Introduction:

My goals for this paper is to share how visual literature changed how I viewed myself. I’m most proud of the flow of my writing. I could improve in making my thoughts on literature more clear

Women and Visual Literature:

I was sitting on the bed in my mom’s room. She was folding and putting away laundry while the T.V. was on. The T.V. screen was playing some sort of crime show. In the show, there was a man and a woman standing in a gritty city. The man offered a bouquet of roses to the woman. The woman laughed and walked away from the man, refusing his proposal. The woman didn’t get too far before the man shot her to death despite her pleas for him to stop. The woman’s body was left in the streets while the man drove away from the crime scene with his unwanted bouquet of flowers.

That scene gave me a fear of rejecting people and saying no. I grew more cautious of how much authority people have over me and how quickly and drastically I would be punished if I didn’t do what was expected of me. An article by UNICEF states that,  “... exposure to media among youth creates the potential for massive exposure to portrayals that sexualize women and girls and teach girls that women are objects.” Although the media I was exposed to was not sexual, the effect was the same. That scene gave me the idea that I should be afraid of men as well as the power that they had and I lacked. I had the expectation that when I would enter my teen and adult years I had to make the men around me pleased with my answers and behavior even if I would not be comfortable with the outcome. Without even knowing it at the time I was beginning to understand my role in society was to be objectified. Visual literature helped me realize how I was expected to behave and perceive myself. My perspective on what I could be as a woman narrowed down to one option; an object designed to please men.

When I was in elementary school I would spend my time during recess playing make believe on the playground. At times I was the only girl in a group of boys, making me have to take on the more feminine characters in our made up adventures. One recess we decided that we would play in the world of Star Wars. Despite the fact that I hadn’t seen any of the movies at the time, I would always get assigned the role of Princess Leia. The obvious reason was because I was the only girl that would play this game with them. However, my friends claimed it was because of the curly buns I had on the sides of my head. They would pretend to be Jedis and use “the force” to move things as well as have fierce fights with imaginary lightsabers. My job was to mostly sit and watch. On more eventful days I could pretend to be in danger until it was time for me to be saved by my friends.

Looking back on my times spent in the playground I realize that my roles have always been passive. The nature of the characters I would play did not matter. My male friends and I did not care if the women I pretended to be were strong leaders or highly intelligent. In our eyes, these characters were only girls and nothing more. Often times in the media, shows will have a singular female character in a group of men. In an article titled “Hers; The Smurfette Principle” Katha Pollitt defines the Smurfette principle as, “a group of male buddies will be accented by a lone female, stereotypically defined.” Pollitt also gives examples of female characters who only have one singular personality trait. Kanga from Winnie the Pooh is the mother of the group while Miss Piggy from The Muppets only exists as a “glamour queen”. Pollitt comes to an understanding and begins to see that, “Boys are the norm, girls the variation; boys are central, girls peripheral; boys are individuals, girls types. Boys define the group, its story and its code of values. Girls exist only in relation to boys.”  Visual literature has shown me that women are seen as singular traited individuals that exist only to levitate the qualities of men. This representation of woman in visual literature has caused children, like me and my friends, to dismiss the idea of women having larger roles. Women are put in a position where they must prove that they are too complex to just be accessories to the characteristics of men.

Eventually, I realized that I am too multifaceted to be reduced to an object. Despite visual literature introducing harmful stereotypes in the past  I believe it’s steadily improving. Every day I see better representations of gender and I hope children today are gaining higher perceptions of themselves.

Works Cited:

“Not An Object: On Sexualization and Exploitation of Women and Girls.” UNICEF USA, 9 May 2016, www.unicefusa.org/stories/not-object-sexualization-and-exploitation-women-and-girls/30361.

Pollitt, Katha. “Hers; The Smurfette Principle.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 6 Apr. 1991, www.nytimes.com/1991/04/07/magazine/hers-the-smurfette-principle.html.

Art and Approval

When I was in elementary school my favorite subject was art. I’m not sure what drew me to it. Maybe it was the ability to brush my feelings onto paper or perhaps I enjoyed the feeling of pastels smudged onto my fingers after working on a piece. Pastel crayons were one of my favorite mediums to work with. The crayons were soft and velvety, making strikes and swirls across the page almost effortless. Pastels not being stiff like other mediums allowed for more unrestrictive expression.  

Every year my school had a grade by grade art contest and show. Each grade got assigned a medium to work with for the contest and my grade at the time was assigned pastels. My mouth found itself turned into a grin at the news. This would be an opportunity to beat Reagan, one of my classmates who not only won this competition every year but the yearbook cover contest as well. Winning the competition this year would not only prove how serious I was about art to my teachers and classmates, it would also show my family that this was passion they needed to support.

I decided to not plan my art and to make it up as I go. I turned a light blue pastel onto its side and rolled it onto my paper causing splotches of blue on the paper. The patches of blue with the off-white paper peeking through reminded me of the sky minutes before a downpour. I then knew I wanted my drawing to be scenery of nature. Using different shades of brown pastels I made a smooth mound in the bottom corner of the page that represented the ground. On the bottom of the page, I created a lake that was a slightly darker blue than the sky and had gentle ripples on its surface. I finished by creating long strokes of different shades of green onto the ground, forming blades of grass.

Weeks later after I submitted my work I found myself at the art show with my parents. My grade’s art was posted on a hallway wall. In the center of the wall was a piece with the winner’s name under it in bold letters: Reagan. Disappointment uncoiled inside of me. My dad noticed my enthusiasm turn sour and put his hand on my head while looking down at me.

“Well… yours was my favorite.”  My heart beamed at his words. Although I lost the art competition I always won my family’s support and I knew I could count on them for approving my life choices.

My family always knew I liked art. They never blinked an eye at me taking art camp over the summer or me continuing art as an elective in middle school. They didn’t even flinch when I said I wanted to be an artist when asked what did I want to be when I grow up. When I put my words into action, that’s when they got nervous.

I was in the backseat of my dad’s car. The road was clear for the most part with the exception of a stray car here and there. My dad, deciding he could give some of the attention he was putting towards the road to me, turned down the radio and looked up into his rear view mirror.

“Have you given any thought as to what you want to be when you’re older?” My eyebrows furrowed in thought, although I already knew the answer.

“An animator.” I said it with no hint of a doubt slithering into my words.

“Oh, so you want to work on Disney movies?” My dad was taken aback. This was the first time my answer to this common question changed from “artist” to “animator”. It was becoming clear that I was becoming more determined about pursuing an art career. The more it became transparent that my passion wasn’t just a hobby the more worried my family got for my future.

“Uh, well I wasn’t thinking working for Disney exactly.” I ran my hands over the grooves of the car door in thought. “I really want to make a cartoon one day and maybe work at Cartoon Network.”

“And how will you do that?”

“There’s a college called CalArts that I’m interested in.”

“CalArts? Where’s that?”

“California” There was a pause before he spoke.

“That’s so far away… are you sure about this?” I hesitated before my answer. This was the first time I was unsure about my art.

“Yes.” That was the end of the conversation and my dad’s attention returned back to the road. I knew he was only worried for me, but I was not yet familiar with my plans for the future being met with doubt. From there on I questioned my love for art and how far I was willing to go to so I could pursue it. I proved to my family how serious I was about art but in exchange, I received uncertainty in my life choices.

Berry y Babalú

Había una pequeña ciudad, llena de basura y millones de gente, pero la población de perros callejeros era grande. Muchos de ellos tuvieron problemas para sobrevivir. Desde el más pequeño chihuahua al más grande Gran Danés. Los perros terminaron luchando entre sí por los recursos ya que había demasiados de ellos. Había un cachorro que estaba teniendo más problemas. Berry, un mutt. Él fue intimidado por los otros perros por su figura pequeña y raza mezclada. Berry estaba cubierto en cicatrices y moretones, iba a morir de hambre. El caminó por la ciudad con la cabeza baja y la cola entre las piernas. Berry correría a las casas de personas pedir por comida sin embargo las personas solo dijeron “¡Vete!”.

 Pero un día, él fue a un callejón esperando encontrar comida. No había nada, la baya puesto abajo en un cuadro púrpura. Lleno de trigo tomo una siesta, no sabía esta caja acaba de salvar su vida. Un hombre apareció de  nada vistiendo de pantalones cortos de color púrpura y estaba en muletas. En su mano él tenía una lata de comida, el hombre derramado en un tazón y dijo, “Yo soy Babalú, ahora come te vas sentir mucho mejor.” Berry se levantó en sus piernas huesudas y se tambaleó hacia el cuenco. Comenzó a comer. Cuanto más comía, más fuerte se volvía. Se convirtió en un peso saludable y tenía el color y el brillo del oro. Berry luego agradeció a Babalú por la comida y lo elogió. Babalu se fue cuando apareció. Berry luego caminó por la pequeña ciudad viva por primera vez.

Más tarde en el día caminó hasta la casa de alguien pidiendo comida. Una anciana se acercó a él con una pequeña cantidad de carne para Berry. Podía ver que el hombre de la casa parecía muy enfermo. El hombre apenas podía moverse y un tazón de sopa estaba sentado al lado de él que parecía intacta. Berry luego comió la carne, besó a la mujer en la mano izquierda. Al día siguiente estaba caminando por el mismo camino y encontró la casa que estaba ayer. El vio el hombre que estaba adentro estaba levantado y comiendo como si nada le había pasado. Berry luego se alejó con Babalú caminado con él.

El fin

Soy de Filadelfia también mi barrio es en Girard. Viví allí por un año. Cuando pienso en mi barrio porque de él BSL y comida. Para mi, mi barrio es más o menos. Allí no hay mucho, puede ser ocupado. Además, quiero mi barrio ser limpiar. Un tema para mi comunidad es permanecer limpio. Personas regulares vive en mi barrio. Sin embargo, a pared de girard es de mi barrio

Quiero mi mural en la pared de la Universidad de Girard porque de la historia del Movimiento de Derechos Civiles y Girard. Por siete meses y 17 días, personas protestó la pared. Stephen Girard quiere la escuela por los niños blancos. Cecil B. Moore protestó y el 3 de agosto de 1965 Martin Luther King Jr. visitó la universidad. Finalmente, cuatro chicos negros fui a la Universidad de Girard.     

El tema de mi mural es personas que se unen a la lucha contra el racismo. Además, el propósito de mi mural es recordar la marcha a lo largo de la pared de Universidad de Girard. Quiero hacer este diseño porque se une a las personas y les hace pensar en la historia de Girard y la historia de la raza en Filadelfia. Voy a incorporar imágenes de personas rompiendo la pared y tres niños pasar la pared porque quiero mostrar el racismo no es fuerte. También, voy a incorporar las palabras “Down like the walls of Jericho” porque quiero mostrar la participación de  Martin Luther King Jr. en las protestas.

Creo que cumplo con el papel del arte público. Creo que tiene significado y creo que su mensaje va a invocar el pensamiento. Me gusta mi diseño, porque se ve bien y todavía tiene significado histórico. También, me gusta mi diseño de murales ya que muestra todas las partes de las protestas de la Universidad de Girard. Además, creo mi mural dice la historia de la participación de Filadelfia en el Movimiento de Derechos Civiles.

Una oda a un oficial general y presidente.

Valiente, ocupado, líder

Cuando yo te veo pienso en la soldado y reforma

Me haces ser más pacífico y consciente

Tú, mi modelo a seguir

Tengo Comunidad

Jayla Wright

Soy yo

La hija de un padre inmigrante y mi madre de América y África

Mi piel marrón

De África y Jamaica

Tengo comunidad

Veo el mar azul de Jamaica

Saboreo plátanos y pollo jerk

Huelo curry caliente de mi tía

Oigo la voz de mi familia que habla Jamaican patois

Toco las palmas

Bailo con las cascadas

Juego en la arena

Bebo leche de coco

Duermo con las estrellas

Somos productos de Jamaica y África

Somos negros y fuertes

Las personas de coco y sol

Hablamos patois e inglés

No somos Americanos

Somos isleños

De alegría y pasión

Listen to it here

In Barcelona, a troubled and anxious man, Señor Rodriguez (Ahlik), runs into a hospital alarmed about a text he received from his famous girlfriend Shakira (Afi). She texted him because she is in the hospital. He is surprised by the results of the hospital visit. Watch to find out what happens.

Soy Gato.

Siempre, soy

Moreno y hermoso.

Cuando tengo tiempo libre, me encanta dormir,

Comer cájaros y jugar con mis amigos.

No soy ni delgado

ni feo.

Yo soy…

¡YO!