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Soy Lauryn

A veces me encanta escuchar música

           divertida y simpática

              No soy ni baja

                 ni aburrida

                   yo soy!

                  YO!!!!!!!

My mom is Myracherisse, born to Peggy King. In Philadelphia, with 2 brothers and one sister. She’s the baby of the family and was born in the 60s. Sagittarius is her zodiac and she always felt a bit of a drawback.

Being an African-American female, her life was never a fairytale. The impact of race always brought her into a debate but being a girl she felt like it was necessary to always have a ponytail.

Wearing light colors and skirts never could she ever go and play in the dirt. Keeping a job was something she said was difficult so she tried to stay biblical.

The same could apply for education, hand and hand it was highly complicated. Her opinion on treatment between genders aren’t like my generation. She thinks it’s so much unnecessary, extra complication.

Her views are common old stereotypes but I guess that’s because they never went out of the box. She’s understanding and still insightful.

She just doesn't know anything about these titles. The definitions of gender and sex and how they are more in-depth. All she knows is boy and girl -- nothing less. Nothing more until I taught her about them, them their and theirs. Her eyes opened wide as if she saw THE light.

She said okay that should be in a book, I shook my head and agreed with a look.

“There’s different strokes for different folks...”

A piece that she can never forget.

Her world, different from ours

From discrimination to segregation

From a time where 2 genders existed

Her life, one who’s expected to know how to care

While the other side knew to protect

Her eyes seized what the world threw at her

Her eyes gasping at what she found

Bodies paving the streets,

Screams swallowing her mind,

Her sisters crying for help,

But not all could be satisfied.

It was her world

She learned to live through it the best way that she could

She learned to toughen up to take what she could

Just anything else,

That was the job of her family

Reflection

I learned from my peers that the font was hard to read, the picture was blurry,had to fix the heart, and add more things to the slide. With this information I changed the font from corsiva to abel to make it easier to read. Then I centered the words a little more in the heart but still had it bleed off the slide. Also I found a way to not have the image blurry and added the thought bubble for the cat to add more things to the slide to make it feel less empty. To finish it off I angled the heart towards the cat to direct your eye to the cat.

Introduction: I wanted to write about a topic that I am very passionate about. Everyone who is somewhat close to me knows how much on a daily basis I talk about cultural appropriation and my views and belief on it. I felt like this was the perfect opportunity to do so. In this essay, I explore the cons of cultural appropriation, as well as explain the parallels of cultural appropriation vs. appreciation. I also included a scene of memory that is a bit personal, but I'm proud in doing so because it is important that people come to know battles that you've struggled with because they may have struggled with those problems too and in return find closure in what you've wrote. As a writer, I plan to grow a bit more by exploring different topics like these and not being afraid to share my opinions on controversial topics such as this.

Suffocated by the soft, downy pillows and encapsulated by the fleecy fabric of my comforter, I lay on my bed engulfed into the images etched onto the screen of my phone. It is a long afternoon awaited; I just got back home from school and my entire body AND brain aches from the daily school-tasks of, writing, studying and thinking, purely exhausting. What better way to relax than to scroll endlessly, drifting off into a hazy cloud of social media? Away I go! “Hmmm, I think I’ll go on Instagram first.”  I think to myself. The hazy cold-blue light of the cellular device projects onto my face when suddenly my eyes widen with confusion. Images of people with distorted lips appear all on my news feed. Their bruised abnormal mouths match their painful expressions. Below these images I see in big, bold, blue text:

                                              #KYLIEJENNERLIPCHALLENGE

“Ugh! Kylie Jenner!” I say aloud. I’ve already expressed my disdain for this girl because of her “Kylie Jenner Lips” but c’mon! Now people all over social media are creating entire hashtags in honor of something she didn’t even have a whole year ago! I feel a surge of anger flow through my veins; the prickly heat of rage and disappointment seeps throughout my blood. Why does social media praise this girl as if she the almighty creator of big lips? Black girls are born into this world with big full lips but instead of admiration, we receive mockery.

But why? Because culture that people of color identify themselves with are only seen as significant and appropriate when associated with white people. This can be described as “cultural appropriation”. Society values the cultural objects, identities and items of an oppressed people when it is in the possession of a white person.

As a young black girl, I rarely ever saw any depiction of my features in the media. Even now, it is still hard to see any representation of black women. Because of that, I grew up very insecure and never saw the real beauty in me and people similar to me.

I stand in front of the spotless mirror in the corner of my bedroom. I examine every crevice and curve of my face. I trace the slope of my wide nose, wishing it was slimmer, touch thickness of my cupid’s bows, hoping it would become thinner and inspect the complexion of my skin, wondering why I couldn’t be lighter. It’s ugly, all of it. My eyes pour water out my tear ducts and in them, I bask in the rainfall of self-hate.

That was years ago, when I was uncomfortable with my looks, but now I’ve accepted who I was born as and love myself. But I am not the only black female who has experienced this self conflict. We, as blacks girls were, and still are, teased for our “gargantuan” features. From our broad noses, to our thick lips, to our curvy hips and voluptuous behinds. Cloaks of shame are thrown onto our bodies and our identities. But for our white female counterparts, (and sometimes on other women of color), when sporting our “anomalies” it is “exotic”and “acceptable” on them. They adopt what we identify with and make it into their own.

Cultural appropriation: the adopting of one’s culture as a trend, while simultaneously, ignoring the cultural significance of the object that is being appropriated, and being praised for it. Cultural appropriation is an extremely disrespectful act. Not only are you taking a culture’s object to identify yourself, but the people of that culture that you are appropriating, are completely disregarded. In other words, as described by Twitter user @slytherinpunk, cultural appropriation is like “...working on a project and getting an F and then someone copies u and gets an A & credit. That’s the big problem with cultural appropriation; the appropriator is praised for the adoption of one’s culture while the creators of that culture are criticized for representing their culture. However, there are some cases where the appropriator is unaware of the cultural significance of the item, in which the appropriation of the object/culture is in use of ignorance.

Some may argue that instead of “appropriation” of one’s culture, it is “appreciation” of that culture. The person who is committing the act may not be intentionally appropriating one’s culture to adopt as its own, but to show its common interest in that culture. However, it is still not suitable to do so. For example, a white man decides to grow dreadlocks, with preconceived information about the value of growing this popular black hair-style and the symbolism it represents. He wears them, without undergoing the several obstacles that a black man with locks will deal with. He is not called a thug, he is not looked at as if he sells drugs, he will not be told that he looks like he smells like “weed and patchouli”, but he may very well might fit all of those described. But it is the black man with dreadlocks who will suffer those stereotypes because of his race. The white man will not suffer because of his privilege. So out of respect, even if the perpetrator is showing his appreciation of a culture, it is best that he doesn’t. Because the one who the culture belongs to will be treated unfairly compared to the one who is appropriating it.

Cultural appropriation is a product of white privilege  and oppression. When people of color came to this country (excluding Native Americans) they were shunned for expressing their culture. Whites were able to express their culture freely.  People of color were forced to accept white culture as a means of being accepted. For example, many blacks were forced to tame their wild afros which held such liberal significance throughout the civil rights movement and instead get relaxers, just so they could get hired for a white man’s job/company. Many other people of color were teased for their vernacular and slang and told to speak “normal” or “proper”. So when a white person appropriates those things, it’s a slap in the face because not to long ago, they made sure that we felt ashamed by the way we walk, talk, dress, look and dance. When people of color explore other people of color’s culture, that is diversity. We as people of color, know how it feels for someone to make fun of our culture, so when we see other people of color exploring and rocking our culture, we see it as appreciation because at least we understand. When a white person does it, it’s somewhat mockery. For instance, Rachel Dolezal, the white woman who passed off as a black woman; complete disrespect to black women everywhere. To walk around pretending to be black is mockery because as a white woman, she’ll never know the ups and downs, trials and tribulations it is to be black AND female.  Because at the end of the day, Rachel can straighten her hair and lose the tan and go back to getting all the white privilege she can get her hands on. But it doesn’t work the other way around. people of color can never be accepted by whites, no matter how good their income is, what degree they have nor how well they speak, because we’ll always be seen as a minority.

It is important that people learn their boundaries with one’s culture.  Channeling a culture as your own is impertinent. Hopefully, there comes a time where people can learn to embrace their own identities, rather than taking someone else's.

Jabbar, Kareem Abdul. "Cornrows and Cultural Appropriation." Time. Time, 26 Aug. 2015. Web. 25 Nov. 2015. <http://time.com/4011171/cornrows-and-cultural-appropriation-the-truth-about-racial-identity-theft/>.

Johnson, Maisha Z. "What’s Wrong with Cultural Appropriation? These 9 Answers Reveal Its Harm." Everyday Feminism. Everyday Feminism, 14 June 2015. Web. 23 Nov. 2015. <http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/06/cultural-appropriation-wrong/>.

"Watch Amandla Stenberg's Primer on Cultural Appropriation." Dazed. N.p., 16 Apr. 2015. Web. 23 Nov. 2015. <http://www.dazeddigital.com/artsandculture/article/24431/1/watch-amandla-stenbergs-primer-on-cultural-appropriation>.

Maya Angelou once said When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. And that quote will stick with me all my life as well as the on one my slide. I can describe my self in thirty different ways. I chose to write words and use pictures. I like to show not tell.

Design process:

I decided to have a 50/50 slide. It shows a quote and then images. I decided to have a color contrast because I wanted the slide to flow nicely. I chose a light blue and white because a lot of my pictures are dark and I wanted my slide to be lively. As you can see I didn't use my name in the slide because I didn't want to have to much repetition. I believe my pictures are spaced out evenly by how much I like or care about them. My word font is big enough ,so people see the words along with the pictures. I wanted what I said to not over power anything else I wanted it to be equal symmetry in the mind.

Genero Accooe

12/ 1/ 15

Red Stream

The reason I designed my slide this way was to symbolize my nationality. My race is a very important thing to me because it is the one thing that usually differentiates me from other people I meet. The background of my slide is a symbol for biracial and seemed very important to include in the slide. The W and B were used to symbolize both sides of my race, but it was also used to show other characteristics I have. I used “contrast” technique to make the words easier to notice and keep up with.  

I was young, and very protected. I was shielded off from all the harmful things that the world produces. I didn’t understand the negative, and I hadn’t experienced the negative. I spent my first couple years in the world going to “Mommy & Me” music classes, private preschool, dance classes, and my mom made me go to theatre camp. I grew up in a courtyard in Society Hill, and one of my best friend's parents were the head of the Republican Party of our protected neighborhood. I didn’t know what else was out there besides Starbucks hot chocolate, and arranged playdates. But I did finally have my first experience with the real world when I was 5.

I wanted to do Karate. I was inspired by all the Bruce Lee movies my dad showed me. He would always tell me not to tell my mom I was watching them. My mom was against the idea of me going to Karate classes because she didn’t want to see her baby get hurt, but my dad was all for it. The pride a father takes in their son being a champion is something you could only understand if you were a dad. They spent time looking for a “nice” dojo for me to go to, but there really wasn’t much for a 5 year old. I went to a place called Zhang Sah. It was an odd experience for me, I didn’t know anyone. No one here grew up where I did, and I knew no one. All the other kids gathered in a group and made friends with one another, and I was left out. A lot of my classes were spent like this, and I was always the one being targeted. I didn’t exactly mind, since the purpose of this was teaching someone self defense and I was well aware of the concept we were practicing.

I felt the most vulnerable in the locker room. I never knew to get changed in the locker room, or to go to the bathroom and get changed there. I remember when I went to the gym with my dad, and he got changed in the locker room. So I just did what he did. We all would go into the locker room before our class started to get into our uniforms, and put away our bags. All the other kids were laughing and talking, while I was left to myself. I was nervous to get changed in front of people. I took off my shirt cautiously, and slowly. I knew they were watching when I heard the conversation start to quiet, and I knew some of the other kids were peering over in my direction. I continued to take off my blue jeans, this was what I thought we were supposed to do. Their conversation came to a hush, and all the kids bursted out in laughter. I was nervous, and I didn’t know why they were laughing. One of them approached me.

“What you doing?!”

I looked at him scared.

“You gay for that.”

I was now confused, I didn’t understand the context of that word. After the day was done at the dojo, my mom picked me up. She strapped me into my seat, and we started driving. I was quiet, still thinking about what I had heard earlier.

“Declan, why are you so quiet honey?” My mom asked.

“Some kid called me gay. What does that mean?” I responded.

I could tell by the look on my mom’s face she wasn’t happy. She was silent for a few moments as well. I understand now why she wasn’t happy with the name I was called. All of her best friends were gay, and those friends were the same people that babysat me. It was something that she didn’t have to face anymore, and she found it so sad that a 5 year old would just say that. Homophobic beliefs are not something you just develop, they are taught. Whether if it is through religion, or close minded parents.

“It just means happy, Declan.”

She was silent after that. We continued the drive home, and I felt a sense of reassurance that I now understood the name I had been called. But I knew that’s not what that kid had meant. He meant to call me gay, like actually gay. I was able to pick up on that. A few days had past and my head was still wrapped around on this situation. I had to ask again, but I didn’t go to my mom for the answer this time. I went to my dad. We were going to the nearby park, and he was giving me a piggy-back ride.

And somehow in the most innocent voice you’d ever hear, I just came out and asked my dad “What does gay mean?”

My dad seemed shock, that wasn't a question he’d be prepared to answer for a 5 year old. He came up with a very simple answer for me.

“Well, it just means another boy likes another boy instead of a boy liking a girl.”

That was simple, it was music to my ears. It didn’t seem like a big deal at all, this was minor. What a pointless word. And I connect this back to the theme. Homophobia is something you teach. It is developed. If my dad had phrased what gay meant in a negative way, my positive thoughts about gay people in this country would be flipped. If only that kid’s parents said to him what my dad said to me.

He is the apple of his father’s eye, like a gift from his mother.

He was sent from the heavens to lift his family from burden.

He was loved and cherished, this was certain.

His eyes were curious, brimming with the possibility of what laid ahead.

His lips were rough, they never did learn to speak words of love.

His mind was sharp, slowly learning what it meant to be a man.

She was her father’s worry and her mother’s biggest mistake.

She was a punishment from the man upstairs.

She was thought to be fearful, quiet and scared.

One day she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and spoke her mind.

All of humankind simply turned a blind eye.

She is from motherhood, from daughterhood and sisterhood.

She is from a childhood with two brothers.

She is from education, and hard work.

She is from responsibilities, part-time jobs,  and bullshit from brothers.

She is from the heart of an activist and the mind of a fighter.

From women’s rights and equality for all.

She is from Judaism. From prayers over shabbat candles, her mom’s famous kugel, and a b’nai mitzvah for every kid in the house.

She is from

From the nights in high school completing homework after a shift at the local art store.

She is from the love of art and from her parents not understanding her passion.

She is from the hundreds of pictures from her life neatly organized in albums; not daring to mix up her compartmentalized life.

She is from every person in her life that told her she was not good enough.

She is from a life of being put down because she is a woman.

Hola

Me llamo Ashton

Soy muy divertido

Soy de y vivo en Filadelfia

No me gusta escribir

Me encanta comer