Beloved Slavery And Motherhood - 2571 Words

Beloved: Slavery and Motherhood The novel Beloved by Toni Morrison captures punishing hardships that were endured through slavery in the 1800’s, as well as life at home. Sethe is not only a recently freed slave, but a mother struggling to guard and maintain normality for her children. In this story of manipulation and negligence, there is a war between memories of slavery, motherhood, and searching for what she hopes to be an ideal life for herself. Slavery and racism in America began solely in the 1600 s when African slaves were transported to the American Colony of Jamestown, Virginia in 1619. The African slaves were brought to America in hopes to speed up the production and distribution of crops, such as tobacco. Slavery was tremendously beneficial to the rising economy of the American Colonies, despite the abuse that the slaves had to continuously endure. Slavery was viewed as a cheap labor source instead of having indentured servants: Around 1640, slavery was becoming the most common condition of blacks in America and fewer were accepted as indentured servants. This happened because the colonial ruling class felt that Africans had at least five advantages over white immigrant labor: they were strong, they were inexpensive, they had no government protection, there seemed to be an exhaustible supply of them, and their skin was black, so they could not blend in with the white population. (Bryant) Bryant further explains that these â€Å"advantages† were whatShow MoreRelatedSummary Of Slavery In Toni Morrisons Beloved996 Words   |  4 PagesBeloved is a book not written to teach, explain, or tell you about slavery. Beloved was written to show slavery, show the punishment, the suffering, and the agony. Morrison blends many aspects of the pain endured by her characters throughout Beloved into a tale that illustrates the true extent of the damage slavery causes. One of the main themes, and a focus of this suffering, is Motherhood. Morrison creates Sethe’s motherhood to be a critical aspect of her character, then targets this trait withRead MoreToni Morrison s Beloved : Dehumanization Of Slavery And Its Effects On African Americans And Their Basic Forms Of1268 Words   |  6 PagesToni Morrison’s Beloved shows the dehumanization of slavery and its effects on African-Americans and their basic forms of existence—specifically motherhood. Morrison depi cts the strong maternal bond between Sethe and her children. Most importantly, her use of Sethe’s controversial act of infanticide shows the lengths that Sethe will take to protect her children from slavery. Morrison’s depiction of Sethe’s motherhood shows how slavery has deconstructed the Eurocentric expectations and traditionsRead MoreToni Morrison s Beloved, The Bond Between A Mother And Daughter1540 Words   |  7 PagesLove transcends to a spiritual level, allowing for a more intimate connection with the family. Nevertheless, terrible events can blur this concept between being healthy or dangerous. In Beloved, by Toni Morrison, the bond between a mother and daughter is a strong, unbreakable force, like in any family. However, that doesn’t guarantee that it will always be good; it can also be a toxic relationship that slowly kills one or both partners of the bond mentally and physically. Everyone wishes to be lovedRead MoreEssay on Beloved Motherhood794 Words   |  4 PagesMaternal figues in beloved Baby suggs and Sethe are both the Mother figues in beloved and despite their suffering from slavery they both cared for their children greatly. Baby Suggs and Sethe connected through Motherhood to develop a close bond. They shared the love for their children a bond that all mothers can relate with. Sethe has four children that she loves very much but she could not deal with her past of sweet home. Sethe could not bare for that to happen to her children so she had toRead More Slave Women in Harriet Jacobs Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl and Toni Morrisons Beloved1596 Words   |  7 PagesSlave Women in Harriet Jacobs Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl and Toni Morrisons Beloved Slavery was a horrible institution that dehumanized a race of people. Female slave bondage was different from that of men. It wasnt less severe, but it was different. The sexual abuse, child bearing, and child care responsibilities affected the femaless pattern of resistance and how they conducted their lives. Harriet Jacobs Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, demonstrates the different roleRead MoreSethes Children Essay673 Words   |  3 Pages Motherhood is an integral theme in the work of Toni Morrison. She uses the experiences and perspectives of black women to develop a view of black motherhood, that is, in terms of both maternal identity and role, very different from how motherhood is practised in the dominant culture. Whilst the African view of motherhood claims that all mothers are a symbol of creativity on Earth, American slavery forced many black women to repress their natural instinctRead MoreThe Rights Of The Slave Owner s Children1702 Words   |  7 PagesDuring slavery, fathers were separated from mothers and when they worked in the fields they were not allowed to communicate or show each other affection. Children were also separated from their parents; moreover mothers often had to take care of the slave owner’s children. Fathers were used to not taking care of their children and did not have any obligations towards their women. Consequently, father’s emotional lives were disturbed and they were unable to return to the way their lives were beforeRead MoreSlave Narratives: Beloved by Toni Morrison1644 Words   |  7 Pagesexperienced these hardships, and weren’t even born to witness it. Slave narratives are memoirs that were written while slavery was still legalized, for example Harriet Jacob’s â€Å"Incidents in the life of a Slave Girl†. However, Toni Morrison’s â€Å"Beloved† is considered a neo-slave narrative because it is a story that is written after the abolishment of slavery. These stories of slavery still haunt Americans, black and white. Slave narratives are significant because there are psychological scars that areRead More Maternal Bond in Toni Morrisons Beloved Essay1595 Words   |  7 PagesMaternal Bond in Toni Morrisons Beloved  Ã‚     Ã‚     The maternal bond between mother and kin is valued and important in all cultures.   Mothers and children are linked together and joined: physically, by womb and breast; and emotionally, by a sense of self and possession.   Once that bond is established, a mother will do anything for her child.   In the novel Beloved, the author, Toni Morrison, describes a woman, Sethe, whos bond is so strong she goes to great lengths to keep her children safe andRead MoreAnalysis Of Toni Morrison s Beloved1434 Words   |  6 PagesI. SUBJECT Beloved by Toni Morrison opens in Cincinnati, Ohio in 1873 set in the Reconstruction era of American history. Sethe eighteen years ago escaped slavery with her children to live with her mother-in-law, Baby Suggs, in a house on 124 Bluestone Road often referred to simply as 124. The novel unfolds on two different time periods, that of Sethe’s time at Sweet Home plantation as a slave and that of the present. Her qualities of motherhood have overtaken Sethe’s life and have driven away her

The Roller Coaster Is More Than Just A Thrill Ride

Today, Roller Coasters dominate amusement parks across the world. With 672 roller coasters in the United States alone, and 3,656 operating coasters across the world this thrill ride is widely know, as well as enjoyed. However, when the majority of the population thinks of this common ride all it s known for is the excitement, butterflies, long waits in line, the speed and memories that come with it. It seems no one could name where the first roller coaster was built, how they came about, or even any of the simple physics involved. In reality, the Roller Coaster is more than just a thrill ride, it is all parts of physics including momentum, inertia, Newton s Laws,and friction. It is a symbol of dedication of its creator, safety, and even†¦show more content†¦It would get too warm, and the ice would melt, so the French began making wax slides. So, you can see how even in the early days of the Roller Coaster was continuously changing to better suit thrill lovers. It is still un known who actually built the first wheeled roller coaster. Robert Cartmell has given credit to the Russians. They supposedly built it in 1784 in the Gardens of Oranienbaum in St. Petersburg, however, no actual evidence remains to prove this, other than an engraving. More trustworthy evidence shows that France is responsible for adding wheels to the slides. It has been proven that by 1817 two coasters were built in France called the Les Montagnes Russes a Belleville and Promenades Aeriennes. The Russes a Belleville is believed to be the first coaster with an axle that could lock the cart into place. The coasters had two tracks side try side, so the axle could run between them. The Ariel Walk was the first to have two tracks traveling opposite each other in a heart-shaped layout. The first Roller Coaster with a loop was produced in Paris, France. It had a 43 foot drop hill, followed by a 13 foot wide loop. Extensive testing took place before the ride was opened. The first American roller coaster was the Maunch Chunk Switchback Railway in the mountains of Pennsylvania, built in the mid-1800’s. It was originally meant to send coal to a railway, but was reconstructed to be a â€Å"scenic tour.† The first successful American

Thorn Queen Chapter Eleven Free Essays

Along with Ysabel, Dorian sent me back with some shipments of food on credit. I almost would have thought he was trying to soften the blow of me being stuck with her, except Dorian was the type who would actually enjoy the thought of us having an uncomfortable trip. He would get a kick out of knowing how irritated I was and probably regretted he couldn’t be there to witness our interactions. We will write a custom essay sample on Thorn Queen Chapter Eleven or any similar topic only for you Order Now Nonetheless, I mitigated the discomfort by riding at the head of my group, sticking Ysabel all the way in the back behind my guards and Dorian’s servants. Shaya was understandably surprised when we arrived back. I left her to distribute the food and deal with Ysabel. â€Å"Put her somewhere. Anywhere,† I said. â€Å"It doesn’t matter to me.† â€Å"But why†¦why is she even here? That’s Dorian’s mistress.† â€Å"Oh, yes,† I said, watching as a scowling Ysabel stepped aside for the rest of the entourage spilling into my castle. I kind of took offense at the sneer she gave my residence, despite the fact that I knew it was in disarray compared to those of other monarchs. â€Å"Believe me, I know she is.† Shaya seemed mollified and distracted enough by Dorian’s gifts that I was able to slip away without too much argument. I made the crossing back to my world, not even bothering to change clothes before I went. When I finally got back to my own house, I had the pleasant surprise of finding Kiyo lying on the couch. Three cats slept on the couch’s back while one rested on its arm. The fifth lay sprawled across Kiyo’s stomach. â€Å"That,† he said, â€Å"is a great dress. Smells a little like horse, though.† I glanced down at the purple silk dress, which was holding up remarkably well considering all the dust and sweat it had been subjected to today. â€Å"It was part of a diplomatic outreach.† â€Å"Dorian, huh?† â€Å"What was your first clue?† â€Å"The slit.† I headed across the living room, toward the hall that led to the other side of the house. â€Å"I’m hitting the shower. You want to go to Texas with me afterward?† Kiyo straightened up, spooking a couple of the cats. â€Å"Is that like a new restaurant? Or do you mean the state?† â€Å"State. I have to go talk to those two shamans that Roland told me about.† I glanced at a clock. â€Å"We’d probably have to stay overnight.† He considered. â€Å"If we can be back by noon tomorrow, I’ll do it.† I assured him we could and then left to shower away the day’s dirt. Miraculously-and a little disappointingly-Kiyo didn’t come harass me while I cleaned up. He had a tendency to show up while I was showering and offer to â€Å"help† clean me off. Conscious of our time, he let me be, and a half-hour later, we were ready to hit the road. Yellow River was just over the Texas border, making it about a four-hour drive if we kept a little over the speed limit. Kiyo liked to drive-I think it was some manly instinct-so I let him. We stuck to casual topics, which allowed my mind to wander to the Otherworldly affairs on my plate. The whole stress of running and caring for a kingdom still weighed upon me, but I had the comfort of knowing I’d done what I could and that Shaya would manage the rest. That was her job. We both knew it, and she would perform her duties excellently. I needed to stop stressing about that. The missing girls†¦well, those were my problem. At least, I’d made them my problem. Meeting with these shamans in Yellow River would hopefully shed light on that situation, so until I saw them, there was no point in worrying about that either. Ysabel†¦yes, well, that was something worth worrying about. I’d just let a viper into my household and took some comfort in realizing that my reluctance to stay the night in my castle would probably save me from being smothered in my sleep. If I’d had my way, I would package her up and send her straight back to the Oak Land. My stupid promise bound me. Maybe she did have something useful to teach me, but I had no evidence that she’d actually try to be helpful. She’d probably just glare the whole time, no doubt paranoid I wanted to move in on Dorian†¦. Dorian. I sighed. He was a problem, one I kept thinking would go away but didn’t. I needed him, and we both knew it. So long as I did, he was going to use that as leverage to keep seeing me and taunting me. For the most part, that annoyed me. I hated being part of his games. Yet, at the same time, there was always something irresistible about Dorian, something that made me laugh in spite of the exasperation he so often caused. And, yeah†¦I hated to admit it, but no matter how much I loved Kiyo, and no matter how much I’d washed my hands of the romance between Dorian and me, there was still a part of me that would probably always be attracted to him. Our night together still haunted my dreams. His hand on me earlier today had woken a lot of those feelings, and I couldn’t help but imagine again how easy it would have been for him to slide that hand up my leg†¦. â€Å"Eugenie?† â€Å"Huh?† Kiyo’s voice startled me out of my indecent thoughts. â€Å"What are you thinking about? You have the weirdest look on your face.† â€Å"Oh, well, I†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I was totally astonished when the next words burst out of my mouth. â€Å"How come we never have any foreplay?† Kiyo’s hold on the steering wheel momentarily faltered, and I feared we’d run off onto the shoulder. He quickly regained control. â€Å"What are you talking about? Of course we have foreplay. Remember that thing I did with the honey last week?† â€Å"Yeah, I guess. But that’s more the exception than the norm. We always just kind of jump right into it.† â€Å"You never really seem to mind.† He had a point. â€Å"No†¦I mean, it’s always good. It’d just be nice to†¦I don’t know. Expand our horizons.† â€Å"I’m okay with that,† he said after several thoughtful moments. â€Å"I’m up for anything. It’s just my†¦well, instincts, I guess, that tend to drive me right toward the main attraction.† I knew what he meant. The problem with spending part of your life as an animal was that you picked up some of their traits. Foxes in the wild didn’t really devote a lot of time to foreplay. â€Å"I don’t really mind. I’m just saying that I’d like to shake it up.† He fell silent for a while. Finally, he asked, â€Å"Does this have anything to do with Dorian?† â€Å"Why do you say that?† I asked blandly. â€Å"I don’t know. More instinct.† His dark eyes narrowed as they focused on the road. â€Å"I’m not stupid, you know. I know you slept with him.† I jerked my head in surprise, unable to attempt any sort of denial. I’d never technically lied to Kiyo about what had happened with Dorian, but seeing as we’d been broken up at the time, I’d never really felt the need to go into detail. â€Å"How do you†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I couldn’t finish the question. Kiyo gave me a rueful smile. â€Å"Dorian used to watch you like a starving man who wants meat. Now he looks at you like he wants seconds.† I didn’t say anything. No response came to mind. â€Å"It’s okay,† continued Kiyo almost amiably. â€Å"I know it happened when we were apart. What’s past is past-so long as it doesn’t mess with our present.† It was rather magnanimous of him, and I felt both grateful and guilty. â€Å"It’s in the past,† I agreed. â€Å"It has nothing to do with anything anymore.† The first shaman Roland had directed us to was a guy named Art. Like Roland and me, Art lived in his own piece of suburbia, in a large house that hardly looked like it belonged to someone who battled spirits and gentry. The sides were painted a sunny yellow, and the yard-which bore the signs of daily tending-was even ringed with a white picket fence. I could hear children playing down the street. In fact, Art himself was out in the yard, weeding flower beds as the afternoon light turned orange. I pegged his age around thirty or so. A red snake tattoo coiled around one of his arms while a stylized raven showed on the other. No doubt there were more under his shirt. He glanced up and smiled when we stopped beside him on the house’s sidewalk. â€Å"You must be Eugenie,† he said, standing up. He brushed dirt off his gloves and looked apologetic. â€Å"I’d shake hands, but†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I smiled back. â€Å"No problem. This is Kiyo.† The two men exchanged nods of greeting, and Art directed us around the side of the house. â€Å"Roland said you wanted to chat, right? How about we sit down in the back? Let me clean up, and I’ll go get us something to drink.† Kiyo and I followed his direction and found ourselves sitting at a cute, umbrella-covered table in a backyard even more lush than the front. Though a bit more humid, Yellow River’s climate wasn’t that far off from Tucson’s, so I could only imagine the amount of water and labor it took to maintain this greenery. A funny thought came to me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. â€Å"What?† asked Kiyo. He’d been watching a hummingbird dance around a red-flowered bush that flanked the house. â€Å"I was thinking I need Art to come do landscaping in the Thorn Land.† â€Å"I think that might blow your cover.† â€Å"Likely. I don’t even know if he crosses over very much.† â€Å"If he does, it’s probably only a matter of time before he finds out and tells Roland. Actually, it’s only a matter of time before anyone does that.† I made a face. Roland knew a lot of shamans, all around the country. â€Å"Yeah, I know.† Art stepped out through the back patio, gloves gone and a new shirt on. He set down a small cooler, carefully sliding the glass and its screen shut again. The drapes hanging on the other side of the patio were blue and purple watercolors laced with silvery threads that I envied after my own had been ripped up by a storm I’d inadvertently caused. Between his excellent decor and yard, I was feeling like a lame homeowner. He opened the cooler. â€Å"I didn’t know what you wanted, so I brought some options.† The cooler revealed an assortment of pop and beer. Kiyo opted for the latter; I took the former. The hot summer afternoon had cooled down to a pleasant temperature, and the shadows cast by the trees helped too. The memory of the hot journey to Dorian’s was still with me, though, and I drank my Coke gratefully. â€Å"This is a great yard,† I said. â€Å"Wish I had the patience. Mine’s kind of a rock garden.† Art grinned, crinkling up the lines around his eyes. They were an azure blue that stood out against his sun-weathered skin. â€Å"But that’s fashionable up there, isn’t it?† â€Å"Yeah, kind of. But there’s a fine line between a fashionable arrangement of sand and rocks, and, well†¦just a pile of sand and rocks.† He laughed again. â€Å"Well, I’m sure you have better things to do. Roland tells me you’re keeping busy now that he’s retired.† â€Å"‘Retired’ is a dubious term. It’s hard for him to sit still, knowing I’m out there doing business by myself.† â€Å"And I hear you’ve got some business questions to ask me?† Right to the point. I liked that. â€Å"You’ve got a big crossroads here.† â€Å"I do,† he agreed. â€Å"Keeps me busy.† â€Å"You get a lot of gentry crossing over?† He took a long sip of his beer and considered. â€Å"Well, there are always gentry crossing over.† â€Å"Has there been an unusual amount lately? Girls in particular?† His eyebrows rose in surprise. â€Å"Not that I’ve noticed. Why do you ask?† â€Å"Following up on a job,† I said vaguely. â€Å"Women cross over all the time, of course,† he mused. â€Å"But men outnumber them. Seeing a surge would be noticeable. Most of my time lately has been spent on exorcisms.† I nodded. Until gentry and Otherworldly creatures had decided they wanted to father my child, spirits had made up the bulk of my business too. That was a normal shaman workload. â€Å"Sorry I can’t be of more help,† added Art kindly. I must have looked disappointed. â€Å"You should check with Abigail, though.† â€Å"She’s the other one here, right?† â€Å"Yup. We work together sometimes. Maybe she’s noticed something I haven’t.† I thanked Art for the info, and we spent the next hour or so chatting about assorted things. Art asked questions about Kiyo’s background. Roland could sense Kiyo’s Otherworldly nature, but Art’s blandly polite style made me suspect it wasn’t a talent he possessed. Art also wanted to know about my jobs, no doubt curious about my interest in gentry girls. I kept my answers vague, in no way coming close to the fact that I was protecting my subjects. After making our good-byes, we headed off to the second address Roland had given me. Abigail lived in an apartment in downtown Yellow River, very different from Art’s homey location. The downtown area was actually more thriving than I would have expected. Yellow River was a small town at the end of the day, but it still had an assortment of interesting shops and restaurants. Abigail’s apartment was above an antiques store, and we climbed two flights of rickety stairs to get to her. The mysterious, dusty nature of it all was much more in line with stereotypical shaman images. Indeed, when she answered the door, I suspected she would have met most people’s visions of a shaman. She was an older woman, gray hair styled into a long braid down her back. Her loose peasant blouse was patterned in mauve and yellow flowers, and crystal beads hung around her neck. She broke into a beatific smile when she saw us. â€Å"Eugenie! So nice to finally meet you.† She ushered us inside, and I introduced Kiyo. The apartment was beautifully constructed and nicer than its outside suggested-but cluttered with candles and assorted statuary. It made me feel better after Art’s immaculate home. The apartment was also filled with cats. I counted at least seven, and all of them looked up at Kiyo’s entrance. Four of them got up and rubbed against his legs. â€Å"You’ve certainly got a way with animals,† noted Abigail. â€Å"I’m a vet,† he explained, giving her a winning smile that tended to make women weak in the knees. Like Art, Abigail sat us down and forced beverages on us, this time in the form of herbal tea. We started with the usual small talk. Abigail was a big fan of Roland and couldn’t say enough nice things about the work he did. I couldn’t help feeling a little bit of stepdaughterly pride. When we finally got to the issue of gentry girls, though, Abigail didn’t have much more to offer than Art had. â€Å"Most of my work is actually along the lines of healing and spirit retrievals,† she explained. Spirit retrieval was itself a form of healing, often done when some entity was plaguing a human in a possession sort of way. I’d done it a few times but was no expert. â€Å"I don’t do much in the way of casting out. That’s Art’s specialty, but that crossroads is so big that he sometimes gets more than he can handle. So, I help out every once in a while.† â€Å"But you haven’t noticed a surge of gentry girls?† Abigail shook her head, making the crystal beads click together. â€Å"No, but like I said, I’m not out in the field enough to say for sure. And gentry usually aren’t so difficult to cast out†¦. Art tends to handle those on his own and call me in for the entities that are harder for him to get rid of.† She gave me a rueful grin. â€Å"Neither of us is as strong as you or Roland.† I played with my tea bag, wondering how to parse this new information. Was my theory about gentry girls sneaking over here a total bust? Or were they being crafty enough to avoid detection? I usually ended up casting out gentry because they did something troubling that put them on my radar. Gentry girls slipping in among humans wouldn’t necessarily attract a lot of attention. We thanked Abigail when we finished our tea and left for our hotel. I’d booked one that sat just on the edge of town. As we walked toward where we’d parked my car on the street, Kiyo declared that he wanted to take it over to a gas station on the corner for both gas and air for the tires. I told him I would walk down there and meet him. I wanted to browse a few of the shops before we called it a night. Poking my head in the little stores gave me a chance to get my mind off the gentry girls and today’s disappointing intel. Most of the shops were what you’d expect for a small town. Antiques. Vintage clothing. Crafts. One, however, was a sex-toy shop, and I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows at that. It was surprising in this town. Equally surprising was that I went in and bought something. I met Kiyo at the gas station shortly thereafter. â€Å"Not much in the way of information,† he said as we drove out to the hotel. â€Å"Yeah. I want to check out the crossroads in the morning before we go.† That was the main reason I’d chosen to actually come out to Yellow River in person, rather than simply call with my questions. â€Å"If that doesn’t yield anything, we might just have to give this theory up.† Kiyo shook his head, a small smile curling his lovely lips. â€Å"I don’t know what to think of you sometimes. You’re so annoyed about this whole queen thing, yet here you are, going to a lot of trouble to help these girls.† We reached the hotel and found a parking spot. He turned off the car. â€Å"And let me guess. You want me to stay away from it all?† â€Å"Only inasmuch as it’ll keep you safe. But truthfully? What you’re doing is great.† The look he gave me showed just how great he thought it was-and how great he thought I was. There was admiration there in his eyes, underscored with something heated and dangerous and wonderful. I might make jokes about his animal intensity, but when channeled into sex and passion†¦well, there was nothing to laugh about. My whole body felt the heat of his gaze, every nerve coming to life. â€Å"Let’s go inside,† I said softly. â€Å"Yeah,† he agreed. â€Å"No place I’d rather be.† His hands were on me as soon as we cleared the hotel room’s door, reminding me of the first night we’d spent together. He pushed me onto the bed, tearing off my clothes as he did. I wanted to sprawl right there and let him take me-but just barely had enough presence of mind to wriggle away. â€Å"Did you mean what you said earlier?† I asked, my breathing hard. His dark eyes were hungry and impatient. â€Å"If it gets the rest of your clothes off right now, then yes, I stand by whatever I said earlier.† â€Å"About expanding our horizons?† This gave him pause. â€Å"What did you have in mind?† I slipped away from him-no small feat-and produced my purse and the purchase I’d hidden in it: the bag from the sex-toy store. I pulled out a pair of handcuffs. â€Å"Are you serious?† Kiyo asked, not sounding particularly opposed so much as curious. â€Å"That headboard’s got a nice spot to lock your wrists in.† I might dream of Dorian restraining me, but right now, it was the thought of me being Kiyo’s captor that aroused me. â€Å"Me?† This was a surprise to him too. He hesitated only a moment, though. There was desire and lust radiating from him, and while he might have preferred simply jumping in and having his way with me like usual, the bottom line was that he wanted me, period. One way or another. â€Å"Okay.† He pulled off the rest of his clothes and lay back against the bed’s covers, hands stretched up. I paused to admire his body, filled with such strength and power. After removing my own clothing, I leaned over him and fastened one wrist to the headboard. I heard his breath catch as I did, my breasts only a few inches from his face. His other hand immediately went out to my hip and ran up along the side of my body. I pulled away, out of reach. â€Å"Not allowed,† I warned. â€Å"You don’t get to call the shots here.† He gave me a saucy grin. Being tied down wasn’t in his nature, but he felt bolder with only one hand bound. He was still able to feel in control. â€Å"I’ve got another hand and two feet,† he pointed out. I smiled sweetly and reached back into the bag. I pulled out three more pairs of handcuffs. His smile faded to astonishment. â€Å"Don’t worry,† I said. â€Å"I’ve got it covered.† I made sure all his hands and feet were locked into place, putting him at my mercy and ensuring he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to. And as I lowered my hips down near his face, spreading my thighs so that the warmth of his mouth and tongue had no choice but to lick and suck as long as I wanted, I felt smug satisfaction in knowing for certain that I would be the one who got off first tonight. How to cite Thorn Queen Chapter Eleven, Essay examples

Commentary Arts of the Contact Zone Essay Example For Students

Commentary Arts of the Contact Zone Essay Waking up to the sound of the waves crashing, vendors on the beach are offering fresh cold coconuts: children are playing in the warm, equatorial water. The beach is serene and quiet compared to the wild parties of the night before. The sun is warming the world is coming alive and the day beginning. You walk a little further and accommodate your route to avoid the build up of smashed bottles in the sand. A homeless man lies ahead of you. A plastic bag washes up on the shore along With a dead blowfish. When you think of the town of Educates, the vibrant barge town on the coast of Ecuador, it is inevitable to avoid seeing the griminess Of the beach. A paradise with so much beauty also bears the scars of the negligence of its inhabitants. Ecuador is a beautiful place with a complex mix of kind, and friendly, festive people who are always willing to give a helpful hand. It is a small land with great biodiversity. But be careful when you are walking to the market place: watch your wallet or purse because the chances of being mugged are very high. Also, be warned of the street vendors, who will try to sell you a bag of oranges for a dollar. On the inside, all the oranges are bad, There is a deep divide between its people that have historical roots. I come trot the Messiest or Carillon class. This class is typically regarded as the high class or the social elites in the country, The other main class is the indigenous. There has always been tension between the two social classes, Anderson says, Communities are to be distinguished, not by their falsity/genuineness, but by the style in which they are imagined (43). Supposedly, laws and the social revolution are changing the way we imagine our community: a strong united, one country. Yet reality is that we are not what we imagine ourselves. We are a deeply divided people who segregate among those who are like themselves. Most of the population is poor and in need of help. By envisioning ourselves as one community, we chose to ignore the social issues we have at hand. Taking this position assumes that since we are all one strong community, we are already helping one another and no further change is needed;yet the reality is quite the opposite. By having one people rich and the Other poor, you create an inevitable clash between the two. Pratt would define it s the following, (contact zones) refer to social spaces where cultures meet clash, and grapple with each other, often in contexts of highly asymmetrical relations of power, such as colonialism, slavery (487). Historically, the Spanish colonized the indigenous population and exploited their labor, wealth, and natural resources, Nowadays, the wealthier class includes the business owners, and the indigenous class is mainly workers. The scenario of asymmetrical power is present in Ecuador. According to this model, the dominant group will usually impose its custom on the other. In the case of Oswald Gymnasium and his art, the opposite is true. Oswald Gymnasium is an internationally recognized painter to Quiches descent who traveled throughout South America and observed the indigenous lifestyle and poverty that appeared in his paintings. Through his painting he became a well-respected activist for the rights of the poor in Ecuador and in South America. His paintings are a form of unsolicited oppositional discourse that is produced in the contact zone to challenge the status quo. This example shows how oversimplified the asymmetrical power relationships are within the contact zone. Pratt expresses a contact zone to be a struggle between NON cultures where they meet at the end With unison conclusion. It is a very topic idea, much like Anderson, that reality does not embody. The lower indigenous class makes up 70% Of the population, and though considered the lower less powerful class, take to the streets when not pleased. .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 , .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .postImageUrl , .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 , .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69:hover , .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69:visited , .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69:active { border:0!important; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69:active , .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69 .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u08ab5a4a119c250c412df2daee8d0b69:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Kurt Vonnegut EssayTherefore, the government pleases them first instead of the high-class messiest. The relationship between the two classes is much more complicated and cannot simply be portrayed as an asymmetrical power relationship between the two cultures. Miller says, considered an unsolicited parody or critique of ATTs Common Bond values, which state that we treat each other with respect and dignity, valuing individual and cultural differences (391), Treating each other others cultures with respect and dignity is merely superficial. Both classes are threatened by the opposing one. The upper class is frightened that status quo will change and that their current commodities will be lost. The lower class is afraid that they are being taken advantage of. This exposes the unpleasant, ugly truth that we try to ignore. As much as we try to hide, our ultras are deeply divided and issues of racism, intolerance, and indifference to others arise. Gymnasiums painting brings these issues to light. We all agree that they are there, but eve act as if they are being taken care of. This is not the case. Educates is still dirt under the beautiful sunset: and is inevitable to neglect the divide between its people.