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When we analyze our country’s history, we reflect back on its prior state and compare it to its stance in today’s society. Take for instance, America’s racial system. Centuries ago, the Caucasian race was superior and every other color was considered subservient and barbaric. In today’s society, we are starting to see a vague glimpse of racial equality, but this improvement is being undercut by discrimination in government, education, the media, and even sports.

In the case of Jeremy Lin, he is discriminated against because he does not look he is a great athlete. Therefore, he was held back. The typical professional basketball players are either African American or Caucasian; rarely do you ever see someone who is Asian or of another race playing on the basketball court, let alone playing Division One basketball. That is the highest level of athletics that anyone can play. So when it came to Jeremy Lin becoming a professional basketball player, he had to fight a lengthy and strenuous battle to end out on the top, because people did not believe in him and were ready to put him down.

Jeremy Shu-How Lin is an Asian American professional basketball player in the National Basketball Association (NBA). To be precise, he is the only Asian American player to play in the NBA in the modern day era. Titled an All-State player, the Northern California Division II Player of the Year, and winning a state championship all in his high school career, Jeremy Lin did not receive any athletic scholarship offers. Mitch Stephens, a national columnist who writes about high school sports for Maxpreps said,“When I really looked at everything, everything a basketball player could do for himself individually, for a team- Jeremy Lin was the best player here. But yet, colleges weren’t clamoring for him. He just didn’t fit the mold.” Despite quite the reputation, Jeremy did not fit the mold. He did not fit into the role of the average basketball player because he was Asian.

Jeremy Lin’s dream school was Stanford University. He wanted to go there because he lived relatively close to it and most of all, it was a NCAA Division One school. He would go there and play with their team all the time, and he would always ask their coach, “What can I do to play for you?” But when he found out that Stanford wouldn’t let him play for their school, he went through a very frustrating process of trying to find a school that would let him play for their team. “I couldn’t even get some division three schools to look at me,” Jeremy said. His only chance to play on the college level would be at Harvard University, a school that isn’t really known for its athleticism, but rather for academics. “If I was black, I would’ve gotten a D-1 scholarship, but that’s my personal opinion,” Jeremy Lin told an interviewer for the making of his documentary, Linsanity.

Every year, tons of African Americans receive scholarships to play basketball. That is mainly because basketball is predominantly an African American and Caucasian sport. “People look at basketball players in terms of race a lot of times. Basketball is not considered an asian sport here in America,” said Kenny Blakeney, Jeremy’s assistant coach at Harvard . Because there were very few Asian basketball players in the NBA, his statement is true. Society does not view basketball as an asian sport because they don’t see it very often. And when they do see it, they don’t always respond in a positive manner.

While playing in Ameatur Athletic Union (AAU) tournaments as a young boy, people on the sidelines, and even players, would tell Jeremy Lin to take his self back to China, call him a “Chinese import,” or yell other racial slurs. When he went to college, things got worse. Spectators and teammates would call him a “Chink,” would ask, “Can you even open your eyes? Can you see the scoreboard?” When his team played on the road, in specific gyms in the Ivy League, people would yell racial slurs to him. Jeremy had a hard time when people would make racist remarks against him. “It was shocking to me to see racial talks in the Ivy League because you think that at that level, certainly in this supposed very academically, progressively, oriented group of schools full of asian students on their campuses, that would be something that was unthinkable, but it wasn’t,” Pablo Torre, a writer and reporter for ESPN reacted. Even when you least expect a group of people to be racist, there is a possibility that they can be.

When one of Jeremy’s coaches said he could play for the NBA, he was astounded. He thought of himself as a good player, but he did not think of himself to be NBA material. So when it was time for the NBA to draft new players, Jeremy would be present at the ceremony. As the speaker would announce the names of the lucky young men who were chosen to be on a team, Jeremy thought that the team that would he be drafted by was the Knicks. He knew that the Knicks were going to pick him because he performed extraordinarily on their work out. Once they called his name, he was ready to hug his family, run up to the stage to receive his hat, and catch the next flight to New York the following morning. But they called another name, not his. Phil Yu, a blogger for Angry Asian Man.com said, “I was hopeful, but to be completely honest, I was like, ‘Let’s just wait and see what happens.’ The things that I’m always interested in is race and the way discrimination always rears it’s ugly head. I was really just waiting to see which team would take the plunge and take this Asian American player.” No team dared to take Jeremy because they were afraid that it would mess up their image.

Later, Jeremy did get signed with his home team, the Golden State Warriors, but he hard a hard time because they sent him to the D-League several times. The D-League is one of the lowest spots in the NBA; it’s basically a showcase for teams to recruit players. Jeremy said that it was the hardest time of his career because he really had to fight to prove that he was a great player. Then he was waived, or cut, after three seasons with the Warriors, so that the team would fill a salary cap for a supposedly better player. Two days later, he was picked up by the Houston Rockets. They cut him after only twelve days; on Christmas day. Then the New York Knicks signed him. But they did not let him play in the games, or even the practices.

When his contract was about to expire, the Knicks finally let him him play. That was when “Linsanity” took New York by storm. Jeremy was breaking records. He scored 89 points in three games, which was the most by any player in their first three professional starts since ABA-NBA merger in 1976-77. In five games, he scored 136 points, breaking Shaquille O’Neal’s 20-year-old record of 129 points. He also went to a “no name” to a “national phenomenon” in only two weeks. That is something that just isn’t common in the matter of that time period.

Despite his success, the racism surfaced again. The Asian jokes and stereotypes were surfacing all over the media. News reporters called him a “Chink,” they made fun of his eyes, and even David Letterman, the famous late night talk show host, got in a few jokes about his race. Jeremy’s Agent, Roger Montgomery said, “This whole thing shows how unprepared we were to deal with this culture in this context.” They were not prepared to address the racism in the country. “For many years, we had many stereotypes about Asian Americans, and now they’re all coming out like they’re no big deal. They are a big deal,” said one NBA spokesperson. Even though the media might have not looked at the racist remarks very seriously, it was a serious matter and it was not funny.

Today, the Linsanity has calmed down a little, as Jeremy Lin plays for the Houston Rockets once again. He is viewed as the underdog, who came out on top. Everyone was ready to bury him alive because he did not look the part; because he was asian. But Jeremy got through that difficult season in his life by looking to the sole thing that inspires him, God. Once he put his eyes on him, he had the strength to make it. So now Jeremy is finally getting his chance to shine and play his brand of basketball.

Yao Ming, a Chinese professional basketball player who formerly played for the Houston Rockets said, “In the NBA, there is already enough pressure from just playing in games, from the media, from the fans. Whether you like it or not, those pressures exist. I hope in the future, people see Chinese players as being in the NBA as a normal thing.” Hopefully, we will see an increase of Asian players in the NBA. Hopefully, we will see an increase of other races breaking records in all things. And when that time comes, we will know that we have reached racial equality. Something that can not be undercut by discrimination in the government, in education, in the media, or even in sports.

I made 57 million dollars in six months. Yeah. More than most of you would make in five lifetimes. And It was absolutely perfect. I was a God. A british model wife having, 3 million dollar car speeding, 64 acer house living God. No i’m not royalty or an athlete or a movie star, I made it in ways you couldn't dream of actually happening. And i'm not talking about one of those shitty rich man jobs either, like a Nuclear engineer or something that will kill you at 50. No. I’m talking about the fast life ladies and gentlemen, Sales work. Now I know what you're thinking, how the hell does a plane old salesman make 57 million in a one freakin’ year. That’s just it though I wasn’t just any lame salesman, I was the best salesman. My trade was airplanes. I started my career small of course, my company would buy out full price planes and sell them for less than they were worth in a firm called Allbond Plane Investments Limited. But then I realized why be doing the job I love and make 15% of a sale while the jerkoffs on the other end who don’t really need any sweet deals are buying million dollar planes for “less than they're worth”. I was on the verge of genius and this small idea changed my life forever.

They say when you're poor you hate the rich and when you’re rich you hate the poor, well I hated the rich, more than I wanted to make money. At first I was just determined to ruin these guys lives, you know? Make them spend billions and get a crap share on a plane in return. And the plan was simple, I would find a couple of high buyers for a plane worth around 500,000 then let those hags bid it out, bid until they're freakin’ pockets broke and when they did, I’d cut their share in half in return for mine and while they’d think they're getting a new plane for 750,000 in actuality they could be spending something around 2 million dollars. The first time I did it I made half what I sold the plane for, so I made something around 900,000 dollars. And yeah it was kind of illegal but no one gave a shit the guys I was scamming were already rich anyway. And besides there money felt better in my pockets. After a while it turned into a huge thing at the firm, before I knew it everyone was selling faulty deals, it was like I set a new trend or something. And after maybe a month or two everyone at Allbond Plane Investments Limited was filthy freakin’ rich. I lost sight of my goal to make the rich miserable, I became kind of rich myself, so I started screwing over all kinds of people, rich, poor, middle class, I didn’t care, if you were willing to buy a share on a plane I was going to give you the share of a lifetime. Literally, most guys actually spent their lifetime earnings on our planes but as long as there money ended up in my pocket I was a very satisfied man. Life became lavish, and I tried to keep it under control I swear I did but it just kept getting bigger and bigger. It’s like a whole new side of me came out, I became greedy and always hungry for more money. So I decided to expand, why only sell planes? Then I thought why only sell vehicles? So I got the idea to buy out other companies, small companies and let people invest in their products and that, that’s when we really took off. The next couple of days, I have to admit, were pretty memorable. For one I married this british model I saw at an jewelry auction, the same day I met her I bought the 6th largest estate in america, the next day I bought a personal yacht named after my beautiful wife Alisa and toured to every freakin’ island I could think of a week later. While I was gone I heard it was so out of hand back at the firm that no one on the outside world knew what was going on half the time.

I started using these drugs called “Lubes” just to keep up with the days. And with the Lubes came this care free attitude, like the shit we were doing wasn’t illegal, like when you're rich everyone below you isn’t important, and they weren’t important. To me. If you weren’t on my level then you had no right to be in my presence.

We spent literally 11 months on that yacht, just me, Alisa and all our personal servants. It was hell. Turns out supermodels are really annoying. When I finally got back from my “personal” cruise, there was a little surprise at my door step. It’s like they timed it perfectly too, I swear as soon as someone gets ahead in this world there’s always that one asshole that has to bring you down. Mine was officer John, Officer Freakin’ John what kind of last name is John anyway, or “Marten Martelli John”, that’s what he calls himself. There he was, asking me if he could come in and ask a few questions and I knew that translated into “Hands behind your back you're coming with us” but I had just had a half a bag of Lubes and wasn’t really in a state to deal with anyone. Especially not the police. We were sitting on the couch and that’s when the lubes really started to kick in. It got so bad John moved to the kitchen to talk to Alisa instead of me, said I was excessively touching his face and then I fell asleep or something. When I woke up Alisa said the police told her I was going on trial for Money Laundering and Fraud and that I could spend up to 20 years in prison if I lost this case. She was packing a bag as she spoke to me, I asked where she thought she was going and closed the door. She called me a good for nothing criminal drug addict who she isn’t going to jail for. I was yelling by this point, I grabbed onto her and screamed “Of Course you leave me when I’m down, fucking slezz how could you do this to me, huh? How now!” Then I proceeded to call her names like slut, whore, hoe. She didn’t care though, she wanted out and nothing to do with me. So she tried to move me from in front of the door. Reflexively I jabbed her in the stomach, but before I could realize what I had done I ripped open my pillow case holding my secret stash of Lubes and took so many I don’t even remember the rest of that night. But I do remember her divorcing me a week later. Taking full custody of our kids and almost half my money. What ever money I had left I tried to stash away overseas in Switzerland before my trial, but that didn’t work. Turns out Switzerland has the same harboring laws as America. Eventually I had to face reality, I mean all the signs were there. I was denied bale twice, and I shit you not my million dollar Yacht freakin’ exploded, yeah exploded. Kitchen accident or something killed six people. Anyway I figured karma finally came around to bite me in the ass. And why not, money had turned me into more than a asshole I was a monster. A monster facing 20 long years in jail, so how am I talking to you all today and not doing my time. Well my good old friend officer John made me a proposal. He said I could do as little as 4 years and all I would have to do is turn in a couple of my old buddies at the firm. You know? Like the guys who helped me start the whole thing. They called it “Police Suspect Cooperation” or something. So I did it, spent four years in prison and seeked to turn my life around. My theory is all people with good money will eventually change in one way or another and those who make anything less than more will be envious of those richer. I started in the second category I envied the rich, when I became rich I changed very much so. Today I seek to find common ground between the two. I want to know if there is a gray area, you know? A middle ground. And that’s why I’m here today ladies and gentlemen, telling you my story. Because I truly believe you find the unknown in the past and through telling you this, you may not know it, but I have made you subconscious to how you will treat the next homeless man you see or that star on your favorite TV show you want to be so much. That’s one of the great wonders of the human mind though. So I leave you all with this thought, would you rather be rich or poor?

You Should Buy an Audi

An Analysis of How Advertisements Tell the Consumer to Live Their Lives

Anna Sugrue - Gold Stream - January 2014

In a world controlled by the media and powered by the consumerist, the advertisement is the ultimate weapon. This weapon manipulates the mindset of an individual, and thus has the power to change the mindset of a people. From Madison Avenue to Nazi Germany, human being have learned the secrets to this weapon, and have succeeded in reconstructing social systems to fit their own agendas. Hitler convinced people mass murder was okay. On Madison Avenue, advertisers convince people that satisfaction comes from a beach bod, a designer bikini and a bottle of Coca Cola.

Today, the advertisement relies on appealing to, and attempting to change, one’s sense of satisfaction. When you turn on the TV, or surf the internet, or drive down the highway, you are bombarded by images and information that tell you what you need to be happy. This car insurance will save you money, and that will make you happy. This resort is so relaxing, you are guaranteed to be happy if you go. The advertiser’s promise of happiness goes in hand in hand with one’s personal fear of obsolescence. If you do not get this car insurance, you will not be cool. If you do not go to this resort, your relationships will not be as secure. If you consume, you will be satisfied, if you do not, you will be nothing. Consciously or not, you take in these images and these ideas. If you are unhappy, you go buy a new outfit, or a get a new phone, or go on a vacation- hoping, and believing, that you will be better because of it.

To understand the extent in which advertisements shape one’s sense of satisfaction, I went on Hulu, and watched one of the most popular commercials from the Super Bowl last year. It was a 1 minute commercial for Audi, where a boy goes to prom. The advertisement starts with an unhappy teenage boy looking at his tuxedoed reflection in the mirror. His mom reassures him that “now-a-days, lots of people go by themselves!”. Disheartened, he makes for the door, but his dad stops him, and tosses him the keys to the Audi. Everything changes. The boy gets in the car and the engine starts and he is immediately alive, ready for the night. Music starts to pump and the camera angles change similarly to the movie Drive, where Ryan Gosling stars as a get-a-way driver. The boy becomes a badass. He parks in the principal's parking spot and strides down a dim high school hallway towards the Prom. He walks in, immediately finds a gorgeous girl (Prom Queen of course), and kisses her. Then you see the boyfriend. The ad ends with the boy driving down the road again with a black eye, looking happier than ever. “Bravery. It’s what defines us. Audi. #BraveryWins.”

The basic message of the commercial, articulated in Audi’s tagline, is that buying an Audi will make you brave. The advertisement guarantees satisfaction. By telling a relatable story, Audi convinces you that with an Audi, you are a fearless rebel, and without an Audi, you can not get that girl, you can not feel alive, and you can not be brave. The story is relatable enough that the goal seems within the reach of the consumer, but unreal enough that the consumer will never be fully satisfied. Because in reality, like John Berger says in Ways of Seeing, you will be $40,000 poorer and none the richer, regardless of what the advertisement told you.

Several characteristics of this advertisement are reflected in the consumer’s daily sense of satisfaction, mainly sex and money.

Sex is the simplest human urge. Fulfilling sexual goals is the clearest human pathway to pleasure and satisfaction. In the Audi advertisement, the boy grabs his crush in the center of the dance floor and passionately kisses her. Not only is Audi telling the consumer that a car will make them have sex, but the Audi is defining what it means to be sexy. The girl kissed him back. The boys confidence and bravery, granted to him by the car, made him attractive. Audi understand that the consumer wants to have sex, and tells the consumer that they need to be sexy. The consumer needs the sex and the sexy to be satisfied.

In Ways of Seeing, John Berger says that it is true money cannot buy happiness, but publicities strive to convince you otherwise. The Audi boy was obviously made happier after he drove a $40,000 luxury vehicle. The consumer is led to understand that consuming will make them happier. Thus, the consumer will not feel satisfied unless they spend money.

When the money is combined with the sex, the consumer is told that their ability to consume is directly correlated with their sexual ability. This further manipulates the consumers sense of satisfaction, making an unhappy human, but very happy advertisers.

The Audi advertisement, and all advertisements, manipulate the consumer’s sense of satisfaction to the point where they will never be satisfied. Because, if the consumer is satisfied, if the consumer is full, the consumer will stop consuming. Most consumers understand that they will never become the Prom boy, but they buy the car anyway, vainly searching for some kind of inner gratification that materials can never satisfy. True and complete inner satisfaction is hard to obtain, close to impossible, and the material world only makes it harder.

I feel as though I have had a clear understanding of how the media has an influence on one’s psyche, and John Berger’s Ways of Seeing certainly helped develop my opinion. I still do not know how the consumer can resist the advertisers subconscious maneuvers, or if the disturbing truth is ever going to be enough to make advertisers change their tactics. Companies like Dove are working to promote a positive sense of satisfaction, however much more needs to happen in order for the world to change.

So, in the end, I reside myself in sitting on the couch, with a can of Coca Cola, watching a boy go to Prom, and dreaming of something more.

Works Cited

Berger, John. "Ways of Seeing." Ways of Seeing. Dir. Mike Dibb. BBC. BBC, London, UK, 1972. Television.

“So What...?”

- Basically a kid in a wheelchair and an african american kid get sent to the office for getting into a fight and they both have to explain their side of what happened. The principal takes the bias toward the caucasian kid in the wheelchair over the african american kid. Throughout the story you’ll see the change in dialogue the principal has when talking to each of them.

“Leave me alone, I’m tired of  this school! I didn’t do nuffin! Blaming me for stuff, always assuming.”

Michael entered the principal office along with one of the women from the cafeteria.

“Take a seat,” exclaimed Mr. Kregno.

Michael leaned forward to grasp the wheels of his wheelchair and pushed himself into the principal’s office.

Keyon lets out a small laugh.

“Guess you don’t have to take a seat Michael cause ya already got one everywhere you go.”

“Thats enough jokes boys, take a seat now. Now which one of you wants to tell your side of what happened first?”

Keyon immediately with no hesitation offered to go first.

“I’ll go I have no problem going first sir.”

“No Keyon, go sit outside. I would like to hear what Michael has to say first.”

Keyon grabs his bookbag and proceeds to walk out of the office.

“Whatever man.”

mumbles under his breathe.

“I offered to go first, what’s his problem I didn’t even do anything.”

Slams door

“Okay, so how are you Michael? I heard what happened are you okay?”

“Yes sir but..”

“But what, do we need to call the nurse? Are your legs okay?”

Michael begins to get frustrated by the amount of questions he is getting

“STOP OKAY... I started it , I started the fight not Keyon but me.”

“Oh stop it Michael you don’t need to cover for anyone it’s okay you won’t get hurt for telling the truth.”

“I just told you the truth, why don’t you believe me, its like people feel bad for me and assume that since i'm in a wheelchair I can’t do anything.  He got too close to my personal space and I wh him. He fell then got back up and tried to swing but was stopped. End of story, nothing more or less than that.”

proclaimed Michael with great emotions.

“There is no need to get mad. Michael if he hurt you just tell us we won’t tell him you told us. You’ll be fine just tell me the truth.” Principal Kregno stated

“Ughh, Fine believe what you what, I really dont care anymore!”

Michael storms out the room in his wheelchair but stops at the doorway.

“Just because you see a kid in a wheelchair don’t assume they can’t do certain things and as a matter a fact they could probably do a better job than you’re doing at your own job.  Im a human just like you are. We get mad and react just like normal people so don’t assume.”

“Calm down Michael you seem very stressed, why don’t you go to the nurses office and take a break.”

Michael leaves before Mr. Kregno can finish his sentence off.

“Can you please tell Mr. Keyon to enter the room now.”

As Keyon begins to enter the room he starts to rant.

“I should be in class right now like I ain’t even do nothing. I have class work to do, i’m not tryna get kicked outta school for something I didn't even doooo.”

“Mr. Keyon now that is enough. A kid is injured and it is the cause of your actions. Please take a seat and explain your side of what happened in the cafeteria.”

“Basically what had happened was I trying to get into the lunch line and this kid in the wheelchair decides to be funny and block my way. I tried to walk beside him but he decided to move his wheelchair toward my foot and pushed me while on his stupid chair. I don’t get why he keep getting all these special treatments cause he’s on that chair. I shoulda stole him while I had the chance. At least then I’d have a reason behind why i'm in trouble.”

“ENOUGH! I’m tired of your attitude, you’re going to be given a suspension of 4 days. Now I hope you use those 4 days to reflect on your actions.”

“What?! Whyyyy common I really didn’t even do nothing. Did he lie and say I did. I swear that i’m tellin you the truth. Please don’t suspend me from school, I can't get suspended my parents are gonna kill me.” Keyon says furiously as streams of tears run down his face. He then runs out the principals office and is told to go to the main office to get his suspension letter from the Dean of students.

Bias is a big part of our world. Everyone is profiling each other based on our appearance or race. Stereotypes are another example of bias because people believe them and they spread all over. There are many things out there that make people of some race seem like they are lousy or weird. There are many examples of where innocent have been wrongly accused of crimes based largely on stereotypes and prejudicial profiling. Some examples of stereotypes and prejudicial profiling leading to unfair treatment of the suspects are the West Memphis Three case, the Central Park Five case, and the Stop & Frisk Program. The judicial system is here to help us, but it often uses stereotypes to profile criminals and these stereotypes often lead to false arrests, which undermine the effectiveness of the judicial system.

The “West Memphis Three” case demonstrates how prejudicial profiling can lead to false arrests and convictions due to stereotypical misconceptions, proving that bias undermines the effectiveness of the system. In the case “West Memphis Three,” the judicial system targeted Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley, Jr, and Jason Baldwin based on stereotypes. The police and the district attorney’s office accused these boys of murdering the three younger boys, Steven Branch, Michael Moore, and Christopher Byers because of the three suspects’ Satanic beliefs. There wasn’t much evidence that they had on these boys except finding the murder weapon behind one of the boys’ trailers, but they did not have DNA evidence to prove that any of the accused boys had used that knife. Nathaniel Rich, an American novelist and essayist, wrote about the “West Memphis Three” case and said, “The belief that the murders must have been committed by members of a cult was the foundation on which the prosecution built its case. It was, at the time, the most conceivable explanation for the extraordinarily grotesque details of the crime scene, where the bodies of the three boys, were found naked, bound, mutilated, and submerged in a shallow gulley.” The bodies of the three young boys were mutilated. One victim had his scrotum cut off and the skin of his had been removed.  Almost everyone in West Memphis shared the same religious beliefs: baptist. There weren’t many people who believed in satanism in West Memphis. These facts lead to the judge and jury convicting the three suspects because stereotypes had made Satanism a dreadful, violent religion. Stereotypes had made people believe that Satanists sacrifice people. Since the boys had been cut up badly and then a knife was found behind one of the boys’ trailers, it lead them to have a stronger belief that the boy committed the crime. These boys were also outsiders and considered weird by others in their town, and the stereotypes about Satanism made people think the worst about those who were different. The police falsely arrested these boys without DNA evidence and used stereotypical and prejudicial profiling to justify arresting them, which the court system including the judge and jury used to justify the convictions of these boys, thus undermine the effectiveness of the judicial system.

The “Central Park Five” case demonstrates stereotypical profiling based upon race leading to the false arrest of five boys aged 18 and younger proving that it is a problem that racial bias is so effective in getting a conviction. In the “Central Park Five” case, five boys are accused of raping a higher class white female jogger. Four boys were African-American and the other boy was Latino. These five boys were with a group of black males walking through Central Park hanging out and they started making trouble so the cops came. They caught these boys and brought them to the precinct. At the time, there was a lot of crime going on in New York City because crack was introduced and a majority of the people committing crimes were lower-middle class young black males. Eisa Ulen is a freelance journalist and has written for such prestigious magazines and newspapers such as Essence, The Washington Post, and Ms, and had written about the film of the “Central Park Five” case saying, “The film tries to establish that the police coerced these children, lied and told them they would be able to go home if they confessed, and told them what to say on camera about a crime they did not commit. It also presents an argument that the prosecutors ignored obvious discrepancies in the evidence used against the boys.” The detectives that were investigating the body of the jogger had stopped the police from letting the boys go because they believed the boys raped her. Stereotypes in that time had every black or latino male guilty of any crime if they were in range of the scene. The police did not have any real evidence to prove that these boys committed the crime, so they took advantage of them and made them confess to doing the crime that they did not do because the police assumed they were guilty due to racial and stereotypical profiling. This case proves that racial and stereotypical profiling is detrimental to impartiality within the judicial system.

Certain cities have adopted a program called the “Stop and Frisk Program,” which demonstrates the dangers of stereotypical and prejudicial profiling within the judicial system, often leading to false arrests, proving that this kind of program harms the effectiveness of the system. The “Stop and Frisk Program” is basically when police officers stop a person and ask questions and frisk them for any weapons, drugs, etc., because of suspicion. A group of young teenage males were walking to a basketball game and were stopped and frisked because they had been wearing scarves to cover their face that look liked ski makes, and also it was one of the coldest days in Philadelphia. A black teenage male from the group had been sexually assaulted when being frisked by a lady police officer. The female officer pulled his genitals so hard during a patdown that one of his testicles ruptured. He was charged for reckless endangerment of another person, simple assault, and resisting arrest In an article written by Aubrey Whelan, an Inquirer staff writer, wrote about the incident saying “Police say one of the students "caught the attention" of officers stationed near the subway stop. As officers approached, the group scattered.” Stereotypes made police to believe that any group of any race is always suspicious and in the situation above the police were caught by the attention so they believed that something was going on. They quickly made an assumption and profiled these kids upon their race and appearance and took action. This lead to the bias thinking of the police officers because of crimes before happening in groups, such as a flash mob or just vandalizing. Also there is racial profiling involved, even though the program wasn’t made for that, because black and latino are the vast majority of being stopped. The Stop and Frisk Program proves that stereotypes and racial profiling has taken over the bias of police officers.  

The judicial system is a great system that we have and it helps the people in our world, but the people of law enforcement makes it seem an unfair system. There is much racist and stereotypical profiling from the officers. Because of these false arrest and accusations, the lives of people are ruined.

“So What...?”

- Basically a kid in a wheelchair and an african american kid get sent to the office for getting into a fight and they both have to explain their side of what happened. The principal takes the bias toward the caucasian kid in the wheelchair over the african american kid. Throughout the story you’ll see the change in dialogue the principal has when talking to each of them.

“Leave me alone, I’m tired of  this school! I didn’t do nuffin! Blaming me for stuff, always assuming.”

Michael entered the principal office along with one of the women from the cafeteria.

“Take a seat,” exclaimed Mr. Kregno.

Michael leaned forward to grasp the wheels of his wheelchair and pushed himself into the principal’s office.

Keyon lets out a small laugh.

“Guess you don’t have to take a seat Michael cause ya already got one everywhere you go.”

“Thats enough jokes boys, take a seat now. Now which one of you wants to tell your side of what happened first?”

Keyon immediately with no hesitation offered to go first.

“I’ll go I have no problem going first sir.”

“No Keyon, go sit outside. I would like to hear what Michael has to say first.”

Keyon grabs his bookbag and proceeds to walk out of the office.

“Whatever man.”

mumbles under his breathe.

“I offered to go first, what’s his problem I didn’t even do anything.”

Slams door

“Okay, so how are you Michael? I heard what happened are you okay?”

“Yes sir but..”

“But what, do we need to call the nurse? Are your legs okay?”

Michael begins to get frustrated by the amount of questions he is getting

“STOP OKAY... I started it , I started the fight not Keyon but me.”

“Oh stop it Michael you don’t need to cover for anyone it’s okay you won’t get hurt for telling the truth.”

“I just told you the truth, why don’t you believe me, its like people feel bad for me and assume that since i'm in a wheelchair I can’t do anything.  He got too close to my personal space and I wh him. He fell then got back up and tried to swing but was stopped. End of story, nothing more or less than that.”

proclaimed Michael with great emotions.

“There is no need to get mad. Michael if he hurt you just tell us we won’t tell him you told us. You’ll be fine just tell me the truth.” Principal Kregno stated

“Ughh, Fine believe what you what, I really dont care anymore!”

Michael storms out the room in his wheelchair but stops at the doorway.

“Just because you see a kid in a wheelchair don’t assume they can’t do certain things and as a matter a fact they could probably do a better job than you’re doing at your own job.  Im a human just like you are. We get mad and react just like normal people so don’t assume.”

“Calm down Michael you seem very stressed, why don’t you go to the nurses office and take a break.”

Michael leaves before Mr. Kregno can finish his sentence off.

“Can you please tell Mr. Keyon to enter the room now.”

As Keyon begins to enter the room he starts to rant.

“I should be in class right now like I ain’t even do nothing. I have class work to do, i’m not tryna get kicked outta school for something I didn't even doooo.”

“Mr. Keyon now that is enough. A kid is injured and it is the cause of your actions. Please take a seat and explain your side of what happened in the cafeteria.”

“Basically what had happened was I trying to get into the lunch line and this kid in the wheelchair decides to be funny and block my way. I tried to walk beside him but he decided to move his wheelchair toward my foot and pushed me while on his stupid chair. I don’t get why he keep getting all these special treatments cause he’s on that chair. I shoulda stole him while I had the chance. At least then I’d have a reason behind why i'm in trouble.”

“ENOUGH! I’m tired of your attitude, you’re going to be given a suspension of 4 days. Now I hope you use those 4 days to reflect on your actions.”

“What?! Whyyyy common I really didn’t even do nothing. Did he lie and say I did. I swear that i’m tellin you the truth. Please don’t suspend me from school, I can't get suspended my parents are gonna kill me.” Keyon says furiously as streams of tears run down his face. He then runs out the principals office and is told to go to the main office to get his suspension letter from the Dean of students.

Jamie Turner

1/21/14

         Central Park Five Analysis

The Central Park Five wouldn’t have been an impact on our society if it weren’t for the media’s biased opinions and corruption.

The Central Park Five is the story of five teenaged boys, all of whom are either latino or black who were falsely accused for the rape of a woman jogging in Central Park.  This meant that five innocent boys were robbed of their childhoods while a rapist remains on the streets.  That really annoys me.  I watched a documentary called “The Central Park Five” to get more information on this investigation.  Antron McCray, Kevin Richardson, Raymond Santana, and Kharey Wise, and Yusef Salaam were the five boys charged of the rape and assault of Trisha Meili who was referred to as “The Central Park Jogger” until the release of her book called “I Am The Central Park Jogger.”

It all started as a normal night.  These five youths didn’t really know each other too close before this.  A group of about twenty five kids were going to hang out at the park.  As the night went along kids in this group were getting into some trouble like harassing a couple on a tandem bike, assaulting a homeless man, and throwing objects at passing cars.  The cops came after word got out about this mischief and even though these five kids weren’t taking part in these acts they were still brought in to the Central Park Precinct.  Later that night a bloodied and abused woman was found on the side of a jogging trail.  These five boys were kept a little longer for investigation.  All of which were hispanic or black.  Despite the lack of evidence these boys were forced to confess to the crime on tape.  They were all tried and sent to prison until years later when the real rapist confessed to the crime.  The boys turned into men were free, but no they never really got the justice they deserved.

One thing the documentary talked about is that the media focuses on black on white crime more than any same race crimes.  Around the same time this is happening there was a white man who raped and killed a white woman but that never made it to the news or the daily paper.  If my biases decided which crimes were and weren’t publicized then I’d have to say I wouldn’t focus on a specific crime.  In my opinion any crime is a crime no matter what ethnicity you are.  I also think that it isn’t good to talk about specific crimes because nowadays too many things happen in a single day for us to keep track.  I’d at most put the crime or crimes that impact the community at a large on the news or in the paper because that will catch the eye of more people because it’ll affect more readers.

Something that really bothered me with this story is that there was no research done on any of the evidence.  When all was said and done with the young men someone made a timeline of what happened that night, when it happened, and where.  The string of mischief the Central Park Five boys were involved with occured on a totally different part of the park than the rape of Trisha Meili.  Why couldn’t they have looked at that before?  They did a DNA test on the kids but the DNA didn’t even match up so how on Earth are they still guilty?  I have a feeling the detectives on the case probably thought “Group of black and latino kids?  It has to be them even though they had no idea any of this happened.”  If the detective thought the way I think then Those boys would’ve just gave me contact information and I would have expanded on the case a little more before I drew a conclusion to whom it was.

The corruption in the Central Park five case is astonishing.  How can the authorities get away with making these kids read a scripted confession to a crime they were unaware even occurred?  How did they get away with this after it was revealed it wasn’t even them?  I’m not sure what that would be called but I’m pretty sure it is some type of felony.  That is definitely my biggest problem with this case.  If I were a lawyer defending one of the five innocent kids in this case I’d do whatever it takes to reveal the corruption in this case and get my client the peace he deserves.  

What happened to the Central Park Five was really horrible but I think people got carried away from the real problem.  A woman was brutally raped while she was just going for a jog.  In my opinion the victim should be the media’s first priority.  This woman was basically left for dead and was in critical condition at the hospital.  I know at some point  I heard someone say that Meili thought she was in the year 1952 when it was actually 1989.  That is some serious damage to a person!  Our society needs to do something to calm crime down.  What is the point of just murdering someone?  How could a human being think that is fun?  I think this country needs to do put more money into Mental Health care rather than building new sports arenas and malls.  I’d rather have a safe environment than have nice stuff, because then if people are more mentally stable they can contribute to the growth of our community.

“The police show their bias when they… ” use excessive force with a suspect if they do not follow direction when told partially towards young african american males.

In the Leon Ford Jr. incident the police officer pulled him over for a routine traffic stop. He  was  stopped for 19 minutes they demanded that he see I.d. One of the officers,  Office David Derbish, who walked onto the right side of the car began to search it. He assumed to believe that Leon was in possession of a weapon. Leon was then asked to get put the car three time.  When he did not move one of the police officers began to violently pull Leon from his vehicle. In the  moment of fear Leon drives. Officer David Derbish, who is in the car,  shot him four times in the torso & the car crashed.

Leon Ford Jr.’s attorney, Benjamin Crump, say “they hoped he would have died so he couldn’t live to tell the truth” .  Also his attorney Monte Rabner, stated “ It’s clearly police procedure that if you see a gun and you think the individual has a gun you draw your gun and asked him out of the car …. there way distant for him from the on set,  if you look at the beginning of the video just from the time he would take his license from him it was not just taken like a normal human being it was ripped from his hand.”  This says that the police already have a bias set. That because he is a young african-american male that he is a automatic suspect. There they treated him like a suspect. According to attorney Crump a normal traffic routine stop takes 7 minutes, yet Leon was pulled over for almost 20+ minutes.  “Not only he was unable to see his parents and on his death bed but he was shackled to the bed & paralyzed.” stated Attorney Rabner.

On January 7, 2013 was the coldest day since. Darrin Manning  was taking the Broad Street & Girard to play in a school  walking home from school, says Victoria Joyner, school chief executive. Manning and teammates left the subway wearing hats and scarves, provided by Victoria Joyner. According to police   A boy was sexually assaulted by a female police officer. He was walking home from school  & the officer stopped him. He was told to remove his scarf so he can be ID. A surveillance camera that caught the police officer in the act changes every 10 seconds, so it’s uncertain as to what really happened. One segment of the video shows Darrin being pushed against the car. In the another clip it shows what officer Ramsey says “ a struggle with officers”. Another segment shows Manning being surrounded by police officers. When the female police officer began to pat-down search and pulled his genitals. During the pat down the female officer grabbed Mannings testicles. She squeezed them so hard that it ruptured. He was then arrested and kept in jail for 8 hours. He was then released and taking to the hospital where he had emergency surgery. As a result he is under watch care of a doctor. As told there is a possibility that he may not be able to reproduce. Although he is the victim he is now being charged with reckless endangerment of another person, simple assault and resisting arrest.

Ilker Erkut

100% Percent Sure

Have you ever been in trouble with a group of friends and you know you are wrong and change the story to save yourself?  Well I have done that a good amount of times and I am going to be explaining the biases of objective truths. I know everyone has been here at one point in time where they did not want to get in trouble, so they would change what really happened so that the adult or person in charge couldn’t give punishment because they did not know who did it.  Also I have the point of view of someone telling the truth but still getting in trouble because of the other person lying.  Sometimes lying isn’t the smartest thing to do because certain people do not take the time to find the real culprit.  In the end everyone will get punished and then your strategy of using objective truth will fail.  There are many time where it is a good thing to use as well

One personal time when I had to deal with objective truth was when I was in middle school.  I remember getting into a little scuffle.  I did not start it or even really protect myself, I just wanted it to end before either of us got in trouble.  But we ended up getting caught and going to the deans office.  

“So tell me what happened”  said the dean

“___ attacked me for no reason.  I tried to get him off rather than fighting back so I did not get in trouble.  I never fought back” I said trying not to get in trouble again that year.

“Ok, lets hear your story ____” said the dean

“He said something racist to me and I was offended so I fought him” he said lying.

In the end we both got in trouble and his plan did not work.  I felt very mad because it was all very unnecessary.  But I knew either way we were going to get in trouble.  I took the punishment and we became friends a long time after that.  

I thought of this moment in my life again when I read the short story “In The Grove.” I thought it was very accurate to how many situations get played out.  If there are no witnesses than there is no case.  “Yes ... without taking his life. I had no wish to kill him. I was about to run away from the grove, leaving the woman behind in tears, when she frantically clung to my arm. In broken fragments of words, she asked that either her husband or I die. She said it was more trying than death to have her shame known to two men. She gasped out that she wanted to be the wife of whichever survived. Then a furious desire to kill him seized me.”  This quotes really spoke to me because it basically sums up my essay.  Its one of the quotes that I found in the story that came close to the topic of my story.  She made him choose whether or not to kill the husband or kill himself.  He decided to kill the man because he in the situation he did not want to die.  Also the women was not even known as a culprit in the investigation because the investigation was for her husband.  So they immediately looked at everyone else as the bad guys and her as the victim.

The main reason people lie is to not suffer the consequences of what they have done wrong.  It could be to save someone from an unwanted truth.  But most of the time its because they realize what they did was wrong and they know if they accept the punishment it will not be worth it.  Telling the truth does not always bring out the best result.  Also lying might save them from being judged.  If what you did affected someone else or a group of people than those people might judge you for it.  So why not just lie?  I even think that it is inviting and inevitable.  You almost know someone is going to change the story around to save himself.  Its ment to happen in almost every situation without a witness.  Thats when people start getting into race and stereotypes.  The spectators or people around the scene will most likely pick the person that looks like they would cause a problem.  The biases people have are towards clothes, race and language use, such as slang.  That is how a lot of people get away with things.  They act really nice and mature and trick peoples minds.  They make it seem like they are the victims.  These are some ideas of where bias gets put into play and some situations.

Have you ever been in trouble and did not want to get punished or judged because you did not realize how much drama your action would cause?  Well I have been through that a good amount of times and now you know one of my best stories.  I have also proved my point with a quote from the story that gave me the idea to write this essay. I know everyone has been here at one point in time where they did not want to get in trouble, so they would change what really happened so that the adult or person in charge couldn’t give punishment because they did not know who did it.  Also I have the point of view of someone telling the truth but still getting in trouble because of the fact that the other person lied.  Sometimes lying isn’t the smartest thing to do because certain people do not take the time to find the real culprit.  In the end everyone will get punished and then your strategy of using objective truth will fail.  There are many times where it is a good thing to use as well.  I hope that you have learned from my personal essay.  Do not judge anyone or believe anyone till you have 100% facts that you are correct.

“I don’t know what I should do.”

“Maybe you should just tell her…Telling the truth always work.”

“I can’t. She won’t look at me the same, Candice.”

“Listen, if you love her, you need to tell her. It’s better to tell her now so neither of you guys get hurt, Sean.

I can’t accept this. I know who I am, and this is not who I am. My girlfriend…Well my fiancé will expose me if I tell her. My mother seems proud that I finally found someone. But I’m not happy. I can’t be with someone who I’m not in love with. My name is Sean, and I am a 25 year old gay man and no one knows. I don’t like too say that I am gay because that’s not who I want to be. I love women, but I can’t find them appealing as I do with men. The only person who knows this is Candice. Candice is my best friend, and has been since college. I can’t accept who I am for multiple reasons. One being that I feel like I am doing something wrong. I know that I am doing something because when I watch television, there’s always someone judging someone who isn't heterosexual. Therefore, I too am being judged. Secondly, the places I’ve been and the environment that I grew up in do not accept gay men. All throughout my adolescent years, I went to a Christian school. I was taught that being gay was an abomination to God. Lastly, it goes against all my beliefs and I know that my parents would be highly disappointed in me. My father looks at me with so much pride in his eyes. I am the oldest of three boys. He told me that I am the example. I know my mother wouldn’t mind too much, but she would be upset that I’m not following God’s law.

“Yeah, you’re right Candy, but I know it’s not the time.”

“When is it ever the right time, Sean?”

“…Uhm is that a trick question?” We laughed

“You’re an asshole, but I gotta go. See you at work tomorrow.”

I love Candice. I think she’s the only person that I really can depend on. She loves me without a shadow of a doubt. She’s been there for me since day one. When I first came out to her, she was shocked, but excited. She told me that she always wanted a gay best friend. Surprisingly I wasn’t even offended by her comment.

“Candice, can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. Shoot.”

“What if I told you that I was gay...?”

“I would be excited! Are you?”

“Yes, I mean sort of...”

“Why do you say sort of?”

“Nevermind...”

That was freshman year of college. I couldn't believe I had finally told someone. I couldn’t even believe that I had told someone that I had only known for about four months.  was something about her that said I could trust her. She was so sweet, but yet so feisty. I loved that about her.

“Good Morning Adam!” I said as I walked into the office.

“Hello, Sean.”  He said with a chuckle and a wink.

Adam. Adam is my co-worker. He’s gay. Most of the people I work with are anti-gay. Adam was not one of them. If anything, Adam embraced who he was. I envied that, but it also made me attracted to him.  

“How’s life?”

“It’s good. Same old, same old.”

I was really thinking shitty as usual, but I wouldn't tell him that. You see, most of the people that I know that are gay are judged. If not by family, by society. No one seems to care or think that they, I mean we, too have feelings. Especially, my boss. His name is Aaron.

“Sean, In my office. Now.”

“Here I come, Sir.” I was nervous as I walked into his office.

“So...Can I have your work phone, please.

I couldn’t understand why he needed to see it, but I gave it to him anyway.

“Did you know that the messages you receive come to our database?”

“No...”

“Of course you didn’t. I’ve been looking through the computer and I saw a message that peaked my interest.”

“And what was that?” I said.

“Here you read it aloud for me.” He handed me the phone

“‘Hey you little gay bird lol’”

“Can you read the reply?”

I felt the tears in the back of my eyes. They were seconds from running down my cheeks. I knew this was coming, but I didn’t know that day would come so soon.

“I’m not reading anything else. Do you have a problem?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You’re fired.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been late several times, and we don’t need you anymore.” He coughed out.

“Is that you’re way of saying it’s because I’m gay?”

I didn’t even mean for that to come out, but it did. Shit, I was proud of myself.

“...That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.” I said.

As I started to walk out his office, I heard him mumble, “Faggot.” Did he really just say that. The next thing I remember was me flipping over his desk. He deserved it. I didn’t notice all the attention, but I do remember the nest thing that came out of my mouth.

“I’m not a faggot, but I’ll say that I am a gay man.”

All heads turned. The two faces that caught my attention was Adam’s. He looked happy. Relieved to be exact. His face said the he always knew. The other’s was my fiance. She had a look of shame on her face. I didn’t want her to find out that way, but I couldn’t help myself.

Later on that day, I invited my fiance over. When I told her as to why I went along with the engagement, she was really calm about it. I could tell ther I had hurt her feelings, but I could also see that she was happy for me.

“I’m really sorry, Hun.”

“I still care about you, Sean. I’m really glad that you’re happy now.”

“I really appreciate that you care.”

The sweat from her palms had seeped through the cheap, blue nylon. She’d been clenching the bunched cloth for a good ten minutes, her hands tensed and prepared. Every muscle along her forearms was flexed, and they all stood at odds to each other, as if each one was attempting to flee a sinking vessel. Perspiration gathered in tiny domes along the planes of her vanilla skin, and trickled in tiny rivulets down the muscular ridges. I remember one drop, which had pooled in the crevasse of her inner elbow, magnifying a dense cluster of her characteristic freckles. I was transfixed with that dot, that miniscule refugee from a body convinced that in the next several seconds, it might die. There was no simple explanation for that bead of moisture. It was more than the product of the searing, sweltering heat. It was not simply some biological response to the adrenaline, pounding through her mind and surging through her veins. There was something vile about it.

As if lubricated by that same perspiration, Anne’s eyes slid to her watch. The glowing digits flicked away, counting down towards zero. That was Anne. Everything in order, everything in its place. Flying in was a nightmare with this amateur drill sergeant. This had always been her idea, spreading the word. The idea had never needed a proposition, and the entire club had been talking circles around it before she finally brought it up. A flight to Kabul International Airport. An anxious night spent in a cramped hotel room. A rented Jeep outside a mosque, just after noon. A burqa. No tops. It really was any college feminist’s ideal spring break. Of course, it had all seemed so distant from the somewhat-dank futon couches of the air-conditioned lounge space under Werther’s Hall. It had never been real. This was crushingly, indisputably, impossibly real.

Just as the gravity of our situation permeated my mind, the LEDs in Anne’s watch fluttered into dormancy in a flash of milliseconds. I closed my eyes. As if from awfully far away, the Adhan snaked its way out of a speaker system that had clearly stood through a few presidencies. Deprived of vision and bolstered by a semester of creative writing courses, my mind went to work. In the dark, I could see those ancient words, dancing forth from ancient places, inviting everyone around into God’s arms. They smelled like camel sweat and felt like sand.

“It’s so whiny.” Dani sighed from the front seat.

Anne glanced at her, away from the growing crowd of congregants. “Whining is the sound that chauvinistic, discriminating pigs make.”

Pigs don’t even whine.

Continuing with her mismatched agricultural allegory, she gave me my queue “I think enough sheep have gathered. Time to blow some minds.” I nodded, and despite any misgivings, I tugged the canopy draped over the ribs of the Jeep free. With desert sunlight blanketing our naked chests, we stood. I raise a sign, Dalia raised a megaphone to her lips and Anne raised the burqa. Worshippers turned, agape. Eyes widened and a cry of shock competed with the farsi message crackling through the megaphone. “The burqa is discrimination! The burqa is bigotry! Women are humans too! Respect for all humans! End the oppression of the burqa!”

She tore the burqa then. With a giant, terrible, scratching sound, Anne tore it down the middle. First a hushed pause, then outrage. Like hyenas they sprang on us. With dull, reverberating thuds rocks collided with the Jeep and with our skin. Some shattered, some fell. We fell to our knees and car jumped forwards.

The car swerves and I see a tiny dome of scarlet pooling in Anne’s vanilla elbow. She swipes it away with the strip of blue cloth she still clenches, “Those dirty fucking pigs cut me!”  

***

We’d been back for four days and the campus was abuzz with word of our trip. Anne’s smugness was validated by a congratulatory article in the local paper, and the adoration of everyone in the Human Rights department. I’d dismissed my doubts as little more than momentary apprehension, and was content to live the liberal arts school dream. On today’s agenda, situated between Studies in Lesbian writing and Social Action and the Academic Essay, sat an interview with a local riot grrrl zine called FemNow. I’d never pick one of those publications up, but I’d certainly tell you I had if you asked. We sat, waiting for our interviewer in a small room off of the library. Minutes passed. Anne checked her watch. Dalia and Dani joked about a recent lecture. I picked at a scab on my elbow. Suddenly there were five of us in the room.

Her back was straight and her eyes were harsh. Shrouded in endless black fabric, the rest was a mystery.

Anne was quick to her feet, “Is this a joke? We protest the burqa and you come to interview us in one?”

“No,” the stranger retorted, “you are the joke, if you can spend thousands of dollars on airfare to protest something you can’t even recognize.” She gestured to herself, “This is a niqab, and you are a closed-minded bigot.”

I began to consider that perhaps the interview was a ruse. If it was, Anne was yet to catch on. Her eyes narrowed. I could see that she would regret whatever she was about to say. Anne had spent so long perfecting the art of feminism. It was, to be perfectly honest, all that any of us really knew about her. “How dare you wear that and claim to be a feminist? You are a slave to the oppression of men!”

“How do you claim to be a feminist? How can you stand there and assume that I am some subservient wench? Every day I choose to wear this, because this is how I choose to associate. No one is forcing me, and no one is controlling me. I am not brainwashed or ignorant, simply because I chose this garment over another. You are narrow-minded and ignorant, not me. You are brainwashed into accepting biased views and prejudice, not me.”

There was a hushed pause. Her gaze shifted from one of us to the other. With an air of premeditated determination, she drew a copy of our article out of her sleeve. Beads of perspiration glistened on her wrist. Her eyes met Anne’s, and with a shattering, decisive motion she tore it down the middle. Before the shreds of literature fell to the ground, she was gone.

Anne turned to gather her bags, “What a fucking pig.”

Music; we all know what it is and I'm sure that it most likely plays a big role in your life as well as it does to mine. The way I look at it is, if you have a specific genre or type of music that you like, then you are normal! Everybody should have their own taste in everything, and no matter what you like to listen to you are no different than anybody else. However your opinion on this topic may be biased, and you have to be wary of this. Independence only sprouts from realization.

I haven't always felt this way. Until I had an eye opening experience the summer before I made it to high school. My best friend at the time, Steve, was meeting me at the spot where we always met. “Yo Angelo!”, Steve greeted me with a weird look, one by which I could tell that something was up. “Hey man.”, I simply replied. From then on that hot summer day was a game changer to me. As we walked around the neighborhood I offered to put some tunes on. He agreed as usual. This is where the red flag went up. Normally Steve and I would jam out to the same type of music, rock, but that day just had to be different. I put on a song that we both liked, and Steve wasn't happy with it. “Angelo you definitely need some diversity in your music taste.” Those ten words hit me hard, that moment was when I realized I had a bias. A bias toward rock n’ roll.

Although, a short while after that, I found myself talking to Steve less and less, and it made me wonder. “Is my bias so strong, that it could tear friendships apart?” Deep stuff, but I decided that since it was my personality and that I might as well leave it alone, and go with the flow.

I’m not the only one with a music bias though. A while back when I would go to concerts like all the time. I was in line at the TLA (Theatre of Living Arts) waiting for admission into a rock concert. When the person behind me began to play some music. Hip Hop, Rap, R&B whatever you wanna call it. I did not like it. Neither did my friends, who turned around and asked the guy, “Why are you even in line for this concert if you're listening to rap?” The man just looked at us in disbelief. That’s when I realized. Even if we’re in line for a Pierce the Veil concert, people are allowed to listen to whatever they want to. Wherever they are. No matter what anybody has to say about it. I also realized there, that without hesitation I would have said the same thing to that man.

Music or no music we're all still human. And if you think about it we're not that different. Most of us just like to be different sometimes, and that usually involves bias. Just like Steve when he told me that I needed some diversity in my music taste. Either the people around you or somebody that you are close with will usually point it out to you.  Every single one of us has to realize that if you have an opinion on something, like I do with Music, it sometimes is better to just not say anything. Or at least think about what you're going to say before you say it.

After finding out and realizing that I had a bias, I decided to see if there was any other biases that I was hiding. I found one taking the Gender Science I.A.T. test directly from Harvard University. I learned that I am slightly biased toward men over females. Now that I know this, I can better plan ahead for someones else’s bias and mine colliding in an unorderly fashion. The more knowledge you pertain about your own bias, the better.

According to the hype in the trending topics, if you are into a non-trending topic you are less than those who are trendy; including music taste, makeup, and clothing. 1There are over 7 billion different people on this Earth. Each one unique, just like the DNA and fingerprints they are born with. Now, some of these people have certain things in common- such as favorite colors, bands, and interests.

Such stigmatism's can be made specifically about certain people that are fans of heavy music. This includes the genres of metal, heavy metal, and thrash metal. Which have always been underlying genres in music- definitely not trending. People think those who listen to this music are more violent, angry, and overall on the brink of killing people. Which is definitely not true for all the fans of this form of music. This bias continues to persist to this day.

One amazing example of this is the West Memphis Three. This is a murder case were the justice system was swayed by such said biases against people who are nothing more the a little different. On May 5th 1993 there was a murder case opened. Three second grade boys were beaten, mutilated, bound, and killed. These boys were the namesake for the West Memphis Three. The police had no leads but were drawn to some teenage boys that wore all black, kept to themselves, and listened to very heavy metal, and rock and roll. The real rebels of ‘93. All joking aside these boys were convicted and sent to prison for crimes they did not commit all based on bias created by trends and marketing tactics.  In all marketing campaigns when you see pop artists their pictures and videos are usually very bright and colorful. While in heavy metal, rock, punk, and thrash music most pictures and videos are darker, and have a more serious motif. Usually the lyrics are about real life issues and feelings, while pop music is more about having fun and being cool. I am not saying that pop music is better or worse than other types of music, but I am definitely saying there is a huge bias against kids that listen to these ‘other’ kinds of music.  

I can definitely relate to this. Some of my favorite bands are Of Mice & Men, Bring Me The Horizon, Megadeth, and Nirvana. These bands are all classified as Heavy Metal or Rock & Roll. And because I listen to these bands and genuinely enjoy them people form opinions and biases against me. Like, “You’re probably going to grow up to be a serial killer”, “Are you a satanist?”,"You're on drugs aren't you?" and the most popular, “Are you a lesbian?”

Somehow listening to someone expressing their feelings in a more raw fashion means I have to be societies definition of undesirable. Just as the West Memphis Three were pegged. In metal music the singers and band pour their feelings into their songs and scream it out at the top of their lungs, they don’t pretend to be calm or collected. They make their thoughts sound how they feel. But if you openly admit that you have the same feelings and refuse to water them down you are dangerous. Being that you don’t feed into the same mass delusions of complete sanity that most people in today’s world do.

In the end the West Memphis Three were released and the true culprit- a church going, faithful, and reliable stepfather of one of the boys- was placed behind bars. And thank God the police aren't shared on any of my playlists- or I just might be in prison too.

“The Biggest Tree”

“Shoot slow down will you?!” I yelled as I ran down the streets of the small town.  

The man I was chasing was smaller than me but he was lean and had great stamina. I’d never had trouble chasing people down as a child but this guy was something else. He cleared about 3 fences and then side stepped past several civilians who were confused by the entire situation. Eventually he ran into an old abandoned building and ran up the stairs.

“Dammit!!” I yelled.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out my amphetamines. This was the first time that I had ever pulled them out and at the Academy they told officers in training to only pull them out in dire situations.

“There is no point in running!” I screamed trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

A few seconds after taking the drugs things got very clear. After climbing to the top of the building I shortened the gap between us in half. The criminal jumped from the current building we were in to the next but I was able to jump at the same time and in midair I tackled him right to the ground.

“GRC (Governmental Resistance Control) bitch” I yelled into his ear.

The guy was still struggling trying to wriggle his way out and get out so I picked him up off the ground punched him in the gut knocking him out. Officers stopped getting issued handcuffs standard a long time ago and the reasoning behind it was that handcuffs were not needed when there was no reason to commit crime. I did however have a standard issue pistol which I was guess was for shooting at pigeons but for now it was a means of keeping this guy in place for when he woke up. I carried the guy back to my car in discretion as to not alert any civilians and drove off to the station on my way.

“Did anyone see you apprehend him?” the Señor Custodian officer asked.

“People saw me chasing him but for all they knew I could have been trying to ask him a couple of questions is all.” I retorted

“Did you use your firearm?” He asked.

“No sir I used it to suppress him incase he tried to get away.” I replied.

Without asking further questions walked away talking to someone on his police walkie talkie but I couldn’t make it out. The drugs had weared off and all my senses began to deteriorate. All I could remember was a few Guard Officers all surrounding the patient who had just woke up and everything else after that went black.

I woke up the next day at my house. I was still feeling bad and couldn’t seem to get my vision back in check. I really should stay away from those drugs, the after effect is just too much. I slapped my work uniform back on and I went back down to the station and addressed the clerk.

“Where is the man I captured yesterday?” I asked.

“Yesterday? What are you talking about, you weren’t hear yesterday…” the lady said back to me.

“Check your damn files,” I angrily retorted.

“Alright officer” she said is a calm but patronizing voice.

She busily checked her computer and got back to me relatively fast.

“There is no record of any such events happening on our system records” she said.

“That contraption is full of shit, I very clearly chased down a man and apprehended him” I angrily said.

“Sorry I don’t have it...” she replied.

I left after that and began talking to my fellow officers in the building.

“Excuse you do you remember me capturing a criminal yesterday?”

“Sorry I didn’t see anything”

Again and again I asked everyone and anyone if they saw anything and I got nothing. I ran down to the Chief Officer’s office and bribed some security guards to let me in.

“Sir I caught a criminal yesterday why are their no records? Officers I know saw me capture the criminal are denying seeing anything.” I said.

“Do you know what we do for living?” He asked?

“We suppress any incoming threats to society?” I replied.

“Suppress… That is the key word, we seize, detain and erase and threats, anything that ever so slightly alters the morale of our fair people is a threat.” He said.

“What are you trying to say sir?”

“I’m not trying to say anything. I can’t talk that which no longer can be deemed a threat.”

“But all threats are erased how can we learn and grow?”

“Why grow when we are the largest tree in the forest?”

“The tallest tree is the most likely to fall” I retorted.

“Good bye Officer Kelly.”

“But wait!” I yelled.

Armed guards came and roughly escorted me out. So many questions erupted in me. What is my government? What is crime? Can we exist in a world where crime isn’t addressed as crime? My head began to hurt. My vision began to get blurry again. I tried my best to get my grip back on reality. I remembered the wallet I picked up that the suspect dropped. 4556 North Spooner St. I had something left of this mystery man.

The cab driver refused to drop me off directly at house. The area was too high class. Each house was a stand alone and was at least four stories high. They paint of each house glistened in the sunlight and the lawns were lush and green. The house of the mystery man was very nice just like the others. I carefull knocked on the door. Someone quickly responded. It was a woman at least 35-40 years old.

“Excuse me Madam how are you today?” I asked.

“I’m doing fine, may I ask why you are here?” She replied.

“Well I’m here on behalf of the GRC now don’t get alarmed I was just wondering if anyone you know has gone missing?”

She gave me a very blank stare and didn’t respond.

“I know talking when your back is against the wall is hard but its time like these when words are the only express yourself.”

“Why are you here?” she finally said.

“To find what shouldn’t be findable. I’m guessing this man was your husband?” I said as I showed her the wallet with the ID.

“He is my husband, he died 12 years ago why are you bringing him up now?”

“The expiration date on the drivers license expires next year, no point in lying now”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because people seek closure, and it seems that I’m the only man who is trying to get it for you at the moment”

“Can I trust you?”

“Who else can you trust?”

“Come inside.”

I sat down on a couch in the living room as she brought forth some coffee and some papers.

“My husband was a doctor, specifically a surgeon. He cared deeply for his fellow man and it pained him to see that they were dying. Lack of organs for transplant was a rampant problem. So he began dabbling with the wrong people, they supplied him with organs for transplants. He saved many lives… There was a rat who sold him out. And then the GRC “dealt” with him.”

“Do you have any idea who the Rat was?”

“A coroner who worked at the morgue, only person with the evidence against him.”

She exchanged what little information she had for me and I was off on my way. I grew up trusting the government and the GRC. They were keeping us away from anarchy. Keeping us safe from chaos and allowed children to have a safe bright future. I still had faith in them. I arrived back at the station and I proceeded to confront the Chief Officer. I made it down to his office. But something hit me on the back of the head and everything went dark again.

I woke up in a poorly lit small room. I was tied down to a chair and there was something metal slapped across my wrists. Probably handcuffs. Two men walked in the room. One of them started punching me in the face presumably leaving my face swollen as I could barely open my eyes.

“When Adam and Eve ate the apples from the garden of eden do you know what happened?”

“Pigs started shitting gold bricks?” I said trying to be smart.

The man punched me in the face. He was wearing a gold ring making things all the better.

“They were cast out from paradise. What we have here is paradise. No crime, no hate, no disdain for anything.” He said.

“Utopia’s are not real” I quickly said.

“Well I can tell you that we are as close to a utopia as humanly possible, what holds us back is people like you. Words are mans most powerful tool. A single man could an uprising. You never truly believe in the GRC, you believed in the image they posed of a society where everyone could co exist.” said the Chief Officer as he looked me in the eye.

“Isn’t that a world everyone wants to live in?” I asked.

“But its unattainable, someone is gonna mess up the perfect society no matter what we do. I’m trying to suppress those people, that is the GRC’s goal, to ensure that peace stays” He replied.

“Well then I don’t want to live in this word anymore, But just remember that for everyone of us naysayers that dies two more of us will rise to fight your cause,” I said as my final words.

“Duly noted, we shall see if your beliefs out survive mine”

Even though I didn’t live to make as much of a difference as I wished I could have I’d like to believe that others will inherit my will and try to abolish dystopian thinking and establish true peace between all men and women.

Back in 2004 was the first time I heard “Get em’ High” on satellite radio. From there I was hooked onto Kanye just from the interesting and very unique sound that seemed as if it was never done before.

In Ye’s second album “Late Registration” he had a song by the name “Crack Music” and he had a few lines that set a lot of people off. He said “We, invested in that, it's like we got Merrill Lynched And we been hangin from the same tree, ever since”. In these lyrics Kanye is trying to say that when you invest or use money to invest in Merrill Lynch the investment bank, then you will be basically screwed over and the way he compared it to the Lynchings of back then. It is very revealing that Kanye has a bias against White people. The way he used lynching in there let him get leverage on the audience.

People ask me all the time why I still listen to Kanye or like him after he goes out and puts these lyrics out there and all these “stunts” that he pulls. Well my answer to all them is “Because he is not scared to say or do anything”. I personally give props to these people who can go out and say these kind of things. Kanye West definitely has a bias against Caucasian people. He has a little bit of a sense that the white man is putting him down and in some ways he is right. Although I am white and can recognize and come out to say that sometimes in todays time caucasians put down people of color and don’t give them the same opportunities. I do not think it is right, but it happens and its out of my control. This bias of Kanye is what draws my attention to him.

He has a way to get at the listener though. In his most recent album “Yeezus” and in the song by the name of “New Slaves” Kanye said “Ya’ll throwin’ contracts at me, you know that niggas can’t read!” With the use of the whole stereotype of Yeezy saying “African American people cannot read” shows that white people are the ones that are “Throwing the contracts at him”. With the use of the african americans not being able to read, he really threw out his Bias into the world. He recently said in an interview with BBC that “the white man is holding me down and not letting me do my thing. I cannot design any clothing without someone letting me do it.” Then he went on and on and on about this. To me, I really started to like him more and more once he started talking out about this because he is not scared to say anything about people putting him down. Yes it is expressing his bias, but he is doing what he wants and that is why I still like him.

Kanye West has been known for using some very provocative samples of beats in his songs just like in the song “Blood On The Leaves” from the album “Yeezus”. He used the song “Strange Fruit” by “Billie Holiday” which was written in the 1920’s. It was about the Lynchings with the Blacks. The lyrics are "Strange fruit hanging from the poppy trees, blood on the leaves". It means that the strange fruit are the slaves hanging and they are hanging from the poppy trees. Blood on the leaves means that their blood is on the tree. Since Kanye used this sample he expressed his bias against the whites. In some ways it can be interpreted as racist. Through out the album "Yeezus" he displayed some very touchy subjects that had set some people off. I personally was expecting this from him because I know that he is known for doing this kind of stuff. Just like for the Hurricane Katrina Relief broadcast where he said “George Bush does not like black people” and everyone was just completely shocked. It really shook the world and that was one of the first times he has spoken out like that on Live Television. Before that he had never pulled a stunt like that. In his previous albums he has mentioned his Bias against white people, but never on TV.

Throughout his album “Late Registration” he had a number of Skits in there about a black cult in a college that resembled a type of “Black Brotherhood” in a way. In one of the skits the man said “ This was founded years ago By broke slaves, years ago Who did not have, years ago By broke brothas in the 20s, years ago Who did not have when we could not eat Hmm, remember that? Eating all of our cereal with forks because we wanted to save the milk, do you remember that? Hmm? Do you remember all those Christmases when your Mama walked in the room and pretended she was the tree, huh? Remember that? “ This quote from the song points out another one of Ye’s Bias which is that the “African American community is poor and they do not have the proper resources to live a ‘normal’ life”. Kanye likes to use this Bias of his to show the world the unfairness in todays society.