Silhouettes of Danger and the Battle of the Sexes

    In the piece we read this week, Staples discusses how black people are treated differently and seen as more dangerous and violent.  While I agree this stereotype is real, I know it is false and I do not feel that way at all in public.
     The only judgments that make sense are ones that the person can control-clothes, what he's carrying, etc.  Skin color gives absolutely no insight to what a person is like or what his purpose is.
     No matter what the color of skin, if anyone approaches me I tense up.  Day or night, paranoia consumes me when I'm alone and see someone. A shadow alone is enough to speed up my heartbeat, and I assume many others feel this way.
    This being said, I feel that if I was a boy, I would not be as scared.  Girls are seen as week so they are taken advantage of and have a much greater chance of being victims of things such as rape.  According to RAINN, 9/10 of rape victims are women, and 1/6 women in the United States have faced either attempted rape or completed rape.  With these statistics, how can you trust anyone, of any age or any race?
   Although the stereotype itself is completely false and racist, I feel that for those who believe it simply do because it has been wrongly imprinted into their brains and coincides with a survival instinct.  For them, it is a means of self-defense because people are not willing to risk their lives for anything, and no one knows whom to trust.  In my opinion, race does not matter whatsoever; it is much more a matter of not trusting anyone at all.

The (Stereotypical) Family

     The chart we made in class this week depicts what we thought to be standard qualities for all four types of relationships; however, our in-class discussion refuted these ideals because everyone is different.  Some said their moms are more protective while some said their dads. We also discussed cultural differences between these relationships but I think it all comes down to one thing: trust.
     The amount of trust in each relationship determines how the relationship works. If there is no trust, the relationship will not blossom.  Saying this, trust is earned not given, so all relationships are either built up or destroyed over time.  If a parent trusts its child, the child is more likely to trust the parent so they will probably get along better. This "trust" goes both ways, so I think it is in the middle of a "tiger-parent" and one who lets its child do whatever it wants.  The child needs to trust that her parents are doing the best thing possible for her, and the parents in turn need to trust that they've raised the child the right way and that she will do the right thing.
     Going off of this, when we thought about our relationships with our parents, mine with my dad and mom seemed to be very similar.  Of course there are some differences, but both my parents are protective and loving and easy-going and strict.  It's all relative.  Even though stereotypes exist, I don't think they're very accurate because all relationships are so vastly different.

False Hope

One.

A man stands alone

Dressed for a day at the office.

A slick suit with a blood-colored tie.

But

Right in front of his face,

Obstructing his view,

An apple.

As green as the sweet, fresh-cut grass on a hot July day.

The sour kind.

So sour his lips curl.

It’s heavy, loaded.

But it’s so far away.

It can’t hurt him.

Just like his wife

She’ll never leave him.

All is well.

Two.

The apple approaches

Just as his wife does in the middle of a fight.

She hurls threats, over and over

Even hours later her hot breath lingers in the back of his mind

“You’ve done it this time”

“I really mean it”

“I’m leaving.”

But she won’t.

She never does.

The apple.

It will never hit him.

Even as it gets closer.

So close he can hear it.

As the whoosh of the winds increase tenfold with each millimeter.

As her screams get louder and more violent

But still

It’s all so far away,

And all is well.

Three.

As if unexpected

BAM.

It hits him.

Everything seems to explode all at once.

She’s gone, and the apple implodes his face.

Dead center.

The crack of his bones makes a noise louder than his scream.

He didn’t see it coming.

But why?

With all the warning signs it seemed obvious.

Is he ignorant?

Or holding onto something that isn't quite there?

Hope that everything will be okay,

Trust that everything will fall into place?

But it won’t,

It never will.

Because now he’s left with nothing.

Nothing but a broken nose as bloody as the color of his tie.

Culture, Background, and The Origin of Fava

     This week we talked a lot about backgrounds and culture.  From Amy Tan to Maya Angelou, we discussed how big of an impact culture can have on one's life. This got me thinking of how little I know about my background. I'm Italian (that's where the "Fava" comes from), Polish, and German, but a few generations removed. So, I'm usually seen as the stereotypical "white girl." I've spent my entire life in America and that's all I really have come to know. I often wonder how my life would be different if I knew more of my distant relatives or visited the places of my nationality.
     Could experiencing things that my ancestors did dramatically change who I am? But who am I supposed to be?  What is each individual's culture supposed to be-genetic nationality (how you're expected to act) or environmental influences (how you really act)?  I think that like most things, there is a gray area; culture is a mixture of everything that influences someone.
    Going off of this, I think that there is a balance between staying true to yourself and changing into the person you're destined to become.  Background influences may be an extremely important aspect in your life, but they are not the only aspect. Although I'm super-Americanized, my background is still extremely important to me without playing an active role in my everyday life.