“On Being a Cripple” by Nancy Mairs really stood out and caught my attention. Since the age of twenty-eight Nancy was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. The one thing about Nancy that caught my eye was her willingness to continue with whatever she needed to do. She did not give up on herself and take the lazy way out. She was a strong woman who did not let anyone label her; instead she labeled herself, “A Cripple.”
“ What in my life would I give up in exchange for sound limbs and a thrilling rush of energy? No one. Nothing.” This was my favorite quote of the story, because it shows Mairs courageous characteristics. Nancy’s friend had asked her if she ever asked God “why me.” And her response was “No,” because she would not wish her disease on anyone else. I could recall plenty of times where I would say to myself “Why me,” whenever I was frustrated with an illness. I never thought that if it weren’t me, then it would be someone else.
Another thing that got my attention about Nancy was her attitude towards herself. She did not let her disease take over her life; instead she took over her disease. Instead of complaining about her life, she learned to accept her disease and live her life to the fullest. Just as any ill person Nancy does wish that a cure was found but for now, she is doing what she feels she has to do in order to survive.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
My Life and Me
For a while, I had no clue as to who I was, or what my purpose was for that matter. As a child I had really low self-esteem. It got so bad that I refused to leave the house. And if I did, then it was because I “Had” to go to school. I never saw myself as a pretty person. I was really self-concise about my weight and no one could convince me otherwise. In my head I thought I was ugly, over weight, and will never amount to anything. So what was my purpose?
Throughout life I found it really hard to trust anybody that came down my path. I have had my heart broken so many times as I was growing up, that I just shut everyone and everything out. Not only did I have bad relationships, but I also had bad friendships. So I pretty much kept to myself, and I didn’t have anyone in my life at that time that I could trust. I went through a stage of depression for a long time. I figured that I was mainly depressed because I refused to let my true feelings out to anyone and as a teenager I did not want to go to my mother about anything. She would constantly remind my sister and I, “ Mother’s know everything.” But still I never did spill any information. So I just let all my feelings and anger sit on my shoulders. Of course my mother knew that something was wrong, but I tried my hardest to keep my feelings to myself. I could remember countless nights where I would lay in bed and cry myself to sleep. When I heard my mother coming down the hall, our wooden floor would squeak. So I would put the blanket over my head and pretend that I was asleep, just so she could not see the tears running down my face.
Two thousand and four, ninth grade at St. Mary’s Academy, was mostly a year of getting use to more changes. Since three girls from my middle school attended high school with me, I pretty much just stuck with those I knew until I found a place to fit in comfortably. I remember at the beginning of the year everyone was friends with everyone, and as freshmen I guess that was a big deal. At break and lunchtime, a huge sum of us arranged ourselves in the quad. We moved about four lunch benches and lined them up. I can’t remember why we did this, maybe for a sense of security; I don’t know. But every single day for almost the whole year, it seemed like we had arranged assign seating for ourselves. For me being part of this group meant nothing; it just meant that I had someone to sit with during the breaks. This year was extremely confusing. I didn’t know who I was, especially since my older sister’s friends, and even some teachers branded me “Little JoJo.” I never felt that I could fully be me. I never minded being in my sister’s shadow because that was the only time that made me feel like I was somebody, even though deep inside I knew I wasn’t.
Nevertheless, tenth grade for me made a complete turn around. I was still in my sister’s shadow, but by the end of the year I could define who I really was. I can honestly say this is because of my best friend. I have crossed a lot of people who say that no person can bring down or build up someone else’s self-esteem. They say that self-esteem is built within you, and no one can help or hurt it but you. In having a personal experience, I could honestly say that another person’s input really does make a difference. Christina got me to realize that I should be happy with who I am, no matter what anyone else thinks. She told me not to pay attention to what anyone else says, as long as I am comfortable with myself that’s all that matters. After a while I realized that throughout many conversations we had, I actually felt comfortable talking to someone about any and everything, whether in the past or present. It was the best feeling ever, and I knew I could trust her. She was always there for me no matter what the situation was, and still is today. It was not easy for me to warm up to her at first, but all it took was baby steps. It was Christmas vacation and I remember calling my best friend to tell her something. I was so nervous and I didn’t know where to start. I told her that something was bothering me, and I needed to tell her right away. The first thing that she told me was “ I already know.” I was quiet for a while, and then she continued, “ I already know you’re gay, I have a gaydar remember?” That comment broke the ice. We laughed it off and continued our conversation. I don’t even know why I was so nerves to begin with, besides she’s a lesbian herself, I guess it was just the fact that I was letting this information out for the first time in two years. I finally got a huge load off my shoulders that day now the only thing that was on my mind was someone else finding out, or even more important my mother.
A year has gone by and this was the year when I finally identified myself as a lesbian. This year I “Came out” to friends, as well as my family, and it was not easy. For a while I was scared to admit that I was a lesbian, mainly because of all the judgmental people that are in the world. But the main reason why I was afraid to “ Come out the closet,” was because I finally felt like I fitted in, and I did not want to ruin any friendships. I told myself that I had to do this for me, and whatever happens in the end was or wasn’t meant to be, and when it was all said and done I still had my best friend. So it was known around the entire school that Janay and her best friend are lesbians. And we were completely fine with that, and to my surprise so was every single one of my friends. Once everyone at school knew, I felt like I was living a double life. When I was at school I could be who I was, but once I got home I felt like I was living a lie, and I really hated that feeling. I couldn’t do it anymore, one day I was on the phone with my best friend, and I told her that I was ready to tell my mother. She said “Go ahead, and call me when you’re done.”
I was so scared; I had millions of thoughts running through my mind. I asked my mother and my sister to come down stairs because I had to talk to them. As I heard their footsteps come down the stair, my heart began to beat faster and faster. We sat at the dining room table, I remained quiet for a few minutes, I had never been so nervous in my life. I began playing with my fingers, while refusing to look up. “ I’m” is what I said over and over again until my sister said, “ You’re, you’re what?” I took a deep breath and said, “Lesbian.” Everyone was quiet for a while it was dead silence for about a minute, but that felt like a lifetime. Then my mother said to me, “ I already suspected that.” I said, “You did, ” she said “ I told you time and time again, mothers know everything.” Then my sister responds with a “Duh, I knew for a while now its not that hard to point out.” I was so relieved; it wasn’t as bad as I thought. My mother explained to me that she supports my sister and I in whatever we do, and her love for us is unconditional no matter what the situation may be. After we talked I called my best friend back and told her what happened. We talked and laughed about the whole thing. I remember thinking to myself that I had no reason to afraid of telling my mother, because her sister is a homosexual herself. It was all over, and now for the first time in my life I felt complete.
For a few years now I have felt much better about myself. I could honestly say that without my best friend’s words of encouragement, I do not know where I would be today. She was also the person who told me to go after what I want and not wait for it to come to me. And after listening to her, I finally found myself in a serious relationship for the first time in my life.
I have been with my girlfriend for almost two years now. Along with my best friend, my girlfriend has played a huge role in my life as well. She encourages me to keep going when I start to give up on myself, and she has been here for me through all the rough times. She understands everything about my past and I am 100% sure that I could trust her with my heart. 2006, eleventh grade was by far the best year of my life. Not only was I out of my older sisters shadow because she had just graduated, but also because I finally found peace within myself. I finally enjoyed life; I enjoyed going to school every day, and most of all I enjoyed myself. I have a brand new perspective on life, this was the year that I established who exactly Janay Clemons was, a lesbian, and I would not change for anyone.
Throughout life I found it really hard to trust anybody that came down my path. I have had my heart broken so many times as I was growing up, that I just shut everyone and everything out. Not only did I have bad relationships, but I also had bad friendships. So I pretty much kept to myself, and I didn’t have anyone in my life at that time that I could trust. I went through a stage of depression for a long time. I figured that I was mainly depressed because I refused to let my true feelings out to anyone and as a teenager I did not want to go to my mother about anything. She would constantly remind my sister and I, “ Mother’s know everything.” But still I never did spill any information. So I just let all my feelings and anger sit on my shoulders. Of course my mother knew that something was wrong, but I tried my hardest to keep my feelings to myself. I could remember countless nights where I would lay in bed and cry myself to sleep. When I heard my mother coming down the hall, our wooden floor would squeak. So I would put the blanket over my head and pretend that I was asleep, just so she could not see the tears running down my face.
Two thousand and four, ninth grade at St. Mary’s Academy, was mostly a year of getting use to more changes. Since three girls from my middle school attended high school with me, I pretty much just stuck with those I knew until I found a place to fit in comfortably. I remember at the beginning of the year everyone was friends with everyone, and as freshmen I guess that was a big deal. At break and lunchtime, a huge sum of us arranged ourselves in the quad. We moved about four lunch benches and lined them up. I can’t remember why we did this, maybe for a sense of security; I don’t know. But every single day for almost the whole year, it seemed like we had arranged assign seating for ourselves. For me being part of this group meant nothing; it just meant that I had someone to sit with during the breaks. This year was extremely confusing. I didn’t know who I was, especially since my older sister’s friends, and even some teachers branded me “Little JoJo.” I never felt that I could fully be me. I never minded being in my sister’s shadow because that was the only time that made me feel like I was somebody, even though deep inside I knew I wasn’t.
Nevertheless, tenth grade for me made a complete turn around. I was still in my sister’s shadow, but by the end of the year I could define who I really was. I can honestly say this is because of my best friend. I have crossed a lot of people who say that no person can bring down or build up someone else’s self-esteem. They say that self-esteem is built within you, and no one can help or hurt it but you. In having a personal experience, I could honestly say that another person’s input really does make a difference. Christina got me to realize that I should be happy with who I am, no matter what anyone else thinks. She told me not to pay attention to what anyone else says, as long as I am comfortable with myself that’s all that matters. After a while I realized that throughout many conversations we had, I actually felt comfortable talking to someone about any and everything, whether in the past or present. It was the best feeling ever, and I knew I could trust her. She was always there for me no matter what the situation was, and still is today. It was not easy for me to warm up to her at first, but all it took was baby steps. It was Christmas vacation and I remember calling my best friend to tell her something. I was so nervous and I didn’t know where to start. I told her that something was bothering me, and I needed to tell her right away. The first thing that she told me was “ I already know.” I was quiet for a while, and then she continued, “ I already know you’re gay, I have a gaydar remember?” That comment broke the ice. We laughed it off and continued our conversation. I don’t even know why I was so nerves to begin with, besides she’s a lesbian herself, I guess it was just the fact that I was letting this information out for the first time in two years. I finally got a huge load off my shoulders that day now the only thing that was on my mind was someone else finding out, or even more important my mother.
A year has gone by and this was the year when I finally identified myself as a lesbian. This year I “Came out” to friends, as well as my family, and it was not easy. For a while I was scared to admit that I was a lesbian, mainly because of all the judgmental people that are in the world. But the main reason why I was afraid to “ Come out the closet,” was because I finally felt like I fitted in, and I did not want to ruin any friendships. I told myself that I had to do this for me, and whatever happens in the end was or wasn’t meant to be, and when it was all said and done I still had my best friend. So it was known around the entire school that Janay and her best friend are lesbians. And we were completely fine with that, and to my surprise so was every single one of my friends. Once everyone at school knew, I felt like I was living a double life. When I was at school I could be who I was, but once I got home I felt like I was living a lie, and I really hated that feeling. I couldn’t do it anymore, one day I was on the phone with my best friend, and I told her that I was ready to tell my mother. She said “Go ahead, and call me when you’re done.”
I was so scared; I had millions of thoughts running through my mind. I asked my mother and my sister to come down stairs because I had to talk to them. As I heard their footsteps come down the stair, my heart began to beat faster and faster. We sat at the dining room table, I remained quiet for a few minutes, I had never been so nervous in my life. I began playing with my fingers, while refusing to look up. “ I’m” is what I said over and over again until my sister said, “ You’re, you’re what?” I took a deep breath and said, “Lesbian.” Everyone was quiet for a while it was dead silence for about a minute, but that felt like a lifetime. Then my mother said to me, “ I already suspected that.” I said, “You did, ” she said “ I told you time and time again, mothers know everything.” Then my sister responds with a “Duh, I knew for a while now its not that hard to point out.” I was so relieved; it wasn’t as bad as I thought. My mother explained to me that she supports my sister and I in whatever we do, and her love for us is unconditional no matter what the situation may be. After we talked I called my best friend back and told her what happened. We talked and laughed about the whole thing. I remember thinking to myself that I had no reason to afraid of telling my mother, because her sister is a homosexual herself. It was all over, and now for the first time in my life I felt complete.
For a few years now I have felt much better about myself. I could honestly say that without my best friend’s words of encouragement, I do not know where I would be today. She was also the person who told me to go after what I want and not wait for it to come to me. And after listening to her, I finally found myself in a serious relationship for the first time in my life.
I have been with my girlfriend for almost two years now. Along with my best friend, my girlfriend has played a huge role in my life as well. She encourages me to keep going when I start to give up on myself, and she has been here for me through all the rough times. She understands everything about my past and I am 100% sure that I could trust her with my heart. 2006, eleventh grade was by far the best year of my life. Not only was I out of my older sisters shadow because she had just graduated, but also because I finally found peace within myself. I finally enjoyed life; I enjoyed going to school every day, and most of all I enjoyed myself. I have a brand new perspective on life, this was the year that I established who exactly Janay Clemons was, a lesbian, and I would not change for anyone.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Hair Matters?
Mee Street Chronicles by Frankie Lennon, in the story “Plaits”, the author is saying that images of beauty and obsessions with hair were “Programmed” into females by American society. Beauty plays a major role in everyone’s life, especially for Frankie. Just like in today’s society we are made to believe that we should look like the models in magazine, or the actors and actress in Hollywood. As people of color we are constantly pushed into looking like the white people. . Being a person of color I can actually admit that dealing with my hair was really complicated and frustrating to handle as I was growing up.
I still remember like it was yesterday, I had to wake up for school early just so that my mother could comb my hair. Most of the time she had to comb it in the morning because I was so tender headed that I would move for every little tug. I hated getting my hair combed, every time I moved my mother would pop me with the comb in my head. And I would not dare to scratch, because then I would get popped on my hand. My hair was so unmanageable that the only hairstyles my mother could do were plaits, and that made me so mad. As I grew up I wanted the one ponytails or a bun like the rest of my friends, but my hair was too “Thigh” for those hairstyles. I don’t know which one was worse, having my mother comb my hair or getting it braided in millions of braided that took all day long to finish. I always complained, I hated my hair I could never do what I wanted to it, besides the hairstyles my mother did or the braids she would pay someone to do that was my hairstyle for life. My mother would say that I was blessed with those genes from my father’s family, but I never saw it as a blessing. A typical non-mixed African American’s hair is described as nappy, thigh and full of kinkles or some might even say “Beady Beads”. I heard those words my whole life even through high school. I was constantly reminded of how nappy my hair was, and how I looked like I came start from Africa.
In this story Frankie is constantly talking about wanting to look like the kid star, Shirley Temple. Shirley Temple was portrayed as the perfect little angel, with perfect curly blonde hair that every little girl should want. But because Frankie was African American, her hair texture was always thought of as being nappy, and difficult to mange. She believed that the only way she was going to look good was if she looked just like Shirley Temple. Nevertheless, we have to remember it is not the color of our skin or the texture of our hair that makes us beautiful. It is the person that’s inside us that defines our beauty.
I still remember like it was yesterday, I had to wake up for school early just so that my mother could comb my hair. Most of the time she had to comb it in the morning because I was so tender headed that I would move for every little tug. I hated getting my hair combed, every time I moved my mother would pop me with the comb in my head. And I would not dare to scratch, because then I would get popped on my hand. My hair was so unmanageable that the only hairstyles my mother could do were plaits, and that made me so mad. As I grew up I wanted the one ponytails or a bun like the rest of my friends, but my hair was too “Thigh” for those hairstyles. I don’t know which one was worse, having my mother comb my hair or getting it braided in millions of braided that took all day long to finish. I always complained, I hated my hair I could never do what I wanted to it, besides the hairstyles my mother did or the braids she would pay someone to do that was my hairstyle for life. My mother would say that I was blessed with those genes from my father’s family, but I never saw it as a blessing. A typical non-mixed African American’s hair is described as nappy, thigh and full of kinkles or some might even say “Beady Beads”. I heard those words my whole life even through high school. I was constantly reminded of how nappy my hair was, and how I looked like I came start from Africa.
In this story Frankie is constantly talking about wanting to look like the kid star, Shirley Temple. Shirley Temple was portrayed as the perfect little angel, with perfect curly blonde hair that every little girl should want. But because Frankie was African American, her hair texture was always thought of as being nappy, and difficult to mange. She believed that the only way she was going to look good was if she looked just like Shirley Temple. Nevertheless, we have to remember it is not the color of our skin or the texture of our hair that makes us beautiful. It is the person that’s inside us that defines our beauty.
The Power of Language
I would have to say that I do use different dialects of English, but this mainly depends on whom I am around at that period of time. Even though I do not think of “ Slang” as another language, most of the time it feels as if it is my second language. “ Slang” is just like any other language you have to speak, write, and understand “Slang” in order to get the correct meaning that you want. Don’t get me wrong, when I am around people of higher authority my way of dialect turns completely around.
I remember one day when I was sitting in my friend’s dorm room, and as we were all talking, Vanessa walked in the room. My first statement towards her was “ Wutz up shawty,” but in a joking manner of course. Everyone else in the room began to laugh at how puzzled she appeared. Even though the others may have understood what I said, she stood there with a blank face for nearly two minutes. Then I immediately had to explain to her that, “ Wutz up shawty” is slang for “ How are you doing?” And the word “Shawty” is mainly directed towards females. Because Vanessa was not raised around people who spoke “ Slang,” she could not grasp the understanding of my phrases that I would throw at her. To sum up, the key to this dialect is to know when and when not to use it.
Most people I talk to especially over text message or even on “AIM” type in short hand and does not require you to write whole words out. For example, “ Would you like to go to the movies”, in short hand you would simply say “ Wud u lke 2 go 2 da movies”. In the means of text messages short hand is the easiest and fastest way to get your point across. Some people have to write the whole word out, and include every single punctuation mark. But once again you have to remember that everyone does not understand short hand.
Don’t get me wrong, when it is the time and place I do speak “ Proper” and “Correct” English. One time I went to the eyeglass doctor and he asked me if I had a family member in the military, because every question he asked me, I would respond with a yes or no sir. He also told me that he was extremely proud to hear me speak “Proper” English to someone in authority. I glanced at my sister and she looked at him with that face of “If you only knew”. This just goes to show that the power of language is really strong. Even if you are not bilingual, knowing one language and the entire do’s and don’ts about the language is challenging enough.
I remember one day when I was sitting in my friend’s dorm room, and as we were all talking, Vanessa walked in the room. My first statement towards her was “ Wutz up shawty,” but in a joking manner of course. Everyone else in the room began to laugh at how puzzled she appeared. Even though the others may have understood what I said, she stood there with a blank face for nearly two minutes. Then I immediately had to explain to her that, “ Wutz up shawty” is slang for “ How are you doing?” And the word “Shawty” is mainly directed towards females. Because Vanessa was not raised around people who spoke “ Slang,” she could not grasp the understanding of my phrases that I would throw at her. To sum up, the key to this dialect is to know when and when not to use it.
Most people I talk to especially over text message or even on “AIM” type in short hand and does not require you to write whole words out. For example, “ Would you like to go to the movies”, in short hand you would simply say “ Wud u lke 2 go 2 da movies”. In the means of text messages short hand is the easiest and fastest way to get your point across. Some people have to write the whole word out, and include every single punctuation mark. But once again you have to remember that everyone does not understand short hand.
Don’t get me wrong, when it is the time and place I do speak “ Proper” and “Correct” English. One time I went to the eyeglass doctor and he asked me if I had a family member in the military, because every question he asked me, I would respond with a yes or no sir. He also told me that he was extremely proud to hear me speak “Proper” English to someone in authority. I glanced at my sister and she looked at him with that face of “If you only knew”. This just goes to show that the power of language is really strong. Even if you are not bilingual, knowing one language and the entire do’s and don’ts about the language is challenging enough.
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