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Evolution of women in literature
Portrayal of women in literature
Portrayal of women in literature
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Pounding in my head. Ba bum ba bum. “You can’t leave me!” It’s still years later and the memory of that day still burns at the back of my mind like it happened yesterday. My mom; someone who is an essential person in a young girls life, was leaving me behind to spend 24 months in a federal correction center in Northern California. Surely there must be a mistake, my kind-hearted mom could never commit acts of fraud. Could she? It seems she could. My mother’s criminal charges were white-collar (nonviolent crime) which means she was expected to escort herself to the Correction center. The day she left was in late October; days before Halloween, the dark sky matched my inner being, swirled with disorder and despondency. At the time I don’t think
I fully understood exactly what was happening, I knew my mom was leaving and that she was charged for illegal acts but that’s it. When you’re in a life altering situation your mind feels hazy. With two years of hardship under my belt I can honestly say I now understand the term “dead man walking”, because that’s exactly who I was for 24 months. I remember sitting on the couch with my sister as she assured me life was going to be okay, however the next 24 months were anything but okay. I wish I could say we had our own version of Full House, that our family came together to get through the hard times. Or that we learned to be strong through life’s storm but that’s not so. Beloved Aunts and Uncles pretended not to know me fearing for their reputation in our small town, childhood friends were told they could no longer play with me, and my dad who was there physically, felt further away than he’s ever been. My mother was not the only prisoner in our family. For years I was prisoner to my own soul. If there’s anything I learned from this experience it’s that the dark won’t last forever. Overtime it becomes frail and rusty. With a little gumption I shattered the chains that had bound me to my past. I am not my past and you aren’t yours. Live your life for today otherwise you’ll remain chained, a prisoner to your own self.
“The Long Goodbye: Mother’s Day in Federal Prison”, written by Amanda Coyne depicts the struggles of parents and family members with the emotional trauma children go through due to the absence of their loved one. The story tugs the heart strings of readers with its descriptive account of Mother’s Day in a minimum security federal prison. Coyne describes the human emotions and truly gives an accurate account of what being in a visitation room is like. “The Long Goodbye: Mother’s Day in Federal Prison” makes the reader question the criminal justice system and convinces him or her to adjust their way of thinking towards the definition of criminalization through the logos, pathos, and ethos demonstrated throughout the text.
This article dives deeper into the issue of black incarcerated women by going one step deeper and examining another dynamic of this issue, which is black incarcerated mothers specifically. I appreciate this article because it recognizes that this corrupt and unjust system is also the result of heteropatriarchy, that insists women be dependent on men, and punishes those who defy this standard. It is important to also recognize that traditional notions of family are invoked in these ideals and punishments, constructed by Eurocentric patriarchy. Although I will only briefly discuss how foster systems are connected with this issue because this is nevertheless an important dynamic to identify, I will mostly focus on the mothers themselves and how they are affected by the maintenance of black incarcerated
Toyin Falola's memoir, A Mouth Sweeter Than Salt, portrays one boy's views on the culture and customs of his county from his perspective as an active participant as well as an observer. From determining his mother's age to joining in the struggle to free an innocent man, Dr. Falola's journey growing up in Nigeria embodies the rich, diverse history that defines Africa.
she does. Due to her illness she does not get the same treatment, gets negative attention
3) In Throwaway Moms: Maternal Incarceration and the Criminalization of Female Poverty, authors Suzanne Allen, Chris Flaherty, and Gretchen Ely specifically focus on mothers incarcerated for drug offenses. Furthermore, they discuss the negative effects incarceration has had on the relationships between mothers and their children. The article involves the interviews of 26 mothers incarcerated in a Kentucky prison in 2007. According to the authors, maternal incarceration is surrounded by a large number of issues and policies. This includes poverty, addiction, federal legislation, the War on Drugs, child welfare, and other financial issues that mothers in particular face (Allen, S., Flaherty, C., & Ely, G. 2010).
Mothers are usually the primary caretaker and if the mother is imprisoned the risk of trauma is greater than if a father were to be incarcerated. The main challenge researchers face with this severely understudied population is that it hard to decipher the effects of parental incarceration from the effects of other factors that could have existed long before incarceration.
Parental incarceration and its reoccurring effects on children, specifically in the system, is a rising issue with little research done and no current solution to halt the snowballing problem. According to Cynthia Seymour (1998), “current estimates indicate that as many as 1.5 million children have an incarcerated parent; many thousands of others have experienced the incarceration of a parent at some point in their lives”. A large portion of our country is effected by incarceration, especially children, yet nothing is being done to support these children and their families or caretakers.
...utside world is made easier. Some children’s lives have improved when they no longer communicate with the mother while incarcerated. However, we should review each case and keep the child’s best interest in mind.
Over 150,000 children in the United States have been separated from their mothers because of incarceration. These children face an extremely difficult situation. As the population of female inmates in jails and prisons continues to increase, protections will need to be put in place to preserve the mother-child bond during their sentence and in the process of release. Contact and visitation between mother and child can decrease the negative emotional, social and developmental effects that are caused by maternal incarceration. These measures will improve the children’s well being and create adults who are less likely to repeat their parents’ mistakes.
The sympathy of the government for mothers such as Khaila, trying to recover their parental rights has worn thin. Child abandonment is a serious offense and the children that suffer from such neglect face many psychological problems; if they are ever able to survive their circumstances. The abandonment and neglect of a child can result in serious criminal charges. One striking example is the case of seven month old Daniel Scott (Should We Take Away Their Kids?). Baby Daniel had been left for hours unattended and died of in a pool of his own blood. His mother, a crack addict left him in the care of his father to go on a six day crack binge. His father in turn, left him in his crib leaving the door of their Bronx tenement unlocked for any danger to afflict his unprotected son (Should We Take Away Their Kids?). The parents were later charged with manslaughter by negligence.
A mother is a child’s primary caregiver since the second that they are born and their presence plays an important role in a child’s development. With the absence of the mother due to imprisonment, it can have a negative effect on a child’s social and psychological well-being. This often will result in this way because mothers are now unable to provide their child with the attention that they need daily. As a result of not being able to do so, children of incarcerated mothers find themselves struggling with behavioral problems.
So, I started my own personal fight against her dishonesty. When I answered the phone and it was someone my mother didn't want to talk to, I said, "Louise, mom is here, but she doesn't want to talk to you.
The frustration of being nervous got to me as I tried figuring out what to wear to court where I would see my mother and 11 year old sisters. The only thing running through my mind was the fear of losing the case I had been trying so hard to fight to end, and in the mix possibly losing my sisters too. Being taken away from my family and put into foster care I knew early on that this case for family reunification had to come to an end, so that none of us had
It 's ludicrously ironic now, but as child her logic made perfect sense, and I reasoned myself out of blaming her. She was right. I was wrong. She only mocked me subjected me to strange accusations and verbal cruelty, and we had always done something, anything wrong. After years of constant uncertainty, belittling, and the mounting awareness that my mother was losing her grip on ordinary behavior, I was beginning to realize that I had been afraid. Without a trusted adult telling me in a multitude of ways that everything I did was suspect and somehow bad, I regained a shred of emotional security. I fully realize how strange it is that it took me so long to realize this was a form of abuse, but anything can seem normal when you don 't know anything different. It 's now clear why I looked forward so passionately to overnight visits with friends, and why watching them interact with their mothers, easily, lovingly, and unafraid, made me feel so cold and so perplexing ly angry. I was jealous of any parent-child relationship that wasn 't rooted in fear and uncertainty. On my darker days, I still feel that twinge of envy. Today I speak to my mother only sometimes, and never in any great depth. There 's nothing below the surface that would be pleasant to
As I woke up I heard my phone ringing over and over. Frightened I asked, “What time is it?” He replied, “Ten O’clock, uh oh.” We both looked at each other in fear. I reached for my phone as the screen lit up with another call from mom. I answered and she told me she knew where I was and I had an hour to get my butt home. At that moment I knew I was caught and I knew my punishment would be a big one. We’ve all heard that saying “mom is always right.” Some would agree, some would strongly disagree, but personally I agree with it in almost any situation. Now I would never admit that to my mom because I like to think that I’m right ALL the time, but I know I’m not and I’ve learned many, many lessons trying to prove that I was right. Including this