Introduction: I wanted to write about a topic that I am very passionate about. Everyone who is somewhat close to me knows how much on a daily basis I talk about cultural appropriation and my views and belief on it. I felt like this was the perfect opportunity to do so. In this essay, I explore the cons of cultural appropriation, as well as explain the parallels of cultural appropriation vs. appreciation. I also included a scene of memory that is a bit personal, but I'm proud in doing so because it is important that people come to know battles that you've struggled with because they may have struggled with those problems too and in return find closure in what you've wrote. As a writer, I plan to grow a bit more by exploring different topics like these and not being afraid to share my opinions on controversial topics such as this.

Suffocated by the soft, downy pillows and encapsulated by the fleecy fabric of my comforter, I lay on my bed engulfed into the images etched onto the screen of my phone. It is a long afternoon awaited; I just got back home from school and my entire body AND brain aches from the daily school-tasks of, writing, studying and thinking, purely exhausting. What better way to relax than to scroll endlessly, drifting off into a hazy cloud of social media? Away I go! “Hmmm, I think I’ll go on Instagram first.”  I think to myself. The hazy cold-blue light of the cellular device projects onto my face when suddenly my eyes widen with confusion. Images of people with distorted lips appear all on my news feed. Their bruised abnormal mouths match their painful expressions. Below these images I see in big, bold, blue text:

                                              #KYLIEJENNERLIPCHALLENGE

“Ugh! Kylie Jenner!” I say aloud. I’ve already expressed my disdain for this girl because of her “Kylie Jenner Lips” but c’mon! Now people all over social media are creating entire hashtags in honor of something she didn’t even have a whole year ago! I feel a surge of anger flow through my veins; the prickly heat of rage and disappointment seeps throughout my blood. Why does social media praise this girl as if she the almighty creator of big lips? Black girls are born into this world with big full lips but instead of admiration, we receive mockery.

But why? Because culture that people of color identify themselves with are only seen as significant and appropriate when associated with white people. This can be described as “cultural appropriation”. Society values the cultural objects, identities and items of an oppressed people when it is in the possession of a white person.

As a young black girl, I rarely ever saw any depiction of my features in the media. Even now, it is still hard to see any representation of black women. Because of that, I grew up very insecure and never saw the real beauty in me and people similar to me.

I stand in front of the spotless mirror in the corner of my bedroom. I examine every crevice and curve of my face. I trace the slope of my wide nose, wishing it was slimmer, touch thickness of my cupid’s bows, hoping it would become thinner and inspect the complexion of my skin, wondering why I couldn’t be lighter. It’s ugly, all of it. My eyes pour water out my tear ducts and in them, I bask in the rainfall of self-hate.

That was years ago, when I was uncomfortable with my looks, but now I’ve accepted who I was born as and love myself. But I am not the only black female who has experienced this self conflict. We, as blacks girls were, and still are, teased for our “gargantuan” features. From our broad noses, to our thick lips, to our curvy hips and voluptuous behinds. Cloaks of shame are thrown onto our bodies and our identities. But for our white female counterparts, (and sometimes on other women of color), when sporting our “anomalies” it is “exotic”and “acceptable” on them. They adopt what we identify with and make it into their own.

Cultural appropriation: the adopting of one’s culture as a trend, while simultaneously, ignoring the cultural significance of the object that is being appropriated, and being praised for it. Cultural appropriation is an extremely disrespectful act. Not only are you taking a culture’s object to identify yourself, but the people of that culture that you are appropriating, are completely disregarded. In other words, as described by Twitter user @slytherinpunk, cultural appropriation is like “...working on a project and getting an F and then someone copies u and gets an A & credit. That’s the big problem with cultural appropriation; the appropriator is praised for the adoption of one’s culture while the creators of that culture are criticized for representing their culture. However, there are some cases where the appropriator is unaware of the cultural significance of the item, in which the appropriation of the object/culture is in use of ignorance.

Some may argue that instead of “appropriation” of one’s culture, it is “appreciation” of that culture. The person who is committing the act may not be intentionally appropriating one’s culture to adopt as its own, but to show its common interest in that culture. However, it is still not suitable to do so. For example, a white man decides to grow dreadlocks, with preconceived information about the value of growing this popular black hair-style and the symbolism it represents. He wears them, without undergoing the several obstacles that a black man with locks will deal with. He is not called a thug, he is not looked at as if he sells drugs, he will not be told that he looks like he smells like “weed and patchouli”, but he may very well might fit all of those described. But it is the black man with dreadlocks who will suffer those stereotypes because of his race. The white man will not suffer because of his privilege. So out of respect, even if the perpetrator is showing his appreciation of a culture, it is best that he doesn’t. Because the one who the culture belongs to will be treated unfairly compared to the one who is appropriating it.

Cultural appropriation is a product of white privilege  and oppression. When people of color came to this country (excluding Native Americans) they were shunned for expressing their culture. Whites were able to express their culture freely.  People of color were forced to accept white culture as a means of being accepted. For example, many blacks were forced to tame their wild afros which held such liberal significance throughout the civil rights movement and instead get relaxers, just so they could get hired for a white man’s job/company. Many other people of color were teased for their vernacular and slang and told to speak “normal” or “proper”. So when a white person appropriates those things, it’s a slap in the face because not to long ago, they made sure that we felt ashamed by the way we walk, talk, dress, look and dance. When people of color explore other people of color’s culture, that is diversity. We as people of color, know how it feels for someone to make fun of our culture, so when we see other people of color exploring and rocking our culture, we see it as appreciation because at least we understand. When a white person does it, it’s somewhat mockery. For instance, Rachel Dolezal, the white woman who passed off as a black woman; complete disrespect to black women everywhere. To walk around pretending to be black is mockery because as a white woman, she’ll never know the ups and downs, trials and tribulations it is to be black AND female.  Because at the end of the day, Rachel can straighten her hair and lose the tan and go back to getting all the white privilege she can get her hands on. But it doesn’t work the other way around. people of color can never be accepted by whites, no matter how good their income is, what degree they have nor how well they speak, because we’ll always be seen as a minority.

It is important that people learn their boundaries with one’s culture.  Channeling a culture as your own is impertinent. Hopefully, there comes a time where people can learn to embrace their own identities, rather than taking someone else's.

Jabbar, Kareem Abdul. "Cornrows and Cultural Appropriation." Time. Time, 26 Aug. 2015. Web. 25 Nov. 2015. <http://time.com/4011171/cornrows-and-cultural-appropriation-the-truth-about-racial-identity-theft/>.

Johnson, Maisha Z. "What’s Wrong with Cultural Appropriation? These 9 Answers Reveal Its Harm." Everyday Feminism. Everyday Feminism, 14 June 2015. Web. 23 Nov. 2015. <http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/06/cultural-appropriation-wrong/>.

"Watch Amandla Stenberg's Primer on Cultural Appropriation." Dazed. N.p., 16 Apr. 2015. Web. 23 Nov. 2015. <http://www.dazeddigital.com/artsandculture/article/24431/1/watch-amandla-stenbergs-primer-on-cultural-appropriation>.

I was young, and very protected. I was shielded off from all the harmful things that the world produces. I didn’t understand the negative, and I hadn’t experienced the negative. I spent my first couple years in the world going to “Mommy & Me” music classes, private preschool, dance classes, and my mom made me go to theatre camp. I grew up in a courtyard in Society Hill, and one of my best friend's parents were the head of the Republican Party of our protected neighborhood. I didn’t know what else was out there besides Starbucks hot chocolate, and arranged playdates. But I did finally have my first experience with the real world when I was 5.

I wanted to do Karate. I was inspired by all the Bruce Lee movies my dad showed me. He would always tell me not to tell my mom I was watching them. My mom was against the idea of me going to Karate classes because she didn’t want to see her baby get hurt, but my dad was all for it. The pride a father takes in their son being a champion is something you could only understand if you were a dad. They spent time looking for a “nice” dojo for me to go to, but there really wasn’t much for a 5 year old. I went to a place called Zhang Sah. It was an odd experience for me, I didn’t know anyone. No one here grew up where I did, and I knew no one. All the other kids gathered in a group and made friends with one another, and I was left out. A lot of my classes were spent like this, and I was always the one being targeted. I didn’t exactly mind, since the purpose of this was teaching someone self defense and I was well aware of the concept we were practicing.

I felt the most vulnerable in the locker room. I never knew to get changed in the locker room, or to go to the bathroom and get changed there. I remember when I went to the gym with my dad, and he got changed in the locker room. So I just did what he did. We all would go into the locker room before our class started to get into our uniforms, and put away our bags. All the other kids were laughing and talking, while I was left to myself. I was nervous to get changed in front of people. I took off my shirt cautiously, and slowly. I knew they were watching when I heard the conversation start to quiet, and I knew some of the other kids were peering over in my direction. I continued to take off my blue jeans, this was what I thought we were supposed to do. Their conversation came to a hush, and all the kids bursted out in laughter. I was nervous, and I didn’t know why they were laughing. One of them approached me.

“What you doing?!”

I looked at him scared.

“You gay for that.”

I was now confused, I didn’t understand the context of that word. After the day was done at the dojo, my mom picked me up. She strapped me into my seat, and we started driving. I was quiet, still thinking about what I had heard earlier.

“Declan, why are you so quiet honey?” My mom asked.

“Some kid called me gay. What does that mean?” I responded.

I could tell by the look on my mom’s face she wasn’t happy. She was silent for a few moments as well. I understand now why she wasn’t happy with the name I was called. All of her best friends were gay, and those friends were the same people that babysat me. It was something that she didn’t have to face anymore, and she found it so sad that a 5 year old would just say that. Homophobic beliefs are not something you just develop, they are taught. Whether if it is through religion, or close minded parents.

“It just means happy, Declan.”

She was silent after that. We continued the drive home, and I felt a sense of reassurance that I now understood the name I had been called. But I knew that’s not what that kid had meant. He meant to call me gay, like actually gay. I was able to pick up on that. A few days had past and my head was still wrapped around on this situation. I had to ask again, but I didn’t go to my mom for the answer this time. I went to my dad. We were going to the nearby park, and he was giving me a piggy-back ride.

And somehow in the most innocent voice you’d ever hear, I just came out and asked my dad “What does gay mean?”

My dad seemed shock, that wasn't a question he’d be prepared to answer for a 5 year old. He came up with a very simple answer for me.

“Well, it just means another boy likes another boy instead of a boy liking a girl.”

That was simple, it was music to my ears. It didn’t seem like a big deal at all, this was minor. What a pointless word. And I connect this back to the theme. Homophobia is something you teach. It is developed. If my dad had phrased what gay meant in a negative way, my positive thoughts about gay people in this country would be flipped. If only that kid’s parents said to him what my dad said to me.

Introduction:

The main focus of my essay is the lack of creativity encouraged in writing.  I touch upon the way writing is taught to students in the academic atmosphere and what the outcome of these teachings leads to.  My introductory paragraph created a strong opening for my topic which was very satisfactory to me.  However, as a writer I must improve my ability to build evidence and develop my larger idea.  

I am a literary impostor.  Of course I know how to write a traditional academic essay, I am not discounting this skill.  Yet I struggle with the ability to insert individuality into my writing.  This is why I feel that I am not truly a literary for one aspect of being a writer is to project personal thoughts.  I feel that this struggle is mutual among my classmates, whether they recognize it or not.  At my previous school the students obtaining honor roll could produce a mediocre essay including a vocabulary pull from the seventh grade and thematic cliches, but with the use of the traditional academic format, thrill the teachers and gain an A.  When students are praised for this type of product time and time again, their writing will never evolve since personal exploration is never encouraged.  In this way students of the 21st century are being raised as literary robots, defeating a fundamental objective of writing.

Reflecting on my literary education, I have concluded it to be very simplistic and sparse.  In elementary school the format of a paragraph was first introduced to me through the “hamburger paragraph”, a diagram that illustrates a paragraph’s construction.  As elementary school progressed, we worked on strengthening our skills in creating paragraphs using other systems such as TAGS.  Up to that point I was successfully advancing with the curriculum.  However, the change of school in fifth grade took a toll on my growth in literacy.  Throughout middle school writing was treated by the teachers as a minor aspect, as if it were self explanatory.  I remember constructing paragraphs for assignments to be a very step-oriented process.  Upon beginning high school I carried with me that process, it being the only thing I knew.  Every paper I produced seemed to be comparable to the previous, just shedding light on a different topic.  No teacher came to the rescue for it appeared that since I knew the traditional academic formatting all was well.  Yet I felt worn from the repetition of spewing the same ideas with no distinction from one to the next.

The bud of the problem is that when the format of a paragraph is taught, there is no elaboration on content and construction.  With no guidance students may assume that the format of a paragraph is the basic knowledge needed to complete an essay, unintentionally disregarding the composition.  These circumstances could result in a plethora of identical essays.  When students are not taught to imply individuality, the same set of ideas tend to be recycled throughout their paper without any progression. This can create an exhausting and mundane atmosphere for the writer, causing them to lose interest in their topic.  In his book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire stated that “it is the people themselves who are filed away through the lack of creativity, transformation, and knowledge in this (at best) misguided system. For apart from inquiry, apart from the praxis, individuals cannot be truly human. Knowledge emerges only through invention and re-invention, through the restless, impatient continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other.”   Freire’s statement is similar to mine in which he touches upon the detachment people have developed through education, which includes literacy in relation to their creativity.  With the absence of creativity there is hardly any chance at inserting individuality, giving the produced writing more of mechanical quality with no personal essence.

I sit in front of my computer willing my fingers to type, yet they won’t budge.  For an hour and a half I have been staring at a blank page, chasing tantalizing thoughts that dissolve before I can manage to type out a coherent sentence.  Another year of tenth grade would not have prepared me for the writing assignment given on the first day of school, for I have never been given such loose guidelines.  Teachers were always so exact about what they wanted.   Now for the first time I am given the control to have creative ownership over my work, something I have longed for greatly and there is an emptiness.  My ideas are missing in action.  So I turn to my alternative, using the guidelines given and applying the basic paragraph format.  The instance I describe is not a past dilemma, this conflict occurs daily.  The fact that I share this problem with fellow students is alarming for the reason that many are unaware.  Even more alarming is the fact that some educators deem it acceptable to not expand past the basic paragraph formatting. Writing is an art that captures opinion, personality, and soul propelled by the creativity and individuality of the mind as well as source of analytical text.  If writing is further encouraged in this way, new ideas will cease to be produced, and the art of writing will become a myth.

Citation(s)

Freire, Paulo. "Philosophy of Education -- Chapter 2: Pedagogy of the Oppressed." N.p., n.d. Web. 27 Nov. 2015. <http://faculty.webster.edu/corbetre/philosophy/education/freire/freire-2.html>.

Introduction: In my second advanced essay I chose to focus my paper off of racial literacy. A question given to us to brainstorm ideas was “What does it mean to be an “authentic” member of a cultural group?”. It instantly reminded me of an interview that I saw on the talk show The Real with guest Rachel Dolezal. She’s a woman who was biologically born white, but has chosen for the last 10 years or so to identify as black. I was surprised about the route that my paper ended up taking since I was hesitant to write about race since it is such a controversial topic, but I’m overall pretty happy with it. Also, I mentioned a scene of memory that’s a touchy subject for me, but I feel like it was a suitable scene for my paper. I definitely like this essay more than my last one and I hope that I can continue to grow in my essays to come.

Why Black?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=padH_TRJIUI

   In life there are many things that you can change, and many that you are given at birth. You aren’t allowed to choose your parents. You aren’t allowed to choose your living conditions growing up. And you most definitely don't have the option of choosing your own race. There isn’t a form at conception for you to fill out and choose the lifestyle you’d like waiting for you after your 9 months in the womb. It doesn't work that way. Yet others seem to feel differently.

  Rachel Dolezal. Some of us may have remembered her from her distinctive interviews or the memes that were made about her, or even the hashtags that were made about her and surfaced just about every social media outlet. She personally believes that she should be allowed to self-identify as black when many others believe that she shouldn’t be able to do so. She has done a few interviews and her statements are quite controversial. Rachel sees herself as a black woman; but what makes a black woman a black woman? Does it just mean that you are from a black background and happen to be a woman? Or can it be more than that? Whatever Rachel’s definition of being a black woman is, she fits the criteria for.

   In a recent interview with the daytime talk show The Real, Rachel was asked “What does being black mean to you? Why do you want to be black?” She responded by saying  “Sometimes how we feel is more powerful than how we’re born. Blackness can be philosophical, cultural, or biological… I do think you have to walk the walk if that’s who you are.“ Although her response expressed her feelings further, the question was never answered.  Why did she choose to not answer the question? When someone avoids a question, it’s safe to say that they’re typically hiding something. But why hide something as big as race? Something that made you want to identify as another race because saw yourself as that race since you were very young.

  Many people in the audience, as well as myself, were not too fond of her answer. Blackness can not be philosophical. When researching definitions of the word philosophical, the example given was related to a people having philosophical discussions about free wifi. You can not relate a person's race to something as simple as discussions about free wifi! Philosophical thoughts and ideologies typically imply that one relates to a topic or situation. Being black is not a topic or situation that needs to be related with. Blackness is a being black! Being born into a race that has advantages, but twice as many disadvantages. Growing up and watching the television to hear about the injustices of your race. Listening to the stories from friends, family members, and even strangers about the type of profiling they receive based off of the complexion of their skin. Not being a child coloring with a brown crayon instead of the peach colored one as Rachel previously spoke about.  

  My question to Rachel Dolezal would be “Why do you want to be black?” With all of the things that black have to deal with as minorities, why is there such a desire to be apart of it? At this point of my life I couldn’t be happier to be a young black female, but it has not always been that way. At a very young age I was first introduced to the side effects of being black. My first insight of it was about 11 years ago when I was around 5 or 6 years old. It was my fourth day of first grade and I just started attending a new school. My classroom was all the way at the end of the hall in room 210. It was towards the end of the day and we always got a chance to go and read on the on the big blue carpet by the window. As our teacher dismissed our tables from the the most quiet to the least, we’d all rush over to make sure that we’d get to sit on the big couch that was sitting against the large windows. My table was the most on this particular day and I rushed over to grab my favorite book off of the shelf, No David. After completing our reading time, my teacher always came over to sing us our class Peanut Butter & Jelly song. “PEANUTTTTT! Peanut Butter and Jelly, and Jelly. PEANUTTTTT! Peanut Butter and Jelly, and Jelly. First you get the butter and spread it, and spread it. Then you get the jelly and spread it, and spread it. PEANUTTTTT! Peanut Butter and Jelly, and Jelly. ” After we finished singing, we drifted back to our tables. Before we sat down I heard one of my classmates talking about her upcoming birthday party. With me being the new girl in the school, I wanted to make friends. As she continued to talk about her party, she began to ask who wanted to come. With me being an anxious 5 year old ready to make friends, I was devastated by the words that wound shortly come out of her mouth. Her exact words were, “You can’t come to my party! My mom doesn’t like black people.” At 5 my biggest worry in class was keeping my table quiet so I could sit comfortably on the big couch outlooking the school yard; not the best way to respond to my first racial remark. My questions still stand to Rachel. Why do you want to be black? What about our lifestyle makes you strive to be apart of it? Do you aspire injustice?

  The recording from the talk show quickly spread throughout the media including YouTube. Among the 145,993 views and 1,220 comments, one reviewer made a statement that many could either argue or agree with. The commenter stated “they never addressed the fact that her ability to want to identify as another other races race is a privilege that is only allotted for white people. it will never be possible for a fully black person to want to identify as white and get treated as so. check your privilege!” This then brings up the idea of white supremacy. As a young black female, I never get the opportunity to say I’d like to self identify as a white female because whiteness can be defined as philosophical, cultural, or biological. Unfortunately, we live in a world where equality is supposedly wanted so badly, but supremacy against minorities never goes away. We aren’t granted the idea of being accepted as another race; the exception would not be given from our original race nor our desired race.

Introduction: My main focus for this essay was trying to confirm the idea that we all possess intrinsic motivation. The only thing that varies between us all is what it takes for this quality to be revealed. It can be a long list of things, but I think your environment has the biggest effect. I wanted to show how when we are put in different environments than what we're used to we see different things that help awaken this motivation in us. I hope I was able to convince the readers of my idea and to show different examples of why I stand firm in this belief. I feel like I was very descriptive with the scenes in this essay as well as my first essay. For my next essay I want to focus on narrowing down what I'm trying to communicate so my reader doesn't get confused with all the ideas they're presented with.

In life I have learned numerous lessons and I am comfortable with the fact that I’ll learn more as I grow. But through all life’s lessons there has only been one truth that has left a lasting impression on my mind. This truth lives inside each and every one of us. That truth is we all possess intrinsic motivation. This intrinsic motivation allows us to be driven by ourselves rather than the people around us. Motivating ourselves leads to an everlasting benefit, while being motivated by others only gives short term success. This idea is communicated through the old saying ”Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” What some fail to realize is that the man must first want to learn before he can actually be taught. People who aren’t motivated to educate themselves can not be taught. Which leads me to question, does everyone possess this intrinsic motivation?

We all have this intrinsic motivation, but it takes certain environments to awaken it. The only thing that varies between us all is what environments we have to be in for this quality to be revealed. The environments we grow in effect how fast and when we become motivated.

This belief became real to me one day last year while I was out with a friend. I had an interview at Chipotle that day, so I insisted on going to my interview first then accompanying my friend to get her state ID. After my interview we were on our way to the place that I seem to pass by everyday without knowing. When we entered, the room was full of impatient faces. There were people standing on the walls, people sleeping, others in line. There were two seats open but they weren’t next to each other.

I said “Claire you take that one, I’ll take the other.”

She said “How about we ask the man who is sitting in between the two empty seats to move over so we can be next to each other.” I nodded in agreement.

The man looked very unapproachable. He held a folder full of papers in one hand and his smile in the other. A frown that extended from one ear to the other was plastered on his face.

“Excuse me, can you move over one please?” She asked.

A number was called on the loudspeaker “76 come to line B”

The man got up quickly while gathering his papers.

After we sat down I couldn’t help but observe the anxious faces around me. My eyes were stuck on this one elderly lady who moved in slow motion. She looked sick and unhappy. As she walked to line A, I watched her stop to regain her balance. My eyes followed her until they met with what looked like a middle aged man who was waiting for her in the line. Their faces shared similar traits, but his looked more rough. He has a scruffy beard and wondering eyes. The similarities in their faces lead me to believe that man was her son. He looked clueless as he talked to the women behind the desk in uniform. He said the words his elderly mother could not, but they didn’t seem to be the right ones. He looked to his mother for help every so often but didn’t receive any. The two small figures left the line empty handed and looked more disgusted than they were when they entered the place. I started to think about the role my mother plays in my life. She’s my support system and my teacher. Since she is the only person I know I can depend on, I sometimes take her for granted. I don’t listen to everything she tries to teach me about life that I need for the future. But while observing all the hopeless and confused faces I gained a sense of gratefulness for her teaching me certain things so with or without her I would be capable to take care of things on my own. That night I went home and I researched all the documents you need to have in order to get your state ID and I researched the process. I was expanding my knowledge for myself so I wouldn’t have to depend on my mother to inform me. In order to succeed you have to want it for yourself and you have to push yourself to get it. It took me being in this environment that was different than the one I was used to full of confused people to understand the resource I have which was myself.

I also remember a story my mother shared with me which was a little more extreme than my own but it gave me the same realization. She told me a story of boy who lived on her block named Pete. Her mother never allowed her to go near the house or associate with Pete because he was not good association. Pete’s mother and father were heavily involved in illegal drug activity. They subjected him to this lifestyle, which lead to him abusing drugs and selling them. His parents didn’t reprimand him, because they thought this was an ideal way of living. He grew up ignorant to how life really was outside the world he was used to. He went to high school without basic elementary skills. When he entered high school, he felt out of place and “stupid”. The contrast between him and other students looked him pried his eyes open, so that it was all he could see. It was then that he realized he wanted to educate himself. He began going to the library which sparked his interest in reading. He still had a long way to go, but he was determined and fueled by his intrinsic motivation. When his parents noticed the change in his behavior they questioned him. This questioning ignited a heated argument where he expressed his hatred for them. He felt unloved, because they were holding him back in a way he never knew they could. Naturally, his parents felt guilty. Pete was later shot and killed due to previous involvement in drug activity. Anyone who knew Pete’s family knew his death left his mother devastated. In Pete’s case his intrinsic motivation wasn’t revealed until he was put in an environment that made him challenge his intelligence.

When we yearn for enlightenment we guide our fingers to the book and pry it open ourselves. This enlightenment we yearn for comes from the intrinsic motivation that sleeps within us until our environment awakes it. In conclusion whether it takes being put in an environment totally different than the one we are used to or being put in an environment with similar traits our motivation reveals itself.

Works cited:

Anzadula, Gloria. "How to Tame a Wild Tongue." (n.d.): n. pag. Web. November 25,2015

"What Is Intrinsic Motivation?" About.com Health. N.p., n.d. Web. 25 Nov. 2015.

Myers, Christopher. "The Apartheid of Children’s Literature." The New York Times. The New York Times, 15 Mar. 2014. Web. 25 Nov. 2015.

"Intrinsic Motivation." Intrinsic Motivation. N.p., n.d. Web. 25 Nov. 2015.