Tell Tale Heart

When one first reads the "Tell Tale Heart", they are instantly slammed with the thought that the narrator is mentally ill, and thus, his analysis of the incidents he took to kill the old man, whom we assume to be innocent and have been mutilated for no reason. Interestingly enough, the website that will be listed below brings a different theory to this.
Edgar Allen Poe is known to have written Southern Gothic-Works dealing with the anxiety and struggles of Slavery in the Southern part of the United States. Unlike his work "The Black Cat", this takes a little more thinking. The website presents the potential thought that the narrator is a slave, and invading the small privacy that the "master", the old man has, gives him joy as slaves have very little privacy.
On the other hand, if the man is mentally ill, a physical problem, known as Tinnitus, only exemplifies the problems. Tinnitus is an ear condition that can cause auditory hallucinations, intense sensitivity to sound, and potentially amplified hearing. This means that the hearing of the heart in the floor isn't as psychotic as one may want to contribute to this detail in the story.
We now have a little more information that can change the reader's view on the narrator. It's possible that he does still have a mental disorder, but a case of Tinnitus is making it seem worse than it may really be. If he's a slave living in a very racist and segregated Southern United States, we sort of make a bond with him, his anger understandable with what he and his family has been put through by this old man.
Before jumping into the old man and his "innocent falling", we must consider the possibility of his being a slave owner. If the narrator is indeed a slave, then the slave owner must trust him because he's able to get into the house and even see into his private sleeping quarters at night. And from the lines in the story stating that the old man was afraid of robbers, this means that the narrator had his trust. Possibly a servant in the house? Or someone he didn't mind remaining in the acutal house (The story never states the the narrator is a male). Therefore, the man had to trust the narrator for him to get this close.
The information pulled from the story gives the narrator an even more negative light as the man could have had a corneal ulcer, which gave him the blue eye. He could have been senile as he was not aware of what was going on, and it wasn't even until the 8th night that he was able to hear the narrator creeping, and then he didn't have a single suspeicion that anything was out of the ordinary.
As to whether the antagonist was the old man or the narrator lies in the mind of the reader and their choice to interpret it a certain way. With the small bit of information given above, both people have negative light, though the narrator seems to have more deemed upon him. Now the choice is yours, who was the antagonist: The Old man, who could have pushed the narrator to do this, or the Narrator who can easily be seen as mentally ill (and with great reason)?


Source of Information: http://www.shmoop.com/tell-tale-heart/old-man.html

Losing Touch (Rough Draft)

I pull her trembling arms around my broad waist and embrace her into my welcoming arms. She smiles weakly up at me, as tears glisten in her light gray eyes. I remove a strand of damp hair from her face and put a gentle kiss on her nose. Her pain, fear, anxiety was radiating to me. All the feelings I'd been attempting to keep afar were closing in on me, tightening my chest, churning my stomach. I felt bile oozing up, though I kept it at bay for her sake. Everything I did these days was for her.
"Everything's going to go fine. And I'll be there every step of the way. You know that." She nods subtly and takes a deep, shaky breath. She doesn't look herself, as if she were there no more. she looks as if she had taken her most joyous being out so it wouldn't have to witness what was about to happen. I don't blame her. This will change her, for good or bad, I don't know. I refuse to allow my mind to wander to the bad, the "what if's", the "If only things could change a little." They bring me down, make me cry myself to sleep every night. She hasn't seen me cry. She thinks I'm strong, that I'm the rock of her life. Rocks have emotions, or at least this one does; but when one has an person holding on to them for dear life, emotions are hidden away in the deepest cavities until reprieve can be given.
Listening to the nurse explain the procedure is cruel, the bile choosing this time to make its journey back up my sore throat. I rest my head in my hands and concentrate on the hypnotic pattern of the tiles below my feet. Just put a needle in and let it drip in. Yeah, that's easy, I think to myself, venom coursing through the road map of my mind. Soon enough, the nurse says she's going to start. Her voice is as sullen as our moods are, and I offer Kentasha my hand. She shakes her head and focuses on the nurse's actions.
I hear a deep breath pull into her body as the needle goes in, escaping when it's in place. The nurse says it'll take a while to complete, but it's not like we have anywhere to go. I lift my head when she's gone and look at my sister-the sister I've been with through thick and thin. Life seems to be throwing a lot of thickness our way recently, but we're trudging through thus far. Offering her my hand, she grabs it with her free arm and looks down at how mangled her brother's hand has become. She doesn't pull up my hoodie sleeve for fear of what she'd see. She has to suffer pain, then I will too. I've told her I stopped a long time ago, that those were just bruises from previous sessions. She believes me so far and that's how it's staying.
"Remember the time when I had to have that tooth pulled?" The question is random, her scratchy voice filling the room. The room that will become our best friend, our shield from the rain. The room that offered the only possible ray of sunshine in our dim lives at the moment. This would be the room of miracles, or the room of pain and sorrow. I'm praying for the room to produce the former one.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Remember how you screamed and cried that the doctor didn't know what he was talking about, that he was a quack and why couldn't they take one of your teeth instead of mine? You sure raised hell to be 9." Her laugh makes me smile as I reminisce. "Sound like any current situation?"
I nod silently. "Yeah. You're my baby sister. What kid gets their tooth pulled at 7? What kid freaking...." my voice trails and trembles rack my large frame. They began cascading quicker and quicker together until I was shaking. I let go of her hand and left the room, breaking down as large sobs broke through the quietness of the hospital. I had to have been out there for 15 minutes or more. When I reentered the room, Kentasha was leaning her head back, half in a doze. Her face was damp and I know she had been crying. I have failed yet again to keep my sister happy.
She looks up at me and smiles. "Tear jerking story huh?"
I don't respond. I sit by her side again and brush her hair. The long, brunette mass was soft and smelled like strawberries. "Go to sleep. You know we can talk on the way home."
"You know that's not gonna happen," she whispers softly. I know, but I'm not going to admit it. My stomach has been doing flips at the thought of what stands ahead. I have everything to make it more comfortable, but from what I've heard, it's not much I can do.
"Well, we'll talk later then. You need to sleep." She hasn't slept in nearly a week aside sporadic naps here and there. I usually stay in her room until she dozes, and fall asleep on her. I continue to apologize, but she has stopped listening. I want to apologize for all she's going through, and all she will go through. I want to apologize for the pain in which I feel I've caused her, but I want to apologize for it not being me going through it. I'm stronger and I can deal with it. Why her?

As expected, the ride home is gruesome. The sound of regurgitation fills my car and I can't stop the tears from falling. I hold her hair as best I can and wonder whether her trembling is normal. "I hate throwing up," she whines.
"I know..It'll stop soon enough." Would it ever stop though? Would this episode be something that would become a part in her life? Would it be the thing to take her life, leaving me alone to mourn and hate myself? If God existed, then this will come out fine..right?

***************

To be continued...

Man in the Mirror (Michael Jackson)

I'm Gonna Make A Change, For Once In My Life It's Gonna Feel Real Good, Gonna Make A Difference Gonna Make It Right . . .

The narrator seems to be indicating their desire to make a change and the change they plan to make is going to be one to overcome all the mess they've done in their life. It seems as though they're trying to correct a wrong committed, as they say they're "gonna make it right."
As I, Turn Up The Collar On My Favorite Winter Coat This Wind Is Blowin' My Mind I See The Kids In The Street, With Not Enough To Eat Who Am I, To Be Blind? Pretending Not To See Their Needs

Imagery is used here to show the narrator on a street seeing children who don't have enough food to satisfy their hunger. It's possible that they're physical hunger initiates a mental hunger in him that begins blowing at his mind, causing him to become unable to ignore the desires of the children or other people who are in need (physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally)

A Summer's Disregard, A Broken Bottle Top And A One Man's Soul They Follow Each Other On The Wind Ya' Know 'Cause They Got Nowhere To Go That's Why I Want You To Know

"A summer's disregard, a broken bottle top, and a man's one soul" are all correlated in the fact that they are easily forgotten. School is a summer's disregard for many children as they don't have to worry about it for about 3 months, a broken bottle top is useless because it can no longer fasten the bottle close and there is probably a man's soul who has been discarded by many and he feels as though it cannot be mended. They're all just "wafting in the wind" because they have no specific place to be and can merge to wherever is convenient

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways And No Message Could Have Been Any Clearer If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place (If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place) Take A Look At Yourself, And Then Make A Change (Take A Look At Yourself, And Then Make A Change) (Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na, Na Nah)

The narrator states that changing the person in which everyone sees in the mirror whenever they look into it is a step in the right direction when it comes to changing the world. Before one can convince others to change, he/she needs to convince him/herself. After said task is complete, advocating your cause for change to the world has gotten easier.

I've Been A Victim Of A Selfish Kind Of Love It's Time That I Realize That There Are Some With No Home, Not A Nickel To Loan Could It Be Really Me, Pretending That They're Not Alone?

The narrator's use of "victim" indicates he/she did not choose to become part of the self type of life, as if it were instinct to fall into it. This could be a symbolism for society's contribution to making the average person selfish and self-centered, indicating that we should live for ourselves and not others. Because of this blindness, the narrator is now saying that it's time to take off the blindfold and realizes that there are people who are not well-off, having no home or extra money to loan. Though there are many people like them, they often feel and are alone to fend for themselves.

A Willow Deeply Scarred, Somebody's Broken Heart And A Washed-Out Dream (Washed-Out Dream) They Follow The Pattern Of The Wind, Ya' See Cause They Got No Place To Be That's Why I'm Starting With Me (Starting With Me!)

A deeply scarred willow, a broken heart and a washed-out dream follow the pattern of pain and often irresponsibility on those who are supposed to take care of them. A willow's deep scars will not go away, neither will the pain and remembrance from a person's heart being broken or the hurt from having a dream not come true. These things are often forgotten (or so they wish to be, thus their having no place to really be. The narrator brings relevance to his/her theme by stating that they're starting with themselves, they'll keep those things symbolized by the willow, the broken heart and washed out dream from happening to others.

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror (Ooh!) I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways (Ooh!) And No Message Could Have Been Any Clearer If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place (If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place) Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make A Change (Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make A Change)

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror (Ooh!) I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways (Change His Ways-Ooh!) And No Message Could've Been Any Clearer If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place (If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place) Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make That . . . (Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make That . . .) Change!

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror, (Man In The Mirror-Oh Yeah!) I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways (Better Change!) No Message Could Have Been Any Clearer (If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place) (Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make The Change) (You Gotta Get It Right, While You Got The Time) ('Cause When You Close Your Heart) You Can't Close Your . . .Your Mind! (Then You Close Your . . . Mind!)

That Man, That Man, That Man, That Man With That Man In The Mirror (Man In The Mirror, Oh Yeah!) That Man, That Man, That Man I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways (Better Change!) You Know . . .That Man No Message Could Have Been Any Clearer If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place (If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place) Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make A Change (Take A Look At Yourself And Then Make A Change)

Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na, Na Nah (Oh Yeah!) Gonna Feel Real Good Now! Yeah Yeah! Yeah Yeah! Yeah Yeah! Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na, Na Nah (Ooooh . . .) Oh No, No No . . . I'm Gonna Make A Change It's Gonna Feel Real Good! Come On! (Change . . .) Just Lift Yourself You Know You've Got To Stop It. Yourself! (Yeah!-Make That Change!) I've Got To Make That Change, Today! Hoo! (Man In The Mirror) You Got To You Got To Not Let Yourself . . . Brother . . . Hoo! (Yeah!-Make That Change!)

You Know-I've Got To Get That Man, That Man . . . (Man In The Mirror) You've Got To You've Got To Move! Come On! Come On! You Got To . . . Stand Up! Stand Up! Stand Up! (Yeah-Make That Change) Stand Up And Lift Yourself, Now! (Man In The Mirror) Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Aaow! (Yeah-Make That Change) Gonna Make That Change . . . Come On! (Man In The Mirror) You Know It! You Know It! You Know It! You Know . . . (Change . . .) Make That Change.

The last few stanzas reiterate what the third stanza stated by making the change within oneself first. This repetition allows the beat and theme to stand out-change takes place in the heart first, then spreads to those around the. The repetition pumps the strength and truth of the words into the listener and while one does not realize it, it is this chorus that is often sang time and time again and is the most remembered part of the song/poem. It also reiterates a predominant theme and saying-change must first occur in the heart that wants the change to occur for it to have any affect on those around them.

On An Indian Reservation

I run a trembling, angered, sweating hand through my short-cropped hair. Unlike most of the other people in my house, I cannot stand having hair that touches my neck, no less my back. Numerous thoughts are flying through the orifices of my mind, many of which revolve around such things as killing, stabbing, strangling, something utterly gruesome and painful. Eenie, meanie, miney, moe, choose a torture for my foe.. Despite the joy and happiness such thoughts bring me, in the back of my mind, I know I'd never be relieved of the hurt and deception that has been laid on my plate today.
"He WHAT!?" I manage to holler as I listen to my sister's soft words escape her lips, finishing the story of a nightmare that has become her life. Hot tears linger in her dark eyes, threatening to cascade down the high mountain cheekbones any moment. My trembling hands don't compare to those of my sister. She's constantly clasping them together, moving them in an attempt to keep them still, but to no avail. Her eyes beg me not to make her repeat those wretched words and my heart melts, mixing with my innerds, causing a nauseous feeling to overtake me.
"Please don't...Don't make me say it again," she says. I just nod as I jump up and rummage loudly through the drawers in the kitchen where we sat. Maybe just seeing that large butcher knife will subside some of my anger and strong desire to thrust it into the person who offended my sister, just like he....
I stop suddenly and brace myself on the sink. The mere thought of the words made me want to throw up. Hot tears streamed down my face, unable to be held like Courtney's. I began sobbing; sobbing for the loss of innocence, the violation and pain she'd experienced. I sobbed because I knew my parents would find out soon enough and would demand charges be pressed. Never had I cried so hard. My sister was one of the few people I needed to protect and my inability to do that correctly caused my emotions to be distraught the most.
"It's not your fault and you know it." Courtney's hand touches my shoulder and I sling it away. I glare at her and begin toward the door.
"It is my fault. It's my fault for convincing mom and dad we had no real doctors on the reservation. It's my fault for trying to diss the culture of our family. It is my fault, so don't you dare say it's not."
I slam the front door behind me and storm down my "yard." One way, or another, Courtney wasn't the only one who was going to be hurting, deceived and angered. Frank Hayden was going to pay for what he did. As to whether the payment would be with his life or not remain rolling around in my mind as I go to the back of the house to get my dad's pick up truck.

On The Most Common Propaganda

Dictionary.com describes "Propaganda" as follows: "[I]nformation, ideas, or rumors deliberately spread widely to help or harm a person, group, movement, institution, nation, etc." While propaganda in "Black Boy" was quite blatant with the promotion of KKK ideas and such, today, in 2011, I don't think it would be appropriate or effective to spread the hate/ideas, etc to other groups. I find there are 2 strong points advocating different points: The Church (and such groups. Though not necessarily religious) and Music.
Before I say a word, I am currently a Christian so I am in no way insulting Christians. I'm merely stating something I observed. The church influences the thought of many people regardless of whether you're religious or not. The churches teach against Homosexuality in any shape, way, form, etc and regardless of what others say, it's leaked into non-religious people. I still question why it's against the Bible to be gay, bi, whatever, but I find it interesting how so many people are adamantly against religion but agree on this theme (Not everyone). There are many non-religious people who cannot stand homosexuals and the reason for that can range from numerous things, but in some way, shape or form, the church influenced such thought regardless of how far back it had said influence. The church seems to teach that homosexuality is wrong and that it is like a "sickness."
How is this propaganda? It spreads bad hatred about a group of people the church REFUSES to get to know. There are rumors that have been contributed to the church's anti-homosexuality policy that makes homosexuals the target of abuse and in some areas, genocide. There are people, not all religious, that feel homosexuals are a flaw of the earth and need to be taken out or shown they are inferior (Hmm, sound familiar??? Like the Jews with Hitler? Slavery?). There have been people who have been killed or killed themselves due to the abuse they endured. The most heart-wrenching stories I've heard has been those of teenagers between the age of 13-19 taking their lives because of teasing at school for being gay (And not all of them were gay. Some were mere assumptions). While one can argue the church doesn't condone this kind of activity, I beg to differ. There is a church in Washington D.C (Or that area) that protested gay marriage, saying that soldiers in Iraq were dying because of gays and that they needed to continue to be killed because it was God's reaction to the shame sexuality brought. With adults thinking like this, is there no wonder why children are teasing/abusing others who are suspected to be gay the way they are??
Music is, in my opinion, the easiest propaganda to see. Music uses rhythmic beats with catchy tunes to convey not only what the artist, but the record company wants to convey. More and more commonly, a life of wealth is exemplified. Such a lifestyle isn't promoted via good messages and legal ways of getting rich, but talking about how the artist has access to all the cars, women/men, drugs they want. Men seem to see women as nothing but objects for their use, calling them degrading names. The best example of this is a song entitled "Make it Rain" by Travis Porter. The clean version can be a little misleading, but taking a look at the original lyrics shows that the girl will WILLING dance for cash and that the guy determines how much she makes dancing and how long she does. While all music doesn't denote such degrading, inappropriate topics, many commonly heard, top rated music is (At least in the R&B/Rap world in which I have listened to).
How is this propaganda you ask? Well, the recording companies dictate to some extent what the artist can and can't do. Is it no coincidental that a life of luxury and attractive cars and women/men coincide with magazines. Attractive, booming lifestyles are what people want. One rarely hears about the person who did something for a charity or something unless someone famous was involved (This doesn't apply all the time). My argument for music merely comes from things I've come to realize about it and how a lifestyle is exemplified opposed to another. Most people want jobs to make money, not pursue what they want and with the music and society influence of today, this is not a surprise.

P.S. I'll be tweaking this here and there. I just had to write something down and such.

The Reaction of a Black Girl to "Black Boy"

While I'm not sure what chapter we are to have read, I'm at Chapter 8 and one thing has intrigued me overall in the previous couple chapters-Richard's take on religion. Having not grown up in a religious household, he hadn't given it much thought, but when he is forced to live with Granny after his mother takes ill, he's forced into a complete religious routine in which he finds absurd. While I cannot remember exactly what chapter he states his thoughts on this when he was this age (I want to say Chapter 7), an interesting point comes up. He says that religion is nothing but a tribe; nothing but something for people to have in common and be the same with. He said it had nothing to do with saving souls, but just being seen as good in the public eye.
I feel this is not only true for actual religious people, but non-religious too. You need to BELIEVE that what you feel is (or isn't) real is so and while there are many different religions, everyone is telling everyone else that they should (or shouldn't) believe what they do. It's not always about their soul but about having someone believe the same thing you do and, in a sense, reassure yourself that what you believe is actually plausible. Richard's being forced to be religious or being condemned by the family doesn't let him see why religion could be good, but actually the opposite. He doesn't believe in God and his being forced to only pushes him away from said concept. As of now, he hasn't changed his position, but with his family's attitude toward him, I don't see it changing anytime soon.
Another quite interesting point that seems to come up in later chapters is his wondering about his rebellion. He began to see that everything he aspired to do was everything the government in Mississippi tried to keep from him. Everything he has always liked to do was things that he should never have thought and every concept of life he thought toward was things only "Whites" at the time were allowed to really think about. He didn't fit in where he was supposed to; he hated taking orders and knew he wouldn't last long in the white-surrounded world if he continued as he was going now.
While his rebellious attitude in my opinion (from about chapter 5 on) is justified, I believe Richard was merely a pre-revolutionary African American. He wasn't a person to "play by the rules" and act as though he were still on a plantation. While everyone else acted as they were supposed to, he saw no reason for his having to be constricted and contained (which is where the lack of religion could also fall into). He was a post-Martin Luther King man living in a pre-Emancipation Proclamation type world. He was a trendsetter to many who would come up to fight for Civil Rights and while he was still naive in some senses, he was the average teenager living in a world where all teenagers were not equal and could dream the same dream.

Want Attention? Burn Things and Get Drunk.

Contradictory to what my title is, I feel Richard wasn't doing these things to get attention. One must realize the age in which Richard was when he first burned down his house- 4 years old. At 4 years old, most don't realize the danger of fire unless it's presented to them directly. Assuming Richard had never experienced the danger and hazard of a fire, he would not have properly known what would have happened. Until he "Experimented" and experienced this, he couldn't know. The broom sticks didn't set anything ablaze and he didn't see the fire going out of control with the curtains...until he actually did it. It was then that he knew fire was bad.
As we read deeper into the story, we see Richard is a "bad boy"-he craves rebellion and dislikes living by other's rules, except when it comes to subjects that could threaten his life (i.e. "white" people and such). He submitted when needed, but one quickly sees that he loves doing things he shouldn't do, rebelling, etc. Maybe Richard does this because he wants the attention he lacks, but the environment he lives in doesn't produce a need to (His friends don't seem to have both parents). One almost does crave what they don't have and sometimes acting out is the only way to express those needs.
Personally, I think it's too premature in the story to decide accurately. Right now, it's a situation where the question could straddle the fence and one could argue either point with a plethora of evidential points. Being as young as we have known Richard to be (Between ages 4 and 9), a cry for attention and being who he wants to be is both plausible. I will remain impartial to such decisions until there is an amplitude of evidence to sway me in one direction.

On Being a Mexican American

"Una vez que un norteamericano mexicano, siempre un norteamericano mexicano." This is the best way to sum up the theme and feelings evoked from "On being a Mexican American" The saying is basically stating "Once a Mexican American, always a Mexican American." This doesn't only apply to the Mexican culture, but to all those who immigrate from other countries and walks of life. Despite the desire to fit into the American culture and become "Anglosized" as the article states, we cannot fully engulf ourselves in it. Even those who are born here are almost always reminded of their culture. Being an American is one of the hardest things to do because, unlike other cultures, we have no true "definition" of what it means to be an American. We have traditions, for example, that we celebrate, but it's not nationwide as some celebrate the traditions in a different manner.
I feel the author's story about his transformation into the Anglosized American stands for a commonplace theme of "acceptance" and "fitting in." When many people come to America (Or a new country), they're instantly hit with numerous things that are different from their own culture (i.e. culture shock). It doesn't help matters any when stereotypes are built up about them and they are met by hostile neighbors, co-workers and classmates.
This desire to fit into a new country where they know no one and nothing can cause a person to conform, to leave the prominent parts of their culture that was once so strong by the wayside to fit into a completely different culture that they've been pushed into, thus the situation the author was put into. When in the town he grew up with, his culture was all he was surrounded by and loved, but slowly and surely turned into the "normal" American person that he was expected to be.

My response??: In a nutshell, it's easy to claim one will never lose their culture, but it is not until one is put in such a situation that it is tested. Being an immigrant is not easy and to survive and be who you are, some changes are necessary. Being an immigrant is never easy, especially when you're part of a culture with many stereotypes built up against it.

Long Live The King

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was of course known for his Civil Rights Movement for equality among Blacks (And other minorities) and Whites. The point of this blog is NOT to ramble about his many achievements, but to analyze whether the movements he did really were effective and what parts of Dr. King's dream didn't come true.
Today, in 2011, we are not required to go to schools only for our race, but to diverse schools (like Whitney Young). Like discussed in class, it's more in our COMFORT zone that we attend a predominately Black/White/Asian, etc school and acquire friends of the same race. With no interaction with others of other races, stereotypes can build and suddenly it's all we know and it's not until we meet and get to know someone of a different race that we know said stereotypes are not real. And, theoretically speaking, we are back to the same square Dr. King was in nearly 40-50 years ago, except it's completely voluntary. Some people will never believe in equality among the races, but we advocates of it shouldn't allow those who aren't for it to rule our lives.
As for whether Dr. King is still relevant for today, I'd honestly say not as much as before. I'd say there are numerous other causes that need attention, and while we never need to forget what movements people like Dr. King did, we need to move on to other movements while still advocating for those who are oppressed by racism. There are many people who are advocating many good things that go unrecognized. Keeping Dr. King and his motives in heart, let's take his philosophy of equality and help other movements so that others will see other oppressed groups and help make them equal. Maybe change won't happen now, but it can happen later if there are many supporters. Dr. King's dream will live on in those who advocate and do things to help it continue to grow.

"To be Young, Gifted, and Black"

What does it mean to be "Young, Gifted and Black"? The first two words are quite explainable, but what about the end of it? Does being black naturally come with the thought that one is going to live in the south or in the "Ghetto" as explained in the text? Maybe it means that we're thought of as less?
Maybe it means to be trendsetter, to do something that no one else will do. Maybe it means that they will begin something that hasn't been done, like Martin Luther King. The author's family lived in a white neighborhood where they were subjected to horrible curses, degrading and other such abuses because of race. This wasn't common in this time and though the family probably struggled, it helped them be stronger and really understand the world around them.
What does it mean to be black? Maybe it means being loved by family, feeling a closeness without having to say any words? Maybe it means being able to express love without having to be affectionate? Like when the author's family was sick and was fed soup and had Vick's rub on their body to keep them better. It wasn't until the death of their father that the children experienced the love of their mother in hugs and it felt extremely weird. They were close without the affection and continued to be close without it.
Maybe being black means playing games without needing money-making the best of what they had like playing "Miss Mary Mack" or hopscotch or other children games like that and just enjoying their friends and family in the street like the author and her siblings.
Or maybe all these components make up an American-Trendsetter, enjoying the free things in life, showing appreciation for the country and it's components without physical show. Maybe being black and being an American are closely related and color and ethnicity are only components to make America the country it is.