on children to follow exactly what is told to them and
from the early stages of a child’s life, parents have so much influence over their children whether it is
obvious at the time or not. The simple fact that children are taught from the time they could open their eyes,
that they are to listen and follow their parents, shows how much of an influence the parents are. So often
parents unknowingly put their child through activities that are uncomfortable or questionable for the child
and give a little too much credit to that child thinking they will fully understand the importance of it. If not
only parents, but society in general would realize that it is okay for children to question the complex ideas
that are being introduced to them before they can fully comprehend the idea, then I strongly believe there
would be less rebellion when the children get older. Therefore, I believe then that the child would be more
open minded to the world’s ideals in general, not just American.
Testimony
By Makayla Hidalgo
When I was about thirteen years old – the same age as Langston Hughes was in “Salvation”
– I realized that, just like Langston, I was “not really saved” (160). For years, I had been able to hide this
fact not only from those around me, but also from myself. I still believed in God. I still believed that he had
laid down laws for us to obey-- laws that had allowed us to have a relationship with Him, but had been
broken all the same. I still believed that Jesus had stepped down from a perfect kingdom and given himself
up to pain and death because he didn’t want me to have to pay the just punishment for breaking those laws.
I just didn’t care.
I thought of that as I sat in the pew at Hume Lake Christian Summer Camp. Unlike in
“Salvation,” there was no one who “escorted [me] to the front row,” and there was no pastor who had
spoken with “moans and shouts and lonely cries and dire pictures of hell” (Hughes 160-61). The vast
sanctuary was nearly empty. The only people remaining were me and a few others who had stayed after the
sermon to pray.
Pressing my feet up against the back of the pew in front of me, I remembered a conversation
I’d had with my father a while ago. He’d asked if I remembered when I’d been saved. The question was
harder and, in a way, easier to answer than he thought it was. It was hard to answer because I knew that
I’d have to deceive him just as Langston did when he “began to be ashamed of [him]self” (Hughes 161). It was
easy to answer because the question was an obvious one – to me, at least.
I’m not saved. That thought was swirling around in my head once more as I sat alone. There
was nothing else to it: “I had lied ... I had deceived everybody in the church” (Hughes 161). Of course, I
believed in God. I had studied the Bible, observed the world, and seen the effects that salvation had on
others. The conclusion was a resounding one. There was only one thing that could cause hardened criminals
to change from the inside out, heal leukemia patients that had been condemned to death, and create a faith
so strong that it changed the world a hundred times over. That one thing was God. Not only that, but this
single, almighty, never-changing, ever-present, perfect creator of the universe cared about me. He didn’t
care about me because I was a good little human. He didn’t save me because I made him feel happy. He
didn’t even do it because I deserved it. I had broken all His laws, spat in the face of perfect love, and decided
instead to sit in my own pathetic, miserable attempts at happiness.
“Why would you care about me, after all I’ve done?” I imagined myself asking Him. I couldn’t
think of an answer. Did I even need one? Was I going to reject a gift just because I didn’t know why it was
given? I needed that gift. Desperately. I knew there was no purpose in my life. I didn’t really care about
anything, and nothing I did made me happy for more than half a day. But it was more than just that. I was
sick of only serving myself. I was tired of being “left all alone on the mourners' bench”–but for very
57
58
different reasons (Hughes 161). I was tired of that low, dark thing that was my own selfishness. There was
more to life than that.
Lifting my hands to cover my face, I asked God to change me. I did not wait for a “light”
(Hughes 160). I didn’t wait “to see Jesus” (Hughes 161). If the only reason I believed in him was because I’d
witnessed a physical miracle, what good was that? What good was faith if God was required to entertain me
with magic tricks to keep me at his side?
But ever since then, I have been witnessing a miracle: me. Unlike the misled thirteen-yearold Langston who, by the end of his story, “didn't believe there was a Jesus anymore,” I understood and
finally appreciated the sacrifice that had been given for me (Hughes 162). That realization changed my life.
I became less interested in the fantasy stories that drew me away from the importance of real life and read
my Bible with an understanding that I’d never had before. My entire perspective had changed. Instead of
endlessly searching for entertainment and hollow pleasure, I saw the world as a place full of opportunities
and people whose lives could also be changed for the better. I still stumbled and gave in to the things that I
knew were wrong: I still do it every day. But I knew that God had already saved me from guilt. Not only
that, but he filled my life with a purpose that transcends anything I could ever do on my own: “The purpose
of man is to know his Maker, to be known by his Maker, and to make his Maker known” (Emeal Zwayne).
Works Cited
Hughes, Langston. “Salvation.” (1940). The Longman Reader. 9th ed. Judith Nadell, John Langan, and
Eliza A. Comodromos. New York: Pearson, 2009. Print.
Emeal Zwayne. Calvary Chapel North Long Beach. 21 July 2013. Sermon.
tense coaches went mute. All the sounds that shook the world around me as they fought for my attention
were muffled as I tuned in to the one calm, collected voice that belonged to my coach as he led us in
thoughtful prayer.
When we were done, I stepped back behind the papery tape marking a boundary for drivers
during the few seconds before a match. I looked up grinning from ear to ear and stared intensely at the
smooth, glossy paint on our robot’s arm as the countdown for each second sent another rush of adrenalin
coursing through my body. Finally, my ears rang with the chime of the bell and I found myself grasping the
sleek joystick polished from constant use.
With the fact of only being able to carry and shoot in a hoop one ball instead of the usual
three at a time, I didn’t know if we would win or not, and it didn’t seem to matter. The tension around me
was failing to snatch me into its suffocating grip as comforting peace and exhilarating joy penetrated the
atmosphere like a light in the dark encasing me in a protective cocoon. While calamity was upon him,
Habakkuk wrote, “yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.” (Habakkuk 3:18,
ESV) Oh, how much more reason I have to rejoice in my God! I have nothing to fear or worry about. Just
like Habakkuk, all I wanted to do was glorify my savior with my best and trust in Him that no matter what
the result, He was just and the outcome will always be for the good of everyone.
Works Cited
The Bible. English Standard Vers. BibleGateway.com. Web. 26 Sept. 2013.
Kamiya, Gary. “Life, Death and Spring.”Longman Reader. 9th ed. Eds. Judith Nadell, John Langan, and Eliza
A. Comodromos. New York: Pearson, 2009. Print.
Competition: Light in the
the Dark
By Celina Hidalgo
The St. Louis Missouri stadium was buzzing with excitement and nervousness emanating from
over four-hundred FIRST robotics competition (FRC) teams. Semifinals had started on all four separate
fields. Like “the Transition Zone” in Kamiya’s “Life, Death and Spring,” my team’s field along with the other
competition fields had seen a variety of different teams ranging from rookies to veterans, from “yellow
pines” to “dogwoods” (113). “The royalty of our trees, though, are the black oaks,” (113) Kamiya writes, and
my team, the Beach Bots, team 330, was competing against a “black oak” (113), team 1717, D’Penguineers.
Usually, a person would feel nervous before a stressful elimination round in a world championship game, but
I felt completely at peace and overflowing with unnatural joy.
I turned my attention to the field at our one-hundred-and-twenty pound robot on the opposite
side of the field separated by a raised metal bar and three teeter-totter bridges, each of a single patriotic
color of America. Our robot stuck out the most among the plain, silver robots with its royal-blue base and
tall, sunshine-yellow arm containing a single orange, foam basketball in its cage as it stood erect above
them all. A flash of bright pink racing across the field caught my attention as the MC began introducing our
opposing team, pumping up the crowd, and waving colorful flags over half her size above her head. As she
raced over the metal boundary towards us, I glanced at my teammates’ beaming faces reflecting the same
utter delight I felt in myself as our young coach guided us in bowing our heads for prayer.
Suddenly, the announcer’s booming voice seemed to go to only a whisper. The blaring, upbeat
music that echoed throughout the stadium turned into a mere background noise. The excited battle cry of
the MC, the cheers of hundreds of teams yelling at the top of their lungs and the last minute commands from
Love.
By Josephine Jones
Indescribable. Agonizing sometimes.
But very worth it most times.
Searchable. Missing, or so we think.
Warms us so greatly we can hardly speak.
Tempting. But empty
Something far from plenty.
Love. This love we speak of is haunted
Once the love that was once missing is unwanted.
Love.
59
Ethnic Culture:
Each of Us
Top Left to Right: Dr. Cornelia Lyles By Alejandra Baños | Dr. Ricky Shabazz By Tyler Washington | Dean
Wanda Morris By Stephanny Peralta | Dr. Rodney Murray By Alejandra Chavez | Pamela WestWest-Lee By Isabel
Herrera|| Male Face By Justin Aguilar
60
Poem
On House on Mango Street
By Brandon O. Segovia
Segovia
Sandra calls her Hope
The girl who tries to stay afloat.
Above the pressure and all the trouble
Making her workload feel like double.
Hope observes and watches carefully
With every step, so gracefully.
Hope slips into adolescence,
Enjoying the boy’s curious presence.
She dances and turns and twirls her dress
Yearning for a man’s caress.
Breaking free from Mango Street
Is the only thing that will make her complete.
Unforgettable Childhood Gemstones
By Mayra Paz
On a hot humid day, I lay under a grand avocado tree listening to my mom talk about how life
would never cease to amaze us. Never would I have foreseen at that inescapable moment, as I observed her
grace and stared at the ripening avocados above, that three years from that day my whole world would come
crashing down. Those wonderful memories under the avocado tree at Tia Rosa’s are all I have left. Her death
was the cold mist that comes without warning. The 6th of June in 2009 marks the day I lost the gemstone in
my heart but not the treasure. Those wonderful weekends with my family are all but bittersweet memories
of my childhood.
Tia Rosa’s house was the headquarters for our weekend gatherings. Similar to the
gatherings Judith Ortiz Cofer had with her family at four o’clock, the hour of café con leche, we gathered,
but it wasn’t just the ladies of the family. Her house was all brown with a white door and peach curtains;
below the window was a display of white, red, and pink roses that one couldn’t help but compliment.
Alongside the house was the grill, chairs scattered, but not too far apart and then there stood the big
avocado tree. We all loved this dutiful tree not only for it’s great tasting avocados, but also for the shade she
provided during the bright summer afternoons.
A typical afternoon involved frijoles de la olla, Mexican rice, and mouth-watering carne asada
sizzling while being served. When we all had our food, the drill was to sit down or find a spot on the blanket
to laugh and talk to our relatives. Usually, this meant the adults gossiped as we sat around talking about
cartoons. My tia, similar to Judith Ortiz Cofer’s, told cuentos, “the morality and cautionary tales told by the
women in our family for generations” (118). They were told when all the young ladies sat around them to
listen in on the conversations. In the background, you could hear the rancheras, the boleros, and the rock n’
español playing to keep the mood alive.
When lunch was over, we all sat around the tree to enjoy the cool summer breeze. My
ethereal mother was like Mamá: she was the chief of our tribe. In “A Partial Remembrance of a Puerto Rican
Childhood”, Judith Ortiz Cofer says, “her stories were parables from which to glean the truth” and that’s
exactly what we all did from the stories my mom told my cousins and me (121). She sat with us on the
blanket under the shade and told us about life in Mexico. She constantly reminded us how blessed we were to
have each other and the importance of abstinence. Always emphasizing that we had to think with our head
on our shoulders.* My mother just like Mamá believed that marriage was not something men desired (119).
In the end, when I reminisce on these afternoons under the tree, I can’t help but rejoice. My
childhood was filled with words of wisdom, love, and a great role model. Looking back, I’m happy I didn’t
61
62
take my mother, my family, or my childhood for granted. Like the tree that still stands today, her memory
lives and grows within me.
Work Cited
Ortiz Cofer, Judith. “A Partial Remembrance of a Puerto Rican Childhood.” The Longman Reader. New York:
Pearson, 2012. 118-121.
My Nest
By Melissa Hernandez
A place of harmony, where I can see and feel the quietness, breathe the pure and fresh air, my
place of profound peace, my nest.* My father had the privilege of buying a home three years ago in a small
town called Perris, California. Our family members always asked us, “Why were we moving so far?” Not only
were the houses bigger, but also had lower prices, and it was something totally different than being in a
large city. It is a place where you forget about everything. You disconnect from the rest of the world. We
have a place where we enjoy and praise each other as a family.
Our family was growing and Dad wanted someplace we could all be together. It was a
challenge to find what we wanted, but, at the end, we found a place big enough for the whole family. We
found our nest in a small town called Perris, an hour away from Los Angeles, California. Our nest of
overpowering peace, a place to deliberate as a family.* Where our protecting shell does not let anything
hurt us.*
In our new place, there is a profound silence. There is no noise, no traffic, no police, nor
ambulances crying, and no helicopters roaring in the sky. It is the contrast to living in a big city like Los
Angeles, California. Kamiya explains: “When you live in a city, the world is blocked from view. Too many
building, too many people, too many street lights changing mechanically, and too many thoughts changing
just as mechanically” (112). In a big city everything is moving fast, everyone is in a rush, there is no time to
stop and appreciate our surroundings.
Once in my beautiful nest, the air is outrageously pure to the point where you can taste the
freshness. You can also enjoy the smell of the ranches in the surroundings, like the cows, horses, turkeys,
and roosters. At night, you can look into space and enjoy the trillions of stars that light up the sky. On the
other hand, in the city skies, you cannot view or admire the stars because of the curtains of smog and
pollution in the air. Here in “el nido,” we can relax and appreciate the beauty of nature.
My nest is a place where my family and I disconnect from the rest of the world. Our family
domicile where we forget about our stress, worries, and problems. We step out of our daily lives to reflect
on our tomorrow. The place where we are starting new stories and memories together as a family.* The
place where we find profound peace.* *Fragments deliberately preserved.
Work Cited
Kamiya, Gary. “Life, Death, and Spring.” The Longman Reader. 9 ed. New York: Pearson, 2009. 111-117.
th
In the Eyes of an
an AsianAsian-American
By Alexandria Pitts
What do you think of when you hear about Asian-Americans? Do you think of them as
immigrants as well? Well, my mother is an Asian American. My mother whose name is Nuangamuon
Suankaew was an immigrant from Bangkok, Thailand. She and her two little brothers came from Thailand
to America in 1973 when she was eight. My mother’s parents were already waiting for her to come to
America. When she arrived, she had to live with her sponsors. She and her two brothers lived with their new
family for about two years before they went back home to their biological parents.
Finally, being reunited with their parents, they settled into their new home.
My mother described her home like she still lived in Thailand. It smelt like Thai food. They
still sat on the floor and ate out of bowls and used chopsticks. Nothing really changed inside her new home,
but outside was a different story. They weren’t in Thailand anymore. The smell of the river that ran by their
house wasn’t there anymore. Instead was the smell of automobiles and construction.
My mom lived on a street called Lomita, on top of a hill. She would watch kids play until she
finally had the courage to play with them. She had to learn to fit in with these new kids. My mother wore
baggy clothes when she first came here, and her hair was very short. See in Thailand the girls all had to cut
their hair off because it was tradition. So imagine this little girl from a whole other country in boys
clothing, pale skin, tight eyes, couldn’t speak English, and short hair asking to play with you. You’d think she
probably would get rejected or teased, but they accepted her right away.
During middle school and high school, everything went smooth, until one day her dad had to
go back to Thailand. He had gotten into some trouble in America. My mom was heartbroken, and my
grandma was stuck caring for three children--one out of school and two still in high school. My mom didn’t
get into a lot of trouble growing up, but she didn’t have a driver’s license until after she had me.
In conclusion, my mom didn’t become a citizen until I was eight, so that was in 2001. Growing
up with an Asian-American mother, there were many stories told, simply because my mother wasn’t born in
America, like many other foreign parents. Just imagine the actual struggle she went through losing her
father because he wasn’t a citizen. My mom stuck to tradition bringing me into it with her. I was proud of
my mom and my grandmother when they walked the stage into becoming a citizen.
Works
Works Cited
Cited
Suankaew, Nuagumuon A. Personal interview. 10 Mar. 2013.
Pochaidi, Nongnoot. Personal interview. 22 April. 2009.
I’m Black and I’m Proud
By Cheyenne Brown
In the essay “The Fourth of July,” Audre Lorde tells a life altering story about an African
American girl who happens to be herself. Lorde could not understand why her parents did not explain the
reality of why things were the way they were and that racism played a huge role in black folks’ failing to
take up for themselves. Lorde expresses racism and issues that pop up through different life experiences
black people have faced since the first black foot stepped on American soil. She also made a decision at a
very young age to stand up for herself and what she believed in.
63
Since I have been seeking for a higher education, my reality crept up and popped up like a
popup book. Like a bump in the road or a hiccup.* Once that baby turns 18, that baby is an adult in American
society. Transitioning from high school to college and childhood to adult life had a big impact on how I used
to view America as opposed to how I view it now that I am more aware, mature, and experienced with
America’s way of life. As a young black woman in school striving to stay above water while maintaining
school life, home life, street life, and my life is hard and I wish I was better prepared to face society as a
black woman in white America. As my mom would say, “You’re eighteen; you’re grown now.” Although I
could not wait to be considered an adult as a child, it was far different from what was advertised. Lorde and
I had different experiences but we were both experienced to racism at young ages. A black woman’s struggle
is universal. It’s a hard concept that we little black girls have to try to understand. Lorde and I not only
shared a struggle but enlightenment as well. I wanted to understand and know why things are so rough on
African Americans in all aspects of living healthy lives. Lorde explores why because of her color she is not
allowed to go certain places or be given the same treatment as others. Lorde understands the injustice of
such a white society and seeks change and understanding by writing to the President to raise awareness,
voice her beliefs, and stand up for what she believed.
Now that I am aware of the issues my people face that are rarely talked about amongst
society such as poverty, oppression, incarceration, gang violence, police brutality, and poor education which
all play a role in racism, I became enlightened and began to advocate for change. Although I grew up in this
cruel reality, I never understood why things were the way they were. I just accepted it. I strive to inform
others of what I know, learn more about these issues, and help be the change I wish to one day live to see.
The day Lorde experienced racism while in Washington D.C., she says, “was on the edge of the summer when
I was supposed to stop being a child” (140). In contrast to the time Lorde experienced racism in her life, once
I got to college I realized the lack of resources and opportunities I had because I was black. I started seeing
how behind I was, how much more I had to prove, and how I had been set up to fail or give up because of my
race. Lorde’s experience opened her mind and enlightened her, as she says, “My dilated and vulnerable eyes
exposed to the summer brightness” (142). Lorde vividly explains how she felt once she came out of the dark
and was exposed to that light called racism. Her imagery made me remember how I felt, and she was trying
to cope with the harsh reality of how life was and was in shock similar to me and my own experience.
Lorde shared her beliefs and new way of thinking and viewing life with her family, but they
would rather suppress racism than acknowledge its presence. She was forced to write alone although her
dad agreed to let her use his office typewriter. Like Lorde, I, too, was forced to stand alone as I explored and
tried to make life for myself and other African Americans better and, most importantly, equal. I began
reading more and partying less. My friends were not into the things I started seeking for and I was
searching all alone. They would encourage me to keep doing what I’m doing and to stand up for a good
cause, but they also never made the changes in their own lives to stand up for themselves. “Even my two
sisters copied my parents’ pretense that nothing unusual and anti-American had occurred,” Lorde says while
explaining how her parents avoided the injustices in society (143).
I now volunteer in my community, and I seek to change the conditions that far too many
undeserved African Americans suffer from each and every day. Lorde’s story allowed me to share my
experience because it let me know that we all have different experiences, but they are all similar and
connect us to be one, which makes no one better than the next person, and that’s why we should all be equal.
64
Does Wearing Weaves Mean You’re Ashamed of Being Black?
By Kathina Cormier
Introduction
Hair weaves are a trend, not just among African Americans, but also popular in other
communities like Caucasian, Asian, and Hispanic cultures. So does this mean these other races are ashamed
or culturally embarrassed by their genetic traits? In my personal opinion, hair is just that: hair, an
accessory attached to your body that can be manipulated to give a woman a desired outcome. In my research,
I learned some women wear weaves for various reasons, such as time management and convenience, while
others wear them to achieve the look of another desired race. Some women are ashamed of their kinks,
curls, and “overly roots,” because there is no such thing as “nappy” hair.
Most African Americans’ hair is overly curly, which causes it to have very tight curls that
stick to the scalp and in order to provide any type of styling other measures must be made. These things
include flat ironing, pressing combs, and chemical relaxers. These methods provide excellent results but can
also be damaging to natural hair and self-image when abused. It’s all about moderation, ladies, which is
where wearing a weave comes into play by protecting hair from excessive heat, coloring, chemical burns,
and reactions. On the other hand, excessive and extended weave wearing can cause major stress to hair and
scalp. A study done on 326 women who experienced baldness at their crowns concluded that this was due to
braids, weaves, and traction used in the weaving process. Not only do these stats apply to women of color,
but women, period, who wear wigs frequently.
Hair is an important factor in the community; it’s somewhat how you are identified. But in
these times, do wearing dread locks or your natural-hair-look insinuate you are more cultural or have more
cultural pride than a woman who prefers the silky hair that fingers can be run through?
Does Wearing a Hair Weave Mean You’re Ash
Ashamed?
shamed?
These stereotypes are most likely passed down from generation to generation because, in the
South, straightening your hair helped you look more “white” and was said to help you get farther along in
the world. This meaning your skin already told your heritage so your hair should at least help you fit in with
the rest of the world.*
“Black hair is a window into African American women’s ethnic and gender identities, and
black hair as a linguistic and cultural engagement with these identities ... presents opportunities for
learning and change, thus offering insights into the discursive and corporeal dynamics of African American
women’s being and becoming,” explains Lanita Jacobs-Huey (2006). This quote from an anthropologist just
confirms how significant hair is in the African American community and how the looks that we choose to
display effect how we are perceived in personal and business scenarios. All women who wear weaves should
ask themselves why they choose to wear weaves. Is it out of convenience or to mask their self-hatred and
hatred of their culture? Hair is simply an extra attribute to accent those we already have, but it should not
define women nor be allowed to prevent or discourage from every opportunity possible. Somewhat too much
emphasis is put on how we choose to wear it because hair doesn’t define us; we define the hair.
In conclusion, although convenient, protective, and low commitment, it is that a commitment
and should be maintained and done in moderation. Weaves are essential in the African American community
for various reasons but shouldn’t be worn to appease the dislike of one’s self- image but be done out of
versatility and to enhance the beautiful ethnic features women already possess.
65
66
References
Pallaritoh, K. (2011). Weaves may speed up hair lost for black women.” Retrieved from http://www.cnn.com/
2011/HEALTH/ 04/11/braids.weaves.hair.loss/ .
Thompson, C. (2009). Black women and identity: What’s hair got to do with it? Retrieved from
http://hdl.handle.net/2027/
In the morning, there may be a cold, thick mist that blankets over your entire body, that goes
into your nose, and it hits you of mildew. The rain when you wake up or throughout the day hits the ground
and stirs up the smell of the flowers and greenery, up into your nose. Outside your window, there may be a
100 foot tree that throws out a very earthy smell from the wood and leaves and soil they are bound in. There
is plenty of fishing that goes on in Portland, and you can smell your neighbors cooking up old and new
recipes. Going into downtown to visit the farmers market, you will smell the foods of many cultures from
around the globe and the smells of the citizens past all come together and fuse into one phenomenal perfume
into your nose. Portland’s smell is of many flavors that mix into an aroma of serenity, liveliness, and
diversity. It is very refreshing and it almost feels like it is cleaning your body as you breathe in and then out.
The iridescent waves of color and shades of green throughout the year that eventually blaze red and
yellow during the fall delight my eyes. The sounds of music and wildlife wash into my ears, and I can hear
the innocence harmonizing with the morning to the night. The fragrance of the plants and flowers give a
natural relaxant to increase your mood. It is complex, but in the most pure form. Portland is a beautiful city
that takes me away from the fast paced city life in Southern California and gives me a peaceful state of
mind. I am away from the industrialized city life for a while and watching a natural environment
reestablishes the more important and basic things in life we need to survive, such as love and happiness. The
simplicity of Mother Nature nurtures me in that serenity that enlightens my body and soul.
Work Cited
Kimaya, Gary. “Life, Death and Spring”. The Longman Reader. 9 ed. Eds. Judith Nadell, John Langan, and
Eliza A. Comodromos. New York: Pearson, 2009. 111-116. Print.
Portland, Oregon: My Utopia
By Samantha Ackerman
Growing up in Los Angeles, you are hardly engaged in a natural habitat. When I was a child, I
would see quail and hawks on this empty land behind my backyard, perched on this gigantic tree. My
grandmother had planted a pine tree that we eventually had to cut down because it was starting to lean
towards our home. It is difficult to keep those elements in a big city like Los Angeles. Years later, the land
was purchased and big homes replaced the trees that housed these beautiful creatures, and I never saw our
state bird around my home again after that. It is exciting being in a lively city enthralled in all these
manmade city lights, but sometimes I am in awe of the infinite, massive stars lighting up the night sky when
I get away from it all. Living up North in Portland, Oregon, let me live in this beautiful part of the country
with a delicacy that hasn’t really been touched in terms of industrialization. The city of Portland, Oregon, is
an open and free place that makes me appreciative of the natural environment we are blessed with, giving
me a glimpse of the simplicity of life and a profound peace.
Arriving at Portland was the most beautiful view. It takes about 14 hours driving, and I
remember going through the Shasta Mountains in autumn. There were so many trees, gigantic bodies ablaze,
there were rows of these beautiful colors, and I was driving through it all while the sun was setting. The
winding road is almost floating above the trees, you look down to the slope of them and they look much
smaller and plush as if you can bounce on them. Seeing these giant trees throughout Portland, the changing
of the leaves from green and every shade until they turn yellow and crisply fall to the ground then watching
the trees come to life again in a green vibrancy, makes me appreciate the life process of these beauties and
nature. Gary Kamiya wrote in “Life, Death and Spring that “It’s good to have a place where you can go to
watch the World get old and young, live and die” (Kamiya 111). The wildlife is absolutely astonishing; you see
creatures you don’t see everywhere. There are birds with huge wingspans soaring over the greenery and
colorful insects, even deer in the front yards of homes, living in the freedom of the massive wilderness that
humans are willing to share in their modern comforts.
The sound of Portland is very much loud and lively in the heart of it, full of music and
pleasant chatter, and as you move your way outside, you will hear the wildlife. Wherever you may go, there
is a sense of unity. When the sun rises, you hear the life waking up, frogs croaking and birds singing ease you
gently and peacefully out of your slumber. There is music everywhere. During the day at the farmers
market, there can be a band of old men covering classic hits, and then around the corner of a bookstore,
there will be a jazz player and strangers tossing money in his guitar case. At night, you have the Portland
music scene come to life and music lovers gathering together to dance the night away. As you make your way
out of the center, walking into the trees, making your way into the wilderness, you may stumble upon a
creek quietly rushing through the trees and shrubbery. You may even visit waterfalls splashing down into
natural clear pools framed by tall rocky walls. The rain is the most beautiful sound as it hits the leaves and
pavement and is a peaceful and pleasant soundtrack to your average rainy day in Oregon.
th
My Sense of Poverty
By Freddie Lee
Lee
Poverty is the state or condition of having little or no money, goods, or means of support.
Growing up, I experienced a level of poverty. I was raised by my grandmother. She did her best on a limited
income for me, my sister, and cousins. In order to prevent us from being placed in the system, my
grandmother cared for all of us. It was a struggle; however, we survived. Gordon Parks’ description of the
flavelas and Flavio’s home is similar to the sense of poverty I experienced growing up.
From the reading, Parks describes the conditions that Flavio lived in. For example, the
furniture was described as a sagging bed and a broken crib. It seems as if the living conditions were
deplorable. Flavio’s home seems crowded as well with his parents and siblings. The amount of people in his
home definitely reminds me of my childhood home. There were ten children raised by my grandmother in a
four bedroom home. We had bunk beds in the rooms to ensure that everyone had somewhere to sleep. Space
was definitely limited and there has no sense of privacy. But my grandmother did her best to ensure that we
were taken care of similar to Flavio’s parents.
My childhood is filled with memories of being raised by my grandmother. Our home was filled
with love; however, there were rough times. I can recall many arguments between the children because of
the home being overcrowded. My cousins and I argued over sharing rooms, completing chores, and basic
sibling rivalry. All the times weren’t bad times though. I also recall the sounds of music played by my
cousins and grandmother. Music got us through our tough times. The music put us in a different frame of
mind. The sounds of the television also provided a space for an escape from the realities of our family.
67
68
Watching television allowed me to have dreams of what I could do when my family didn’t struggle
financially.
As I write this paper, I can remember the smells that filled my childhood home. My
grandmother cooked us breakfast and dinner daily. I recall the smells of bacon, sausage, fried chicken and
soul food coming from the kitchen. I have such great memories of my grandmother. Although we struggled
financially, she made sure we never missed a meal. I also recall the smell of a clean home. We had chores
and made sure that the home was clean. When I clean my own home, the smell of bleach and cleaning
products makes me reflect on my chores growing up. Although my grandmother was a stickler for a clean
home, cigarette smoke is etched in my memories. As far back as I can remember, my family has smoked
cigarettes. I can recall smelling smoke in my clothes and to this day, I hate the smell of cigarette smoke.
The imagery detailed in Parks’ essay caused me to reflect on a time in my life where poverty
was a constant factor in my life. The struggles I endured caused me to strive for the best to ensure that I
wouldn’t struggle as an adult. I am grateful for my upbringing because I feel that it made me into the man
that I am today. The sense of poverty I experienced has made me appreciate being employed because it
allows me to provide for my family. I don’t want my children to experience the sense of poverty I
experienced growing up.
Gordon Parks’ description of the flavelas and Flavio’s home is similar to the sense of poverty I
experienced growing up. Reading the essay made me reflect on the times my family struggled as we were
raised by my grandmother. My childhood home was overcrowded with bunk beds filling the rooms to ensure
everyone had somewhere to sleep. I can still remember the smells that permeated throughout the house
from the meals my grandmother prepared to the smells of cigarettes. The sound of arguments with my
cousins and memories of listening to music are prevalent in my memories. The sense of poverty is prevalent
in both families. My grandmother and Flavio’s parents struggled to provide for the children but they did
their best to provide food, clothing, and shelter. Although we struggled, I am forever grateful for my
upbringing. My upbringing has caused me to evolve into the man I am today.
from these giants, one can notice the sky-scraping granite cliffs. On many edges of the cliffs, one can see the
beginnings of the beautiful waterfalls flowing down and crashing on the rocks below. In order to experience
the cliffs entirely, we drove up for about forty-five minutes and hiked for about another twenty minutes to
witness one of the most spectacular views imaginable. The clouds were under our feet and at a distance the
amazing waterfalls and granite cliffs stood just above the horizon. That moment made it seem as if we were
in heaven staring back down to earth.
Across from the cliff we hiked, one can hear the continuous rumbling of water crashing down
the edge. At the height that we stood, the wind blew a bit stronger and made the trees whoosh in sync. On
our hike down, we heard the actual sound of silence, no cars honking, no people arguing, no trains passing
by. It was an exhausting hike, but at the same time extremely stress relieving. We stayed in a small cabin
near the stream. Not too far away from us, we heard deer chew on grass, not frightened, completely
ignoring us. This was rare and new to us, but at the same time fascinating. On the other hand, our
encounter with a bear was tremendously frightening. On one of our back and forth trips from the car to the
cabin, we heard loud breathing, somewhat like a snore. We turned only to find ourselves staring at a bear
right off the trail. In Kamiya’s words, “The experience was so alien, so unfathomable, that it was hard to
believe it even when it was happening” (Kamya 115). In sheer panic we sped to the closest cabin, sealing our
screams from escaping our mouths. Fortunately, the bear took off into the woods while we made it into our
safe haven. After the shock of the day, the soothing water stream was the best background music anyone
can sleep to.
The next morning we took off to visit the largest waterfall we had ever seen. As I stood on
the bridge taking pictures with the waterfall as my background, I felt the mist on my face. It was so
refreshing after the long hike. With the sun burning at peak of day, I felt dehydrated and sticky. Diving into
the gathered pools of water felt like the perfect plan. To my surprise, my body felt like it was being stabbed
continuously with needles. Fortunately, that feeling ended soon, and I was able to enjoy a refreshing swim.
I can take this trip anytime, over and over again. There is no way of getting bored of it.
There is so much to do, so much to see, and even then I felt like there was time to do everything. I was up at
dusk excited to continue our adventure every morning, as if there was something in the air that I would
inhale and automatically get energy off of. Everyone around me was joyous. It seemed we were all there
for the same reason, to capture nature at its best. Even to get away from the crowded and noisy city we are
always surrounded by.* Yosemite makes one feel small in the most harmonious and cheerful way.
My Home Away from Home
By Martha Montalvo
Who wants to be stuck in loud traffic with impatient, rude people after an exhausting eight
to twelve hour shift? I feel like this is my daily struggle, hunting down scarce free parking spaces,
switching lanes on the highway to get home faster because a twenty four hour day just doesn’t feel long
enough. I can definitely relate to Gary Kamya’s short essay, “Life, Death and Spring.” He sums up my
frustration best when he states, “Too many buildings, too many people, too many street lights changing
mechanically, too many thoughts changing just as mechanically” (Kamya 112). I prefer a slower paced life.
Yosemite National Park is one of the few places around the world that can evoke an immense feeling of
profound peace. A place where I can enjoy something as simple as a walk while the sun sets, or a hike while
the sun rises.
For the past five years or so, every summer my family and I have taken a five to seven hour
drive to breathtaking Yosemite. As soon as we begin the uphill drive, you can see the difference. The Giant
Sequoia Groves made me feel like I was entering a different world with green enormous trees all around us.
How can things grow so massive? Kamya has a similar experience where his surroundings left him in a state
of awe: “[W]here the Sequoia gigantean, the world’s largest living things, are found” (Kamya 113). Aside
Baba and Quila’s House
By Egypt Muhammad
Everyone in my family calls my Uncle Aleem, “Baba,” and my Aunt Alma, “Quila.” It is similar
to Judith Ortiz-Cofer’s family calling her grandmother, “Mamá.” Cofer states: “In Mamá’s house (everyone
called my grandmother Mamá),” and the same goes for anyone that knows Baba or Quila (Cofer 101). Much
like Cofer’s “Mamá” in “A Partial Remembrance of a Puerto-Rican Childhood,” Quila is the matriarch of our
family and Baba, the patriarch. Their primary home (one of five) on the corner of McKinley Street (that we
all refer to as McKinley) is the epicenter of our family culture. It is the go-to place for family events and
holidays. For our family, it provides much needed comfort and functions as a place to seek knowledge,
especially on black history, African history, and our family’s history.
69
70
McKinley lies on the corner at the intersection of Towne Avenue. From the sidewalk begins a
red brick path bordered with Quila’s garden of trees, plants, and bushes of random arrangement. The missmatched greenery seems to be put together in a haphazard layout but nevertheless holds great natural
beauty. Visitors move through Quila's landscape, much like the garden of Cofer’s grandmother. Cofer
describes, “First they had to take a stroll through and around her beautiful garden” before they could enter
the home (Cofer 101). Up four small brick steps, the path is divided by a gray stone wall and a green metal
sculpted gate, closed with a latch. Inside the gate the intricately laid brick widens like a river pouring into
the ocean, and its design becomes more elaborate. To the left sits patio furniture lightly sprinkled with soil
which serves as a resting place for Quila's gardening tools that Baba refuses to put up. On the right, a water
fountain stands erect, though I’ve never seen water running through it. The fountain is topped with an
elephant perched on its hind legs, its trunk curving up like the body of a snake. Approaching the front door,
the walkway narrows between the two sides of the house. It’s lined with different Buddha sculptures and
potted plants. The walkway ends at double doors constructed of darkly stained wood. Suspended on each
door is an oval shaped stained glass window hand-painted by Baba.
Once inside, I’m greeted by an assortment of African masks and statues that scared me as a
young child. The family room is filled with cousins piled on the soft green couch. Adjacent to the couch are
Quila and Baba’s off-white leather recliners. Hanging on the yellow walls encased in white crown molding
are paintings on papyrus paper of Egyptian gods and goddesses, acquired by Baba on his trips there. The
bookshelves are crowded with thick readings with worn out covers from black writers on different topics,
mainly black history. On shelves and mantels are pictures of family from now and tracing back generations.
Like the house of Cofer’s grandmother, Baba and Quila’s house provides a great sense of pride in one’s
culture and history. There are two dining room tables-- one in the family room, the other in the kitchen-that we brought in this past Kwanzaa to seat more people and never took back out. Squeaky, brown, double
doors lead to the kitchen where someone is always eating or cooking. The large kitchen window frames a
beautiful view of the back patio and pool, whose rhythmic waves of clear blue water relaxes the viewer.
The sounds in each room seem to echo throughout the house. The alarm system chimes every
time someone enters or exits. My aunt and uncle sit in the chairs arguing over a referee’s call in the Clippers
game on ESPN. Quila usually wins their arguments because, like “Mamá,” she appeals to more of the family
because she is the matriarch, and Baba passively refuses to continue a debate. The surround-sound system
broadcasting ESPN reaches every ear in the house. Baba’s deep and powerful voice commands the room in
Quila’s absence. Cofer reminds me of myself listening to Baba when she says, “I remember the rise and fall of
her voice, the sighs, and her constantly gesturing hands, like two birds swooping through her words” (Cofer
102). Although Baba’s hands aren’t as graceful as flying birds, he uses them similarly to help one visualize his
stories. He teaches the younger generations about his life experiences and travels to different places, in
hopes that we will learn from it. Most of the family has heard his stories multiple times. I’m the only one
that will sit and listen to him, attentively, for hours at a time. He could talk all day if you let him; most
people don’t let him. Quila tends to talk to us individually, unlike Baba who likes an audience. Cofer reports,
“my mother, her sisters, and my grandmother sat on these afternoons of my childhood to tell their stories,
teaching each other, and my cousin and me, what it was like to be a woman, more specifically, a PuertoRican woman,” which is similar to Baba and Quila’s stories (Cofer 101). They both serve as role models,
matriarch, patriarch, and intellectuals that teach others in the family how to be black men and women, the
same way the women in Cofer’s life taught her about being a Puerto-Rican woman. We hang on Baba and
Quila’s every word trying to absorb as much as we can, like Cofer listening in on the women’s conversations
in her grandmother’s home. Listening to the life lessons presented to me by my elders is interrupted by a
shrill outburst of crying from the youngest baby, one-year-old Nile. My cousin, picking her up, quickly
pacifies her. Her cries quickly turn to giggles and the tales of Baba and Quila continue where they left off,
their words educating their children, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces.
The house of Cofer’s grandmother provided a feeling of happiness and comfort, as does my
Baba’s house. The dim lighting, dark wood, and bright walls create a warm and welcoming feeling. It’s never
too hot or cold, but a seemingly perfect temperature. Despite the warm environment, the ice-cold, amberbrown, hardwood flooring sends chills through me when I step on it barefoot. When Baba or Quila speak, my
cousins and I sit on the soft moss green couch that engulfs us, while we grip on the fluffy white decorative
pillows staring with anticipation of their next words. We become immersed in their story at that moment.
Baba and Quila’s house on McKinley Street is the epicenter of our family. It encompasses
culture, comfort, and happiness. Cofer says, “We lived in Paterson, New Jersey, our home base in the states,”
which is somewhat similar to what McKinley is to me (Cofer 104). It’s not only a home away from home; it’s a
better home away from home. It’s my home base when I’m in Pomona for work on weekends. The stories I’ve
heard from them serve the same purpose as those told to Judith Ortiz-Cofer in her writing, “A Partial
Remembrance of a Puerto Rican Childhood” by her grandmother. Cofer explains, “Her stories were parables
from which to glean the Truth,” as are those Baba and Quila tell. Like Cofer, I have learned and continue to
learn a lot about life, family, culture, and history through the stories told to me by Baba and Quila at
McKinley.
Work Cited
Ortiz Cofer, Judith. "A Partial Remembrance of a Puerto Rican Childhood." The Longman Reader. 9th ed.
New York: Pearson Education, 2009. 101-06. Print.
Party ‘till the Death of Night
By Maor Lain
In the year round sordid place
One day sees the marigolds pave
The way towards the souls
Or souls into the way of the undead.
Ancestors and the alive alike
Are dancing in no remorse
Celebrations all around
As they are closer to union
Than any time before.
They’ve paid respects
To them as they will
Show them soon the way.
But today, they are drinking,
Eating, laughing and more
Doing as used to be
Living life with
The now dead once more.
Sons see their fathers
A bit lighter now.
Fathers see their sons
As they look a little older
Than the last time.
Swept by the music all
Around until the sun
Warns as it’s about to come
Like the authority of the town.
Food and drinks remain
But the sounds and lyrics
All go down with them
As they return again
Through the marigold way
Into their homes
Until next year comes along.
71
0
Magazine Submissions *
Registered students can send up to three contributions with these steps:
1. Go to www.turnitin.com.
2. Select “Create
Create Account”
Login”
Enroll in a Class”
Account or, if returning user, “Login
Login and “Enroll
Class
Compton Literary / Arts Journal
English Department, Building D, Room 31
1111 East Artesia Boulevard
Compton, CA 90221-5393
3. Access Code:
Code 2877409
4. Password:
Password writing
5. Select Poetry,
Browse”
Poetry Essays,
Essays Short Stories,
Stories Plays,
Plays and then “Browse
Browse your computer desktop or
flashdrive, “Upload
Upload,”
Submit.”
Upload and “Submit
Submit
*Send photography and artwork (preferably in digital format) to the Humanities and Math
Division address on the back cover or as an email attachment to [email protected] or
[email protected].
Also, students interested in participating as a student editor of the publication should
contact faculty members and/or send an email message to the contact email address above
to express interest.
To send poetry, spoken word art, song lyrics, essays, short stories, plays, artwork,
sketches, and photography, see inside back cover.