The Token Black Kid

Note: This may appear to be a smidge on the long side, but I think you might find this interesting, so don't let that inhibit you because it'll pass quick.

I have a strong attachment to Sag Harbor just because it's so relatable to me. Two chapters in, I asked Mr. Mitchell if I could write my reflective response paper on this book instead of BSG just because I had so many little notes written in the margins and there was so much that I felt I could write about. The biggest thing I can relate to Benji on is being "the token black kid".

Benji noted that "Ever bar or bat mitzvah should have at least one black kid with a yarmulke hovering on his Afro -- it's a nice visual joke, let's just get that out of the way, but more important it trains the kid in question to determine when people in the corner of his eye are talking about him and when they are not, a useful skill in later life  when sorting out bona-fide persecution from perceived persecution, the this-is-actually-happening from mere paranoid manifestation" (Whitehead 10; paperback).

This is completely and utterly true.

It's such a weird time and place nowadays with race relations, because a lot of things said and actions taken can have incredibly ambiguous undertones. And to be honest, I feel that from 1985, when Sag Harbor was set, to now, ideas on race and the 'black identity' haven't changed a whole ton. I don't know wether to laugh or cry when people say stupid things like "racism is over". Which has been said. To my face. Multiple times. It isn't over, just more 'subtle'; I emphasize the word with quotations because most of the time it's not even subtle, people just wish to ignore it and pretend society is swell. But we know it isn't because we have still have issues like the racism from the Sigma Alpha Epsilon frat (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/03/27/sae-fraternity-racist-song_n_6956790.html). There's also the Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, and a whole fucking lot of other shootings (check out http://www.buzzfeed.com/nicholasquah/heres-a-timeline-of-unarmed-black-men-killed-by-police-over#.liY40zJKrM). And a shit ton more.

But I don't mean to go on a rant about that right now.

The point I mean to be making is that I have much familiarity with being "the token black kid". Uni isn't the most diverse of places, and I have some classes where I'm the only black kid in the room. I have lots of friends who make jokes about how I'm their black friend, as if I help fill some sort of quota. I have people who make semi-racist jokes around me and then say that it's fine because they have black friends. That's some fucking false justification right there.

Sure, sometimes there is a lot of paranoia involved. When I was the only black person at my a few of my friends' Jewish conformation ceremony, I'm pretty sure no one had too many opinions about me simply because of the color of my skin. But then there's times when people say things that make me feel like my sole purpose really is just to fill some type of quota and have no other use than being black. When I joined my robotics team, I had a friend who wouldn't stop making jokes about how my only purpose on the team was to bring diversity. It's true, females are very much minority on robotics teams. It's true, black people are even more of a minority on robotics teams. The first few times this was mentioned I'd just laugh. Then I'd just role my eyes and continue on with my business.

This next paragraph is basically taken directly from my reflective response paper (Sorry Mr. Mitchell!), but to be honest I don't know if I could rephrase it and still get the point across well:

At one of the robotics competitions I attended in the last few months, I was scheduled to be down in the pits, which is somewhat of a backstage-type area where all the teams have sectioned off areas where they keep and work on their robots. People can walk around and look at other teams’ robots and judges walk around and ask teams questions. One of my teammates straight up told that I was being scheduled in the pits at the time the judges were predicted to come to us because “it will look really good that we have a black female on the team.” I definitely consider myself to be friends with the guy who told me that, and I was kind of taken aback that he thought nothing of what he was saying. Thing is, I wouldn’t have minded at all if I was told, “one of the reasons is because it will look good but also [insert something about me being legitimately useful and capable to the team here].” I totally understand that it looks good to the judges for superficial reasons, I’d just like to have some legitimate use to the team based off my own abilities and skills instead of something I can’t control like my race. I did end up being in the pits when the judges came around, and I actually talked to them by myself for a bit, since I was the only person free. I did a bomb ass job. I’m sure it looked great.

I feel like this is dragging on and I'm afraid if I make it much longer people won't wish to read it. I just hope that you guys get my point about how Benji's awareness of having to separate bona-fide persecution from perceived persecution is totally relatable and relevant today for so many people.

COA is Coming to a Close

At the end of my Hero's Journey english class last semester, I wrote a blog post that kind of just reflected back on all the books we read and kinda bring everything together. I'd like to go a similar route here. Here my reflections on the novels we covered in order of least to most enjoyable:

1. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: I might have to say that this is my least favorite of the novels we read this semester. Maybe it's because it was the first book we were to read after winter break, and I didn't want to have to get involved in school again. Maybe it's because it was build season and I was at robotics almost every night for three hours, so I didn't always have time to read, or time to enjoy reading it. I think those are both factors, but I also didn't find Stephen hugely relatable.
2. Housekeeping: I'm not sure what to think of Housekeeping. The writing is beautiful -- almost lyrical in some places -- and yet I never really got hooked or felt like I needed to know what was going to happen next or anything. I'm also not completely sold on this novel as a coming of age narrative for Ruth. It kinda just went from her following Lucille around everywhere to her following Sylvie around everywhere. Additionally, the majority of the novel I felt like Sylvie was a terrible guardian and that Ruth and Lucille should not be entrusted to her care, but then there were nice, sentimental moments between Sylvie and Ruth that were nice to read. This novel makes me very torn and confused.
3. The Bell Jar: I really enjoyed this book as well. I could relate to Esther in some way, but not in others. There are themes in this book, specifically Esther's mental illness, that I feel uncomfortable talking about in class or on here, but I had no problem reading about them. I really am glad I read this novel.
4. The Catcher in the Rye: We got to this book, and I loved it. The thing is, I've had this book recommended to me by so many people! I just always assumed it would be boring or weird. Maybe the title threw me off? I remember I was misinformed by a friend and thought for the longest time that it was about a kid having to survive out in the wilderness or something weird that. And then when I learned otherwise, the story never really popped out to me. I dunno. But when I actually did read this book I loved it so much. There's something about Holden's narrative voice that is so very appealing and always made me want to read more.
5. Sag Harbor: I have really been enjoying this one, and it's pretty relatable for me (as seen by my previous blog post, as well as the one I'm going to post after this). There's the race and identity thing that I get, but the book is also relatable in other ways. There's the summer fun with friends, the will to reinvent myself, the generational gap. Some of the chapters are pretty long, though, and so sometimes I'll get into the flow of reading and then just start to kinda drift off because the chapter is still going on.
6. Black Swag Green: This novel was great. It was so incredibly relatable and Jason totally felt like a mix between my kid brother and a past version of me. It was pretty easy to get hooked, and reading it didn't feel like work as much as the other books (minus Catcher) did. Oh, and I loved the fact that the novel practically has it's own soundtrack.

Note: Spots 4, 5, and 6 are pretty interchangeable. I don't like any one of those three books much more than the others; I think they're all really good.

A Choice Selection

I'm going to go straight out and admit that the first thing that drew me to Sag Harbor is that it is centered around a black kid. 

After we finished Black Swan Green and were supposed to start the new novel, I literally sat on my bed and had to repeat to myself, 'Just one more book Tiye. Then you'll be done for the year.' Needless to say, I was not excited to still have more of the same reading and paper writing cycle, and summer felt so close, yet so very far. The thing is, I love to read, it's just that being forced to do so and graded on it takes all the thrill out of it for me and makes the entire process very mentally strenuous. As soon as I read the back cover, though, I perked up. I was actually excited to do school work of all things. Shocking, I know.

The thing is, before this book I think I'd read two books about African-Americans in my entire school career. Freshman year we read Black Boy by Richard Wright, which takes place in the earlier part of the 20th century when Jim Crow and segregation and outright blatant white supremacy could be seen pretty much anywhere you went. Sophomore year we read Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, and that takes place in the late 19th century in Africa (and thus is about an African, not an African-American, so I'm not even sure it counts with the point I'm trying to make, but it's the only other book with a black main character so there we go). Sag Harbor make's black book three. Actually, that's a lie -- in elementary school we had picture books about Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. and Ruby Bridges during Black History Month. 

One thing I'd like to point out about all those books is that they are all set in eras pre- or during-Civil Rights Movement. Sag Harbor is set in the '80s -- my parents generation -- and yet it's the closest to my own generation I've been introduced to in a school setting. This is the first book we were assigned about an African-American that isn't blatantly describing, or written with the sole purpose of describing, segregation and white supremacy.

This is not to say that I haven't read other books about a wider variety of African-Americans that aren't directly connected to the Civil Rights Movement, it's just been in my free time rather than at school, and the numbers still pale (get it?) in comparison to the amount of books I've read about white people. Before anyone comments saying, "Well, if'd you'd taken African-American Lit then your number would have been bumped way up." That is true, and I tried, I just didn't get in and when I wanted to transfer apparently it was full. Also, may I just note that we don't need a class called "White People Lit" because that's already what the majority of them are. Uni is actually decent with book diversity though, as the three books on my list were all read here. Know that "decent" is only three books, but my friend from Centennial said she's read zero books about black kids, so it's better than that at least.

Anyways, Sag Harbor is much more relatable for me that any of the books we're read in the past, regardless of the race of the protagonist. It's just about a black kid trying to have a good summer and live a decently normal life like a normal person. And it's post-civil war; let's face it, as much as I can be empathetic towards Ruby Bridges, I can't actually relate because we have such different life experiences. I guess I’m just trying to say that it would have been nice if there were books about everyday, middle class, black kids from educated families post Civil Rights Movement that I could have grown up reading. Just one.

Mother Figure

One of the major themes that pops up throughout Housekeeping is family and family as a social construct. We, as readers, see this so many times because first Ruth and Lucille bounce around to different caretakers, and then when they end up with Sylvie semi-permanently, it is obvious that Sylvie is not the typical mother figure we are accustomed to. What intrigues me most, however, is why Ruth (and, for a time, Lucille) have such an attachment to Sylvie.

It was clear from the start that Sylvie is not the most responsible adult. In chapter 4, Ruth and Lucille have to lie to Lilly and Nona about Sylvie telling them to come inside and not play in the snow, when in actuality the roles were reversed and Sylvie was the one outside in the snow without protection from the elements. The fact that Ruth and Lucille lied about this right off the bat after barely knowing Sylvie at all is very significant, because it was as if they knew Sylvie wan't going to become more responsible, and they wouldn't come across any real stories of Sylvie in that take-charge role.

I guess it makes sense, though, that Ruth and Lucille developed such strong feeling towards Sylvie; they had been abandoned by Helen when she committed suicide, they were "abandoned" by Grandma Sylvia when she died, and they were basically straight up abandoned by Lilly and Nona, who couldn't wait to get away. Sylvie was he first person in a while who was actually nice to the girls, even if she wasn't the best role model.

My last blog post was about it isn't inherently bad that Sylvie is a transient (or at least that's what I was trying to say; I hope that the point got across) so I almost just beat myself up for saying that Sylvie isn't a good role model. However, she isn't the best role model. It's not the fact that Sylvie isn't good at keeping put any adjusting to life in a house that makes her bad role model, it's the fact that Sylvie does not know how to act socially. I don't like the way I'm phrasing that, but the only other words that came to my head were about Sylvie not being able to follow the rules of society, and yet that sounds very conformist and I don't mean it to.

The thing is, Sylvie just straight up stole a mans boat in chapter 8 (I think) with Ruth at her side, and she completely ignored the fact that she just stole a dudes boat. I don't think that's okay. There's also the fact the they stole this boat to go visit some ruins when Ruth was supposed to be in school. Sylvie actually persuaded Ruth to skip so they could go on this adventure, and I don't think that's good because I believe people should have at least a basic education, and having your guardian persuade you to skip isn't exactly the best way to guarantee that happens. Additionally, I feel like Sylvie definitely should have called the police after Lucille ran away, no matter how much she didn't want to; something bad could have happened to Lucille and it was irresponsible of Sylvie to not do everything she could to locate her.

Any last thoughts or comments?

More Than One Road

I just commented on Darren's post about how Housekeeping has made me think pretty intensely about life. Why are some ways of life okay and others not?

Housekeeping is a great book because of how simple it is to contrast multiple ways of living; it's one of the major themes in the novel. Sylvie is a transient; staying in one place for a long period of time isn't her cup of tea, and she certainly isn't one to "housekeep". And that's okay.

The thing is, I (and many of you I'm sure) have grown up with my life half-mapped out for me already; graduate high school, go to college, graduate college too, etc. That's always been the plan and what's expected of me. I'm actually somewhat ashamed because, when I started the novel, I was under the bigoted notion that my way is "right". But the more I read, the more I found myself questioning this. Why did I think it was "right" for me to to college and "wrong" for me not too? Ultimately I think people should do whichever best suits their future plans; lot's of people make it big without graduating college (Bill Gates anyone?!). And yet I've been brought up with these societal expectations and ideas about how one way is superior to another way, even though different people thrive in different environments.

I think this is what Lucille struggled with. She didn't fit into the more fluid, boundless lifestyle Sylvie enjoyed and introduced Ruth to; Lucille needed some sort of structure, and she also paid a lot more attention to the societal norms of her time (sew dresses, pay attention to beauty, take home economics, etc.). Lucille wouldn't have been happy living such a transient lifestyle, and that's okay. Sylvie and Ruth do enjoy such way of life, and, while the people of Fingerbone definitely do not agree with it, that's okay too.

I think.

With this post done, I do fully intend to further develop a draft I have about Sylvie's ability to be a parent. I hope I don't contradict myself too much. Be on the lookout!

Coming Of Age as Memoir

I have officially completed the three coming of age novels we've focused on so far in class! I am, however, left with one question:

Are all coming of age novels quasi-memoirs?

It's definitely not a problem if that is the case or not, I'm just very curious. It is widely acknowledged that A Portrait of a Young Man is actually a portrait of the young James Joyce as reflected upon by his older self. We also talked about how The Bell Jar is a retelling of some of Sylvia Plath's struggle with mental illness around ten years after the episodic period that the book depicts. A Catcher in the Rye is not a retelling of J.D. Salinger's life, but we did talk about him vs D.B.; they both go by their initials, and Holden's view of D.B. selling himself to Hollywood is somewhat what Salinger thinks of himself. There's also the fact that Holden wanted to escape from a phony society and move to Vermont, and Salinger attempted to do the same and moved to New Hampshire (and to be honest I see both of those states as shades of the same exact place...).

It really does make sense, too, that coming of age novels would have memoir qualities, especially the ones we're reading. Writers use bits of themselves and their own experiences to turn words into stories, and so for a coming of age novel to be truly good it makes sense that the writer would use the experiences they had in that period of their lives. It makes it so that the novel will ring true to the reader, and be at least somewhat relatable.

The Catcher in the Rye did a great job of that actually; it's my favorite of the three books, and the only reason I don't have an entire post dedicated to it is because I wrote a reflective response paper and I'm paranoid about accidentally repeating what I'd said before. Still, Holden's narrative really makes the narrator feel special and like they're being entrusted with information no one else knows (although apparently D.B. knows...). Even though the book is old, the issues Holden struggled with are still present and relatable.

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man was probably my least favorite of the bunch mainly because I didn't feel that I could relate to Stephen a ton. Plus the abundance of religion was somewhat uncomfortable since I'm not even sure of what I believe in myself. The Bell Jar also has some tough themes to write and think about, simply because they are so relevant and I don't want to think about it. But I still did like The Bell Jar a lot, a good bit more than Portrait, because it's still relatable and I really felt like I got to know Esther as person while I feel like Stephen was just kinda there.

I don't know quite where I branched off, but I'm looking forward to seeing if the upcoming novels we will read also have deep and obvious connections to the author's experiences.

The Lady Lazarus

In class today we were given poems to read by Sylvia Plath, and Lady Lazarus really speaks to me for some reason. To be totally honest, I had read it over three times and still didn't understand what the poem was actually saying. It's just that the third time I read it out loud and the language and rhythm of the poem were both incredibly well done.

My first interpretation was that this poem was spoken Lady Lazarus, who is in some ways a version of Sylvia Plath's inner self. It talks about how she 'manage[s]' to die every decade, and I took this to mean times she's been close to death. The first time when she was ten was an accident, but the second time was on purpose. The third time isn't really talked about much. Unless the third death is what the poem is about... I don't know, I'm not very good analyzing poems.

Because of the fact tat I am not good at analyzing poems and also did not understand whatsoever what the rest of the poem was saying, I decided to cheat and look it up. The summary and analysis I found (http://www.gradesaver.com/sylvia-plath-poems/study-guide/summary-lady-lazarus) did clear up some of the questions I'd been having. The reference to Germans and Nazi's and herself as a Jew are symbolic to show how she feels oppressed, and also it criticizes the "peanut-crunching crowd". They seem to be enjoying her deaths and re-rise, as referenced in the "The big strip tease" stanza and also in the way the poem talks about there being a charge to see her scars, hear her heart, to touch her, etc. This is apparently supposed to criticize them in the way that Germans just ignored the Holocaust and were complacent. The use of "Herr Dokter" "Herr Enemy" and such were to make a statement about how she was being oppressed by this figure.

Though the poem is obviously about suicide and the main character wanting to die (with the oppressor not letting her have the peace of death she desires, and the "peanut-crunching" gallery being unhelpful voyeurs) what I didn't realize until I read the analysis was that this poem is about about a female's struggle in a patriarchal world. She keeps being brought back to life against her wishes, for what simply seems to be so that others can view her pain for entertainment.

I think it's important to realize that, because it's a recurring theme in Plath's work (and we've all read The Bell Jar by now, so we should recognize this). I also looked up when Plath died, and it was only a few months after this poem was written (published?) and I think that's important as well because it gives us, as readers, a better idea of the issues Plath was struggling with when she got back into the depression. The same issues with patriarchal society that contributed to her struggles in the years represented in The Bell Jar continue to be a huge issue for her throughout her life leading up to Plath's suicide.