For my capstone, I created a food blog that promoted a nutritionally well-balanced diet. On my blog, I posted weekly recipes as well as articles (written by myself) to present the research I conducted. With my capstone, I wanted to show my audience that healthy eating comes with many benefits that are integral throughout our body, including our immune system.
http://mindfulkitchen101.simplesite.com
I am writing about the nature of obligation and where it derives from. By reading this essay, I hope that it gives people a better understanding about what defines a person and the different principles that determine our decisions in life. Some will base their morals off of religion while others will be held to the comfort of their naivety. In my essay, my aim is to express the root of our obligation and how it is expressed in our interactions with people who are foreign to us.
No matter the status of our upbringings or the morals we are held to as children, we all come to an age of logic and reasoning. At this age, our cognitive decisions rest in the shadow of an influence, which is made through the teachings and biases of the ones we look up to the most. Some will learn to look at everything through a religious lens, resting every decision on the rules of God, others’ priorities will rest on the comfort of their privileges. At this age of reasoning, we are forced to apply our logic to the decisions we make and the people we meet. Sometimes, these interactions may be with people who are foreign to us and we must decide how we will accept them. With this in mind, the question is: how do these forms of logic respond to our obligation to others? And what is the reason for these responses?
Looking into the novel, Exit West, by Mohsin Hamid, it is apparent that one form of logic can develop through the nature of struggle. Although struggle is often a broad term, there is much evidence that reveals a genuine result of bonding. In this novel, the reader is introduced to Nadia and Saeed, a couple growing up in a middle eastern country, corrupted by regulation and war. As the war drags on and desperation grows exceedingly, the reader begins to notice a change in the logic of the young couple. Instead of choosing to fight back in greed and isolation from the rest, they expressed gratitude and selflessness for those around them. Several times throughout “Exit West,” the two characters experienced the loss of their family and friends. Through this loss, there held a strong sense of obligation and appreciation of the simpler things, understanding that one-day things might change for the better or the worst. “This loss unites humanity, unites every human being, the temporary nature of our being-ness, and our shared sorrow, the heartache we each carry and yet too often refuse to acknowledge in one another”. So if suffering breeds connection, what is the result of comfort? And how does this play out in our obligation to others?
Through interpreting the short story, “Return To Nigeria”, we can answer these questions. While reading this story, the author reveals the vast differences between two countries through the perspective of a Nigerian American woman named Enuma Okoro. One known for its habits of luxury and the other for its state of extreme poverty. These being America and Nigeria. Growing up in America, Okoro’s mother taught her to be ashamed of her home country and look at it as something less than her; a place dominated by the poor and riddled with violence and gangs. While living under this influence of bias, she eventually learned to hate her heritage and adapted to the American culture of her peers, accepting their ignorance. Enuma explained that Americans often didn't accept her culture and ethnic background, forcing her to adapt to theirs. Because of this, certain aspects of her life began to change; this even included her name, “We let teachers mangle our names, then adopted their mispronunciations — introducing ourselves with syllables our own relatives tripped over.” This inheritance of the American culture diluted hers. But after a short visit to her home country to honor one of her family member’s passings, everything changed. In the small town of Akunwanta, she felt a sense of belonging and reintroduction to the origin of her ancestors. Growing up in America, Okoro often felt isolated from the community she surrounded herself with. Being a Nigerian, she never truly felt accepted in the U.S. due to the differences she held from the rest. Reading Okoro’s story, the reader can notice a correlation between comfort and compulsion, seeming that it can create a sense of exclusion from those who are different from them. Being in America, people are often sheltered off from the rest of the world, therefore unable to cope with the diversity of other cultures. Through this, we can understand another form of logic constructed from the nature of ignorance.
Other times, obligation can sprout through belief, such as religion. For example, in Enrique’s Journey, while leaving his home town in Honduras in an attempt to find his mother, Enrique passes through a town well known for its Christian based principles, this being “Veracruz”. Sonia Nazario talks of the culture of the people in this town expressing the fact that many of the residents living there are heavily religious and believe it is their duty to God to treat others with compassion and empathy. In this town; according to Nations Encyclopedia, the town maintains around 85% of a religious population. Some of those living in Veracruz choose to devote their lives to the welfare of the migrants passing through to get to the US. Possibly one of the most iconic laws of Christianity is to treat others how you would like to be treated. This idea is followed through acts of “gift-giving” where the community of Veracruz lines up to the train tracks that many immigrants take to travel to the U.S. It is here that they throw food to the hungry and desperate families passing through, supplying them with fruits and bread as well as drinks such as water and coffee to help them on their way.
Furthermore, looking deeper into the roots of our principles, we can draw several differences. While some are bred through safety and comfort, others are produced through suffering and desperation. And sometimes, people will turn to religion to teach them the morals of life. Although these forms of logic provide an overall basis for the root of our decisions, it also shapes the morals of our obligations and how we associate with the people outside of our circle of affiliation. Some may feel inclined to look at them with ignorance and separate themselves from the things that are foreign to them while others would choose to offer aid to those they don’t know. Through these forms of logic, we can understand that obligation is founded through the character of our surroundings and the principles in which we have learned to pursue.
Introduction: My goal for writing this essay was to highlight the idea of fear and really simplify what it is that we are truly scared of underneath our imagination of ghosts and monsters. Before writing this, I never really understood what my fears came from but after so much analyzation and speculation regarding my experiences with the bears, I realized that it was really all about control. I think that one way I could’ve improved my writing process was if I had an essay plan that I could follow. If I was able to go back, I feel like this would’ve really made writing my essay a lot simpler.
Like many children, I feared many things as a kid. Ghosts, the dark, monsters, and sharks. Although, logically, these things could never hurt me, my imagination was bigger than common knowledge. Therefore, I spent most of my childhood sleeping with a night light on and avoiding the depths of the ocean. But every once in a while, kids are taught to face their fears. Sometimes a big revelation comes from it and sometimes these encounters will just allow us to paint our imaginations to be even darker than before. “Look at that!” my father quietly whispers in concentration as he stares out of our porch window. I rub my eyes trying to wake myself from my sleep as it had only been the early hours of the morning. I begin to walk up to the window, curious to see what my father had been fixated on. I stop in my tracks as soon as I realize what is waiting on my porch. It’s a bear! My eyes widen at the sight. There it stands, so large and intimidating, about 6 feet tall, brown and course furr, with black eyes that seem to welcome frightening thoughts that pass through my head. It slowly ambles through the deck on it’s colossal paws that flaunts it large, shiny claws. His head keeps low as he is unaware of his audience. I look up at my dad, helpless and vulnerable, desperate for security. As years built on my life, so did my fears. Seeing that bear, reminded me of just how random and unexpected, the experiences in life can be. Thinking back on just how close I was to the beast, made me think; “Am I in control of my safety or am I simply relying on fate?”. A few years later, I encountered yet another situation that made me feel even more curious of this answer. I sit in the back seat of my father’s old and run down toyota alongside my older sister and brother. We had been on a long car ride that had seemed to drone on for hours. It was fall. The leaves that were once green and in their prime of summer were now dull and brittle due to the inevitable transitioning of seasons. The subtle twists and turns of the endless Pocono roads seem to put me in a deep trance as I look through the depth of the forest that surrounds the black pavement we travel on. As I watch, I examine the many customs that it had to offer. The beautiful trees, the colorful leaves scattered on the muddy floor of the vegetation, marked by the coming of fall, and all the life the forest had to offer. I look deeper and deeper in, slowly becoming consumed in it’s quiet tranquility. My daze is broken when I see something big and dark out in the distance. It ushers slowly by the trees, head low and oblivious of its surroundings. It’s another bear! My stomach drops of fear and my heart beats fast. A hundred thoughts run through my head, all having the same dark ending: me ending up in the grasp of his big, shiny claws. I shudder at the thought but shake it off, knowing deep down that I was protected by the metal exterior of my father’s car. As I look back on both of my encounters with the bears, I begin to realize that they are both situations in which I encountered the core value of fear. In both situations, I found myself vulnerable and lost; unable to recognize reality from ridiculous thoughts I had conjured up by fear. Seeing these bears, brought forth panic. A feeling that for some reason, I couldn’t shake. No matter where I was or how safe I felt deep down, the thoughts in my head were so loud that I couldn’t focus on logic. I could only listen to my mind telling me that I will end up being a victim of the bear, that no matter how in control of the situation I was, I would somehow lose all restraint and find myself in a position of danger. Looking back on these experiences remind me of when I’m sitting on top of a ledge of a building and I suddenly think to myself: What if I lost all control of my body and jumped?. Fear is essentially the idea that we will one day lose control of our own selves and our actions. It doesn’t matter who the victim is or how their mind works. No matter how stable you think you are, you will never know just how vulnerable you are until you encounter what scares you the most. That one thought that gives you chills as you stand alone in the dark, unable to find that sense of control you once had. Your head gets foggy and your heart beats uncontrollably. And once you are brought to safety and the chills on your back had finally settled, you begin to think to yourself: was it the presence of the imaginary monster that scared me or was it the loss of control?
Nuala Cowen
Ms. Pahomov
English 2
March 26, 2019
Identity, something that we can’t help but carry with us. Every mistake, fear, and insecurity imprints on our identity and leaves a scar on who we are. Many people look for ways to hide the vulnerability of their identity by using masks that they could use to create a new identity and hide their own. In William Golding’s, Lord of the Flies, the boys on the island are liberated from the captivity of adults and their morals, leaving them to decide on their own. Looking beyond the novel, it is clear that this idea of anonymity is embedded in the philosophy of human nature. When committing acts that go against society’s morals, many people look for ways to maintain an untouched identity so that they can leave their scars with their mask once unveiled.
Throughout history, people have relied on disguises to hide from society’s morals and the constraint that their disguises have brought. Robbers cover their faces before entering a bank while parents shield their children from the corruption of real life. The Ku Klux Klan was a hate group consisting of white supremacists, mainly taking place in the ‘60s during the Jim Crow Laws but still lasting today. The KKK’s main goal was to abolish the idea of equality between African Americans and Caucasians believing that white people were the superior race. By doing this they spent their nights committing violent crimes that would often end in lynching.
Possibly their most recognizable custom was their uniform. “Indeed, the image of a hooded Klansman has become a popular hate symbol itself, displayed on t-shirts and tattoos by white supremacists around the world”(ADL). Their hoods became less of an identity and more of a shield from their shame. Rather than showing superiority, the white hoods would often be correlated with fear and violence due to the numerous amounts of hangings that occurred at the time of segregation. Often we only recognize the iconic white hoods of the Ku Klux Klan, rather than the faces underneath them.
Furthermore, many people believed that the participants of the Ku Klux Klan presented themselves as madmen, outcasts of society. But oddly enough, many of them kept themselves as civilized and put together people. “Though Democratic leaders would later attribute Ku Klux Klan violence to poorer southern whites, the organization’s membership crossed class lines, from small farmers and laborers to planters, lawyers, merchants, physicians and ministers” (HISTORY). Most people correlate these types of jobs with responsibility and trust, but with masks on, no one truly knows who’s hidden underneath. The KKK was known to be one of the most violent and uncivilized hate groups throughout history due to their lack of morals. But with a hidden identity, they could justify their actions, claiming it wasn’t them or perhaps that they were influenced by the liberation in which the mask brought them.
In the novel, Lord of the Flies, a group of schoolboys get stranded on an island due to a plane crash. The boys were introduced as well-mannered and civilized children who relied on
innocent morals to shape the laws they set on the island. Jack, one of the older boys on the island, presented himself as a coarse and orderly character of leadership, yet torn up by insecurity and shame. Only until he discovered the beauty of the painted face, was he able to hide his vulnerability to the rest of the boys. “He capered toward Bill, and the mask was a thing on its own, behind which hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness” (Golding 64). At the start of the novel, Jack was unable to face the bitter truth of violence, as he was sheltered by the morals of the society he grew to carry with him. But once he painted his face, he couldn’t even recognize his reflection and more importantly, his own identity; “He knelt, holding the shell of water….He looked in astonishment, no longer at himself but at an awesome stranger” (Golding 63). Everything that had held him back from killing the pig, and better yet the savagery it brought him was protected by the mask. It’s human nature to feel the need to protect ourselves from certain things that would sully our status so we look for other ways to purge inner need to go beyond the line of morals that we are taught to never cross.
Consequently, living on an island with little availability to food, the boys were surprised to find that it was populated with pigs. Jack, being the first to spot that pigs lived on the island, believed that it was his duty to act as the provider of the island. Thus, he pulled out a blade he had brought and drew it to the neck of the pig. “The three boys rushed forwards and Jack drew his knife again with a flourish. There came a pause, a hiatus, the pig continued to scream and the creepers to jerk, and the blade continued to flash at the end of a bony arm” (Golding 31). His hesitation was due to the vulnerability of his own self. The idea that he needed to act a certain way in order to be a civilized member of society. From this, his obsession for blood grew and his only resolution was to cover his face in paint in order to conceal himself from the pig while hunting. Towards the end of the book, the mask became less of a tool for hunting but more of an acceptance to savagery. When Jack covered his face, he saw himself as a whole different person; someone who had no shame nor insecurities that would hold him back from feeling the need to follow rules and fit in with society.
When acting on crimes that go against our morals, we will use masks to protect the vulnerability of our own integrity and to leave on less scar on who we are. The Ku Klux Klan used hoods to conceal their faces when lynching African Americans while Jack and the hunters used paint to present themselves as less visible when hunting the pigs. But what if their main reason for hiding their faces wasn’t for appearance, rather something deeper; their own identity? In society, we are taught that innocence is one of the most valuable customs and corruption is looked down on. Both the African Americans and the pigs represented the corrupted innocence caused by the disguise of someone else: a savage.
Works Cited
Kinney, Alison. “How the Klan Got Its Hood.” The New Republic, The New Republic, 8 Jan.
2016, newrepublic.com/article/127242/klan-got-hood.
Editors, History.com. “Ku Klux Klan.” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 29 Oct. 2009,
www.history.com/topics/reconstruction/ku-klux-klan.
Golding, William. Lord of the Flies. The Penguin Group, September 17, 1954, pp. 31
I hate him. I can’t believe he actually did it. I made that face again. The one he hates, the one that he says makes me look miserable and snobbish. I shouldn’t have done it, it was me pushing him to the edge but still, he hit me. I should be mad right? But I can’t help feeling this guilt. No, no, he’s the wrong one, no one should ever hit their child, no matter what. He’s not an abuser, obviously, I know that. He only hit me once. Just this one time because I was being disrespectful. I talked back when he told me to fix my face.
I know I egged him on when I refused to smile. Why the hell did I push him to hit me? I knew he was having a bad day, but I still decided to make that face. Should I apologize?
No, I can’t. I can’t keep acting happy when I’m not. It’ll only make him think that what he did was right. I don’t want him to hit me or you again. I wish he wasn’t our father. At least our mother was able to escape him. You and I both know that he beat her. I still remember when she used to sleep in our bed and when she would wake up the next morning with bruises on her arms and legs. I know you remember it too. I know you remember him waking her up the next morning with little gifts to make her forget about what had happened the night before.
(sister speaks)
I know we’re his children but that doesn’t mean it’ll stop him from hurting us like he did to mom. I don’t want to stay here anymore. It’s not safe. A father is supposed to provide protection not create an unsafe environment. He makes me- both of us feel weak, vulnerable.
(sister speaks)
He hit me here! Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt and it certainly doesn’t justify his actions. Look, I know he’s our father. I know that, but he isn’t fit to be one. I’ve heard the way he’s talked to you. You’re only twelve and he’s cursing at you for making a small mistake. I know how meek and small you feel when he lectures you because I was once in your place. But now I’m sixteen and I have only two more years before I can leave this hellhole and never see him again. But I won’t if it means you are going to be alone with him.
Mom was right to leave all those years ago. If she had stayed, who knows what would’ve happened? I wish she had taken us with her. She was our only outlet. I’m not gonna do what mom did to us. I won’t abandon you. We need to leave here or this might only get worse.
What’s going to stop him from making us his next victim?
I don’t want him to hurt you too.
(dad calls main character)
It’s ok.
I know you’re sorry.
I love you too.
I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked back to you.
I know.
I love you.
Ok.
(returns back to sibling)
He apologized.
Those things I said, it’s just what I felt in the moment. We all say things we don’t mean sometimes. Please don’t tell him that I said I hated him because I really do love him. He’s a good father and sometimes he gets upset just like every other parent. I overreacted, that’s all. I could never hate my father. I love him.
Her eyes squint, subtly at me as if I were a Rubik's cube that she couldn’t figure out. She opens her mouth to speak but returns back to thinking. Her face was familiar, almost identical to the other strangers who’ve wondered the same thing before. I could hear her question before she even asks it. I dread it but I ease back and wait.
“So,” here it comes, “what are you?” my hairdresser asks.
I say almost automatically, “I’m Wasian. Half white, half Asian”. She opens her eyes in surprise and takes a closer look at my face.
“Wow, I thought you were Puerto Rican,” I want to roll my eyes to the back of my head. I have this mental file in my mind full of the different ethnicities that I’m mistaken for: Latina, “white mixed with something else”, Italian, and of course, Puerto Rican. Very rarely will people actually assume that I’m part Asian.
“Yeah, I’m half Korean on my mom’s side.” You’d think I’d be used to this question but after fifteen years it still stings to hear people mistake me for something else.
She pulls up a picture of her quarter Korean daughter and replies, “This is my daughter, she’s twenty-five percent Korean.” I examine her closely and her very prominent Asian features. “She looks more Asian than you,” that hurt. I look up quietly and force a smile.
When I was a baby, people would ask my mom, “Are you sure that’s your baby?” Sure, an Asian woman carrying around a blonde baby sounds pretty odd and I guess it was. Usually, people would just assume that she was my babysitter. I think about what she tells me and can’t help but feel as if she was being discounted as my mother.
As I grew older, I began to almost entirely ignore the rather obscure half of me. The fact that people couldn’t actually recognize my Asian made it hard to celebrate my ethnicity; I was surrounded by people who enjoyed representing their cultures but I felt differently about my own. I began to resent this side of me that has roused confusion since the beginning of my life. Since I didn’t look the part, why should I play it?
She brings out a curling iron from one of the drawers hidden in the counter filled with clips and combs varying in different sizes, plugs it in and waits for it to heat up. She sets her eyes back to me and asks, “Do you have any siblings?” I open my phone and go to my sister’s Instagram to show her a picture of my brother and sister posing together on prom night.
“This is Quinn,” I point to my sister. “And this is Emmet,”. I know what she’s thinking; they look more Asian. Anyone with a set of working eyes could see it.
“Oh,” she squints her eyes to get a clearer look at them, “I can see that they are Asian a little more, but none of you guys look fifty percent.” It’s true; although my siblings did have darker hair and more Asian features than me, none of us really looked like the traditional Wasian. And although it wasn’t her fault, the physical vagueness of my Korean side upset me. I mean, even quarter asians usually look more Asian than me.
It’s human nature to match a face with an assumption. Since he wears glasses he must be smart or she must be popular because she’s pretty. For me, people often believe that I identify with my white side since my face doesn’t have many Asian characteristics.
As she continues to curl my hair, thousands of thoughts roll through my mind. Some were thoughts of annoyance and others of grief but there was one that stood out from the others. It was different from the others that I’ve had in a situation like this. I look at myself in the wide set mirror ahead of me and think to myself. I can’t change and it won’t help thinking about someone else that I’ll never be.
I managed to release all my tension that I’ve held throughout the conversation. People have explained this to me over the years but I never really made anything of it. “You’re yourself and no one else, just accept it,” I’d hear their advice but never really listen. But for some reason this one visit at the hair salon made me realize that maybe I should’ve.
Once she finishes curling my hair, I get up from the chair and thank her. Although this encounter wasn’t very different from the others, I left the salon not feeling, but knowing that my ethnicity doesn’t define who I am.
When I first began to create this slide, I tried to think of what my theme could be. I knew that I wanted it to be simple like the Ikea advertisements but I didn’t really know what it could be about. I started off by looking at pictures to get an idea of what I might want. I decided to choose a simple yellow flower. After that, I began to look for a quote. The quote that I chose reflected on open-mindedness and I thought of myself as an open-minded person so I thought that i chose to use it in my slide.
When I presented in front of the class last time, I was given some helpful suggestions by the class and by ms Hull on how to make my slide look better. One of the suggestions was to fix the color of the font to make it darker so that the audience could see it a little better. Ms Hull said to use a different colored background as well. When I was presenting, I realized that it looked different from when it was on the computer screen to the when it was on the board. When I was making the slide, the font showed up darker and more visible.
I used presentation zen to make my slide because it provided really helpful tips. It said to make the text as big as I can, use a theme, and to keep it simple. I kept this advice in mind when creating my slide and I think that it really helped me. I also used a website called “Top Ten Slide Tips” which provided pretty much the same tips. Overall, this is my process of making my slide.
