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  Short Story from TJay

Posted by Larissa Pahomov in English 2 - Pahomov - A on
It had always been that way for as long as I could remember. Until that day the U Haul truck was outside of our house which it had then set in my head that this was actually happening. I let my backpack hang from one shoulder in disbelief. My dad came to the door carrying moms’ dresser along with four other movers. “Ray! Ray! … Ray!” I had started day dreaming until I heard my friend calling me from his next door window. “Hey David”  I said looking down as I sighed. “What’s going on ; I didn’t know you were moving” he said. I thought to myself while he was talking about how different this move to Filthadelphia might be. I had been there once for a Flyers game when we went to the East Coast two years ago. It was over run with drunk people with strange accents and there were tons of Italians more than I had ever seen. “Ray! Ray! … Ray!” David said. “Hey man are you alright” he said , no my life is over I thought I just nodded and said I was okay.

Ten days later we took the long flight to our new home. Our stuff was sent to Philly ahead of us so it’d be there when we arrived. The whole flight I just sat there as my parents sat there watching movies under a blanket on their laptops. I took like four naps on that flight, the stewardess came by three times and offered some  us some pretzels and peanuts I just said no until she came back with cranberry juice I drank that. I dozed off again; when I woke up we were making our final descent into Killadelphia. I pulled the blanket over my eyes when we landed I wasn’t ready to be there yet. I left behind all my friends and even this girl I liked she said we could never be together because I wore sweater vests. *fasten seat belt sign goes off* we were officially in our new home.

We caught a cab to West Philly, the most I ever heard about this part of Philly was from Will Smith on re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The cab driver was telling my dad about everything there was to see on our way to our new home. We pulled up and I went into the vacant house our things were in thepod out front they had just been delivered. They were row homes, they looked like George Washington’s house very old. I walked in I heard voices out back so I went on the deck. There were two thuggish looking kids out there one was on the balcony and one was in the driveway below. Their accents were weird.

“Yo Tyrel!, wassup cous?” Yo bro I screamed back from my balcony as I spit on to the concrete down below. “We on the block today?” Rick screamed back while still walking. “ Yeah dawg we out here.”  

The two guys names were Tyrell and Rick they didn’t see me peeking out the sliding door. The one kid spit on to the driveway below and he was blasting some rap music out of his back pocket, his pants were sagging they looked like real scum to me nothing like my friends back home.

 “Yo Tyrell who’s that moving in next door?”  “Probably some old head who’s probably gonna try to take over the block again.” I’m bout to slide over there to my steps to see what’s popping said Tyrell”  Tyrell and Rick sat on Tyrell's front steps watching as Ray and Ray’s parents carried in leftover boxes.

Tyrell and Rick looked over at Ray and laughed at him as they said “sweater vest”

Ray just glanced up and carried the box in the house.

Later that evening he went back out front to watch everything that was going on in his new neighborhood.

I swear I hate it here and all the people imagine when school starts.

The two “new neighbors “ emerge from the next door house and pull their marijuana and lit it. They offered Ray some but he kindly said no.

 

They laughed and whispered to each other.

“Oh you looked like you don’t want no smoke” said Tyrell - in urban Philadelphia this would mean Ray doesn’t want any conflict.

“I have no idea what that means bro but I’m new here so could you just umm how do I say this so you could understand.. just you know , chill?” said Ray.

*laughter from the tandem breaks the silence of the quite street*

“Where are you from dawg?” said Rick to Ray.

“West Side” said Ray

“West Side of what cous?!” said Tyrell in an annoyed tone

“Of Long Beach” said Ray

“Yeah well be more specific next time youngboul” said Rick

“What on earth is a youngboul?” said Ray

“How do I say this so you can understand, umm a scrub” said Tyrell

Tyrell and Rick both laughed simultaneously again and said Squad.

In Philadelphia squad is something said in urban communities normally at the end of sentences by two or more people who are friends most commonly used after a punch line in a joke between them.

Ray removes himself and goes into the house where his mom is sitting on the couch he storms up the steps she asks how he likes his new friends. He replies back saying that they are not his friends.

The next morning through the wall Ray hears more of that loud rap music he bangs on the wall and the music doesn’t stop.

The music even sounds like a foreign language to me. All I hear is obscenities I miss Long Beach where it was nice outside I didn’t hear sirens all night. I went to turn on the news and all I saw was murder it was so different even the news people had accents. In the next few weeks I had my first cheesesteak and water-ice. Pronounced wooder-ice here. I even became cooler as they say with Rick and Tyrell. I even gave their music a shot. They didn’t like my pop music too much but theyheld me down. Which in Philly meant they watched after me to make sure I was okay.

I will say that I prejudged this whole city as a whole and especially their accents which I still despise. Philadelphia has been good to me thus far. I’m chilling.

The Central Park 5

Posted by Todd Samuels in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

The Central Park V jogger case was the case of the battering and rape of female jogger Trisha Meili; in New York City’s Central Park on April 19 1989. Five youth males four were black and one was hispanic. They males were falsely convicted of the rape of Trisha Meili. Until 2002 when their charges were vacated. On the night of April 19, 1989 several attacks and robberies happened in Central Park an estimated 30 youths were thought to have come together to commit these crimes. 


According to police investigations on the night of the crime; the perpetrators were ‘gangs’ of teenagers who ‘set out’ to assault ‘innocent’ strangers which the media then gave the action the name “wilding”. April 19th was known to be the night in which these youths (predominantly blacks and hispanics) where these random acts of ‘wilding’ occurred in Harlem. Aside from normal police protocol the name of suspects under 16 years of age names are not to be released to media. Which instead the names, photos, and place of residence was publicized while the joggers name was still kept private. 


Although many youths were identified as partaking in these acts of ‘wilding’ and some identified themselves as assaulting other people. Only the five which became known as  “The Central Park Five” were brought to trial later on. The names of the five youths that were taken in for questioning are Antron McCray, Kevin Richardson, Raymond Santana, and Kharey Wise. Yusef Salaam was the fifth one but he refused to sign a confession with his signature. The police interrogated these young men to the point where they were telling on each other claiming one committed the rape just to get the police to let them go home. They blamed each other and said the others were raping   the jogger claiming themselves to be innocent. 


No DNA connected the boys to the case, they actually had no idea what happened to the jogger. Their statements were released just so they could go home.


The first trial was held in August of 1990, the defendants are Yusef Salaam, Raymond Santana Antron McCray were being tried for attempted murder and convicted of rape./ During the time of the trial Salaam and McCray were 15 years old. Raymond Santana was 14 years old at the time They received the maximum amount of time permitted for minors. 


Reverend Calvin O. Butts (a supporter of the youths that had been wrongly accused) said "The first thing you do in the United States of America when a white woman is raped is round up a bunch of black youths, and I think that's what happened here." The race card was pulled by blacks who were enraged by the fact these young men were wrongly accused. Police had no physical evidence nor did the “suspects” have any evidence on themselves that was related to the crime. 


The police were obviously biased to “whites” post the Civil Rights Era. Black protesters were angered at the fact the these five “kids” were convicted of a crime they had no idea even took place. Police created a time line of when the boys were projected to have committed the crime it did not add up. The time and place the jogger was raped did not even correlate with the time the boys had been in the park. The boys also later released a statement stating that they were not in that section of the park where the woman was battered and raped. 


The difference between the 60’s and 1989 is racism was not as publicized. Media is biased towards exploiting black crimes. The media made this case much larger rather than if the media had not started releasing these statements from minors. In the 60’s there were leaders like MLK and MX who were constantly on tv defending blacks which made race a larger issue. Once the late 80’s hit racism still existed though it was less publicized. This was during the crack era, (1989) so the drug wars and black on black crime was more of an issue on the news rather than a KKK rally. I believe this and I know for fact that blacks at this point dealt with the race aspect though they still had to deal with live in their own neighborhoods. 


These biases by the media often portray the image that all blacks are bad especially during this time where activist were “pro” jogger or “pro” youth. The media threw their names and personal information out before they put on the cover of the NY Times “ Female Jogger near death after savage attack by roving gang”. Not only were they bashed so bad but after the true rapist came forward there was no type of compensation or remorse felt towards the 5 now 15 years later men. Today the men are all in contact with each other and tell their stories in their documentary. 

The New Girl

Posted by Carolyn Borock in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

Carolyn Borock


“Dad, I can’t go to boarding school, at least not an all girls one. Father, please!” Madison exclaimed.

“Madison ,sweetheart, we are almost there! You can’t back out now,” he protested.

“ Dad, I’m 13 years old. I think I can make my own decisions.” I said, standing my ground.

His face reeked of disappointment, and he looked out the window. I looked out the window as well, looking at the English country side. I was on my way to a new school, far away from my friends and family - a very fancy school, that we never could have afforded. My dad thought we were so lucky that I had gotten a scholarship. I didn’t see it that way.

“We’re here.” my father said.

Looking out at the building, it was like a castle, with so many pretty architectural details. I’ve never seen anything like it, being from New York City and living in a small apartment building. As we pulled up to the building, a lady came up to the car and waited until we stopped, with her hands joined together.

I walked out of the car onto the paved light beige colored brick driveway.

“Hello, my name is Ms. Varden and I will be your headmistress,” she explained.

Holding her head high and her hand out in a pleasant gesturem I hugged my father and said my goodbyes. She led me to the lobby of the school. It was amazing! There were two shiny wooden spiral staircases connecting at the top. As we headed up the stairs to my quarters for the term, I remembered my two best friends back home. Ohh, I loved to sing and dance around the room with them and just act like children! I knew I would miss that at the new school.

We reached my room and the headmistress said, “Unpack your things quickly and head down to the lunchroom in 20 minutes! Come on! Chop Chop!”, ahe said in her strong British accent.

My room had a fireplace and a princess bed,  with a massive canopy draping over the bed frames. It also had a great view of the lake in the backyard, as well as the pretty trees and adorable gardens. I unpacked my stuff and headed down for lunch. Suddenly, I felt myself flying down the stairs, and soon I was flat on my face, looking up at a pretty girl about my age, who had been bending over to tie her shoe. I must have tripped over her - not a great way to make a first impression.

“Omg, I’m so sorry!” I said to the girl.

She smilesd and started laughing, and soon I’m laughing as well.

“Hi, I’m Allison!” she said, still lying on the ground.

“Hi I’m the clumsy girl that just tripped over you. But I also go by Madison.” I said.

She smiled.

“Hey, come on, we have to head to lunch before Ms.Varden yells at us!” By now she was standing up and holding out her hand to help me up.

We started running because we didn’t want to be late. We looked into each other and smiled for a second and didn’t see that Ms.Verden was staring right at us, with her arms crossed andher stern face. We stopped immediately and crossed our hands and put our heads down.

“You must not run in the halls! Tou had to have known that, Allison!” Headmistress said.

“Yes, I’m sorrym Headmistress,” said Allison with a fake sad face.

“ Now run along!” said Ms, Verden.

We walked quietly until she was gone, then we looked at each other and started laughing.

“You must not run in the halls, you had to have known that, Allison!” said Allison, mimicking the headmistress.

“Hey so do you know about the annual color war?” Allison said.

“No, what's it all about?” I said.

“Well the color war is the annual baseball game that we have and the two teams Blue and Pink battle it out for victory!It’s right before spring break. I’m gonna be Blue you should join us.” Allison said.

“Yeah, It sounds like fun!” I said smiling.

We walked into the lunch room and it had chandeliers hanging from the ceiling! It looked more like a ballroom than a lunchroom.

This school was very small so there was only 120 kids in the school. There were many cliques though! The main one was the “Preps”; there was also the Nerds, and then there were the “Populars.”

“Who are they?” I said to Allison before sitting at a Prep table.

I was pointing to the Populars and allison made a face as she answered my question.

“They are the witches of Salem, the meanest of the mean.” Allison said.

I looked back at the two blondes, and the leader, clearly the brunette. They were laughing and talking. I wished for a second that I could be there and laugh with them.

“Hey, you ok?” Allison said.

“Huh.. Yeah sorry.” I said.

Allison went on talking to the Preps, and it was clear she was happy she was one of them. Wnen I started looking at them, the leader glanced over and used hand gestures to summon me over. I stood up and went over there.

“Hey wanna sit with us?” The leader said.

“Sure.” I smiled as I sat on the plush pillow on the chair.

“My name is Ashley and these two are Christy and Monica” the popular girl said.

“Hello, pleased to meet you, my name is Madison.” I said nervously.

“So I see that you are all chummy chummy with Allison.” Ashley said.

“Yeah she is ok.” I said.

“Well I just wanted to warn you about her! She was one of us last year, we kicked her out because she was always getting into trouble and blamed it on us.” Ashley said.

“She is not to be trusted.” The blonde twins said.

“Yeah and I also wanted to see if you wanted to go shopping with us after school and hang around us.” Ashley said.

“Sure. I’d love to!” I said.

It was after school and we headed to the mall and there was so many stores!

They wanted to go to the fancy stores and I couldn’t really afford it. My father gave me his credit card for emergencies. Well, I decided this was a fashion emergency!

We looked in Gucci and, to be one of the girls I was going to have sunglasses from here because it was tradition. I found a pair that was so pretty but they were $800 and I couldn’t afford it and my father would not be pleased. The girls’ voices kept repeating in my head.

“To be one of us you have to have the glasses!” Ashley’s voice said.

I didn’t care what my father thought and got the glasses but I didn’t have to pay because before I even went and paid for it. Ashley took the glasses out of my hand and paid for it.

“It’s ok! I got it! My parents are royalty they wouldn’t care that I paid for them.” Ashley said.

My eyes opened in shock, this was now the most expensive piece in my closet! We went to the other stores and I got a new outfit because Ashley said that I had to dress like them! They all dress in fancy designer clothes. I had none, so I had to buy some new clothes to fit in.

The next week, every after class, there were trips to Starbucks and the mall and into town everyday after school. Just me and the Populars. Allison was nowhere in sight.

At the end of the week, after my last class, the bell rang.

“Hey, Madison, can you stay for a second?” my history teacher siad.

I packed up my stuff and told the girls I will be there in a sec.

“So, I see that you are doing badly on your tests and I wouldn’t want you to lose your scholarship.” the teacher said.

“Ok, I will do better, I promise!” I said.

I rushed out of the class and the girls were waiting there with big smiles on their faces,  like a plan was underway.

“Come on, let’s go! The teacher just wanted a quick discussion on how I should make my essay into a book.” I said.

“Ok, let’s head to starbucks!” Ashley said.

We got to Starbucks and before I could even reach for my wallet, Ashley paid for my Vanilla Chai Latte.

“So I was talking to the girls and it’s our tradition to take a trip to Greece every spring break. We were wondering if you wanted to come?”  Ashley said with a big smile on her face.

“You would have to pay your own way though, and sadly you can’t, because you are on a scholarship so that means that you can’t afford even your drink that I gladly paid for!” Ashley said.

At that point I had tears in my eyes! I couldn’t say a word. As far as the Populars go scholarship girls are the lowest of the low! Allison, my first friend at this new school, had been right all along. And I had abandoned her.

“Please leave! Like now.” Ashley said.

“Yeahh..” The twins spoke.

I walked out of there. I felt bad for myself, but also for the way I had treated Allison. I was so rude to her I completely ignored her. She had warned me too - and I had been bought for a pair of Gucci sunglasses and a couple of drinks at Starbucks.

I picked up my phone and called Allison, and told her how sorry I was for everything I’d done. that she was right. Luckily for me, she forgave me, and I went later that night to a sleepover with her and the preps.

She said that to get back at them we had to win the Color War which was the annual baseball game!

We got the costumes for the color war all ready that night.

It was the next week and the color war was finally here!  

The Color War began and we won the whole thing was a blurr. All I remember is there was a faulty ball and it had Blue paint in it and when Allison pitched it to Ashley and she hit it. It went all over her uniform of Pink and ours Blue. She stormed out yelled at her friends and she disinvited them to greece. They unfriended her and now Ashley is disliked by the whole school and now the twins turned to Allison there original leader! Now allison was looking at me asking the most important question of my middle school life.

“ Are you ready to become the next leader of the new and improved Popular crew?”

“Yes, instead lets co-lead!”

The whole school was cheering our names, Madison and Allison!

“Madison and Allison!” The girls cheered.



The Locked Gates to the World

Posted by Dillon Hershey in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

I, Chester Hayes, don’t usually look like this. I usually have rosy cheeks and a skip in my step but today, I walk flat-footed and without my cheery smile. I am walking towards my doom, the town hall. Everyone in town knows that I am meeting with the head council but nobody is quite sure why. They aren’t supposed to gossip but everybody does. This is one of the rules that they are more lenient about. The other rules need to be followed all the time, no exceptions, as it is posted everywhere in town.

As I get closer to the now looming building, I realize that I need to walk a little faster or else I won’t get there on time. Time is a big deal for the head council because they have tons of other meetings that have topics that are all way more important than a little rule-breaking from a young boy like me. Yes, I am a rule-breaker. Bam, mark me with a large red stamp across my forehead, it’s not like nobody knows. Everybody knows that I have done something wrong and they all know that I am probably going to be gone forever.

There was a kid about eight years ago who also walked the same road I did. Nobody ever found out what he did but they knew that something went terribly wrong. He went to talk to the head council and he was never seen again. His family was devastated and they wanted to leave but the gates didn’t open for them. The head council knew that once they left they would never come back and if they left everyone else would want to leave too.

That’s the problem with this town. Nobody knows what is out beyond the gates. Curiosity is natural instincts to human and that is how I got in trouble. I am surprised that no one else has tried to see what could be beyond the gates. I didn’t literally climb over the gates but it was close.

We all have computers in our houses as it is the way we receive mail and the newspaper. My grandmother says that the newspaper used to be on paper like the old book she keeps on her bedside table and that the mail would take a week to get from one house to another. The head council decided to save the trees and paper and do everything electronically. This was before my grandmother was married.

On the computers, we have access to the internet but no social websites. The head council cut us off from the world. I decided that I wanted to know why they make us blocked off from the rest of the world. I worked on hacking the computer so that I could know what was going on in the rest of the world. I was simply curious about the outside world.

Now, I come to a stop in front the large door and gaze all the way up to the intricate gargoyles and angels that are intertwined with the roof. The entrance is grand, like a town hall’s should be, with green and gold swirls on the door and a stone angel above the steps, watching over you. I open the door and I come to a desk with a woman sitting at it.  “Hello, do you have an appointment today?”

I realize that she is speaking to me and I finish gazing around the room before I answer. “Hi, yes, I believe I do have an appointment. My name is Chester Hayes, I am here to see the town council.”

I wait for the look of shock to appear on her face because this short polite boy can’t possibly be the one. It never appears. She glances down to her book of appointments and runs her finger down the side.

“Wow, just on time I see. Very good. The town council will be appreciative. You may sit over there and I’ll call in to tell them you are here.” She motions to emerald and gold couches and chairs across the hallway.

As I sit down, she presses an intercom and speaks into it. She talks in a low voice so I can’t exactly tell what she is saying. I’m sure it is something about me but I don’t really mind. People have been talking all about me and everybody knows about it. No one tries to give stares or looks but I catch them doing it all the time.

I had a few friends before the whole ordeal but they aren’t allowed to talk to me anymore because the town council is afraid that I will spread around whatever I found about the outside world. The town council contacted me right after they found out about my bad hacking job and told me that I couldn’t leave my house and I couldn’t talk to anybody except for my family. Which was easy because nobody wanted to talk to me after they found out what happened. My family wasn’t very happy with me, so there wasn’t much talking on that part either.

I hear my name being called and I gather my thoughts. I have no idea what to expect the town council to say but I know it will be bad. The secretary points to the first door on my left. I give her a small smile of thanks and she smiles back before returning to her work. I stand up and make my way over to the door. I don’t have much time to think about what I will say because the door opens for me right as I step in front of it.

I lean back in surprise as the door swings open and I realize that now everyone in the room is looking at me. The room is completely white with one large window looking out over the town’s park and a table taking up most of the room. All of the chairs are taken up by men in dark suits but one is left empty for me.

The man at the head of the table closest to the door motions for me to sit down. Everybody watches me as I slowly walk over to my seat. Once I’m sitting down, the man at the head of the table begins to talk. “Chester Hayes, correct?”

I try to mumble out an answer but all I can do is nod my head. I didn’t think that I would become that scared in front of the town council but hearing the man’s voice makes my stomach churn. “You know what you have done, there is no need to go over it, I assume?”

The rest of the men all nod their heads and turn to look at me. I nod my head again, with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“The council here have been having a hard time trying to decide what we should do with you. Before we give you your verdict, we would like you to tell us what your motives were and what you hoped to accomplish with this.” The man leaned back and looked at me to start talking.

“Well, um, you see...” I stutter along, hoping for words to come that make sense. They all lean back and continue to watch me fumble with my words.

“I was reading in the library about the countries of the old world and I wanted to know more about what was past the gates. The librarian wasn’t much help when I asked her about the old world and how we came to be. She gave me more book references but that was about it. I knew that my computer could help me because I read in the book that the people in the old world could look up anything and everything on their computer and get answers. So I tried but I couldn’t get past the firewall, I think that is what it is called, to search for these old countries. There was a book about computers at the library and I read all about hacking in that book and looked for more but I couldn’t find anything else about computers. I decided to use what I had and hack the computer system so that I could search for the old countries. I know that it is a bad idea now but I just wanted to know what was out there and why we can’t see it.” I pause to take a breath and let what I just said sink into the councilmen’s heads.

The man at the head of the table leans forward and steeples his hands on the table. “Chester, you know that you have violated one of the rules in the guidebook. This is usually met with the punishment of expulsion from the town limits.”

As soon as he says it I know, but I’m not ready for it. My head is spinning with questions about everything and my stomach is turning even more than before.

“But we have a compromise for you. You don’t have to leave but you have to live in the town hall and take classes with other curious individuals about the outside world.”

I slowly look up in surprise. “Take classes? Like school?”

“Yes, classes about advertising and how it affects the outside world. We will be telling everyone that you have been expelled from the community so then no one will get suspicious.”

“Even my parents?”  

“Unfortunately, yes. If too many people find out they will get curious and then what is the point of us closing off the town? Anyway you will be starting classes right after this meeting.”

“What about my things from my house? And my clothes?”

“You will be supplied with clothes here and you don’t need any of your stuff anymore.” He turns to the rest of the men and ask if they have anything they would like to add. Nobody says anything. “Alright, well I have other business to attend to and you have to go meet everyone.”

As the words leave his mouth, two burly men stand up and cart me off to the higher floors of the town hall. We come to a stop in front of a door that looks nothing like the rest of the town hall. It is a black door and the whole hallway looks like something out of an office building, not a fancy town hall.

“We’ll wait for you to get changed. Empty all your pockets and get rid of anything else that you might have on. Your clothes are in there along with your shoes.” The men open the door for me and wait for me to step inside.

I nod my head hesitantly and shuffle inside. I imagine this is how someone in prison would feel. We don’t have a prison in town because nobody does anything bad. Except for the rule-breakers like me.

Inside the room there is a single lightbulb that turns on when I walk inside and on the floor there is a pile of white clothes. I don’t have anything in my pockets except for lint so I shed my normal clothes and put on the white jumper, the white socks and the white sneakers.

I open the door and the light shuts off. The men are still standing there talking quietly. They notice my return and chuckle.

“Whew, he looks like an angel in that suit!”

“Don’t worry, you won’t get any whiter than that!”

As we walk along the hallway they explain to me that after our classes are done for the day, we have to do manual labor, usually in the basement with the grease and grime. We turn and walk to another hallway that has one door at the end of it. I must looked worried because they pat me on the back and tell me that there is nothing to be afraid of.

We reach the end of the hall and one of the men swipes his finger across a keypad and the door opens. Inside the door, there are steps going down. The men tell me that at the end of the stairwell there is another door and that door will lead to the dormitories where I will be staying. I start to descend the staircase and I look back up just in time to see one of the men smile and give me a thumbs up.

I reach the door at the bottom of the staircase and calm myself before I open it. I’m not exactly sure what to expect but I know that there is no going back now. If there are people on the other side,  I want to look confident and not scared.

I ready myself and open the door. Nobody is there. It’s another long hallway with doors on one side and windows on the other. I hear children playing and realize that the windows are dug into the ground around the park. In front of me there is a metal gate with a desk and some papers on it behind the gate. I decide to ring the bell because there is no other way of getting in.

The bell dings once and nothing happens. I ring it again, just to be sure that someone hears me. I begin to hear a scuffling sound down the hall but I can’t quite see through the metal gate.

“Oh, you must be the new boy. I am so sorry that I am late. I was coming out to meet you but then someone needed my assistance. Now where are those keys...” A bent over old man walks up the hallway, muttering to himself. He finally finds the keys and opens the door for me.

“I am Charlie, the person who runs everything down here. Welcome, welcome. Now these are the dormitories and farther down is the lunch room and then we have a few recreational rooms farther down. The boys are at classes right now so I’ll show you to your room. Now where are those keys...” Charlie pauses at the second door from the end of the hallway and I get a glance into an open space with a few tables and chairs scattered around and some more unmarked doors.

“Okay, okay, here they are. And here, is your room. Everybody gets their own room because there aren’t many like you around. Now you can get settled in and I’ll be back to check on you later. Alright now.” He turns around and shuts the door behind him.

I am left in a room with a small bed in the corner with a flannel blue blanket. There is a mirror on the wall across from the bed and under that a small dresser for all of my stuff that I don’t have. My feelings are still numb. I hadn’t been able to say goodbye to my parents or the rest of my family and within an hour, my life had changed drastically from above ground to below ground. I have nothing else to do so I crawl into bed and fall asleep.

After a few months of my new life, I was called by Charlie to see him in his office. When I get there, he is sitting down and not talking, something that I have never seen him do. A man in a black suit is sitting in a chair next to him. I faintly recognize him.

“Chester, this is the man who is top of the head council and he has noticed your work in the advertising classes. He wants you to go out into the outside world. You will be going with some of the other boys who have potential like you.” Charlie speaks quietly as if everyone else can hear what he is saying.

“Outside, outside? Like going to the old world countries?” I have never heard of this happening to anybody but it sounds like so much fun.

“Yes. You will be taking extra classes because you need to learn what you will be doing in those countries.” The man in the dark suit stands up as he speaks and offers me pen to sign a contract with. “The only thing is that we need to make sure is that you will be willing to come back to the town. You cannot go off on your own and start a new life in the old world countries. By signing this contract, it will tie you to this town and it will insure that you are saying the right things to the people out there.”

“What exactly am I promoting, sir?” I sign the contract quickly because there is no way that I would pass this up but I realize that I don’t know exactly what I am supposed to be saying to the people.

“Our town. It is time to spread knowledge of our type of community, one without advertisement and without a harmful society that makes everyone think bad about themselves.”

With that, I was whisked away into weeks worth of classes teaching me how to advertise and how to make our town seem liveable. They had me practice on Charlie and the other boys and they all said that they would want to live there. I was convinced that I was a perfect salesman and that everybody would want to start their own community like ours.

Finally it was take-off day. We flew in a helicopter, so no one from town could see us, to all over the world. Everything was going well until we came to a city called Chicago where protestors came to meet us. They must have heard about us from other cities and they thought that our idea was not good at all, for some reason.

Once we finish our presentation and speeches, we allow time for questions from the crowd. Usually the questions are about visit limitations and if they can come check out our town, but this time they were more in depth about us.

“How long have you lived in this community?”

“Have you ever lived outside of this community?”

“How you do expect us to believe you?”

“Why is this community better than ours?”

These questions fired out from the crowd and the crowd began to murmur with inquiry. I turned to look at one of the boys to see if he knew what to do. He looked back at me and shrugged his shoulders. We had one of the men in the dark suits along with us, in case we needed his help but he looked as confused as we did.

One girl was on top of another person’s shoulders addressing the crowd with her back towards us. “These men are trying to do what is right in their minds. Nobody should be booing them because of this,” For a moment I thought that she was on our side of the story but then she continued to put us down for having something called biases. “Those people are advertisements themselves, and they are advertising a community free of ads and a harmful society. But they are harming their own society by not having any sense of being different.”

Different, but who needs different, when you can have the same? I have the same ideas as my parents and the same beliefs, so there is no conflict and no arguments. Violence is created by different ideas clashing and making people believe they are better than the others.

We were quickly shuttled off the stage so that a riot wouldn’t break out but I thought about what the girl said the whole ride home in the helicopter. Our town believes that we are better than the other people and that’s why we are advertising. We hide our ads as ideas and beliefs so people can believe them more than they would just believe regular ads.

Their society makes them want more and more things, which doesn’t happen in our community at all. That was the point when they created the town, to make us a separate generation that doesn’t have the consumer gene. The one flaw in that system though is that fact that everybody will then be the same. There are no new products that people want, it’s just the same old brands of clothes and toys and gadgets.

We went back to town to report what had happened and the town council looked a little surprised about the riot in Chicago. They realized that sending us out was probably one of their worst ideas yet because they said that we weren’t prepared enough. I personally don’t think we could have been more prepared. They couldn’t have controlled everyone’s reactions to what we said, and that’s the point of having a conversation with someone. You learn about their side of the story and then they learn about your ideas. Without different ideas in our town, healthy debates like those couldn’t happen and that is why we weren’t prepared.

After a few more years of conflict between the town council, they learned that they couldn’t keep us contained so they let the gates open and us flood out into the world. The world will have many new people who will be eager to learn more about what they missed and what they never knew. The world will never know what hit them.


The West Memphis Three

Posted by Bella Mezzaroba in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

The United States of America’s law enforcement isn’t exactly known as the most trustworthy and reliable. In fact, cases of police brutality and unnecessary harassment is commonplace in many American cities. In the case of the West Memphis Three, discussed in the movie, West of Memphis, three teens’ lives are ruined because of inadequate police work. The law enforcers of our country hold biases toward racial groups and age groups, depending on what part of the country they’re in, that severely affects the efficiency of their work and the efficiency of their ability to protect the people

In the West Memphis Three case, three teenagers were arrested for murder. Damien Echols age 18, Jessie Misskelley age 17, and Jason Baldwin age 17. The victims, Stevie Branch, Christopher Byers, and Michael Moore were all eight years old. They were found dead, bound, naked and beat in a creek. The police, almost immediately, decided the crime was part of a satanic ritual and arrested the three boys on the account that they were on record for being involved in occult activity.

With little evidence, the police turned to witnesses to prove the boys’ guilt, However, there were no witnesses. So the police took it upon themselves to create their own witnesses. A woman named Vicki Hutcheson gave a testimony in court claiming the boys invited her to an occult meeting at the creek the night of the murder. She later admitted that she was coerced by the police and the testimony was false. Misskelley and Baldwin were sentenced to life in prison and Echols was given the death penalty, although the three were released before it could be performed.

In later years, the case was studied more thoroughly. The alleged cuts on the boys from a serrated knife turned out to be post mortem bite marks from snapping turtles in the creek. Jessie Misskelley gave a confession to the police in 1993, clear and simple. It was later discovered that the cops held Jessie for over 12 hours in an interrogation room, bombarding him with fake stories and thinly veiled threats. What makes it worse is that Jessie had an IQ of 72, making him borderline intellectual functioning. He was a minor being questioned alone. Jessie stated that he was given his Miranda Rights but did not understand them. In the court, it was ruled that he did in fact understand them and knew exactly what he was saying in his brutal interrogation. The West Memphis police took advantage of a mentally challenged, seventeen year old boy and scared him into admitting to a crime he did not commit. All of this and more was uncovered by private investigators and hired medical examiners. These are just a few examples of the botched and biased police work done on the West Memphis Three case. The three teens were odd balls in their town which can be seen as a reason for a negative bias. In the end, the conclusion was made that majority of the police work was faulty but nonetheless, the citizens of West Memphis still believed it.

In our country, the majority tends to blindly accept whatever the law enforcers say. It’s a bias we have. We think that police officers are protectors of the people and the innocent. However, one cannot properly protect and serve if they have severe biases themselves. As shown in the West Memphis Three case, there’s a bias surrounding those who don’t fit the ilk of the majority of society. This bias is widely believed by Echols, Misskelley, and Baldwin were oddballs in their small town. They’re lower class teens from a small town and have a negative stereotype surrounding them. Trouble seeking, poorly raised, bored teens who seek something to do and end up getting involved in occult activity. These assumptions were made about these boys and, therefore, they were falsely accused of a crime they did not commit.

A term that’s been coined in the past few years is bias-based policing. It’s the idea that racial profiling is beginning to take over law enforcement. A study was performed, involving a race IAT, that had the following results; “Officers were initially more likely to mistakenly shoot unarmed black suspects than unarmed white suspects.(Gove )” However, the scientists who performed this experiment came to the conclusion that the bias can be fixed.  “After extensive exposure [for example, repeated trials] to the program, the officers were able to eliminate this bias.(Gove )” Our country’s law enforcement has spent years doing their job based on stereotypes. The bias has become so strong and prominent that IAT tests were performed, along with many more experiments to produce hard proof.

In 2011, the Supreme Court released the three men. 18 years and 78 days later, Echols, Misskelley, and Baldwin were hardly given justice. Falty police work ruined 3 men’s lives and, due to country wide law enforcement bias, police have been unable to do their jobs. In order for police to properly bring justice to those who deserve it, they must be devoid of bias and see only the facts. They can not let their own personal opinions, whether they’re subconscious or not, cloud their judgement. In order for us to have efficient law enforcers, they must come to terms with their biases and correct them. Only they can fix themselves.


Bibliography

Gove, T. n. page. <http://www.policechiefmagazine.org/magazine/index.cfm?fuseaction=display_arch&article_id=2499&issue_id=102011>.


Societal Biases

Posted by Claudia Bonitatibus in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

I consider myself to be a fairly typical American.  Well, slightly atypical because I grew up in a city away from the isolationist tendencies of the suburban culture that makes up the majority of America.  I realize that I embrace the very American conceit that I am pretty much in control of my beliefs - that I am the captain of my ship of consciousness.  But with just a little reflection, it becomes obvious that there is a fathomless ocean of prejudice, culturally determined attitudes, and peer pressures that my little ship of consciousness precariously tries to stay afloat on.  In other words, I am aware that there is a system of beliefs beyond myself that has helped to shape who I am.  


Even without taking the IAT test, I know that cognitive dissonance is ever present in myself.  An event that is most revealing is my response to my grandfather after his stroke.  My grandfather is an enormously erudite, cultured man, trained as a civil engineer and architect, who spent most of his adult life as a painter of marinescapes.  He is a man who knows at least something about everything, can easily talk about almost any subject, writes poetry, and has a wonderful sense of humor - a man that you could look up to and admire.  So it was a bit of a shock when, due to a massive stroke, he lost control of the right side of his body and his ability to talk and express his ideas clearly.


    Although he didn’t lose any of his mental capacity or his encyclopaedic knowledge, I noticed that somehow he sank in how others perceived him.  Even worse I noticed that I was one of those people who underestimated his abilities!  Somehow a person who can speak persuasively and with ease seems more intelligent than a person who cannot.  It didn’t seem to matter that I knew my grandfather to be a really smart man and loved him dearly, or that I knew that he was still all there and that none of his intellect had deteriorated.  A built-in bias was tinting my view of him.  Clearly an unconscious, automatic system is present that dictates my thoughts or the way I see the world.  It was not until seeing the way others acted around him, or the way they talked down to him in a demeaning manner, like he was a small child, that I realized my own bias. I realized that I, too, had to monitor myself to make sure that I didn’t let his current disabilities obscure who he really was in my eyes.  I cannot imagine a worse punishment than having someone treat you that way when in your mind you still feel the same. You have retained all your knowledge, but it almost torments you because you can’t express yourself through words, people make assumptions and place labels. People treat you as though you are lesser simply because you have difficulty articulating your thoughts.

This unconscious bias also affects how I see myself.  From an early age, I can remember how it feels to fail to meet my own expectations of perfection in oral and written communication skills. My older siblings were reading fluently, while I struggled to read a simple sentence. Granted that they were much older than I was, yet I noticed that some of my classmates were reading rather large books as well. I can remember my teacher telling me to keep at it and that I was improving and would eventually “catch up.” This was a double edged sword because it told me that I was lacking in a much-valued societal skill. I perceived that I was “not good enough.”  


What these memories reveal to me is that much of our respond to the world is not shaped by our private system of beliefs or values.  It is obvious that our society favors certain traits above others, that it has a clear and strict idea of what it means to be intelligent, and that it imposes strict criteria on us that we are forced to use to judge each other. We are rarely conscious of this system, rather, we learn society’s idea of the ideal person from our elders, parents, siblings, teachers and others from the time we are born.  We then measure ourselves and others by this impossible ideal for a lifetime, automatically making judgements without consciously knowing why.  We become our own harshest critic, punishing ourselves repeatedly for each perceived misstep.  


As I watched my grandfather struggle to regain some of his ability to read, to write, and to speak; I understood that the part of him that was the man I knew him to be - that sees the greater picture, that appreciates beauty, that understands people’s true intentions, that loves - that part is still all there.  My biases only create a separation that I don’t want.  Similarly, my anxieties about my reading ability only made it harder for me throw myself into every challenge and succeed, which is certainly something that I didn’t want to happen.  I reassure myself that, with work, these biases can be overcome, or at least managed. This may be a delusion, but I need to feel that I have at least a little control of my life.  


While our society imposes on us certain biases that discredit some individuals unjustly while putting undeserved importance on others, it is helpful to remind ourselves that these cultural biases can be overcome when they conflict with the core ideals and values that identify a community.  As the reading noted, we as individuals have an amazing ability to tolerate a fair amount of “dissonance,” but when the tension becomes too great, we are forced to respond even if we don’t want to.  If nothing else this should be reassuring and appealing to the that other American bias - optimism.  We put up with a lot, but then we use our consciousness to struggle and to change ourselves and the world around us.




  

Ilker Erkut BM

Posted by Ilker Erkut in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

Ilker Erkut

100% Percent Sure

Have you ever been in trouble with a group of friends and you know you are wrong and change the story to save yourself?  Well I have done that a good amount of times and I am going to be explaining the biases of objective truths. I know everyone has been here at one point in time where they did not want to get in trouble, so they would change what really happened so that the adult or person in charge couldn’t give punishment because they did not know who did it.  Also I have the point of view of someone telling the truth but still getting in trouble because of the other person lying.  Sometimes lying isn’t the smartest thing to do because certain people do not take the time to find the real culprit.  In the end everyone will get punished and then your strategy of using objective truth will fail.  There are many time where it is a good thing to use as well

One personal time when I had to deal with objective truth was when I was in middle school.  I remember getting into a little scuffle.  I did not start it or even really protect myself, I just wanted it to end before either of us got in trouble.  But we ended up getting caught and going to the deans office.  

“So tell me what happened”  said the dean

“___ attacked me for no reason.  I tried to get him off rather than fighting back so I did not get in trouble.  I never fought back” I said trying not to get in trouble again that year.

“Ok, lets hear your story ____” said the dean

“He said something racist to me and I was offended so I fought him” he said lying.

In the end we both got in trouble and his plan did not work.  I felt very mad because it was all very unnecessary.  But I knew either way we were going to get in trouble.  I took the punishment and we became friends a long time after that.  

I thought of this moment in my life again when I read the short story “In The Grove.” I thought it was very accurate to how many situations get played out.  If there are no witnesses than there is no case.  “Yes ... without taking his life. I had no wish to kill him. I was about to run away from the grove, leaving the woman behind in tears, when she frantically clung to my arm. In broken fragments of words, she asked that either her husband or I die. She said it was more trying than death to have her shame known to two men. She gasped out that she wanted to be the wife of whichever survived. Then a furious desire to kill him seized me.”  This quotes really spoke to me because it basically sums up my essay.  Its one of the quotes that I found in the story that came close to the topic of my story.  She made him choose whether or not to kill the husband or kill himself.  He decided to kill the man because he in the situation he did not want to die.  Also the women was not even known as a culprit in the investigation because the investigation was for her husband.  So they immediately looked at everyone else as the bad guys and her as the victim.

The main reason people lie is to not suffer the consequences of what they have done wrong.  It could be to save someone from an unwanted truth.  But most of the time its because they realize what they did was wrong and they know if they accept the punishment it will not be worth it.  Telling the truth does not always bring out the best result.  Also lying might save them from being judged.  If what you did affected someone else or a group of people than those people might judge you for it.  So why not just lie?  I even think that it is inviting and inevitable.  You almost know someone is going to change the story around to save himself.  Its ment to happen in almost every situation without a witness.  Thats when people start getting into race and stereotypes.  The spectators or people around the scene will most likely pick the person that looks like they would cause a problem.  The biases people have are towards clothes, race and language use, such as slang.  That is how a lot of people get away with things.  They act really nice and mature and trick peoples minds.  They make it seem like they are the victims.  These are some ideas of where bias gets put into play and some situations.

Have you ever been in trouble and did not want to get punished or judged because you did not realize how much drama your action would cause?  Well I have been through that a good amount of times and now you know one of my best stories.  I have also proved my point with a quote from the story that gave me the idea to write this essay. I know everyone has been here at one point in time where they did not want to get in trouble, so they would change what really happened so that the adult or person in charge couldn’t give punishment because they did not know who did it.  Also I have the point of view of someone telling the truth but still getting in trouble because of the fact that the other person lied.  Sometimes lying isn’t the smartest thing to do because certain people do not take the time to find the real culprit.  In the end everyone will get punished and then your strategy of using objective truth will fail.  There are many times where it is a good thing to use as well.  I hope that you have learned from my personal essay.  Do not judge anyone or believe anyone till you have 100% facts that you are correct.



Pigs Don't Whine

Posted by Leo Levy in English 2 - Pahomov - A on


The sweat from her palms had seeped through the cheap, blue nylon. She’d been clenching the bunched cloth for a good ten minutes, her hands tensed and prepared. Every muscle along her forearms was flexed, and they all stood at odds to each other, as if each one was attempting to flee a sinking vessel. Perspiration gathered in tiny domes along the planes of her vanilla skin, and trickled in tiny rivulets down the muscular ridges. I remember one drop, which had pooled in the crevasse of her inner elbow, magnifying a dense cluster of her characteristic freckles. I was transfixed with that dot, that miniscule refugee from a body convinced that in the next several seconds, it might die. There was no simple explanation for that bead of moisture. It was more than the product of the searing, sweltering heat. It was not simply some biological response to the adrenaline, pounding through her mind and surging through her veins. There was something vile about it.

As if lubricated by that same perspiration, Anne’s eyes slid to her watch. The glowing digits flicked away, counting down towards zero. That was Anne. Everything in order, everything in its place. Flying in was a nightmare with this amateur drill sergeant. This had always been her idea, spreading the word. The idea had never needed a proposition, and the entire club had been talking circles around it before she finally brought it up. A flight to Kabul International Airport. An anxious night spent in a cramped hotel room. A rented Jeep outside a mosque, just after noon. A burqa. No tops. It really was any college feminist’s ideal spring break. Of course, it had all seemed so distant from the somewhat-dank futon couches of the air-conditioned lounge space under Werther’s Hall. It had never been real. This was crushingly, indisputably, impossibly real.

Just as the gravity of our situation permeated my mind, the LEDs in Anne’s watch fluttered into dormancy in a flash of milliseconds. I closed my eyes. As if from awfully far away, the Adhan snaked its way out of a speaker system that had clearly stood through a few presidencies. Deprived of vision and bolstered by a semester of creative writing courses, my mind went to work. In the dark, I could see those ancient words, dancing forth from ancient places, inviting everyone around into God’s arms. They smelled like camel sweat and felt like sand.

“It’s so whiny.” Dani sighed from the front seat.

Anne glanced at her, away from the growing crowd of congregants. “Whining is the sound that chauvinistic, discriminating pigs make.”

Pigs don’t even whine.

Continuing with her mismatched agricultural allegory, she gave me my queue “I think enough sheep have gathered. Time to blow some minds.” I nodded, and despite any misgivings, I tugged the canopy draped over the ribs of the Jeep free. With desert sunlight blanketing our naked chests, we stood. I raise a sign, Dalia raised a megaphone to her lips and Anne raised the burqa. Worshippers turned, agape. Eyes widened and a cry of shock competed with the farsi message crackling through the megaphone. “The burqa is discrimination! The burqa is bigotry! Women are humans too! Respect for all humans! End the oppression of the burqa!”

She tore the burqa then. With a giant, terrible, scratching sound, Anne tore it down the middle. First a hushed pause, then outrage. Like hyenas they sprang on us. With dull, reverberating thuds rocks collided with the Jeep and with our skin. Some shattered, some fell. We fell to our knees and car jumped forwards.

The car swerves and I see a tiny dome of scarlet pooling in Anne’s vanilla elbow. She swipes it away with the strip of blue cloth she still clenches, “Those dirty fucking pigs cut me!”  


***


We’d been back for four days and the campus was abuzz with word of our trip. Anne’s smugness was validated by a congratulatory article in the local paper, and the adoration of everyone in the Human Rights department. I’d dismissed my doubts as little more than momentary apprehension, and was content to live the liberal arts school dream. On today’s agenda, situated between Studies in Lesbian writing and Social Action and the Academic Essay, sat an interview with a local riot grrrl zine called FemNow. I’d never pick one of those publications up, but I’d certainly tell you I had if you asked. We sat, waiting for our interviewer in a small room off of the library. Minutes passed. Anne checked her watch. Dalia and Dani joked about a recent lecture. I picked at a scab on my elbow. Suddenly there were five of us in the room.

Her back was straight and her eyes were harsh. Shrouded in endless black fabric, the rest was a mystery.

Anne was quick to her feet, “Is this a joke? We protest the burqa and you come to interview us in one?”

“No,” the stranger retorted, “you are the joke, if you can spend thousands of dollars on airfare to protest something you can’t even recognize.” She gestured to herself, “This is a niqab, and you are a closed-minded bigot.”

I began to consider that perhaps the interview was a ruse. If it was, Anne was yet to catch on. Her eyes narrowed. I could see that she would regret whatever she was about to say. Anne had spent so long perfecting the art of feminism. It was, to be perfectly honest, all that any of us really knew about her. “How dare you wear that and claim to be a feminist? You are a slave to the oppression of men!”

“How do you claim to be a feminist? How can you stand there and assume that I am some subservient wench? Every day I choose to wear this, because this is how I choose to associate. No one is forcing me, and no one is controlling me. I am not brainwashed or ignorant, simply because I chose this garment over another. You are narrow-minded and ignorant, not me. You are brainwashed into accepting biased views and prejudice, not me.”

There was a hushed pause. Her gaze shifted from one of us to the other. With an air of premeditated determination, she drew a copy of our article out of her sleeve. Beads of perspiration glistened on her wrist. Her eyes met Anne’s, and with a shattering, decisive motion she tore it down the middle. Before the shreds of literature fell to the ground, she was gone.

Anne turned to gather her bags, “What a fucking pig.”

The Audition | Michelle Friedman

Posted by Michelle Friedman in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

Looking around, I felt a bit intimidated by the over-priced, over-hyped, and shiny sports cars parked next to my run down, rusty, hand-me-down car. Though the people inside would never know what car I drive, the contrast in social classes was already blatantly obvious. Shutting the car’s door behind me, I inhaled the freezing, icy air through my nose and a rush of energy flew down my spine. For some reason this tricked me into feeling calm for the next few minutes and I managed to walk the short stretch from my car to the front doors of the building.

The space was not quite what I had imagined. I had pictured a small, modern studio with bright colors, young smiling professionals, and a few lighting lamps and fans sitting around. A place where people feel welcomed. Before me I really saw a large, bland space with some industrial lights set up here and there. The concrete walls and floors were not so much frightening as they were depressing. In general, the whole room glowed with a grey tint that made everything seem a bit somber. In contrast with the setting, the crowd of girls to my left, waiting to audition, was quietly whispering amongst themselves, clearly not shy or scared of anything. From the left side of the building a strong mix of fruity and floral perfumes came creeping over to mix with the faint Clorox smell left over from the cleaning crew the night before.

I assumed that I was supposed to go over to the crowd of girls, and when I approached the group, nobody reacted to my presence. I took this as a good sign, and quickly took a seat. The clock hanging above a doorway told me I still had about ten minutes until the auditions were scheduled to begin. So I pulled my phone and headphones from my back pocket and put on some music to pass the time and calm my nerves. I crossed my legs and sat back in my chair, as I let my mind wander. I saw a loose thread hanging from the bottom of my shirt, but when I tried to pull it out the thread kept pulling through and through. I quickly realized that touching the thread was a mistake because my shirt was now awkwardly tight by my right hip. Great, another blemish to make me stand apart from the other girls. I decided to simply stop fidgeting and crossed my fingers in my lap.

Slowly I watched as girl after girl walked through the door and back out; each one looking more satisfied than the first. An hour later I saw the familiar woman step from the doorway.

“Weiber, Christina?” She looks up from her clipboard and sees that I’m the last one there.

“Yep, that’s me.” I respond with a smile. The smile wasn’t reciprocated.

She led me into the audition room, and I saw before me the standard set up. The recruiters sat behind a heavy wooden table, and there were a couple of bright white lights set up around the room. They each had tall coffee cups before them, and looked like they were there for serious business. I was taken aback by the intense lighting and faces before me. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Weiber, how are you today?” Said the man in the middle. All three of the people sitting behind the table were dressed in very professional clothes. The two men were surprisingly wearing new, shiny suits and the woman was dressed in a form-fitting, black dress and modest heels.

“I’m great, thank you for asking. I’m very happy to be here.” I started to hand my résumé over, and the lady who escorted me in leapt up to deliver it to the recruiters. I could have easily done the simple task myself, but nobody commented on it so I pushed it out of my mind.

It felt like they were a hundred feet away from me, but in reality, the table was about twelve feet from me. Once all three of them got a copy of my papers, the man in the middle introduced them all.

“I am Alex Minkle,” he motioned to the left and then right, “this is Trey Greenwich and Alice Krin. If you could give us a minute or two to look over your files, please.” I nodded silently.

It took them about thirty seconds to leaf through the sheets I gave them and then they huddled together and started whispering. With his elbows resting on the table, Alex Minkle chuckled behind his hand and glanced up at me for a second. I couldn’t know for sure what they were saying, but I didn’t want to look at them. Looking down, I still felt eyes on me.

“Alright, Ms. Weiber, can you tell us a little bit about your background? Where were you raised?”

I had never heard this question at an audition before. I wondered what the point of the questions was but I decided not to question what they were saying, I mean, they are in charge here.

“I grew up by 49th and Polk St. I still live there though.”

“Uh huh…” Responded the woman. She seemed a bit discomforted. I already suspected why, but I didn’t want to let myself believe it. “What do you do to make a living?”

“Well, I’m taking classes at the community college right now, so I don’t have time to work.”

“Then how do you provide for yourself?” She asked in a snarky tone.

I was starting to hesitate now. For a simple television advertisement, they were asking really specifically personal questions. I didn’t want to offend the woman by not answering, so I didn’t.

“I live with my parents.” I responded slowly.

They exchanged glances momentarily and then stared straight at me. Their eyes seemed to bore holes in me wherever they looked. I felt the spotlight on me but not in the way I like. I expected this to be a regular audition, but suddenly the room felt colder to me and their faces seemed harder.

“…Really? And what do your parents do for a living?” Continued the woman.

“Please excuse me, but would you like to hear the song? I don’t understand why these things matter right now and I don’t feel comfortable sharing all of this information with you.”

She smiled and looked in my eyes with a look that frightened me. “We are simply-“

The Greenwich guy decided to interrupt her and speak for the first time that afternoon, “Christina, we need to know if you are fit to represent this company, don’t you see? We need someone who looks professional and experienced.”

“Alright, but you have my résumé right in front of you. Do you believe I am unqualified?”

“That’s not what I mean.” He spoke slowly, like he was explaining something simple to a child. “What I mean to say is that we can’t let just anyone off the streets work for us.”

This really got me. I finally saw the real reason behind all of their questions. I thought that by this point in my life, once I had such a strong résumé, none of this stuff would happen to me. I remember when I went to my first audition for Macy’s and all the girls around me were white, rich, and from private schools. This conversation here was starting off the same way that it did with the women at Macy’s, and I was not eager to let it keep going. I took a breath and tried to not say anything too rash.

“Off. The. Streets.” I repeated.

“Well, you know what I mean,” he responded, “You people usually bring some sort of trouble, and we like to run a smooth operation.”

“‘You people’? What do you mean, ‘you people’. What’s different about me?”

“Christina, don’t pretend that you don’t see this.” Of course, he was referring to my skin tone, but I refused to give in. I’ve had this conversation with too many people before, and this was the last straw.

“Mr. Greenwich. Sir. I first of all, would like to thank you for your wise words. I realize that you and your value the face of your company more than life itself, but I too, value my face. I hope I don’t offend you like you’ve offended me, but ‘you people’ are the only people causing problems for anyone right now.” They looked at me in shock. “You see me as a black lady. I see myself as a strong, talented woman who is passionate about preforming arts. You see as the face of crime and property, nothing more. You now know where I live, and for some reason, have now deemed me unfit to work for you. So, I thank you for your time and attention, but I can’t work for you. I pray that you will change your view of people soon, because you are living in a dark, secluded, world.”

 

 

Bias of the Justice System

Posted by Greta Haskell in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

Greta Haskell


After watching “The Central Park Five”, “West of Memphis” and “A Thin Blue Line” I have come to a conclusion; the court system has a huge bias against young males especially African Americans. In all of the documentaries young men are convicted for crimes they didn't commit simply because the police are too lazy and ignorant to find out what really happened. The justice system only hears what they want to hear and if they have to manipulate and lie to get what they want, they will.

While watching these documentaries one thing in particular stuck out, the police seemed selfish. No matter what anyone else wanted, they just wanted to hear what they thought was right and get it over with. If someone brought up a different option suggesting that they were wrong or they had the wrong person, they would get angry and find a way to make their decision correct.

The justice system’s bias is what caused so many wrongs and injustices. If it's called the system of justice why is so much going wrong? Something else that I thought of reminded me of some of the things we did in class. Most of the people such as the police, the judges, and the jury were white upper middle class males. As we saw in class we usually have a bias towards people like ourselves. If the people they were trying to put in jail were different than them, they would find a way to have a bias against them just because they were different.

In the Central Park Five is when the bias stood out to me the most, most if not all of the people involved in the case were white except for the young men who were being charged with the murder. The police arrested them simply because they wanted to get someone and those boys were the easiest to arrest. It really shows that the police were too lazy to try and find who really did it just because they wanted to lock someone up.

While watching these documentaries I really got angry and I guess I discovered a new bias of my own. I feel that people should have their rights and police and other workers should do their absolute best job to see if the person is guilty or not. Imagine being locked in jail for five or even more years of your life that you can never get back for something that you had no part in. That has to be the worst thing I can imagine and I would wish it on nobody. I kind of thought of going into the justice system when I got older, but that would be a heavy load to bear so I decided against it.

Bias is a subconscious decision that can't be controlled but it can be so serious that it can change someones life forever. This really shows that peoples bias can sometimes be even more important than fact. There are a few exceptions but overall people stick with what they believe and subconsciously want to believe. People are not always fair but sometimes it's hard to change because we can't really do anything about it.


An IAT result I didn't Expect

Posted by Avery Monroe in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

Gender: Female

Race/Ethnicity: Black and slightly mixed

Nationality: American

Sexual Orientation: Hetero

Age Group: 16

Hometown: Philadelphia Pa

Social Class: Middle Class

Religious Preference: Not really religious, but spiritual

Political Leaning: Progressive Liberal

Physical Appearance: I am tall, long hair, thin and athletic, easy to smile

Personality Characteristics: I am very shy at first, but after a while outgoing. I think I am very fun to be around. I am a little indecisive, which is a struggle I have to deal with sometimes.

Role in Life (ie. mother, father, daughter, occupation): student, daughter, sister, friend.

https://abagond.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/the-clark-doll-experiment/


I am a young Black heterosexual female. I was born into a middle class family in the West Mount Airy neighborhood in Philadelphia, and have lived here my whole life. West Mount Airy, is one of the first fully integrated neighborhoods in the United States.  It is an example of a progressive neighborhood that was the focus of many sociological and anthropological studies over the past few decades.  When my mom was growing up in West Mount Airy it was very similar to how it is today, there were strong liberal populations, a vibrant Jewish synagogue, upwardly mobile Blacks and progressive Whites, (some people called them hippies).

I attend Science Leadership Academy which is a public high school in Philadelphia. Living in Philadelphia, I have been exposed to many different types of people and different types of cultures. All of this exposure has brought me to realize that someones biases are formed through the stereotypes and cultures that they have experienced. All of the different parts that make up who I am have helped me create my own perspective. Through taking a couple Implicit Association Tests(IAT), I have come to realize a couple of my own personal biases.

Admittedly, I was a little surprised at the results. When taking the sexuality IAT, it was revealed that I had a “slight automatic preference” to straight people rather than gay people. That is not the way that I view myself, or the world. I had always been around different people growing up, and to see this result puzzled me. Being straight has always been considered a “social norm” and even though in my immediate life I didn’t have people telling me that it was the right way, there is so much that I hear around me in the media that influences my opinions. I don’t consider myself to have a preference to straight people. When I thought a little deeper about this, I figured that I could have gotten this result because I am heterosexual. I know more about being heterosexual and can relate to other people that are heterosexual and I think that is why I might have responded to the heterosexual pictures faster. While that may be the reason, or one of the reasons, it was still very surprising to me because someone’s sexual preference has never been, and will never be notable to me. Obviously, I can tell when my friends, acquaintances and classmates are gay, but it has never meant anything to me. To me they were just a regular person. It is no more notable than if someone has blue eyes or brown.  My friends aren’t my ‘gay’ friends, they are just my friends, it has always been that way and will always be that way.

In class one day, we started talking about our own biases and I went over to a friend of mine.

“You went to private school and then you want to public right?”

“Yeah, I was raised in a private school, but I then transferred, I feel like I fit in with both types of people.”

“Yeah I agree, you’re like an urban girl but you’re also like a private school girl. I think that you fit in more with us and feel more comfortable with us though.”

We talked about how growing up, I went to a predominantly white Quaker school. I then went to a public school where there were people that were so much different than the people at my old private school. When I took the Race IAT, I was also a bit shocked to see that I had a slight preference to European Americans. I am friends with all different types of people who come from all different types of racial backgrounds. I was expecting to get “no preference” but that is not how it turned out. My Quaker education was really helpful in the way that I view people that are different from myself. I wouldn’t say that it is good that I have a preference for European Americans, but I would say that maybe it has helped me with my view on other people. I think that it is really common to have a preference to European Americans rather than African Americans. In the media, the white people are shown with power, and all throughout history they have been shown with power as well. As shown in Dr. Kenneth Clark’s experiment; when kids were asked to pick between an African American and an European American doll, most children picked the European American doll, even the African Americans. He did a couple different tests, and in each test, the majority of the kids picked the white doll. He asked them questions, about which looks nicer, which looked worse, When that is what we hear around us, it is easy for a person’s opinion to be changed. It isn't exactly a coincidence that my bias is like a lot of Americans. Many possible causes for this can be how people are portrayed on the internet, books, and other sources in the media. Even though my answers were not as I expected them to be, I have an understanding of why.

Through researching and taking implicit association tests, I have found out so much about myself. I was very surprised and would have never thought I would have the bias that I have. Even though I was very surprised, I can understand why I got this answer. Through this whole experience, I have begun to figure out my own personal bias.




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