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Morgan Marant

Gold Stream

 

A SEPTA Mentality

            There is a natural code of conduct while riding a SEPTA bus. That is: you’re in public, treat this bus better then you would yourself. SEPTA even took the time to put these rules on every bus in Philadelphia. Apparently, the woman next t me had never taken the time to read the rules or to even consider that she’s not on the bus alone. She talked animatedly into her phone and loudly popped her gum; unaware that everyone on the bus could hear her conversation.

“I don’t unda-stand ‘POP’ why I didn’t get the job! ‘POP’ I mean, I’m qualified and sh*t ya know what I’m sayin! ‘POP’ they just aint hire me cuz I’m back.”

My first impulse was to slap the phone out of her hand. The reason you didn’t get the job is because of the way you speak not because of your ethnicity, I thought. She probably doesn’t know any better. What a shame.

James Baldwin the author of several books writes “To open your mouth…  is to ‘put your business in the street.’ You have confessed your parents, your youth, your shoo, your self-esteem and alas your future.”  He is undoubtedly correct. The way a person speaks not only conveys their language it can exhibit how they were raised.  Language and speech can dictate who a person becomes as an adult.

My mother and father both pushed me to speak properly. My mother- a lawyer- and my father –a school teacher- taught me to use correct grammar at some of the earliest stages in my life.  There were many times in my life where I went to conventions and legal functions with my mother. Several times I was complimented on how well spoken I was at such a young age. When I attended middle school the way I spoke began to give me a problem. My peers would often tell me that I didn’t speak like the stereotypical black girl was supposed to therefore that made me not black but an Oreo; white on the inside and black on the outside. My speech displayed that I was and still am destined to be successful. It appears that the way a ‘black girl’ speaks does not reveal those ideas or characteristics.  

After those incidents I began taking out my anger on people who resembled the ones that made fun of me; most of them were of my own ethnicity. I looked down on them. Why couldn’t they speak proper English like the rest of the world? Why were so many of them loud and angry? Why couldn’t they be like everyone else? Then I came to an understanding that I knew nothing of every individual, black person in the United States. I was judging them solely, on how they spoke. Their language defined the identity that society had already created for them and I went along with it and even believed it.

A language does show a lot about a person’s identity. A language can even determine people’s initial reaction upon first meeting them but a language cannot determine where a person ends up. If and only if they allow the identity that society has placed upon them to hinder them then they have allowed themselves to become a product of their language and environment.

            Even though I am older and wiser I still cringe when I hear a person speak like the woman on the SEPTA bus. A small part of me retreats back into my old personality and says, “Here’s another black person setting us back five years.” As I pull myself out of that mindset I know that it is just a language. A language that only defies how the person speaks and not who they are. A number of comparisons can be made between ethnicity, language and class but the truth is the way a person speaks does not create their identity.  It creates the identity that society has designated for them. 

Jessica Hinton

Gold Stream

1 – 13 – 10

“The Sound of White” 

“Why ya talk like that?”

“Like what?” I replied.

 “Like that.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” I exclaimed.

“Ya talk … like a white person.”

“Oh… ok,” I stammered.

How should I reply to someone calling me a “white person”? Am I supposed to recognize different types of speech at ten years old? I’ve constantly been told that I speak differently, but I didn’t really notice it. I felt that I spoke the same way everyone else did. Well, that was in fourth grade, but throughout elementary school, I wasn’t able to tell the difference. I mean, there were a few kids in the class that occasionally used “slang”, but I didn’t think it was different than how the rest of the kids spoke.

I went to a K-8 school, so the same people that called me “white” in elementary school were the same people that called me “white” in middle school. In middle school, I was jokingly called “white girl”, but I didn’t really mind it anymore. It had been going on for so long that I just ignored it, and would answer them anyway. It didn’t really offend me. I had no idea as to what their intention were for calling me that, but it was never said in a harmful way so I had no reason to get angry about the name.

            It wasn’t until the summer before seventh grade that I actually questioned how exactly a “white person” spoke. Of all the year’s I was called “white”, I never really questioned the reason for them calling me that.

“Why ya talk like a white person?”

“How does a white person talk?” I questioned.

“They talk all proper and stuff.”

Honestly, I was still a little confused. I didn’t feel that speaking proper was exclusively for one group of people. I’m an African – American, but people don’t think that. Everyone speaks a common language, but people aren’t all the same, so there are different ways that they sound.

            A few weeks ago, I was on ichat with a friend.  We weren’t really talking about much, but my responses to her made her question me.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing much. What are you doing?” I replied

“Why you typing all proper?”

I didn’t really know how to answer that. It’s no different than someone asking me why I spoke like a “white girl”. I don’t have an explanation for why I speak the way I do, except that I was raised this way. Yes, sometimes I might catch on to what other people are saying, but the way I speak will stay the same.  This is who I am, and there is no one, and nothing that will ever be able to change that about me.

According to James Baldwin, “language incontestably reveals the speaker”. He feels that a person’s speech reveals their identity, and defines them as such. This is why many people are judged. Some people believe that your race determines the way you speak. There are many connections that people draw to conclude the race of someone. For example, African – American’s are stereotypically loud, obnoxious, and speak using slang. But, not all African – American’s fit into that stereotype. I’m one of those people. I am a little shy, and am soft-spoken.

From these experiences, I’ve learned something. You can’t judge someone because of the way they speak. There are many qualities of people that are different than others. People sound, act, and look different than each other. You just have to accept that. Your speech may somewhat reveal who you are, but you have to move past that and view them as a human being.

NaQuan Harding

1/5/11

Gold English

 

Comedy: A Double-edged Sword

There I am, sitting in a cramped room with the school’s principle. It’s my interview before I’m actually accepted into the middle school. My attitude could make or break my chances of getting in. I have to maintain an acceptable attitude and stay calm. Here goes.

“So, NaQuan, what makes you want to come to this school?” asks the teacher.

“Oh, you know…I was thinking about it,” I joked. “I mean, I like the idea of fun staff, friendly students, no uniform code, and a half-day each week, but what really had me hooked were the school vests. Those things look awesome!”

She chuckles.

“Funny. You’re quite the goofball, aren’t you?”

“I try.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be right at home. Now you know you’ll have to work hard, right?”

“Bring in all the work you want. It can’t be much compared to the chores my mom makes me do.”

Et cetera, et cetera, insert funny comment here. That’s usually how my conversations go.  It’s like what James Baldwin once wrote, “Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker” He couldn’t be more right. The way you speak can say a lot about the kind of person you are, sometimes more so than your actions can. I’ve always been aware of this fact, and made sure I never rubbed anyone the wrong way. How? By always being the funny guy. The comic. The class clown. The goofball. If it involves comedy, that’s the kind of person I’ll be. Nothing says friendship like making jokes about it.

            If anything, I’m always trying to keep a funny attitude, preferably a sarcastic one, but not so much that I look like a jerk. Humor has always been my thing. It makes people laugh and keeps them on their good side. Whenever I first meet someone, I always try to come off as the funny guy. It’s an excellent way to break the ice, raises my chances of making early friends, and leaves a good first impression. It’s my specialty. Once I make someone even giggle, I know I’ve left my mark. It’s funny because I don’t make up my own jokes, but feed off of the situation to make my jokes. It works because it’s unexpected, but still related, and of course, funny. But not everything goes according to plan. There are times and places for jokes, and times and places to be serious. Churches, funerals, boot camps, these are places where jokes aren’t welcome, and they warn you that. But of course, I took these warnings about as seriously as I do 2012, and joked away. And let me tell you, when the consequences hit, they hit hard.

Luckily, I’ve never been to boot camp, and out of the two times I went to church, I don’t recall making any jokes, mostly because I was sleeping. But I won’t deny; there have been times when I was in the red on the jerk spectrum. On several occasions, I made the mistake of getting personal with my jokes, usually bringing family into my jokes. In other words, my jokes came off as insults. That doesn’t make someone like you, that makes them hate you, and when they hate you, they don’t laugh. That’s a big no-no when you’re trying to be funny.  I sometimes feel like I have no control of my sarcasm sometimes, and it pops up at the most inconvenient times. Like, for example, at a funeral.

 

 

 

The sister of a really good friend of mine died and I went to the funeral with him. Now, he was very familiar with my comedic nature, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt if I tried to cheer him up a little bit. I said, “At least she can’t annoy you anymore.” Again, I made a joke about family, and at the worst possible time to boot. Needless to say, that was a stupid thing to do. Very stupid. Extremely stupid. Obviously, he took that in a way I didn’t want him to, and that left a heavy blow in our friendship and left a bad mark. I looked like a cold, heartless jerk. It took months of me apologizing, begging, and even doing his work for him before he could even talk to me again, and even more groveling after that to restore the friendship.  That taught me the lesson of choosing the proper time and proper place to joke around.

I’m not a bad person, and I’m not a boring person. Being funny helps dispel those thoughts when I meet people. It’s always worked for me in the past, and will keep working in the future. Like I said, it’s my specialty. I don’t think I could be anything else. I’m not anyone else. I’m not the cool guy. Not the mysterious guy. Definitely not the tough guy. I’m just the funny guy, and that’s the way I like it.  

 

 

 

 

Adjusting to a brand new environment is not always easy. A wide array of unfamiliar faces, languages and cultures can really have its toll on your self-expression and how you react to the new people around you. When I first moved to America and started the seventh grade at my new school, I did not talk to anybody. I could tell that I did not fit in, so I tried desperately to stay by myself. I was completely surprised when a kid walked up to me during lunch on my third day of school and began speaking to me in Jamaica Creole, but I was even more surprised when I responded in Creole too.

         “Kuyaman, awara Shamarlon?” said Stephen politely.

--Hey Shamarlon, what’s up?

         “Nutten nah gwaan, a nyam mi a nyam lunch.” I responded, looking up

           from my table.

         --Nothing is going on, I am just eating lunch.

“Suh, yuh gudehe? I hav bwein nuticing yuh ina klashe ahn yuh sheem suh kiete? Ah why yuh suh shiete and tensiete? ” replied Steven, in a fluent Creole accent. He stared into my eyes as if he was reading my mind.

--So, are you okay? I have been noticing you in class and you are so quiet! Why are you so shy and tense?

“Bway, ebethinete es jus nwew tuh mi bekahese mi jus movitete fah Jamaica. Mi jus nuh fit een!” I answered. I was gaining more confidence with each question I answered.

           --Well, everything is just new to me because I just moved from Jamaica. I  

              just don’t fit in!

“Haha…Bway mi diiete pheel de samiete way pheie mi de movitete fah Jamaica tuh wen mi dida jus six. Eniyone woulda pheel dat way ef dey lefiete deh jome dey phewn alla dey liphe. Jus khone dat yuh a mi fren.” he replied in a friendly voice as he turned and walked away.

--Haha…well, I felt the same way because I moved from Jamaica too when I was only six years old. Anyone would feel that way if they leave the place where they had grown up all their life. Just know that I am your friend!

 Over the course of the next few weeks, Steven and I developed an unbreakable and sacred friendship that was centered around our similar language. We did everything together, from sitting at the same table at lunch to going to the movies on Saturdays. Throughout the course of our friendship and by speaking to him in Creole, my personality had begun to change. I was not the same shy insecure boy who was afraid to talk to people and to be apart of the society that existed outside of my home. I was not the same boy who only left my house when I had to go to school and who didn’t socialize with anyone except for my family. I had always blamed my language for my complete withdrawal from society because English was the dominant language in this new country and I did not relate to it. I soon came to realize that Creole also liberated me from the same secluded pit that it had created. Creole was the reason why Steven and I developed such a wonderful friendship and through this friendship, I gained a better understanding of society and my language. From this experience, I developed the courage to speak Creole in public without looking over my shoulders to see if someone is ridiculing me. Fast-forward three years and now I am teaching my friends how to say different phrases in Creole. My friendship with Steven has changed my life by making me embrace my language and not being ashamed of it. Due to the fact that Steven also moved to America from Jamaica, and went through the same situation that I was in, he gained a lot of experience on how to not seclude himself from society because of his language.

In the words of James Baldwin, “…[Language] reveals the private identity and connects one, with or divorces one from, the larger, public or communal identity.” Language can either bring people together or set them apart from the larger identity that is widely accepted by the speakers of this language.  Language can also determine how you associate yourself with a person and also a larger group within society. Through this, it also helps you to understand your true identity and develop your own unique perception of your language. In my story, I had difficulty associating myself with other people at school, in my community and wherever I went. I only connected with people who spoke Creole, including my family and Steven. It came down to the point that my language controlled my life by alienating me from the rest of society, but at the same time, it connected me with a specific group of people. As time progressed and with the mentoring from Steven, I was able to develop a better understanding of my personal identity and Creole. I realized that my language made me unique and that I should embrace and not disgrace it. From understanding my personal identity, I was then able to connect with other larger groups in society, something that I had never done before. I began to socialize with my peers, teachers and anyone that who I came in contact with.

“Patios es apaat a yuh identity, yuh jus hafi akcep ite. Yuh language fi mek yuh hapi!” was an inspirational phrase that Stephen often told me to live by every day and that it will always bring guidance and support.

--Creole is apart of your identity and you just have to accept it. Your language should make you happy!

I often told Steven that he was Dr. Phil’s little prodigy because he is such a smart person who can solve anybody’s problem and make them happier. I am surely a testament to that.

Bethany Carter

“Hablas Español bien. ¿Eres una mastra?”

“No, viví en El Salvador.”

            I look back and forth from the waiter to my mom not understanding what they were saying. Almost every time we went to a restaurant and the waiter spoke Spanish she would have a conversation with them. All the adults sitting at the table looked like they understood every word as the kids waited for the conversation to end so they could be told what was said. When I heard my mom say El Salvador I knew right away that she was explaining how she knows Spanish so well.

            Spanish has always been apart of my mom’s life. The first twelve years of her life she lived in El Salvador because her father, who was a missionary, became the principal of a school there to help it get back on its feet. Her parents made sure she and her brother were immersed into the culture. One of the ways they did this was send them to an all Spanish school. When they came back to the states she was still connected to El Salvador especially because she never lost the language.

            Remembering the language has helped her in many ways. One way it helped her is that when she has gone back to El Salvador or when she went to other Spanish speaking countries she was still able to speak Spanish. This was important because none of the people she visited could not speak English. Language helped my mom connect to her country because without it she would not be able to communicate with people Spanish countries. One way it has helped her is a woman she knows talks in Spanish when she is angry. Most people have to have her repeat what she says in English so they can help her. My mom is able to both understand her and talk to her in Spanish so it is easier for my mom to help her. Being able to communicate is a very important skill. Knowing more then one language helps with communication in a diverse area and helps connect someone to more of the people in that area.

            According to Glona Anzaldúa, “Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity.” She is saying that what language someone speaks and how they speak it ties in directly to their history, and the history of their of their family. I find this true for my mom because even though my mom has not lived in El Salvador for her entire life she is still ethnically tied to the place. This because she could still connect to El Salvador because when she visited she did not have to stay in the touristy area because she could speak the language.

            Spanish has also been in my life. I cannot speak Spanish beyond what I have learned in school. Still the sound of it has always been familiar because I have heard it all of my life.  

            One of the ways I was introduced to Spanish is that Mama Alba, my first babysitter, spoke only Spanish. My mom though that this would make me learn Spanish at a young age. Unfortunately I spent most of my time with her foster kids who spoke both Spanish and English.  I was also stubborn so once I learn how to say something in English I did not want to relearn it in Spanish.

            My mom wanted me to get at least a little of the experience of her childhood. So my family traveled to El Salvador when I was almost three, Costa Rica when I was five, and Guatemala and Honduras when I was ten. It was not until I was ten that I wanted to do more then just go to different countries; I now also wanted to understand what they said. Unfortunately, since I was older I was never able to learn. I had fun on these trips, but the trip would have been better if I knew Spanish because I could connect to the people there more. 

             Overall, I have learned how much language helps connect people to other countries. Being able to speak with out limitations because of little knowledge helps both parties communicate and u677feel connected. If someone is unable to connect through language then they will never feel apart of that country. The learned language must not be lost for if it is lost then that person can no longer feel like that country is apart of them because what connected them to the country is lost and can not be easily obtained.  

Symone Smith
Gold Stream

The Voice We are Given

I walked into the office with nerves jumping around in my stomach like kids in a bounce house.

“ Are you here to start the scrabble club? Symone right?” He asked.

“ Yes.”  I said.

He walked into the principal’s office assuming that I would follow. The principal met us there and introduced herself. We sat at the table and they began to ask me different questions, the usual questions.

“What school are you from?” the principal asked

“ I am a student at Science Leadership Academy.” I replied

“Oh ok. What grade?”

“ I am a sophomore.”

“ So how are you going to run the club? Do you have supplies or do we have to provide them?”

“ Well, I have to attend an orientation next week. There I will be given all of the details as to how exactly I am to run the club and activities that the kids can do. As for the supplies the company that I am working with will provide them.”

“ Okay, well it seems like there is nothing further we can do until you go to the orientation. So here how about you take my card and you can email me with details, questions, etc.”

 My building contact Mr. Jengo finally chimed in, “Did Avi give you my information?”

I had to think about it for a moment. What did he mean by information? All I had was his email address, nothing more.

“Um, no” I said thinking that he was going to give me something other than his email. He wrote just his email on the back of the card. I felt extremely bad, I felt like I had lied to this guy because I already had his email.

 I left the building and headed for the car. That’s when I began to think, I should have said this and I slightly began to panic because I didn’t know the answers to the questions that they had. They probably thought I was just some high school student that did this because they had to, not because they cared. Plus I probably slurred my words again, I hopped that spit hadn’t flew out of my mouth. Who knows what they were saying about me after I left. I often have these kinds of after thoughts whenever I’m talking to someone important or to a group of people. One thing said wrong could make me sound unintelligent.

In her story about a young girl Maxine Hong Kingston wrote “It was when I found out I had to talk that school became a misery.” The little girl in this story felt different because of the way she spoke. She found it stressful to speak in front of the class. This little girl just wanted to be accepted by her peers rather than be teased by them for the way she spoke, so she didn’t talk at all. I find myself feeling the same way in class or even on important interviews. If I don’t have to talk then I don’t because I’m afraid to say something stupid or that doesn’t make sense. I know people are going to talk about it later either way.  I want to give the best impression I possibly can. But lately I have realized that the impression I have been giving is not the real me, because being quiet just isn’t me. I am a loud but intelligent person and that I need to embrace that while I’m with my friends, in class, or even during interviews.  I should not strive to be something more proper than what I am, using big words and trying to sound more sophisticated. I have been striving to express my ideas in class discussions in a way that sounds profound, to make my voice heard rather than letting it fall to the wayside.  But something that needs to be pounded in my mind is that I don’t have to try so hard to be profound because my way of expressing my thoughts may already seem profound to others and if not that is okay to. I just have to believe in myself and stop worrying about what others think. The interesting thing is there are a lot of people that act the same way, maybe not the same situation I’m in but similar. They act and speak in a way that is not them just to receive the approval of others. A prime example is when kids start at a new school. They want to be accepted by their peers so they start to talk differently and even dress differently.  The truth is you should want people to accept you for who you are not for some front that you put on to impress them.  This is where language and identity fall into play. The way you speak is not necessarily who you really are, your true identity. Rather it could be what you are hiding behind. Even if you’re different and speak differently as long as you are being the real you it is a good thing. 

“Ok kids, this is Tucker Bartholomew. He just moved here from Virginia, and he’ll be joining us next week. Turn around now.”

            I stood in the back of the classroom with my dad and little sister. I stood there rather awkwardly for a seven year old, not really knowing if I should wave, or if I should say something. The teacher, Ms. Gandy, told me to come up to the front. I walked up to the front while my dad and sister waited in the back. I realized that if I didn’t say anything now, it would be considered impolite.

            “Hey ya’ll,” I said. This resulted in fits of giggles that only six and seven year olds can do and get away with. I was a little confused, wondering if my attire was inappropriate seeing as this was a uniformed school. It wasn’t like I was starting school today though so I didn’t get too embarrassed.  

            “Tucker and his family just moved into their apartment up on the west side. Who else here lives on the west side?” Three of the twelve students raised their hands. Zach Whitford, whom I had already met the day before, was one of them. He seemed like a nice kid. He talked pretty fast, however.

            “Ah think Ah met a few already.” More giggles.

            “Now class, what are you laughing at?” asked the teacher. An unusually petite girl named Gabriella Rovalino, answered before anyone one else could.

            “He talks funny.” This brought a repeat of the hearty laughs. This took me aback. I had never thought about the way I talked. Everybody talked like I talked, at least in Virginia. In the next few weeks I discovered that I did in fact speak differently than these New Yorkers. I realized that there is such a thing as accents.

I had always known my grandparents had southern accents. When my grandparents visited us, even in Virginia, sometimes people could not understand them. I became a translator. In the north, no one could understand them. After that, I started noticing more differences. People aren’t friendly; they don’t look at you in the subway, and they especially don’t want you to talk to them for whatever reason.

            I realized at that young age that language could affect opinions. Southerners talk more slowly, like molasses rolling off the tongue in words. People in New York always talked like they had something better to do at that moment. This, of course, is not necessarily true all the time. It’s a stereotype that I established. Stereotypes and their underlying assumptions divide the north and the south. James Baldwin once wrote, “Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker.” This is true in many different settings. People hear the way southerners speak, or they hear the way northerners speak, and they form opinions based on speech whether or not they are true. My future first grade classmates and possibly even my teacher labeled me as “slow” or naïve from my first “hey y’all.”

            I never really knew how to respond. I was too shy to really defend myself, so I ended up not talking as much as I usually did. This is when I first began to realize that the way you speak matters. My ideas of speech have matured over the years to the point where I understand better why it matters. I now understand why my grandparents often feel uncomfortable visiting in city areas. No one likes to be laughed at.

            I’ve never felt largely uncomfortable in a situation where I spoke differently until I went to my Uncle Nub’s funeral in 7^th grade. I had been living in Philly for several years. His name was not actually Nub. It was Curtis. Everyone called him Nub because, as a teenager, he laid his hand on the chopping block and dared his older brother to chop off his finger while the brother was chopping wood. His brother accepted the dare, resulting in the missing end of Uncle Curtis's middle finger. Incidentally, that brother is the one who gave him the nickname, Nub. 

Uncle Curtis was a man of stories and colorful language, so naturally he had many friends. As we were waiting in line for Barbeque before the service, my granddaddy was in line in front of us.  I had not seen him in years so I didn’t really know him or his second wife Helen. The topic of northerners came up when I said something very Philadelphian, and Helen said, “Don’t you ever become a Yankee. Don’t ever become one of them. You remember where you were born.”

            Although the next comment was a discreet comment from my older sister saying, “But also remember where you're being raised Tucker. And that’s the north!”

            This sent me into a whirlpool questions and concerns on how I would define myself. Am I from the south, or am I from the north? Do I adapt my speech to the people around me or do I simply decide not to care what others think? If I were asked where I am now from based on how I speak, I would say the north. I speak like I go to a high school in the north, which I do. I’m glad, however, that I have already gone through this sense of questioning where I’m from. I’m a bit wiser because of the questions that I have wrestled with and the answers I have developed. Realizing at a young age that language does creates opinions forced me to consider who I was and who I wanted to be.

​Speaking on Equal Planes

By: Kam Huds

 

When you look at me in contrast to my parents it’s interesting because you don’t always see a parent and child relationship. Why? Well the main reason would be how we talk to each other. Sitting down stairs in my living room I’ll have conversations with my mom about men, love, sex, and random other things depending on what’s on her mind.

 “You know, marriage is a beautiful thing. Two people come together and are in love.  But you know… love doesn’t last forever. The flame doesn’t burn endless. The fire dies if it’s not fed and kept up by both partners.” I remember my mom telling me that one time. “Well that shouldn’t be hard if they both love each other, right? Then they both should be willing to keep the fire strong.”

            She laughs a little to herself. “You’d think that… But the thing about it is, when the flame gets weak, the relationship strains and sometimes one or both people will lose hope in the relationship. They lose the will to keep trying. Then gradually the relationship shrivels up. The flame dies… People can fall out of love.”

With my dad, we cover all the other things like sports, life, religion, racism, society, how people think. With my dad, I’ve shared some of the most interesting conversations ever. The information I get out of them is precious to me but the thing I love about it the most, the thing I love about talking to both my parents, is that most of the time we speak as equals. We’re not child and parent, we’re two intellectuals having a deep educated conversation.

I guess that after living with them for so long, living with this attitude, I’ve grown to think that all adults should be able to talk to me like this. I learned the hard way otherwise though.

My little sister’s godmother and I would be a good example. Large, loud, opinionated type. She’s very argumentive but more to me than many others. We’ve been in many situations where I’ve challenged her intelligence by saying something that she didn’t understand. Then she’d usually get upset and say something demeaning towards or at me. For a couple years now we’ve been in situations where I hear, or see something, comment on it, and then she challenges me as is me having an opinion is a capitol crime. One time I remember I was talking to my mom about what I would wear if I ever went to prom.

“, And we’ll get you a nice dress to wear for your prom” my mom ended her sentence. “I don’t even know if I want to go to prom. Oh, I saw this cool suit set the last time we were at the mall. It’s black with a mint green vest and tie. If I ever decide to go to prom, that’s what I want to wear. “ My sister’s god mother looks at me and with out fail has something critical to say at me. “Now you know you need to stop being stupid. Wearing a suit to prom. What, do you think you’re a dike now?”

On the inside I’d have a variety of choice words I wanted to reply back with but because I knew she would just argue with me I chose not to respond. Into the silence she comments again to herself yet directed at me. “Always saying something stupid. You don’t need to be talking if all you gonna say dumb stuff.” Angry, offended, and ridiculed are the words I could associate with how I felt at that moment.

When we got home my mom said, “Every time we go over there you say something to upset her. Why don’t you just stop talking when we’re there…” My mother found it kind of humorous that this woman always had something to say to me when I dared to speak. “I have the right to my opinion. If she doesn’t like it, it’s her own fault.” I said back. “Yeah… but is it worth starting an argument over every time we go over there?” Without replying I went upstairs to ask my dad to explain to me why me talking and sharing what I thought was such and issues to my sister’s god mother.

Basically he told me that it’s a matter of dominance and respect. When me and my mother talk on the same level in her eyes, it shows that I don’t respect my mother and that my mother isn’t in control. That reminded me of another time where me and my mother were talking in her house and she interjecting. I was trying to pursued my mom to let me go to best friend Jennifer’s house and we were in the process of bargaining because that’s how me and my mother work. If I want to do something and she wants otherwise we find a compromise.

“Why you bargaining with that child? Are you the mother? Look, she said she don’t want you to go so you can’t go. End of story. You need to stop playing game with her Rosemary. And you don’t need to go see that girl anyway. You always want to go over her house, what are you two? Lesbians?” my sister’s godmother barks at us. I noticed that as a pattern she liked to attack my intelligence and gender.

Remembering that scene rose a follow up question for my dad. “So is it like a lack of maturity or is she like too narrow minded?” my dad laughed a little. “It’s a bit of both.”

That struck a chord with me, this realization that adults can be very immature and narrow minded. They get set in their ways and then are too stubborn to talk change upon. I could never have a real conversation with adults like that because everything I would say would be wrong. As James Baldwin would say, “Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker.” In relation to all this, this quote means that if adults like my sister’s god mother took the time to actually listen and process my words, my language, they would see that I’m an intellectual. They would see that my voice was just as defined and meaningful as theirs. They would see that my voice was capable of speaking on equal planes. 

Sam Lovett-Perkins

1-5-10

My Language BM2

Happily Gay

 

            “Your such a fag just buy the damn shirt!”

            “Ehh but it doesn’t fit me, the v-necks too low.”

            “Fine you’re a picky princess, but at least buy the yellow one then.”

            “Oh come on honey you look just fine.”

 

            As I hang clothes, I can hear the playful loud high-pitched voices of what I assume to be two gay guys shopping. They look to be my age, maybe sixteen and seventeen, possibly on a date. Quietly I start to ease drop on what they’re saying and buying and while judging them in my mind. One slips on a yellow cardigan, in my mind I want to join them and say, “Oh no honey, that is not for you,” but I quietly watch behind two racks of shirts in slight discomfort because they don’t see how bad it looks.

            “Nah this isn’t for me either, come on lets go out to dinner”

            The two take a couple of other shirts downstairs to the counter and leave behind the yellow fabric on the floor. I walk over and pick it up looking at it, then I place it on a hanger on the rack.

            As I was sitting on the train on my way home later that night, I thought about the two guys. The idea of two gay guys out in public not attempting to hide their sexuality perplexes me. Having the courage to be loud and proud about ones sexuality is something I always think about but never have the will to do. I suppose I’m scared that others would judge me like I did, not just on their choice of clothing but the way they speak.

            I could never see myself as being flamboyant enough to call another by princess or honey. It’s just something that bothers me. In school I hear my friends call people gay or a flame because we assume their gay, and although they are my friends, I can’t allow myself to speak as openly as those two gay teens did for the fear of being judged. I watch what I say so that my language won’t be recognized as “gay language”.  Although there are some parts I’m good at hiding, there are others that are much harder. It’s a stereotype that gay men are very dramatic; this is something that I have difficulty hiding. Sometimes I don’t even notice it, but when I do, I become embarrassed. In my mind being quiet, and cool is straighter and is more likely to be accepted.

            Finally in their conversation what really made me think of was the one word that I don’t say, fag. When I hear someone that I don’t categorize as gay say it, I feel animosity towards him or her. I feel that’s its not their word to say, and I do take it personally. I feel the need to respond and defend myself, but I don’t. I restrict my language to hide what people would judge me on. However my opinion changes when I hear a gay person say it. I feel respect toward him/her when I see that they are proud of who they are. Similar to how African Americans use nigger, and refer to it as their word, fag is our word. When I say it, it changes how I feel. It is a medium through which I release my anger. In my language that word is forbidden because it hurts. It hurts me to hear it because it’s a sign of disrespect to me.  When I speak to them there language doesn’t respect me so my language won’t respect them.

            I am not ashamed of my sexuality, but I am not confident. Desperately I want to be who I am to the world and not have to hide the gay part of me. Mike Rose described how I want to feel in I Just Wanna be Average by writing ,“Rely on your own good sense. Fuck this bullshit, bullshit, of course is everything you- and the others- fear is beyond you”. I feel like this quote gives me strength because it reminds me to not care about anyone else’s opinion. If someone or a friend doesn’t like me because I’m gay, I seem gay, or because I sound gay, that is not my fault. What they believe is beyond me and it is not my duty to change their minds. My good sense tells me to be who I am, so that is what I aspire to be. Although I am still hiding part of myself right now I am slowly making my way to freedom. The quote also mentions others, meaning more than one, in my case, other gay people. This quote aspires me to help others struggling with their sexualities. It is not my job to change the minds of those who do not agree. Want I can do however is to use my language and my words to help strengthen others, so that they can be  proud of who they are.

            The language I speak is the language I use to try to please everyone, to seem natural and what society wants. However I use it to hide my true self, my true language would speak openly without fear of being accepted. When I speak “straight.” I’m speaking a language that pleases me but is not free of the fear of being accepted. One day I aim to be open and speak my own language. Not the language of others.

Eran las las nueve de la mañana y hacia mucho calor. Yo vi un hombre que aparentaba que tenia 22 años. Era bien alto y tenia una barba. El tenia puesto una corbata y se veía como era bien profesional. Su corbata era azul y el también llevaba un sombrero que era azul. El joven entro en el banco. Saco un cuchillo, mato la cajera y se llevo todo el dinero. El salió del banco, se quito su sombrero y tenia el pelo largo. También quito su barba. ¡ Era falso la barba! ¡Fue una mujer! Subió a un avión. El avión se fue de prisa.

Throughout my series of blog posts I have slowly gained knowledge about the workings of the political system as well as the current state of affairs on the drinking age. In Americas first years the drinking age could vary between 14-18 but throughout the years it was permanently raised to 21. I tracked Donatuci "The representative of my area code" he was the Leader of the alcohol control board. It would have been very interesting to see his reaction to lobby the lowering of the drinking age, sadly though he died before this could be accomplished. As of recently we have come up with the idea of filming a small demonstration and sending to whomever replaces Donatuci. This will be accomplished in the near future.

For my final blog post, I wanted to actually contact my representative Dwight Evans. I wanted to see what his plans are to reduce violence in Philly and introduce some of my plans to him. I also wanted to attend one of his events/ try to help him with his attempts to solve the issue. To start this process I wrote and sent an e-mail to him with my ideas:
My ideas included:

•Interventions for teens to educate them about violence and create a way for them to feel safe when they feel in danger of uncomfortable.
•Creating more after school programs for teens rather than just younger children.
•Create another organization similar to Work Ready but make it more accessible so teens can have more job opportunities.

My email was sent but I didn't receive a response. Dwight Evans didn't have any  scheduled events that I was be able to attend before the due date of this assignment.

Here is a photo of the letter that I emailed him: Please Zoom in.

​I just sent a letter to my district representative, Larry Farnese, requesting to meet with him to discuss education policy. I don't think I'm in any position to lobby for my cause just yet, but I hope to learn a lot about city politics and what it's like to be a representative. I plan on asking him what he thinks of Ackerman's Imagine 2014 plan. I also plan on finding out what he does as part of the state senate education committee. How does he influence political decision making? How does he serve my district? I'm also interested in his opinions about education - how does he feel about magnet and charter schools? And, with regard to my lobbying cause, what does he think of the SDP curriculum? I'm hoping he will also be able to direct me to other authorities involved with education who might be willing to speak with me.

For this blog post, I have decided that I will write a letter to the former House of Rep. Nick Lampson. Nick Lampson introduced The Securing Adolescents from Exploitation-Online Act of 2007 (SAFE Act). The states that anyone that offers open Wi-Fi Internet Connection to the public, that obtains actual knowledge of any facts or circumstances in relati9on to illegal visual media such as child pornography transferred over that connection must register a report of their knowledge  to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

 

Child pornography on the internet has been somewhat ignored by the public. Unless one’s child or relative in involved in child pornography then it’s not really a big topic to people. The whole purpose of me doing a series of blog post about this topic was to raise awareness about the situation and plan an action to take against it. Even though the Nick Lampson is a former House of Rep. I’m sure that he still can have a major influence on this situations being as though he introduced the SAFE Act.

 

My previous blog posts have given information about important officials, authors and everyday people who support this issue that I could contact. Me being a lobbyist, I have to put my best foot forward in emailing and phoning this people so we can spread the words about the negative impact child pornography has on our children and our society. The United States needs stricter laws for this type of things. Laws that would make people think twice about anything that deals with child pornography.

 

The SAFE Act is definitely something that as a Nation we can build off of. I take pride in making it that child pornography is no longer a lingering problem that is under the radar. As I come in contact with officials and others, I will make it my business that I can help create if not join organizations that are opposed to child pornography and that has the same mindset as me.

 

I am willing to do whatever to see that child pornography on the internet is no longer an issue that no one pays attention too. If I am not able to come in contact with Nick Lampson, then I will try and reach The Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare and the authors of the “Guidelines for Policy Makers on Child Online Protections. Both of these resources have given me information that would come a long way in me becoming a more persuasive lobbyist to stop child pornography on the internet. Letters will be written, phones calls will be made. Lets bring forth change.

 

Future Plans:

• Send letter to Nick Lampson or other resources
• Create groups and organizations
• Join groups and organizations
• Call The Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare
• Send letter to the authors of “Guidelines for Policy Makers on Child Online Protection”

 

For this project, Alex and I have been working with food transparency labels. It's annoying when foods change there names to make them sound more appealing, or healthy. We first started with Corn Syrup being changed to Corn Sugar. After doing more research, we discovered that it wasn't just Corn Syrup that's name was being changed, but other foods. We want people to be aware that changing the names of foods does not make it any less fattening or unhealthy. Alex and I are going to design an AD that will inform people of this problem. Not many people pay attention to food labels, but they probably should.

I emailed a representative for this issue to get him involved, but I never received a reply. I didn't expect to, but it was pretty discouraging. Our next step is going to be actually making the AD and post it around the school and maybe even around the city. This will hopefully make people more aware of the issue, which will be doing our job.

Also unfortunately, during this marking period  I got a little side tracked. I found myself getting bored with the piece I had started the first marking period, so I started on a new project. A hobby that I had taken up was polishing my nails. However this was not just polishing my nails with one color. Some how I had taught myself to duplicate the nail art that is done professionally at salons. I had not realized that this in fact was an art until I received comments such as "Your really talented!" and "Wow.You should get a job at the nail salon!".  So as a side project,I paint several girls nails in my art class. I have done intricate designs such as strips and flowers.

Truthfully I was back an forth this marking period. Closer to the end of the quarter I got new ideas on how to complete the Super-Girl replica and also realized new meaning to why I started this project in the first place. This Super-Girl sign, although viewed as childish,in essence represents the strengths and weaknesses women and I have. Strength is represented by the the sign altogether. The candy wrappers represent the weaknesses. It was brought to my attention that in the end you can and will have both strengths and weaknesses. I feel as though this sign does symbolize me in a way, so it is vital that i complete in despite the minor set backs.

Beginning Sketch

Collection of Wrappers

Back Side Covered

Side Project Photos

I left a message at the SEPTA Community Affairs Unit phone line. In the message I stated my name, the school I attend and that I wanted to speak with someone who could aid in my lobbying process. SEPTA Officer Macklin returned my phone call informing me to e-mail him about the details of my plan. I e-mailed the officer and will hopefully speak with him soon about my take on the issue and how he and SEPTA can help. In short, I stated that I was lobbying for public transportation safety as an American Government class assignment. I also mentioned that I wanted to discuss concerns about the issue and prevention methods. Any additional information that is necessary will be given as requested. I will continue this assignment until I have spoken with someone who can directly impact this issue and help make awareness. However, I am still awaiting a response from Officer Macklin and will not take further action until he responds to my e-mail.

My Communication Tactics remain the same:

• Letters to the editor, editorials, and commentary
• Phone calls to the targeted decision maker
• Faxes to the targeted decision maker
• Emails to the targeted decision maker
• Personalized letters and postcards to the targeted decision maker
• Personal visits with the targeted decision maker

Eran las diez. Había sol. Vi a un oso. Era grande y muy feo. Tenía 20 años. Llevaba una vestida y los zapatos bonita.  El oso entro en el bodega. Saco un hacha. Se llevó el helado y papas fritas. El oso salío del bodega. Se quitó su vestido y los zapatos. ¡Era un hombre en un traje! Supio al bicicleta. La bicicleta se fue de prisa. 

For the second quarter of our advanced art class, students were given more freedom and were told that they could create just about anything desired. At first I wasn't sure what I wanted to create. I knew I wanted it to be something interesting and intriguing, but I didn't have any ideas on what I wanted to create, the materials I wanted to use, or anything that would help with my selections. After some researching and serious consideration, I had a small idea. 

After completing numerous projects for other classes and studying for vocabulary quizzes, I knew I wanted a break from school and work. I started to think about where I wanted to go to relax and unwind. I began to picture a nice, quiet, and deserted beach. In my imagination the beach had nice white sand, cool blue water, and full green trees off at a distance. I knew this was the scenery I wanted to create for my second quarter art project. 

The next step in my creation, after finally thinking of what to do, was finding the appropriate materials. I chose to use a small white canvas and my friend and fellow classmate, Uyen Nguyen convinced me to use a simple bucket of chalk because it had the biggest variety of colors. I knew I didn't want to use just a few colors, but to mix up several colors to show somewhat of a contrast, so I knew chalk would make this easier than crayons, paint, or markers. 

When I finally started to create my getaway, I began with the ocean. I used three different shades of blue to make the water. Two were a lighter color and a darker one to show the waves. I also added a white color to try and show reflection in the water. Next I started to make the sand on the beach. In total, I used four different colors for the sand: dark brown, light brown, gold, and tan. I would say there is more sand than anything else in the picture so I didn't want all of it to be the same shade because it would get boring. 

My next step was creating the trees. I simply drew a small brown line across the top of the sand to show some of the bark. Above the bark I didn't want to put too much detail into the leaves themselves, I just wanted it to be obvious that they were trees. So I added a few different shades of green and made curves and waves to show movement in the trees due to wind. The final step was creating a clear blue sky above the trees. To create the sky, I used a dark blue, a lighter blue, and the color white to help contrast them. Then my getaway was completed with a beach, trees, and a clear blue sky.

I enjoyed creating this art project. I was able to make something simple but still insert plenty of details into it. 

​What began as an incentive to stop the product known as Corn Syrup to be renamed as "Corn Sugar" has evolved into a full-on battle to force the food industry to become more honest. 

When the Corn Grower's Association began petitioning the FDA to have the name of the sweetener changed into something more "pleasant" and "natural sounding", it raised alarm among many people. My family were advocates of cutting the sweetener out of diets, so this led me to research the issue. What I soon realized was that this was not just limited to corn syrup itself, but to all edible products used in food production that needed a clear label.  

So, basically my lobbying issue became something more along the lines of "make labels in food more honest and clear", also known as label transparency. There were a couple things I did to garner more interest in my issue. The first step was email my representative, which I did and received no reply. After waiting and continuing to do the other portions of the lobbying project, I realized I needed to be more vocal about my issue. 


So, my next step will be to create an awareness campaign. My partner and are creating physical and plan on posting them in public places, (once the snow lets up a little, that is) possibly encouraging use of companies like NeutriSleuth, if only to garner awareness to the issue and attempt to cause the general public to realize there even is a problem, because it is something that can be very easily overlooked. 

“Hey! I heard your Filipino! Kamusta ka? My name is Clarice,” said Clarice, the girl in the party.

I said, “Yes I am, I’m good. Hi Clarice my name is Pauline.”

“Oh geez lets not speak in English, I think my nose will bleed soon. Phew! At last! Someone to talk to without thinking if I said the right verb or noun! I have been looking for a Filipino friend in ages!! That’s why when someone said there’s another Filipino in here I went hunting.” She said in Tagalog.

I said, “AAAH! Same here! Oh gosh at first I thought you don’t know how to speak Tagalog, I was disappointed but here we are! Speaking in Tagalog. I only speak tagalog to my relatives because I rarely meet people who can speak Tagalog in here!” After that we were inseparable. People in the party were staring at us because they don’t know what we were talking about. We even started to gossip about the people in the party and we make fun of other people. It feels natural and it is like we know each other since we were kids. Speaking our native language made us have a connection.

Being bilingual is a good thing. Language is not really my major problem because I learned how to speak English in my early years. Filipinos were taught English in school and at home. However, we mostly speak our native language all the time. I know my basic English but I can’t say that I am an expert. I remember the days where I used to struggle to have a proper conversation with my classmates. Yes, I understand them but I have to think of proper English words to say. Up until now I still struggle pronouncing and finding words to express what I want to say and my words sometimes get so complicated and messed up.           

When I was reading "Hunger for Memory" by Richard Rodriquez, I had the same feeling that he has back then, the feeling of safety and being "home", the familiar sounds and words that wrap around me when I speak my native language. Rodriguez said, “I was a bilingual child, a certain kind socially disadvantage.” Rodriquez was saying that being a bilingual kid is also hard because you will have a hard time to socialize with people because you are not fluent when you speak their language. I had this feeling before; I wanted to play with my classmates but then I couldn’t because I didn’t know what to say to them so I could join.

I am not the only person who struggles being bilingual. My parents are also bilingual. My parents struggle to speak English more than I do back in the days and sometimes even now, because they were more exposed in our own culture and native language. That is the reason why they can’t pronounce and find the right words that they wan to say. Rodriguez also pointed that out in the story, “It was unsettling to hear my parents struggle with English. Hearing them, I’d grow nervous, my clutching trusts in their protection and power weakened.” In this quote he was saying that when he hear his parents speak in English, he doesn’t feel as protected as he does when his parents speak in their natural language. I also felt the way he did back then and sometimes there are some occasions where I still feel like that. It is not that I feel embarrassed when they can’t speak properly; it is just that I feel vulnerable because they cannot explain things and express themselves right. I feel like I am the one who should be the parent and talk to the people.

In Rodriquez’s words, he said, “I shared with my family a language that was startlingly different from the used in the great city around us.” In this quote, Rodriquez is stating that he is bilingual. I feel the same way he did. Whenever I’m in the house or when my parents and I are outside shopping, I always speak Tagalog. I speak Tagalog when I’m with my family because I feel closer to my culture and I also feel home and protected. I feel natural when I speak my native language. No other people in the city can share the same feeling that I have with my family. However, whenever I speak Tagalog in public, I still feel distant. In Rodriquez’s words, he said, “Nervously, I’d arrive at the grocery store to hear the sounds of the gringo -foreign to me- reminding me that in this world so big, I was a foreigner.” Rodriquez is stating that I can say that I can speak in English but I can’t erase the fact that I am a foreigner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For this recipe I made cake balls. The process of making them was pretty time consuming but also fun. They turned out really good! In this recipe I had a lot of trouble melting the chocolate. I initially tried to use a double broiler but ended up ruining most of the white chocolate. I then put the rest of the white chocolate I had in the microwave, it melted really well but I only had enough to cover two cake balls. So I then used the microwave to melt the milk chocolate. I hope you enjoy this blog post. 

Recipe Provided by: http://www.thekitchn.com/thekitchn/tips-techniques/how-to-make-cake-pops-078637

Ingredients:
- Chocolate Cake
- 8 ounces Cream Cheese
- 2 cups Confectioners Sugar
- 4 tablespoons butter
- 1 tablespoon milk
- Chocolate/White Chocolate Chips
- Sprinkles (for decorating)

Step One: Bake Cake








Step 2: Let cool completely
Step 3: In a bowl, crumble the cake with a fork and your fingers until it is in fine crumbs



Step 4: In a separate bowl whip the cream cheese, butter, confectioners sugar, and milk together





Step 5: Pour the cake crumbs into the cream cheese mixture and mix it together with your fingers until the cake and mixture are completely combined



Step 6: Once combined cover with plastic wrap and put in fridge until it is firm

Step 7: Cover baking sheets with parchment paper

Step 8: Roll the cake mixture into balls and place on the covered baking sheets





Step 9: Cover the balls with plastic wrap and put in the freezer until the balls harden

Step 10: Melt chocolate (I melted mine in the microwave) and dip cake balls in, then dip in sprinkles or other decorations and place back on the baking sheet to harden







Step 11: Enjoy!