I just got done working a 9-5 double shift of course ; I came in body sore as ever I walked over to open up my window when I saw it was shattered by a brick. Instead of being in fear I felt rage. How dare they break my window that I paid my money for. I picked up the brick and it had a note on it, The note read: “ Black girls are illiterate no monkey should be writen and readen the stuff you be doin is a disgrace you should be hanged’ Can you honestly believe the disrespect? If you're going to threaten someone , at least have the nerve to spell and write correctly. The nerve of these white people. Later on, I remembered I had a flight to catch to New York to meet with my publisher. He keeps going on and on about somebody named Gatsby …show more content…
and how I should go to his party. I finally get to at the hotel. Trying to unwind and relax, I saw an invite to some fella named Gatsby. At first I’m thinking, “ Who the hell is Gatsby? I never heard of a name like that”. Well if I go I’ll never finish publishing my book. But, if I go I could maybe catch the son of bitch who called me out my name. A few hours passed by. I got to the party sitting amazed at all the hoofers ,flappers , the daddies with their arm candy. It was so much bull session going on I couldn’t believe my eyes. They got so big and bubble like as if they were going to pop out of my head. These ossified people seemed to be having a jazzed up time and all . Champagne everywhere, fancy dolls all across the room, big daddies enjoying themselves with these dumb Dora’s. “ So I threw a brick at that broads window and told her off, dumb whore probably can’t even read stupid monkey” * mystery man I turned around so quick and fast and grabbed that bastard and said ‘ I challenge you to a poetry slam you ignorant fool” ‘ Fine how hard can it be If a nigger girl can do it so can I but, here's the thing if I when I get hunt you and lynch you” “ If I win I get to whoop you like slave … boy” said Georgia People stopped what they were doing the whole room was quiet you can hear a pin drop. Then this jazz beat hit… ll makes you wanna kiss them . she stopped in the middle of her poem and noticed how everyone is staring and “ Words so powerful they can make your whole soul shake and quiver with fear… Voice so bold you thinks thunderstorm is near body so beautiful you think I’m queen Cleopatra…. She stopped speaking and continue to realize all the harsh looks she was getting at her well at least a majority. Now honey I don’t know why you even want to come for me ..
You up talking bout lynchin me … I see ya ass in hell It should be crime for even wanna try me … I’m for the people fight for the people free my people… I wanna get rights for my people.. Even saying we free why does it still feel like bondage to me.. I feel like I’ m a “free” slave Still being whooped like my former brother and sisters may peace be upon their grave She paused again they thought she was still doing spoken word but she was really getting things off her chest. …. But see that’s now illegal now but why is it illegal for me to go inside a white bathroom … party at country clubs ….and trying to vote for my next president. I damn sure ain’t no monkey I am a black women . You simple raccoon things aren’t always so black and white. People are living in a haze tryin to not let their golden years fade away. She left the party before the man even got his turn she came to her sense and saw the rage on the man's face she fled swiftly and impatiently. The man and his goons chased after her. She tripped over her long gown and tried to rip it so she can run she was running so fast she forgot where she was going. Then all of a sudden she felt a thud on her head. Barely keeping her eyes open she felt her being strangled by a rope. She gets choked to
death. * Wakes up on hospital bed “ What happened “ she says Nurse answers “you fell unconscious on your deceased husband grave a lady in all black found you and took you hear.Something about it’s not time for you just yet .She spooky lookin if you ask me” *She stares puzzledly and looks all around trying t o figure out what happened to everything.
One of the most destructive forces that is destroying young black people in America today is the common cultures wicked image of what an realistic black person is supposed to look like and how that person is supposed to act. African Americans have been struggling for equality since the birth of this land, and the war is very strong. Have you ever been in a situation where you were stereotyped against?
The white folks ain never gimme a chance! They ain never give no black man a chance! There ain nothin in yo whole life yuh kin keep from em! They take yo lan! They take yo freedom! They take yo women! N ...
I was late for school, and my father had to walk me in to class so that my teacher would know the reason for my tardiness. My dad opened the door to my classroom, and there was a hush of silence. Everyone's eyes were fixed on my father and me. He told the teacher why I was late, gave me a kiss goodbye and left for work. As I sat down at my seat, all of my so-called friends called me names and teased me. The students teased me not because I was late, but because my father was black. They were too young to understand. All of this time, they thought that I was white, because I had fare skin like them, therefore I had to be white. Growing up having a white mother and a black father was tough. To some people, being black and white is a contradiction in itself. People thought that I had to be one or the other, but not both. I thought that I was fine the way I was. But like myself, Shelby Steele was stuck in between two opposite forces of his double bind. He was black and middle class, both having significant roles in his life. "Race, he insisted, blurred class distinctions among blacks. If you were black, you were just black and that was that" (Steele 211).
It took her a long time to catch her breath,but she finally managed to spit out the words,
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby is an absurd story, whether considered as romance, melodrama, or plain record of New York high life. The occasional insights into character stand out as very green oases on an arid desert of waste paper. Throughout the first half of the book the author shadows his leading character in mystery, but when in the latter part he unfolds his life story it is difficult to find the brains, the cleverness, and the glamour that one might expect of a main character.
Racism seems to be a growing problem in America, and it should be diminishing as our society progresses. Many acts of racism shown in The Power of One have reoccurred recently.
While racism is usually more easily recognizable by way of comments, social isolation and stereotyping, there is another divide that many don’t recognize and that is white privilege. White privilege, also referred to as white skin privilege, is when white people are granted certain rights, privileges, positions, courtesies, etc.…over those of a different race. This is often seen in political, educational and social environments. This impacts social inequality by adding to the existing differences in social experiences and/or statuses that results in people having unequal access to valued resources, services, and positions in society (Kerbo, 2012). Throughout history white privilege has suppressed the advancement of African Americans.
As a young child in elementary school, I struggled in the regular classes of language arts and math, and this caused my teachers to put me into Special Education. I recall hearing the regular students call me “stupid” all the time behind my back. When I had my regular classes in Social Studies or Science none of the other students wanted to be my partner in the group projects. I felt like an outcast, and my self-confidence was exceedingly low. However, I knew that I was not the smartest kid, but I was a hard worker. I begged my mom to help me convince the teachers to allow me to to join the regular classes in the 5th grade. Fortunately, my teachers agreed, and in my regular language arts class I was motivated to prove to my teachers, my classmates,
Personal narratives allow you to share your life with others and vicariously experience the things that happen around you. Your job as a writer is to put the reader in the midst of the action letting him or her live through an experience. Although a great deal of writing has a thesis, stories are different. A good story creates a dramatic effect, makes us laugh, gives us pleasurable fright, and/or gets us on the edge of our seats. A story has done its job if we can say, "Yes, that captures what living with my father feels like," or "Yes, that’s what being cut from the football team felt like."
My husband and I will show her where she's from. She's a beautiful mix of South East Asian and Puerto Rican. She has her whole life ahead of her and she will see it from many different perspectives. I will teach her Hindu, Creole, how to cook curry and about my favorite Bollywood movies. I will dress her in Sarees and take her to religious functions. She will be covered from head to toe in Indian gold. My husband will teach her Spanish, play her his favorite songs and teach her how to dance. I will teach her how to cook Spanish, food (dad is great at making breakfast). We will take her to Puerto Rico, one day. We'll also visit Asia. She will know the two beautiful worlds she comes from.
My perception of our world is that racism exists everywhere, even in the land of liberty, America. I am aware of the fact that there is racism against not only blacks, but also whites, Asians, along with people from all other ethnicities. I believe racism is deplorable in any form. Therefore I do my best not to be racist in any way.
As an African American woman, I have lived and worked in underserved communities and have experienced personally, the social and economic injustices grieved by underserved communities and the working poor. All of which, has increased my desires to work with such populations. A reserved person by nature, I have exposed an inner voice that I was oblivious to. I have expressed my inner voice to those living in underserved communities, who are seeking social and economic stability. I have come to classify and value the strength I have developed by the need, to survive in an underserved community. I use these as my continuous struggle against the social and economic injustices that I have experienced, as a product of an underserved community and as an African American woman. I have continued my struggle to overcome the barriers from my upbringing in an underserved community.
Wait. Be still. Don't go over the line. Don't let go. Wait for it. "BANG!" My reactions were precise as I sprung out of the blocks. The sun was beating down on my back as my feet clawed at the blistering, red turf. With every step I took, my toes sunk into the squishy, foul smelling surface, as my lungs grasped for air. Everything felt the way it should as I plunged toward my destination. I clutched the baton in my sweaty palms, promising myself not to let go. My long legs moved me as fast as I could go as I hugged the corner of the line like a little girl hugging her favorite teddy bear. The steps were just like I had practiced. As I came closer to my final steps, my stomach started twisting and my heart beat began to rise. The different colors of arrows started to pass under my feet, and I knew it was time.
I once knew a girl in middle and high school who was quite peculiar. I'm not saying every kid was normal during this period of their developing lives, but this girl was definitely strange.
Things were getting unmanageable for her and she slowly began to a phase of unreasonable delirium. She wanted to take on 'men' and hated them to the point of killing them. And then she began to do that too, she admitted to him. He would hear it all in frightening calm - his absolute silence was the only sign of protest(even if he meant to stop her) he ever showed. Her ways of killing got gorier with every crime she committed, she admitted to him shamelessly. When the cops found out her last victim, they found that the neck had been totally eaten off. ...