Blog Feed

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

I designed my slide based on all of my favorite things. I put everything I like in this slide and obviously Lil Herb is my favorite rapper and I take a lot of influence from him so revolving the slide around him is the best way to describe who I am.

The Foreignness of my Speech.

Never did I feel the need to silence my voice or to conduct myself knowing that I have so many great things to offer to this world. When I was in the third grade, my classmates disagreed with my ideas based on my accent. They refused to hear what I had to say because my English did not sound like theirs. They said that I sounded “African” or that I spoke funny. Those words became scars and I lost all my confidence. I didn’t want to be the person everyone turns to look at because I sounded different. I did not enjoy that sort of attention.

Back then I wasn’t able to let them know that I have the same rights as they do, being that I was also born here, the only difference is that I grew up in a household with more than three languages were being spoken. At the age of nine, I didn’t know that being multilingual and having an accent wasn’t a bad thing. Gloria Anzalda has this concept of “Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out.” Her idea has assisted me by making me realize that my classmates too had the intentions of cutting out my tongue. They too dislike the existence of my foreign speech. They wanted me to be just ordinary. My accent made me stand out in a way that I used to think was awfully embarrassing. I can’t really understand why this set me back. Why it has kept me sort of silent, determined that no one wants to hear my multilingual tongue. Having to pause a moment because I had mixed up the words in my brain, thinking of the same sentences in Fulani, French, Sou-sou, Mandingo and Arabic.

It seems that people are somehow afraid of change. People hate what they don’t understand. Most people like to cling on things they are already used to, so it gives them an excuse to dismiss new things. When my classmates were exposed to the way I spoke, they dismissed me and my ideas because they couldn’t relate. The way they reacted to the change was to make me not want to speak. My classmates feared my wild tongue because it was something new to them.

When I was in the third grade my teacher, Ms. King asked me to read. This was my greatest fear. I had no choice, there was no way around this one. So I began, my heart pounding. “Th..The boy went to.. the park” I stammered. As it became more difficult to distinguish my letters. “Ha-ha” laughter rose from my third grade class as tears stung at my eyes. I could feel myself shaking. “How are you in the third grade and can’t even read.” One of my classmates shouted as I had a sudden urge to pee and chills ran down my spine. “Ms. King may I please use the bathroom.” I asked. “You asked to used the bathroom too many times, what is wrong with your bladder Aissatou? You know what just walk to the principal's office afterwards. You get on my nerves. I barely understand anything you say.” I rushed out of my seat tripping as a girl with two ponytails sticks out her foot for me to fall. I ran to the bathroom, my eyes blurry full of tears. I hated school. I wiped my face and walk to the office ready to get a phone call home.  

In order to meet the requirements of my classmates, I would go home everyday and read. I read about things that made me happy. I grew to love books because that was the only part of the day I could looked forward to. It helped improve my English. Reading taught me words my classmates could not even comprehend. The more I read the more I wanted to wash out my own tongue. However, I realized that attempting to perfect my English, in order to get rid of my wild tongue of its foreignness or to please others is useless. Drowning out my native background wasn’t worth it, limiting myself to only speaking English was holding me back a lot more than trying to juggle with them all.

Getting rid of my ability to speak many languages was pointless. I took to heart this feeling when I met a girl in the eighth grade, who spoke Fulani just like me, however she couldn’t speak much English. I became sort of a translator for her. I walked up to her after class when I found out that her name was Amirah. “My name is Aissatou and I’ve noticed you don’t talk at all in class.” I stated. “I no speak much English.” Amirah answer looking down, ashamed. We began to walk. “Then what do you speak?” I challenged. “I speak Fulani.” She reply. I beamed as we entered into the lunchroom. “Me too.” I said excitedly in Fulani. This was one of the times I felt proud about being multilingual. Someone was in need of my talent when I was trying to hide it. I learned that accepting my capability instead of disregarding it was not only helpful to myself but many others. The idea of trying to fit was not worth it, while it made me lose so much of my identity.   

"Key Advantages and Disadvantages of Being Bilingual." Key Advantages and Disadvantages of Being Bilingual. Torri Miller, 1998. Web. 29 Nov. 2015.

I made this me magazine the way it is, by trying to make is simple yet artistic like combining the words like independent fits into Expression because the “n” is also in Independent. And the word Slide can fit into Learner because of the L in Slide that is also the first letter of learner. And I added very few pictures because I mainly wanted the focus to be on the words but I chose those pictures because it pops it when you look at it, it isn’t a series of small little pictures but bigger and more simply pictures. And I chose the picture that says dance and it shows 3 dancers because dance was in my me magazine and I described that as my passion and in the me magazine I talked about my experiences regarding dance and why I love it so much.  I also purposely chose that picture of 3 dancers because when I danced it was always with my 2 bestfriends and I felt that it represented us in a way. Then I chose the family like tree because in 2 of my entries in the me magazine I talked about family and how they impact my identity and how they’re a big part of me that defines who I am today, not entirely but it is definitely a part of me. And I chose the picture that says projects because in my me magazine I talked about how projects are something that I really enjoy to do, and I learned better and more effectively when it comes to putting all that I’ve learned into a project. And I would easily choose a project over something that requires turning in papers. And I chose the word energy and put it in within the word learner because it had that E in it and i chose that word because when energy is really important when it comes to dancing and the way it looks when on stage.