Co-hosts: Lily Bromley, Elena Smith, Antonia Solar

Summary: For our last podcast we discussed the final events and the author’s intent for the book The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. Bulgakov included a lot of symbolism in this book, but the main ones we went over today were about morality, love, and authenticity. Lastly, we finish our episode with our thoughts on whether we’d recommend this book and what audiences may enjoy it.

List of Evidence: Morality & human nature (360), Love (215, 381), Art & authenticity (287, 371)

By Antonia, Elena, and Lily

In this episode, we looked at The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov through the Marxist, feminist, and new historicist lenses. We discussed how even though the people of the book were under a communist structure, their greed is highlighted in the story. This podcast also touches on the ways witches connected to empowerment and liberation from societal restrictions. Lastly, we examined how the context of the author’s life and the critique of Stalinist Russia were reflected in sections of the novel.

List of Evidence: Marxist lens (297), feminist lens (230, 229, 291), new historicist lens (287, 292) “Manuscripts don’t burn” (287)

Episode Title: “Pah, the Devil!” Co-hosts: Lily Bromley, Elena Smith and Antonia Solar

The Master and Margarita is a novel by Russian writer Mikhail Bulgakov, about the Devil and his demon friends travelling to Moscow to wreak havoc on the citizens by exposing their sins. We go over the set up and the main characters that have been introduced as of Book One. In this podcast episode we delved into the context behind the time period The Master and Margarita was written in, as well as the themes of the Devil, Jesus, and the nature of humanity. We also mention the different ways the author uses satire to subtly critique Stalanist Russia.

List of Evidence: Love & murder quote (138), repetition of the word Devil (175, 227, 95, 95, 188), nature of humanity (120, 124) Jesus Subplot (19, 19, 41), How Bad is the Devil? (170)

My essay focuses on the determents of cultural assimilation as well as the ways that American life forces immigrants to leave behind the culture of their homes. I want readers to notice the critiques of the current system and begin to think about ways that we could change these things.

The choice to immigrate to another country or place is a hard decision for anyone. Having to completely change your life is a complete shock and this decision is never made lightly. People immigrate for many different reasons, it could be for safety, better job opportunities, education, family, but it is never an easy decision. One of the many challenges that immigrants face when living in a new place is the balance between the two cultures. Choosing which aspects of your native culture and the new culture to incorporate into your life is a choice that every immigrant has to make. The same goes for the children of immigrants, who in many cases are torn between the traditions that their family wants to teach them and the traditions of their friends and peers. In this essay, I will explore the sacrifices that immigrants and children of immigrants have to make to assimilate into their new culture.

“The Namesake” by Jhumpa Lahari, follows the son of two immigrants, Gogol. In Indian culture, most people have a nickname and a “good name” (one that they use on legal papers, at work and school, etc). When Gogol goes to school for the first time, his parents, Ashima and Ashoke, instruct the teachers to call him “Nikhil,” but there is some confusion and he ends up continuing to be called Gogol. When Gogol’s sister is born, their parents decide to give her only one name, “They’ve learned their lesson after Gogol. They’ve learned that schools in America will ignore parents’ instructions and register a child under his pet name. The only way to avoid such confusion, they have concluded, is to do away with the pet name altogether, as many of their Bengali friends have done.” Ashima and Ashoke were forced to give up one of the vital traditions in Indian culture to make the lives of their children easier. Gogol had to grow up with his pet name being used for everything and they didn’t want that for their second child. The entirety of “The Namesake” stresses how important names are in Indian culture, showing the level of sacrifice that giving their child only one name was for Ashoke and Ashima. One of the keywords from this quote is “Learn.” Ashima and Ashoke, like all immigrants, are forced to learn the nuances of their new culture. In American in particular, we expect immigrants to assimilate into our culture instead of celebrating and trying to understand our differences in ways of life. We can see this often in the current events in America. From crowds of people chanting “Build the Wall” to foreign language speakers being discriminated against, being told that “this is America, speak English.” The culture of America backs immigrants into a wall, where their only choices are to conform or to fail.

We see this type of behavior in “Beasts of the Southern Wild” also. While the people that live in the bathtub aren’t technically immigrants, they may as well be, as their way of life in no way resembles the culture outside of the bathtub. Once Hurricane Katrina hits, a “rescue team” comes to take the residents in the bathtub to a hospital. The only problem is that no one in the bathtub wants the help of outsiders. They created a community within themselves and distrust the outside world. In this case, the outside world wants people in the bathtub to assimilate to their culture, and leave their home for safety, because they believe that their way of life is the best one. Most of the people that live in The Bathtub are happy with their lives, even if people on the outside wouldn’t consider them ideal. America often writes a narrative of being the saviors or heroes of history, but in many cases, people are perfectly fine with their lives, and don’t want to be “saved”. This situation is reminiscent of the boarding schools that young Native American children were forced to attend, which taught them to adapt to western culture. They were taught English, forced to dress in western clothing, and converted into Christians. In the early American’s minds, they were saving and “fixing” the Native American children, but in reality, they were stripping the children of their Native culture based on extremely racist ideals. This savior complex is weaved into American history and is something we still haven’t shaken even today.

The story of immigration in the United States is a complicated one. The founders of the US were immigrants, who stole the land we live on today from Native American people. Today, that is America’s biggest fear, of having our jobs, our land, stolen from those we see as the other. Our definition of what “American” even is is shallow and weak. Instead of accepting and appreciating our mix of cultures we hold certain traits and traditions at a higher level. If we can’t realize and reconcile with these truths, we will never be able to move forward as a country.

Introduction

With this essay, my goal was to convey how I felt about situations I have been through at the moment, versus how I feel about them now. I wanted to show how my opinions have changed as well as how I have changed as a person over time. I’m really proud of how I was able to show moments in my life, as well as how I was able to analyze and break down those situations. One of the ways that I would improve next time would be to plan out exactly what I was going to say in what order. Overall I am pretty proud of this essay.

The first time I was ever approached on the street was while I was waiting for the bus in 6th grade. An older man, in his late thirties, stopped me and said, “I just wanted to let you know that you are so beautiful.” I had no idea what to say, so I just said a confused, “Thank you,” and the man walked away. I was 11 years old, wearing a gray turtleneck and jeans. The situation didn’t exactly scare me; I didn’t feel threatened. For a while, I was pretty flattered, but over time that flattery turned into anger. Not at the man himself, but at the conditions that made him feel like what he said was okay and that something like that would be flattering and not super creepy. In a way, I was also angry with myself. That I had smiled and said thank you, that I had boosted this man’s ego and allowed him to think that what he had said was ok. If I could go back, I would have simply told him my age and allowed him to deal with that information. Throughout middle school, people never really expressed to me that I was pretty. The only validation I got was from the occasional creepy man on the bus I took home every day or someone calling out to me from their car. As scary as those situations were, they also felt new and exciting and grown-up, like now I was invited into the real woman’s club. When I was 14, my mother and I went to the thrift store one day after school. While I was looking through the men’s t-shirt section, a man who looked to be in his sixties came up to me. He started making conversation, asking me if I had found anything good yet. I answered his question and continued making conversation with him. It’s pretty common for older people to talk to me in public. I’m unintimidating, short, young, a girl, all these qualities make me seem approachable. The man and I continued talking until out of nowhere he looked at me straight in the eyes and mumbled: “I live alone just around the block.” I was confused as to why he had said this, so I nodded and went back to looking through the shirts. The man, in a slightly angry voice, restated what he said before, “I live alone just around the block.” Now I understood. All I could think of to say was “I’m here with my mom,” to him, this must-have seemed encouraging because he then said, “Well I can give you my phone number.” At that moment, my flight mode kicked in. I fast-walked away from him and found my mom in another aisle. I whispered what had happened and we left. I tell that story to a lot of people, In my mind, it’s something interesting that has happened to me in my life. In my opinion, if something scary is going to happen to you, at least make a good story out of it, and for a while, I held onto that story like a prized possession. Something about it had oddly flattered me and I couldn’t say why, but I knew that that situation would stick with me forever. It wasn’t until recently that I realized how I was feeling was normal. I was scrolling on Instagram when I saw a post that said: “When you are so used to being catcalled that when you aren’t, you feel like you look ugly that day.” I realized that the way that catcalling made me feel was the way it made a lot of women feel. From a young age, I was conditioned to believe that the only way men were going to find me attractive was if they could view me as a sexual object. Not as a peer or equal. So when I was catcalled or harassed, while I was scared, I also felt complimented, because, in my mind, it was all the attention based on looks I was ever going to get. Over time, I was able to get over the way I was feeling, but it wasn’t easy. It took a lot of personal reflection, therapy, and eventually, medication to get to a place in my life where I didn’t feel like I needed the validation of others to feel attractive or wanted. As I got older, I was exposed to more romantic experiences that I asked for, which helped me realize what I wanted and deserved out of relationships. When I told my mom what the man had said to me at the thrift store, she got extremely angry and wanted to go over and scream at him, but I begged her not too. Now, I wish I had let her. I wish I had taken a picture of him, I wish I had found his workplace and called them. I wish I could make him feel as embarrassed, scared, and small as he had made me feel.