Tuesday, February 27, 2007
The Woman Warrior: Are we all ghosts?
After class, I asked Professor Talusen a question I had about the book The Woman Warrior, by Maxine Hong Kingston. The question I had was: what is the purpose/significance of the second chapter in the book? (The chapter about the swordswoman training in the mountains with the two old spirits) Now, after finishing the book, I feel like I can almost answer my own question. What stuck me about the chapter was exactly what Kingston anticipated, I questioned what was actually going on in this portion of the book; was it an allegory, an extended metaphor or something entirely different. This chapter corroborates both Kingston’s style of writing and the situations of her childhood. Her writing forces the reader to constantly question the realm of reality they are currently in; are we hearing her thoughts as a child, is this a imagined story, etc. This almost confused writing style reflects the confusion surrounding her upbringing. Growing up she hardly ever knew the significance behind her mother’s elaborate ceremonies or traditions because they were never explained. She didn’t fit neatly into one group; she wasn’t a ghost because her family was from China, but she wasn’t ‘real’ because she did not grow up in China and know all the ways of the Chinese. Kingston was forced to grow up in between these realities and her writing forces her readers to constantly which between these realities as she was forced to do growing up as “a kind of ghost” in her families eyes.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
My Grandfather: The Bombardier
Boom!! Boom!! Boom!!!!
My grandfather flies high over Nazi Germany watching each bomb drop, fall and explode. Dust clouds the air and although he can't hear the screams above the droning of the planes engine, they still haunt his memory to this day.
Just two months ago Charles, my grandfather, arrived in the "European Theatre" as they called it. What kind of theatre was this??? A dirty theatre playing a non-stop tradegy with millions of characters and victims taking their cue each day. Chuck had no idea what to expect. He joined the air force voluntarily as his one opportunity to better himself and future by taking advantage of the new GI Bill, which paid college tutition for veterns. After his short 2 month basic training, Charles found himself in another world; a world where death was commonplace and mercy non-existent. Chuck flew with the bombs in the dropping bay and it was his job to make sure that everything went according to plan. He controlled the dropping of the bombs, their timing, dispersal and confirmation of detonation. He watched as each and every bomb fell to earth, wreaking havoc on the landscape below.
On an ordinary day flying high over the hills and valleys of Germany the horrors of war found my grandfather and refused to be forgotten. As he was flying back to base, Chuck got the feeling of deja vu. He looked at the land below and saw an image that would remain burned in his memory forever: buildings destroyed, homes ruined, families huddling together for warmth in the corner of a destroyed factory. He saw piles of bodies but when he looked hard he could see that these were not "bodies", but people; a young mother and her infant son, an old man white who's white hair matched his pale dead flesh and a young man no older than himself. As he was observing this horrific scene, the pilot turned to him and said "Doesn't even look like the same town anymore" with a mathed sense of disbelief and repulsion. That was the moment my grandfather realized that this horrific nightmare in front of him was the busy town he had bombed just three days ago.
War is horrible. There is no way to forget it or leave it behind.
I grew up never knowing more about my grandfather's involvement in World War II than, he was a bombadier in the air force and he returned safely to his family. My grandfather never told us about the horrors he saw or the missions he went on. Maybe this was his way of leaving the war behind him, by keeping it's memories in his past and not allowing them to resurface.
My grandfather flies high over Nazi Germany watching each bomb drop, fall and explode. Dust clouds the air and although he can't hear the screams above the droning of the planes engine, they still haunt his memory to this day.
Just two months ago Charles, my grandfather, arrived in the "European Theatre" as they called it. What kind of theatre was this??? A dirty theatre playing a non-stop tradegy with millions of characters and victims taking their cue each day. Chuck had no idea what to expect. He joined the air force voluntarily as his one opportunity to better himself and future by taking advantage of the new GI Bill, which paid college tutition for veterns. After his short 2 month basic training, Charles found himself in another world; a world where death was commonplace and mercy non-existent. Chuck flew with the bombs in the dropping bay and it was his job to make sure that everything went according to plan. He controlled the dropping of the bombs, their timing, dispersal and confirmation of detonation. He watched as each and every bomb fell to earth, wreaking havoc on the landscape below.
On an ordinary day flying high over the hills and valleys of Germany the horrors of war found my grandfather and refused to be forgotten. As he was flying back to base, Chuck got the feeling of deja vu. He looked at the land below and saw an image that would remain burned in his memory forever: buildings destroyed, homes ruined, families huddling together for warmth in the corner of a destroyed factory. He saw piles of bodies but when he looked hard he could see that these were not "bodies", but people; a young mother and her infant son, an old man white who's white hair matched his pale dead flesh and a young man no older than himself. As he was observing this horrific scene, the pilot turned to him and said "Doesn't even look like the same town anymore" with a mathed sense of disbelief and repulsion. That was the moment my grandfather realized that this horrific nightmare in front of him was the busy town he had bombed just three days ago.
War is horrible. There is no way to forget it or leave it behind.
I grew up never knowing more about my grandfather's involvement in World War II than, he was a bombadier in the air force and he returned safely to his family. My grandfather never told us about the horrors he saw or the missions he went on. Maybe this was his way of leaving the war behind him, by keeping it's memories in his past and not allowing them to resurface.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Relating Tram Nguyen's book to my life and experiences
Tram Nguyen's book tells many heart wrenching stories about the immigrant community in the United States and the hardships they have had to face after the 9/11 attacks. In my life I have encountered several people and families with their own story of how they came to America and how their life has been influenced by the choice they made to come here.
When I was a young child I went to a church in West Haven, CT that provided support and encouragement for immigrant families and people. I remember one couple, Eldis and Marisol, particularly well. They were engaged to be married in their native country of Cuba, but were forced to flee to America due to the political turmoil taking place there. They escaped Cuba by floating on a raft to America with dozens of other Cuba refugees. After spending months floating at sea to make the 90 mile voyage to Florida, they finally arrived in America. Unlike the refugee families in the book, Eldis and Marisol were granted refugee status in the U.S. They were able to get married and I remember being at the wedding celebrating not only their matrimony, but their safe new found home here in America. Eldis and Marisol's story probably would have ended very differently if they made the trip after 9/11 due to the policies discussed in Nguyen's book that were enacted after 9/11.
Growing up I also had the experience of living next to a family from England. The father worked in a school for the severely handicapped, both mentally and physically, and came to America with his family on a work visa. What impacted me most about my experience with this family was seeing how hard it was for them to get a Green Card to continue living in the U.S. The children were forced to live knowing that if their green card application did not get accepted, then they would have to leave the country and their home. I was able to see first hand how incredibly difficult it is for immigrant families to gain legal status in the country. I was also able to see how complicated a subject immigrant status is. The youngest child had both American and English citizenship because he was born during his family's trip to America. When he turns 18 he will have to choose which citizenship he wants to become permanent, American or English. I never realized that Citizenship status could be so complicated.
When I was a young child I went to a church in West Haven, CT that provided support and encouragement for immigrant families and people. I remember one couple, Eldis and Marisol, particularly well. They were engaged to be married in their native country of Cuba, but were forced to flee to America due to the political turmoil taking place there. They escaped Cuba by floating on a raft to America with dozens of other Cuba refugees. After spending months floating at sea to make the 90 mile voyage to Florida, they finally arrived in America. Unlike the refugee families in the book, Eldis and Marisol were granted refugee status in the U.S. They were able to get married and I remember being at the wedding celebrating not only their matrimony, but their safe new found home here in America. Eldis and Marisol's story probably would have ended very differently if they made the trip after 9/11 due to the policies discussed in Nguyen's book that were enacted after 9/11.
Growing up I also had the experience of living next to a family from England. The father worked in a school for the severely handicapped, both mentally and physically, and came to America with his family on a work visa. What impacted me most about my experience with this family was seeing how hard it was for them to get a Green Card to continue living in the U.S. The children were forced to live knowing that if their green card application did not get accepted, then they would have to leave the country and their home. I was able to see first hand how incredibly difficult it is for immigrant families to gain legal status in the country. I was also able to see how complicated a subject immigrant status is. The youngest child had both American and English citizenship because he was born during his family's trip to America. When he turns 18 he will have to choose which citizenship he wants to become permanent, American or English. I never realized that Citizenship status could be so complicated.
Monday, February 5, 2007
We Are All Suspects Now: Response
I was particularity shocked by the horrific treatment of the refugees and detainees while they were in the government's control. It is appaling to know that such great injustices and violations of rights are being comitted in today's world of sophistication. The account given by the detainee in the Metropolitian detention center was disturbing. He describes being abused by the guards as they force him to strip down and give him a beating, "They cuffed my arms and legs and dragged me on the floor. Lt. Cush started to kick me on my back and at the same time DeFrancisco punched me in my stomach and punched my left jaw near my ear..." (13). Abuse like this is particulary horrific because it is completely unwarrented and undeserved. The people being attacked and abused here are victims of, not only the tradegies they faced during their persecution in their own country, but now are victims of a new foregin hostility prompted by nonexistant correlations based on the new War on Terror.
I was also suprised to read about the magnitude of people these policies and court rulings affected. More than 200,000 people each year are held in immigration detention prisons, and there is such a need for these prisons, that the government must employ private jails to house all the people pending deportation and trial. It is amazing that the one court decision ruling in favor of Jama's deportation affected up to 8,000 other Somalis (42). I was also suprised to see the discrimination of the government aganist foreign peoples trying to make America their home. This prejudice was made apparent when President Bush refused to sign the President Determination allowing 80,000 refugees to settle in the U.S.. When President Bush did agree to sign it, he lowered the number to 70,000 and of this number only 27,000 refugees were admitted.
So far, the overall cruelity and coldness of the Immigration system towards the aspiring refugees and undocumented aliens in the US has been shocking.
Question: Do you believe that the United States should accept all refugees seeking asylum in our country? And how should the distinction be made between who can stay and who cannot?
I was also suprised to read about the magnitude of people these policies and court rulings affected. More than 200,000 people each year are held in immigration detention prisons, and there is such a need for these prisons, that the government must employ private jails to house all the people pending deportation and trial. It is amazing that the one court decision ruling in favor of Jama's deportation affected up to 8,000 other Somalis (42). I was also suprised to see the discrimination of the government aganist foreign peoples trying to make America their home. This prejudice was made apparent when President Bush refused to sign the President Determination allowing 80,000 refugees to settle in the U.S.. When President Bush did agree to sign it, he lowered the number to 70,000 and of this number only 27,000 refugees were admitted.
So far, the overall cruelity and coldness of the Immigration system towards the aspiring refugees and undocumented aliens in the US has been shocking.
Question: Do you believe that the United States should accept all refugees seeking asylum in our country? And how should the distinction be made between who can stay and who cannot?
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