{"id":13562,"date":"2023-04-12T06:32:07","date_gmt":"2023-04-12T06:32:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/questions\/answer-prompts-on-gloria-anzaldua-movements-of-rebellion-malika-moustadraf-just-different-james-baldwin-the-outing-and-allen-ginsberg-america\/"},"modified":"2023-04-12T06:32:07","modified_gmt":"2023-04-12T06:32:07","slug":"answer-prompts-on-gloria-anzaldua-movements-of-rebellion-malika-moustadraf-just-different-james-baldwin-the-outing-and-allen-ginsberg-america","status":"publish","type":"questions","link":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/questions\/answer-prompts-on-gloria-anzaldua-movements-of-rebellion-malika-moustadraf-just-different-james-baldwin-the-outing-and-allen-ginsberg-america\/","title":{"rendered":"Answer prompts on Gloria Anzaldua, “Movements of Rebellion” , Malika Moustadraf, “Just Different” , James Baldwin “The Outing” and Allen Ginsberg, “America”"},"content":{"rendered":"

What struck you the most about the two given short stories, and why? What specific passages or references helped you better comprehend the experience of being an ethnic queer? In two distinct paragraphs, analyze the short stories in great detail and with evidence. Brief narratives are: James Baldwin, “The outing”<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
E
\nACH SUMMER the church gave an outing. It usually took  <\/span><\/div>\n
place on the Fourth of July, that being the day when\n<\/div>\n
most of the church-members were free from work; it began\n<\/div>\n
quite early in the morning and lasted all day. The saints re\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
ferred to it as the whosoever will\u2019 outing, by which they\n<\/div>\n
meant that, though it was given by the Mount of Olives Pente\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
costal Assembly for the benefit of its members, all men were\n<\/div>\n
free to join them, Gentile, Jew or Greek or sinner. The Jews\n<\/div>\n
and the Greeks, to say nothing of the Gentiles\u2014on whom, for\n<\/div>\n
their livelihood, most of the saints depended\u2014showed them\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
selves, year after year, indifferent to the invitation; but sinners\n<\/div>\n
of the more expected hue were seldom lacking. This year they\n<\/div>\n
were to take a boat trip up the Hudson as far as Bear Moun\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
tain where they would spend the day and return as the moon\n<\/div>\n
rose over the wide river. Since on other outings they had\n<\/div>\n
merely taken a subway ride as far as Pelham Bay or Van\n<\/div>\n
Cortlandt Park, this year\u2019s outing was more than ever a special\n<\/div>\n
occasion and even the deacon\u2019s two oldest boys, Johnnie and\n<\/div>\n
Roy, and their friend, David Jackson, were reluctantly thrilled.\n<\/div>\n
These three tended to consider themselves sophisticates, no\n<\/div>\n
longer, like the old folks, at the mercy of the love or the wrath\n<\/div>\n
of God.\n<\/div>\n
The entire church was going and for weeks in advance\n<\/div>\n
talked of nothing else. And for weeks in the future the outing\n<\/div>\n
would provide interesting conversation. They did not consider\n<\/div>\n
this frivolous. The outing, Father James declared from his pul\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
pit a week before the event, was for the purpose of giving the\n<\/div>\n
children of God a day of relaxation; to breathe a purer air and\n<\/div>\n
to worship God joyfully beneath the roof of heaven; and there\n<\/div>\n
was nothing frivolous about that. And, rather to the alarm of\n<\/div>\n
the captain, they planned to hold church services aboard the\n<\/div>\n
ship. Last year Sister McCandless had held an impromptu\n<\/div>\n
service in the unbelieving subway car she played the tambou\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
rine and sang and exhorted sinners and passed through the\n<\/div>\n
29E\n<\/div>\n
ACH SUMMER the church gave an outing. It usually took\n<\/div>\n
place on the Fourth of July, that being the day when\n<\/div>\n
most of the church-members were free from work; it began\n<\/div>\n
quite early in the morning and lasted all day. The saints re\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
ferred to it as the whosoever will\u2019 outing, by which they\n<\/div>\n
meant that, though it was given by the Mount of Olives Pente\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
costal Assembly for the benefit of its members, all men were\n<\/div>\n
free to join them, Gentile, Jew or Greek or sinner. The Jews\n<\/div>\n
and the Greeks, to say nothing of the Gentiles\u2014on whom, for\n<\/div>\n
their livelihood, most of the saints depended\u2014showed them\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
selves, year after year, indifferent to the invitation; but sinners\n<\/div>\n
of the more expected hue were seldom lacking. This year they\n<\/div>\n
were to take a boat trip up the Hudson as far as Bear Moun\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
tain where they would spend the day and return as the moon\n<\/div>\n
rose over the wide river. Since on other outings they had\n<\/div>\n
merely taken a subway ride as far as Pelham Bay or Van\n<\/div>\n
Cortlandt Park, this year\u2019s outing was more than ever a special\n<\/div>\n
occasion and even the deacon\u2019s two oldest boys, Johnnie and\n<\/div>\n
Roy, and their friend, David Jackson, were reluctantly thrilled.\n<\/div>\n
These three tended to consider themselves sophisticates, no\n<\/div>\n
longer, like the old folks, at the mercy of the love or the wrath\n<\/div>\n
of God.\n<\/div>\n
The entire church was going and for weeks in advance\n<\/div>\n
talked of nothing else. And for weeks in the future the outing\n<\/div>\n
would provide interesting conversation. They did not consider\n<\/div>\n
this frivolous. The outing, Father James declared from his pul\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
pit a week before the event, was for the purpose of giving the\n<\/div>\n
children of God a day of relaxation; to breathe a purer air and\n<\/div>\n
to worship God joyfully beneath the roof of heaven; and there\n<\/div>\n
was nothing frivolous about that. And, rather to the alarm of\n<\/div>\n
the captain, they planned to hold church services aboard the\n<\/div>\n
ship. Last year Sister McCandless had held an impromptu\n<\/div>\n
service in the unbelieving subway car she played the tambou\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
rine and sang and exhorted sinners and passed through the\n<\/div>\n
29E\n<\/div>\n
ACH SUMMER the church gave an outing. It usually took\n<\/div>\n
place on the Fourth of July, that being the day when\n<\/div>\n
most of the church-members were free from work; it began\n<\/div>\n
quite early in the morning and lasted all day. The saints re\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
ferred to it as the whosoever will\u2019 outing, by which they\n<\/div>\n
meant that, though it was given by the Mount of Olives Pente\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
costal Assembly for the benefit of its members, all men were\n<\/div>\n
free to join them, Gentile, Jew or Greek or sinner. The Jews\n<\/div>\n
and the Greeks, to say nothing of the Gentiles\u2014on whom, for\n<\/div>\n
their livelihood, most of the saints depended\u2014showed them\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
selves, year after year, indifferent to the invitation; but sinners\n<\/div>\n
of the more expected hue were seldom lacking. This year they\n<\/div>\n
were to take a boat trip up the Hudson as far as Bear Moun\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
tain where they would spend the day and return as the moon\n<\/div>\n
rose over the wide river. Since on other outings they had\n<\/div>\n
merely taken a subway ride as far as Pelham Bay or Van\n<\/div>\n
Cortlandt Park, this year\u2019s outing was more than ever a special\n<\/div>\n
occasion and even the deacon\u2019s two oldest boys, Johnnie and\n<\/div>\n
Roy, and their friend, David Jackson, were reluctantly thrilled.\n<\/div>\n
These three tended to consider themselves sophisticates, no\n<\/div>\n
longer, like the old folks, at the mercy of the love or the wrath\n<\/div>\n
of God.\n<\/div>\n
The entire church was going and for weeks in advance\n<\/div>\n
talked of nothing else. And for weeks in the future the outing\n<\/div>\n
would provide interesting conversation. They did not consider\n<\/div>\n
this frivolous. The outing, Father James declared from his pul\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
pit a week before the event, was for the purpose of giving the\n<\/div>\n
children of God a day of relaxation; to breathe a purer air and\n<\/div>\n
to worship God joyfully beneath the roof of heaven; and there\n<\/div>\n
was nothing frivolous about that. And, rather to the alarm of\n<\/div>\n
the captain, they planned to hold church services aboard the\n<\/div>\n
ship. Last year Sister McCandless had held an impromptu\n<\/div>\n
service in the unbelieving subway car she played the tambou\u00ad\n<\/div>\n
rine and sang and exhorted sinners and passed through the (pg29) <\/div>\n
train distributing tracts. Not everyone had found this admir\u00ad <\/span><\/div>\n
\n
able, to some it seemed that Sister McCandless was being a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
little ostentatious. \u201cI praise my Redeemer wherever I go,\u201d she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
retorted defiantly. \u201cHoly Ghost don\u2019t leave me when I leave
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the church. I got a every day religion.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Sylvia\u2019s birthday was on the third, and David and Johnnie
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and Roy had been saving money for her birthday present.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Between them they had five dollars but they could not decide
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
what to give her. Roy\u2019s suggestion that they give her under\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
things was rudely shouted down: did he want Sylvia\u2019s mother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
to kill the girl? They were all frightened of the great, raw-
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
boned, outspoken Sister Daniels and for Sylvia\u2019s sake went to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
great pains to preserve what remained of her good humor.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Finally, and at the suggestion of David\u2019s older sister, Lorraine,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
they bought a small, gold-plated pin cut in the shape of a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
butterfly. Roy thought that it was cheap and grumbled angrily
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
at their combined bad taste (\u201cWait till it starts turning her
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
clothes green!\u201d he cried) but David did not think it was so
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
bad; Johnnie thought it pretty enough and he was sure that
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Sylvia would like it anyway; (\u201cWhen\u2019s your birthday?\u201d he
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
asked David). It was agreed that David should present it to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
her on the day of the outing in the presence of them all.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
(\u201cMan, I\u2019m the oldest cat here,\u201d David said, \u201cyou know that
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
girl\u2019s crazy about me\u201d). This was the summer in which they all
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
abruptly began to grow older, their bodies becoming trouble\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
some and awkward and even dangerous and their voices not to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
be trusted. David perpetually boasted of the increase of down
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
on his chin and professed to have hair on his chest\u2014\u201cand
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
somewhere else, too,\u201d he added slyly, whereat they all laughed.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYou ain\u2019t the only one,\u201d Roy said. \u201cNo,\u201d Johnnie said, \u201cI\u2019m
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
almost as old as you are.\u201d \u201cAlmost ain\u2019t got it,\u201d David said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cNow ain\u2019t this a hell of a conversation for church boys?\u201d Roy
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
wanted to know.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The morning of the outing they were all up early; their
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
father sang in the kitchen and their mother, herself betraying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
an excitement nearly youthful, scrubbed and dressed the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
younger children and laid the plates for breakfast. In the bed\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
room which they shared Roy looked wistfully out of the win\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
dow and turned to Johnnie.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u2018Got a good mind to stay home,\u201d he said. “Probably have
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
more fun.\u201d He made a furious gesture toward the kitchen.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWhy doesn\u2019t he stay home?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie, who was looking forward to the day with David
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and who had not the remotest desire to stay home for any
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
reason and who knew, moreover, that Gabriel was not going to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
leave Roy alone in the city, not even if the heavens fell, said
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
lightly, squirming into clean underwear: \u201cOh, he\u2019ll probably be
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
busy with the old folks. We can stay out of his way.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Roy sighed and began to dress. \u201cBe glad when I\u2019m a man,\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
he said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and David and Mrs. Jackson were already on the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
boat when they arrived. They were among the last; most of the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
church, Father James, Brother Elisha, Sister McCandless, Sis\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ter Daniels and Sylvia were seated near the rail of the boat in a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
little semi-circle, conversing in strident tones. Father James
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and Sister McCandless were remarking the increase of laxity
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
among God\u2019s people and debating whether or not the church
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
should run a series of revival meetings. Sylvia sat there, saying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
nothing, smiling painfully now and then at young Brother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elisha, who spoke loudly of the need for a revival and who
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
continually attempted to include Sylvia in the conversation.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elsewhere on the boat similar conversations were going on.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The saints of God were together and very conscious this morn\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing of their being together and of their sainthood; and were
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
determined that the less enlightened world should know who
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
they were and remark upon it. To this end there were a great
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
many cries of \u201cPraise the Lord!\u201d in greeting and the formal
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
holy kiss. The children, bored with the familiar spectacle, hadtrain distributing tracts. Not everyone had found this admir\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
able, to some it seemed that Sister McCandless was being a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
little ostentatious. \u201cI praise my Redeemer wherever I go,\u201d she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
retorted defiantly. \u201cHoly Ghost don\u2019t leave me when I leave
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the church. I got a every day religion.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Sylvia\u2019s birthday was on the third, and David and Johnnie
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and Roy had been saving money for her birthday present.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Between them they had five dollars but they could not decide
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
what to give her. Roy\u2019s suggestion that they give her under\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
things was rudely shouted down: did he want Sylvia\u2019s mother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
to kill the girl? They were all frightened of the great, raw-
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
boned, outspoken Sister Daniels and for Sylvia\u2019s sake went to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
great pains to preserve what remained of her good humor.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Finally, and at the suggestion of David\u2019s older sister, Lorraine,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
they bought a small, gold-plated pin cut in the shape of a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
butterfly. Roy thought that it was cheap and grumbled angrily
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
at their combined bad taste (\u201cWait till it starts turning her
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
clothes green!\u201d he cried) but David did not think it was so
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
bad; Johnnie thought it pretty enough and he was sure that
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Sylvia would like it anyway; (\u201cWhen\u2019s your birthday?\u201d he
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
asked David). It was agreed that David should present it to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
her on the day of the outing in the presence of them all.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
(\u201cMan, I\u2019m the oldest cat here,\u201d David said, \u201cyou know that
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
girl\u2019s crazy about me\u201d). This was the summer in which they all
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
abruptly began to grow older, their bodies becoming trouble\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
some and awkward and even dangerous and their voices not to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
be trusted. David perpetually boasted of the increase of down
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
on his chin and professed to have hair on his chest\u2014\u201cand
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
somewhere else, too,\u201d he added slyly, whereat they all laughed.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYou ain\u2019t the only one,\u201d Roy said. \u201cNo,\u201d Johnnie said, \u201cI\u2019m
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
almost as old as you are.\u201d \u201cAlmost ain\u2019t got it,\u201d David said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cNow ain\u2019t this a hell of a conversation for church boys?\u201d Roy
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
wanted to know.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The morning of the outing they were all up early; their
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
father sang in the kitchen and their mother, herself betraying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
an excitement nearly youthful, scrubbed and dressed the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
younger children and laid the plates for breakfast. In the bed\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
room which they shared Roy looked wistfully out of the win\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
dow and turned to Johnnie.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u2018Got a good mind to stay home,\u201d he said. “Probably have
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
more fun.\u201d He made a furious gesture toward the kitchen.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWhy doesn\u2019t he stay home?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie, who was looking forward to the day with David
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and who had not the remotest desire to stay home for any
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
reason and who knew, moreover, that Gabriel was not going to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
leave Roy alone in the city, not even if the heavens fell, said
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
lightly, squirming into clean underwear: \u201cOh, he\u2019ll probably be
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
busy with the old folks. We can stay out of his way.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Roy sighed and began to dress. \u201cBe glad when I\u2019m a man,\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
he said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and David and Mrs. Jackson were already on the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
boat when they arrived. They were among the last; most of the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
church, Father James, Brother Elisha, Sister McCandless, Sis\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ter Daniels and Sylvia were seated near the rail of the boat in a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
little semi-circle, conversing in strident tones. Father James
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and Sister McCandless were remarking the increase of laxity
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
among God\u2019s people and debating whether or not the church
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
should run a series of revival meetings. Sylvia sat there, saying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
nothing, smiling painfully now and then at young Brother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elisha, who spoke loudly of the need for a revival and who
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
continually attempted to include Sylvia in the conversation.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elsewhere on the boat similar conversations were going on.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The saints of God were together and very conscious this morn\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing of their being together and of their sainthood; and were
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
determined that the less enlightened world should know who
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
they were and remark upon it. To this end there were a great
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
many cries of \u201cPraise the Lord!\u201d in greeting and the formal
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
holy kiss. The children, bored with the familiar spectacle, hadtrain distributing tracts. Not everyone had found this admir\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
able, to some it seemed that Sister McCandless was being a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
little ostentatious. \u201cI praise my Redeemer wherever I go,\u201d she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
retorted defiantly. \u201cHoly Ghost don\u2019t leave me when I leave
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the church. I got a every day religion.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Sylvia\u2019s birthday was on the third, and David and Johnnie
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and Roy had been saving money for her birthday present.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Between them they had five dollars but they could not decide
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
what to give her. Roy\u2019s suggestion that they give her under\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
things was rudely shouted down: did he want Sylvia\u2019s mother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
to kill the girl? They were all frightened of the great, raw-
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
boned, outspoken Sister Daniels and for Sylvia\u2019s sake went to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
great pains to preserve what remained of her good humor.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Finally, and at the suggestion of David\u2019s older sister, Lorraine,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
they bought a small, gold-plated pin cut in the shape of a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
butterfly. Roy thought that it was cheap and grumbled angrily
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
at their combined bad taste (\u201cWait till it starts turning her
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
clothes green!\u201d he cried) but David did not think it was so
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
bad; Johnnie thought it pretty enough and he was sure that
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Sylvia would like it anyway; (\u201cWhen\u2019s your birthday?\u201d he
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
asked David). It was agreed that David should present it to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
her on the day of the outing in the presence of them all.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
(\u201cMan, I\u2019m the oldest cat here,\u201d David said, \u201cyou know that
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
girl\u2019s crazy about me\u201d). This was the summer in which they all
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
abruptly began to grow older, their bodies becoming trouble\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
some and awkward and even dangerous and their voices not to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
be trusted. David perpetually boasted of the increase of down
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
on his chin and professed to have hair on his chest\u2014\u201cand
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
somewhere else, too,\u201d he added slyly, whereat they all laughed.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYou ain\u2019t the only one,\u201d Roy said. \u201cNo,\u201d Johnnie said, \u201cI\u2019m
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
almost as old as you are.\u201d \u201cAlmost ain\u2019t got it,\u201d David said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cNow ain\u2019t this a hell of a conversation for church boys?\u201d Roy
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
wanted to know.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The morning of the outing they were all up early; their
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
father sang in the kitchen and their mother, herself betraying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
an excitement nearly youthful, scrubbed and dressed the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
younger children and laid the plates for breakfast. In the bed\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
room which they shared Roy looked wistfully out of the win\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
dow and turned to Johnnie.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u2018Got a good mind to stay home,\u201d he said. “Probably have
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
more fun.\u201d He made a furious gesture toward the kitchen.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWhy doesn\u2019t he stay home?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie, who was looking forward to the day with David
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and who had not the remotest desire to stay home for any
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
reason and who knew, moreover, that Gabriel was not going to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
leave Roy alone in the city, not even if the heavens fell, said
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
lightly, squirming into clean underwear: \u201cOh, he\u2019ll probably be
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
busy with the old folks. We can stay out of his way.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Roy sighed and began to dress. \u201cBe glad when I\u2019m a man,\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
he said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and David and Mrs. Jackson were already on the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
boat when they arrived. They were among the last; most of the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
church, Father James, Brother Elisha, Sister McCandless, Sis\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ter Daniels and Sylvia were seated near the rail of the boat in a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
little semi-circle, conversing in strident tones. Father James
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and Sister McCandless were remarking the increase of laxity
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
among God\u2019s people and debating whether or not the church
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
should run a series of revival meetings. Sylvia sat there, saying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
nothing, smiling painfully now and then at young Brother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elisha, who spoke loudly of the need for a revival and who
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
continually attempted to include Sylvia in the conversation.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elsewhere on the boat similar conversations were going on.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The saints of God were together and very conscious this morn\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing of their being together and of their sainthood; and were
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
determined that the less enlightened world should know who
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
they were and remark upon it. To this end there were a great
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
many cries of \u201cPraise the Lord!\u201d in greeting and the formal
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
holy kiss. The children, bored with the familiar spectacle, had (Pg.30-31)<\/span><\/div>\n
already drawn apart and amused themselves by loud cries and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
games that were no less exhibitionistic than that being played
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
by their parents. Johnnie\u2019s nine year old sister, Lois, since she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
professed salvation, could not very well behave as the other
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
children did; yet no degree of salvation could have equipped
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
her to enter into the conversation of the grown-ups; and she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was very violently disliked among the adolescents and could
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
not join them either. She wandered about, therefore, unwill\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ingly forlorn, contenting herself to some extent by a great
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
display of virtue in her encounters with the unsaved children
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and smiling brightly at the grown-ups. She came to Brother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elisha\u2019s side. \u201cPraise the Lord,\u201d he cried, stroking her head and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
continuing his conversation.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and Mrs. Jackson met Johnnie\u2019s mother for the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
first time as she breathlessly came on board, dressed in the airy
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and unreal blue which Johnnie would forever associate with
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
his furthest memories of her. Johnnie\u2019s baby brother, her
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
youngest, happiest child, clung round her neck; she made him
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
stand, staring in wonder at the strange, endless deck, while she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was introduced. His mother, on all social occasions, seemed
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
fearfully distracted, as though she awaited, at any moment,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
some crushing and irrevocable disaster. This disaster might be
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the sudden awareness of a run in her stocking or private
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
knowledge that the trump of judgment was due, within five
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
minutes, to sound: but, whatever it was, it lent her a certain
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
agitated charm and people, struggling to guess what it might
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
be that so claimed her inward attention, never failed, in the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
process, to be won over. She talked with Lorraine and Mrs.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson for a few moments, the child tugging at her skirts,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie watching her with a smile; and at last, the child be\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
coming always more restive, said that she must go\u2014into what
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
merciless arena one dared not imagine\u2014but hoped, with a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
despairing smile which clearly indicated the improbability of
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
such happiness, that she would be able to see them later. They
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
watched her as she walked slowly to the other end of the boat,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
sometimes pausing in conversation, always ( as though it were
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
a duty) smiling a little and now and then considering Lois
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
where she stood at Brother Elishas\u2019 knee.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s very friendly,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said. \u201cShe looks like you,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
David laughed. \u201cNow why you want to say a thing like that,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Ma? That woman ain\u2019t never done nothing to you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie grinned, embarrassed, and pretended to menace
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
David with his fists.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you listen to that old, ugly boy,\u201d Lorraine said. \u201cHe
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
just trying to make you feel bad. Your mother\u2019s real good\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looking. Tell her I said so.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
This embarrassed him even more, but he made a mock bow
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and said, \u201cThank you, Sister.\u201d And to David: \u201cMaybe now
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
you\u2019ll learn to keep your mouth shut.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWho\u2019ll learn to keep whose mouth shut? What land of talk
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
is that?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He turned and faced his father, who stood smiling on them
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
as from a height.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cMrs. Jackson, this is my father,\u201d said Roy quickly. \u201cAnd this
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
is Miss Jackson. You know David.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and Mrs. Jackson looked up at the deacon with
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
polite and identical smiles.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cHow do you do?\u201d Lorraine said. And from Mrs. Jackson:
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m very pleased to meet you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
“Praise the Lord,\u201d their father said. He smiled. \u201cDon\u2019t you
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
let Johnnie talk fresh to you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cOh, no, we were just kidding around,\u201d David said. There
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was a short, ugly silence. The deacon said: \u201cIt looks like a good
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
day for the outing, praise the Lord. You kids have a good time.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Is this your first time with us, Mrs. Jackson?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Mrs. Jackson. \u201cDavid came home and told me
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
about it and it\u2019s been so long since I\u2019ve been in the country I already drawn apart and amused themselves by loud cries and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
games that were no less exhibitionistic than that being played
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
by their parents. Johnnie\u2019s nine year old sister, Lois, since she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
professed salvation, could not very well behave as the other
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
children did; yet no degree of salvation could have equipped
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
her to enter into the conversation of the grown-ups; and she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was very violently disliked among the adolescents and could
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
not join them either. She wandered about, therefore, unwill\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ingly forlorn, contenting herself to some extent by a great
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
display of virtue in her encounters with the unsaved children
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and smiling brightly at the grown-ups. She came to Brother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elisha\u2019s side. \u201cPraise the Lord,\u201d he cried, stroking her head and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
continuing his conversation.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and Mrs. Jackson met Johnnie\u2019s mother for the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
first time as she breathlessly came on board, dressed in the airy
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and unreal blue which Johnnie would forever associate with
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
his furthest memories of her. Johnnie\u2019s baby brother, her
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
youngest, happiest child, clung round her neck; she made him
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
stand, staring in wonder at the strange, endless deck, while she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was introduced. His mother, on all social occasions, seemed
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
fearfully distracted, as though she awaited, at any moment,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
some crushing and irrevocable disaster. This disaster might be
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the sudden awareness of a run in her stocking or private
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
knowledge that the trump of judgment was due, within five
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
minutes, to sound: but, whatever it was, it lent her a certain
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
agitated charm and people, struggling to guess what it might
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
be that so claimed her inward attention, never failed, in the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
process, to be won over. She talked with Lorraine and Mrs.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson for a few moments, the child tugging at her skirts,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie watching her with a smile; and at last, the child be\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
coming always more restive, said that she must go\u2014into what
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
merciless arena one dared not imagine\u2014but hoped, with a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
despairing smile which clearly indicated the improbability of
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
such happiness, that she would be able to see them later. They
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
watched her as she walked slowly to the other end of the boat,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
sometimes pausing in conversation, always ( as though it were
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
a duty) smiling a little and now and then considering Lois
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
where she stood at Brother Elishas\u2019 knee.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s very friendly,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said. \u201cShe looks like you,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
David laughed. \u201cNow why you want to say a thing like that,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Ma? That woman ain\u2019t never done nothing to you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie grinned, embarrassed, and pretended to menace
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
David with his fists.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you listen to that old, ugly boy,\u201d Lorraine said. \u201cHe
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
just trying to make you feel bad. Your mother\u2019s real good\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looking. Tell her I said so.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
This embarrassed him even more, but he made a mock bow
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and said, \u201cThank you, Sister.\u201d And to David: \u201cMaybe now
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
you\u2019ll learn to keep your mouth shut.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWho\u2019ll learn to keep whose mouth shut? What land of talk
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
is that?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He turned and faced his father, who stood smiling on them
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
as from a height.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cMrs. Jackson, this is my father,\u201d said Roy quickly. \u201cAnd this
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
is Miss Jackson. You know David.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and Mrs. Jackson looked up at the deacon with
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
polite and identical smiles.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cHow do you do?\u201d Lorraine said. And from Mrs. Jackson:
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m very pleased to meet you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
“Praise the Lord,\u201d their father said. He smiled. \u201cDon\u2019t you
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
let Johnnie talk fresh to you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cOh, no, we were just kidding around,\u201d David said. There
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was a short, ugly silence. The deacon said: \u201cIt looks like a good
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
day for the outing, praise the Lord. You kids have a good time.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Is this your first time with us, Mrs. Jackson?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Mrs. Jackson. \u201cDavid came home and told me
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
about it and it\u2019s been so long since I\u2019ve been in the country I already drawn apart and amused themselves by loud cries and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
games that were no less exhibitionistic than that being played
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
by their parents. Johnnie\u2019s nine year old sister, Lois, since she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
professed salvation, could not very well behave as the other
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
children did; yet no degree of salvation could have equipped
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
her to enter into the conversation of the grown-ups; and she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was very violently disliked among the adolescents and could
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
not join them either. She wandered about, therefore, unwill\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ingly forlorn, contenting herself to some extent by a great
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
display of virtue in her encounters with the unsaved children
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and smiling brightly at the grown-ups. She came to Brother
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Elisha\u2019s side. \u201cPraise the Lord,\u201d he cried, stroking her head and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
continuing his conversation.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and Mrs. Jackson met Johnnie\u2019s mother for the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
first time as she breathlessly came on board, dressed in the airy
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and unreal blue which Johnnie would forever associate with
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
his furthest memories of her. Johnnie\u2019s baby brother, her
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
youngest, happiest child, clung round her neck; she made him
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
stand, staring in wonder at the strange, endless deck, while she
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was introduced. His mother, on all social occasions, seemed
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
fearfully distracted, as though she awaited, at any moment,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
some crushing and irrevocable disaster. This disaster might be
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the sudden awareness of a run in her stocking or private
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
knowledge that the trump of judgment was due, within five
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
minutes, to sound: but, whatever it was, it lent her a certain
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
agitated charm and people, struggling to guess what it might
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
be that so claimed her inward attention, never failed, in the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
process, to be won over. She talked with Lorraine and Mrs.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson for a few moments, the child tugging at her skirts,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie watching her with a smile; and at last, the child be\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
coming always more restive, said that she must go\u2014into what
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
merciless arena one dared not imagine\u2014but hoped, with a
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
despairing smile which clearly indicated the improbability of
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
such happiness, that she would be able to see them later. They
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
watched her as she walked slowly to the other end of the boat,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
sometimes pausing in conversation, always ( as though it were
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
a duty) smiling a little and now and then considering Lois
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
where she stood at Brother Elishas\u2019 knee.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s very friendly,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said. \u201cShe looks like you,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
David laughed. \u201cNow why you want to say a thing like that,
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Ma? That woman ain\u2019t never done nothing to you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie grinned, embarrassed, and pretended to menace
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
David with his fists.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you listen to that old, ugly boy,\u201d Lorraine said. \u201cHe
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
just trying to make you feel bad. Your mother\u2019s real good\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looking. Tell her I said so.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
This embarrassed him even more, but he made a mock bow
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and said, \u201cThank you, Sister.\u201d And to David: \u201cMaybe now
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
you\u2019ll learn to keep your mouth shut.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWho\u2019ll learn to keep whose mouth shut? What land of talk
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
is that?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He turned and faced his father, who stood smiling on them
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
as from a height.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cMrs. Jackson, this is my father,\u201d said Roy quickly. \u201cAnd this
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
is Miss Jackson. You know David.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine and Mrs. Jackson looked up at the deacon with
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
polite and identical smiles.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cHow do you do?\u201d Lorraine said. And from Mrs. Jackson:
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m very pleased to meet you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
“Praise the Lord,\u201d their father said. He smiled. \u201cDon\u2019t you
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
let Johnnie talk fresh to you.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cOh, no, we were just kidding around,\u201d David said. There
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was a short, ugly silence. The deacon said: \u201cIt looks like a good
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
day for the outing, praise the Lord. You kids have a good time.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Is this your first time with us, Mrs. Jackson?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Mrs. Jackson. \u201cDavid came home and told me
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
about it and it\u2019s been so long since I\u2019ve been in the country I (Pg. 32-33)<\/span><\/div>\n
just decided I\u2019d take me a day off. And Lorraine\u2019s not been
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
feeling too strong, I thought the fresh air would do her some
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
good.\u201d She smiled a little painfully as she spoke. Lorraine
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looked amused.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes, it will, nothing like God\u2019s fresh air to help the feeble.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
At this description of herself as feeble Lorraine looked ready to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
fall into the Hudson and coughed nastily into her handker\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
chief. David, impelled by his own perverse demon, looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie quickly and murmured, \u201cThat\u2019s the truth, deacon.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The deacon looked at him and smiled and turned to Mrs.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson. “We been hoping that your son might join our church
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
someday. Roy brings him out to service every Sunday. Do you
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
like the services, son?\u201d This last was addressed in a hearty
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
voice to David; who, recovering from his amazement at hear\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing Roy mentioned as his especial pal (for he was Johnnie\u2019s
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
friend, it was to be with Johnnie that he came to church!)
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
smiled and said, \u201cYes sir, I like them alright,\u201d and looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Roy, who considered his father with an expression at once
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
contemptuous, ironic and resigned and at Johnnie, whose face
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was a mask of rage. He looked sharply at the deacon again;
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
but he, with his arm around Roy, was still talking.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
“This boy came to the Lord just about a month ago,\u201d he said
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
proudly. “The Lord saved him just like that. Believe me, Sister
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson, ain\u2019t no better fortress for nobody, young or old, than
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the arms of Jesus. My son\u2019ll tell you so, ain\u2019t it, Roy?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
They considered Roy with a stiff, cordial curiosity. He mut\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
tered murderously, \u201cYes sir.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cJohnnie tells me you\u2019re a preacher,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
last. \u201cI\u2019ll come out and hear you sometime with David.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t come out to hear me,\u201d he said. \u201cYou come out and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
listen to the Word of God. We\u2019re all just vessels in His hand.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Do you know the Lord, sister?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI try to do His will,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He smiled kindly. \u201cWe must all grow in grace.\u201d He looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine. TH be expecting to see you too, young lady.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
35 The Outing
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes, we\u2019ll be out,\u201d Lorraine said. They shook hands. \u201cIt\u2019s
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
very nice to have met you,\u201d she said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cGoodbye.\u201d He looked at David. \u201cNow you be good. I want
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
to see you saved soon.\u201d He released Roy and started to walk
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
away. \u201cYou kids enjoy yourselves. Johnnie, don\u2019t you get into
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
no mischief, you hear me?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He affected not to have heard; he put his hands in his pants\u2019
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
pockets and pulled out some change and pretended to count it.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
His hand was clammy and it shook. When his father repeated
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
his admonition, part of the change spilled to the deck and he
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
bent to pick it up. He wanted at once to shout to his father the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
most dreadful curses that he knew and he wanted to weep. He
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was aware that they were all intrigued by the tableau pre\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
sented by his father and himself, that they were all vaguely
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
cognizant of an unnamed and deadly tension. From his knees
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
on the deck he called back (putting into his voice as much
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
asperity, as much fury and hatred as he dared ) :
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t worry about me, Daddy. Roy’ll see to it that I be\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
have.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
There was a silence after he said this; and he rose to his feet
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and saw that they were all watching him. David looked pitying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and shocked, Roy\u2019s head was bowed and he looked apologetic.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
His father called:
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cExcuse yourself, Johnnie, and come here.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cExcuse me,\u201d he said, and walked over to his father. He
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looked up into his father\u2019s face with an anger which surprised
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and even frightened him. But he did not drop his eyes, know\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing that his father saw there (and he wanted him to see it)
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
how much he hated him.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWhat did you say?\u201d his father asked.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI said you don\u2019t have to worry about me. I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
get into any mischief.\u201d And his voice surprised him, it was
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
more deliberately cold and angry than he had intended and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
there was a sardonic stress on the word \u2018mischief.\u2019 He knewjust decided I\u2019d take me a day off. And Lorraine\u2019s not been
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
feeling too strong, I thought the fresh air would do her some
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
good.\u201d She smiled a little painfully as she spoke. Lorraine
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looked amused.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes, it will, nothing like God\u2019s fresh air to help the feeble.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
At this description of herself as feeble Lorraine looked ready to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
fall into the Hudson and coughed nastily into her handker\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
chief. David, impelled by his own perverse demon, looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie quickly and murmured, \u201cThat\u2019s the truth, deacon.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The deacon looked at him and smiled and turned to Mrs.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson. “We been hoping that your son might join our church
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
someday. Roy brings him out to service every Sunday. Do you
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
like the services, son?\u201d This last was addressed in a hearty
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
voice to David; who, recovering from his amazement at hear\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing Roy mentioned as his especial pal (for he was Johnnie\u2019s
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
friend, it was to be with Johnnie that he came to church!)
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
smiled and said, \u201cYes sir, I like them alright,\u201d and looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Roy, who considered his father with an expression at once
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
contemptuous, ironic and resigned and at Johnnie, whose face
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was a mask of rage. He looked sharply at the deacon again;
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
but he, with his arm around Roy, was still talking.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
“This boy came to the Lord just about a month ago,\u201d he said
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
proudly. “The Lord saved him just like that. Believe me, Sister
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson, ain\u2019t no better fortress for nobody, young or old, than
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the arms of Jesus. My son\u2019ll tell you so, ain\u2019t it, Roy?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
They considered Roy with a stiff, cordial curiosity. He mut\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
tered murderously, \u201cYes sir.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cJohnnie tells me you\u2019re a preacher,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
last. \u201cI\u2019ll come out and hear you sometime with David.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t come out to hear me,\u201d he said. \u201cYou come out and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
listen to the Word of God. We\u2019re all just vessels in His hand.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Do you know the Lord, sister?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI try to do His will,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He smiled kindly. \u201cWe must all grow in grace.\u201d He looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine. TH be expecting to see you too, young lady.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
35 The Outing
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes, we\u2019ll be out,\u201d Lorraine said. They shook hands. \u201cIt\u2019s
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
very nice to have met you,\u201d she said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cGoodbye.\u201d He looked at David. \u201cNow you be good. I want
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
to see you saved soon.\u201d He released Roy and started to walk
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
away. \u201cYou kids enjoy yourselves. Johnnie, don\u2019t you get into
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
no mischief, you hear me?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He affected not to have heard; he put his hands in his pants\u2019
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
pockets and pulled out some change and pretended to count it.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
His hand was clammy and it shook. When his father repeated
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
his admonition, part of the change spilled to the deck and he
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
bent to pick it up. He wanted at once to shout to his father the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
most dreadful curses that he knew and he wanted to weep. He
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was aware that they were all intrigued by the tableau pre\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
sented by his father and himself, that they were all vaguely
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
cognizant of an unnamed and deadly tension. From his knees
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
on the deck he called back (putting into his voice as much
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
asperity, as much fury and hatred as he dared ) :
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t worry about me, Daddy. Roy’ll see to it that I be\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
have.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
There was a silence after he said this; and he rose to his feet
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and saw that they were all watching him. David looked pitying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and shocked, Roy\u2019s head was bowed and he looked apologetic.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
His father called:
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cExcuse yourself, Johnnie, and come here.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cExcuse me,\u201d he said, and walked over to his father. He
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looked up into his father\u2019s face with an anger which surprised
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and even frightened him. But he did not drop his eyes, know\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing that his father saw there (and he wanted him to see it)
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
how much he hated him.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWhat did you say?\u201d his father asked.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI said you don\u2019t have to worry about me. I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
get into any mischief.\u201d And his voice surprised him, it was
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
more deliberately cold and angry than he had intended and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
there was a sardonic stress on the word \u2018mischief.\u2019 He knewjust decided I\u2019d take me a day off. And Lorraine\u2019s not been
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
feeling too strong, I thought the fresh air would do her some
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
good.\u201d She smiled a little painfully as she spoke. Lorraine
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looked amused.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes, it will, nothing like God\u2019s fresh air to help the feeble.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
At this description of herself as feeble Lorraine looked ready to
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
fall into the Hudson and coughed nastily into her handker\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
chief. David, impelled by his own perverse demon, looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Johnnie quickly and murmured, \u201cThat\u2019s the truth, deacon.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
The deacon looked at him and smiled and turned to Mrs.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson. “We been hoping that your son might join our church
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
someday. Roy brings him out to service every Sunday. Do you
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
like the services, son?\u201d This last was addressed in a hearty
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
voice to David; who, recovering from his amazement at hear\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing Roy mentioned as his especial pal (for he was Johnnie\u2019s
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
friend, it was to be with Johnnie that he came to church!)
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
smiled and said, \u201cYes sir, I like them alright,\u201d and looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Roy, who considered his father with an expression at once
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
contemptuous, ironic and resigned and at Johnnie, whose face
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was a mask of rage. He looked sharply at the deacon again;
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
but he, with his arm around Roy, was still talking.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
“This boy came to the Lord just about a month ago,\u201d he said
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
proudly. “The Lord saved him just like that. Believe me, Sister
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Jackson, ain\u2019t no better fortress for nobody, young or old, than
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
the arms of Jesus. My son\u2019ll tell you so, ain\u2019t it, Roy?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
They considered Roy with a stiff, cordial curiosity. He mut\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
tered murderously, \u201cYes sir.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cJohnnie tells me you\u2019re a preacher,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
last. \u201cI\u2019ll come out and hear you sometime with David.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t come out to hear me,\u201d he said. \u201cYou come out and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
listen to the Word of God. We\u2019re all just vessels in His hand.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Do you know the Lord, sister?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI try to do His will,\u201d Mrs. Jackson said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He smiled kindly. \u201cWe must all grow in grace.\u201d He looked at
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
Lorraine. TH be expecting to see you too, young lady.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
35 The Outing
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cYes, we\u2019ll be out,\u201d Lorraine said. They shook hands. \u201cIt\u2019s
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
very nice to have met you,\u201d she said.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cGoodbye.\u201d He looked at David. \u201cNow you be good. I want
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
to see you saved soon.\u201d He released Roy and started to walk
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
away. \u201cYou kids enjoy yourselves. Johnnie, don\u2019t you get into
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
no mischief, you hear me?\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
He affected not to have heard; he put his hands in his pants\u2019
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
pockets and pulled out some change and pretended to count it.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
His hand was clammy and it shook. When his father repeated
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
his admonition, part of the change spilled to the deck and he
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
bent to pick it up. He wanted at once to shout to his father the
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
most dreadful curses that he knew and he wanted to weep. He
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
was aware that they were all intrigued by the tableau pre\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
sented by his father and himself, that they were all vaguely
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
cognizant of an unnamed and deadly tension. From his knees
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
on the deck he called back (putting into his voice as much
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
asperity, as much fury and hatred as he dared ) :
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t worry about me, Daddy. Roy’ll see to it that I be\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
have.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
There was a silence after he said this; and he rose to his feet
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and saw that they were all watching him. David looked pitying
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and shocked, Roy\u2019s head was bowed and he looked apologetic.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
His father called:
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cExcuse yourself, Johnnie, and come here.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cExcuse me,\u201d he said, and walked over to his father. He
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
looked up into his father\u2019s face with an anger which surprised
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
and even frightened him. But he did not drop his eyes, know\u00ad
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
ing that his father saw there (and he wanted him to see it)
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
how much he hated him.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cWhat did you say?\u201d his father asked.
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cI said you don\u2019t have to worry about me. I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
get into any mischief.\u201d And his voice surprised him, it was
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
more deliberately cold and angry than he had intended and
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
there was a sardonic stress on the word \u2018mischief.\u2019 He knew (Pg.34-35)<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Second Short story is: Gloria Anzaldua, “Movements of Rebellion”<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Anzald\u00faa<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
The Strength of My Rebellion<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
I have a vivid memory of an old photograph: I am six years old. I stand between my father and mother, head cocked to the right, the toes of my flat feet gripping the ground. I hold my mother\u2019s hand. To this day I\u2019m not sure where I found the strength to leave the source, the mother, disengage from my family, mi tierra [my land], mi gente [my people], and all that picture stood for. I had to leave home so I could find myself, find my own intrinsic nature buried under the personality that had been imposed on me. I was the first in six generations to leave the Valley, the only one in my family to ever leave<\/span><\/div>\n
home. But I didn\u2019t leave all the parts of me: I kept the ground of my own being. On it I walked away, taking with me the land, the Valley, Texas. Gan\u00e9 mi camino y me largu\u00e9. Muy andariega mi hija [I took to the road and split. A true wanderer, my girl]. Because I left of my own accord me dicen, \u201c\u00bfC\u00f3mo te gusta la mala vida?\u201d[they say to me, \u201cHow do you like the bad life?\u201d (i.e. the life of suffering and being an outcast)]Anzald\u00faa<\/span><\/div>\n
At a very early age I had a strong sense of who I was and what I was about and what was fair. I had a stubborn will. I tried constantly to mobilize my soul under my own regime, to live life on my own terms no matter how unsuitable to others they were. Terca. [Stubborn.] Even as a child I would not obey. I was \u201clazy.\u201d Instead of ironing my younger brothers\u2019 shirts or cleaning the cupboards, I would pass many hours studying, reading, painting, writing. Every bit of self-faith I\u2019d painstakingly gathered took a beating daily. Nothing in my culture approved of me. Hab\u00eda agarrado malos pasos [I had chosen a bad course of life.]. Something was \u201cwrong\u201d with me. Estab\u00e1 m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de la tradici\u00f3n [I went outside of tradition].<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
There is a rebel in me\u2014the Shadow-Beast. It is a part of me that refuses to take orders from outside authorities. It refuses to take orders from my conscious will, it threatens the sovereignty of my rulership. It is that part of me that hates constraints of any kind, even those self-imposed. At the least hint of limitations on my time or space by others, it kicks out with both feet. Bolts.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Cultural Tyranny<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Culture forms our beliefs. We perceive the version of reality that it communicates. Dominant paradigms, predefined concepts that exist as unquestionable, unchallengeable, are transmitted to us through the culture. Culture is made by those in power\u2014men. Males make the rules and laws; women transmit them. How many times have I heard mothers and mothers-in-law tell their sons to beat their wives for not obeying them, for being hociconas (big mouths), for being callajeras (going to visit and gossip with neighbors), for expecting their husbands to help with the rearing of children and the housework, for wanting to be something other than housewives?<\/span><\/div>\n
The culture expects women to show greater acceptance of, and commitment to, the value system than men. The culture and the Church insist that women are subservient to males. If a woman rebels she is mujer mala [bad woman]. If a woman doesn\u2019t renounce herself in favor of the male, she is selfish. If a woman remains a virgen [virgin \u2013 but with connotations of the Virgin Mary] until she marries, she is a good woman. For a woman of my culture there used to be only three directions she could turn: to the Church as a nun, to the streets as a prostitute, or to the home as a mother. Today some of us have a fourth choice: entering the world by way of education and career and becoming self-autonomous persons. A very few of us. As a working<\/span><\/div>\n
class people our chief activity is to put food in our mouths, a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. Educating our children is out of reach for most of us. Educated or not, the onus is still on woman to be a wife\/mother\u2014only the nun can escape motherhood. Women are made to feel total failures if they don\u2019t marry and have children\u2026.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Humans fear the supernatural, both the undivine (the animal impulses such as sexuality, the unconscious, the unknown, the alien) and the divine (the superhuman, the god in us). Culture and religion seek to protect us from these two forces. The female, by virtue of creating entitites of flesh and blood in her stomach (she bleeds every month but does not die), by virtue of being in<\/span><\/div>\n
tune with nature\u2019s cycles, is feared. Because, according to Christianity and most other major religions, woman is carnal, animal, and closer to the undivine, she must be protected. Protected from herself. Woman is the stranger, the other. She is man\u2019s recognized nightmarish pieces, his Shadow-Beast. The sight of her sends him into a frenzy of anger and fear.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
La gorra, el rebozo, la mantilla [These are articles of clothing: hat, shoulder-scarf, head-scarf are symbols of my culture\u2019s \u201cprotection\u201d of women. Culture (read males) professes to protect women. Actually it keeps women in rigidly defined roles. It keeps the girlchild from other men\u2014don\u2019t poach on my preserves, only I can touch my child\u2019s body. Our mothers taught us well, \u201cLos hombres nom\u00e1s quieren una cosa\u201d [Men are only after one thing]; men aren\u2019t to be trusted, they are selfish and are like children. Mothers made sure we didn\u2019t walk into a room of brothers or fathers or uncles in nightgowns or shorts. We were never alone with men, not even those of our own family.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Through our mothers, the culture gave us mixed messages: No voy a dejar que ning\u00fan pelado desgraciado maltrate a mis hijos [I\u2019m not going to allow any broke (or just \u201cworthless\u201d) bastard mistreat my kids]. And in the next breath it would say, La mujer tiene que hacer lo que le diga el hombre [Women have to do what men says]. Which was it to be\u2014strong, or submissive, rebellious or conforming?<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Tribal rights over those of the individual insured the survival of the tribe and were necessary then, and, as in the case of all indigenous peoples in the world who are still fighting off intentional, premeditated murder (genocide), they are still necessary. Much of what the culture condemns focuses on kinship relationships. The welfare of the family, the community, and the tribe is more important than the welfare of the individual. The individual exists first as kin\u2014as sister, as father, as padrino [godfather]\u2014and last as self.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
In my culture, selfishness is condemned, especially in women; humility and selflessness, the absence of selfishness, is considered a virtue. In the past, acting humble with members outside the family ensured that you would make no one envidioso (envious); therefore he or she would not use witchcraft against you. If you get above yourself, you\u2019re an envidiosa [a jealous girl]. If you don\u2019t behave like everyone else, la gente [people] will say that you think you\u2019re better than<\/span><\/div>\n
others, que te crees grande [that you think you\u2019re a big shot]. With ambition (condemned in the Mexican culture and valued in the Anglo) comes envy. Respeto [respect] carries with it a set of rules so that social categories and hierarchies will be kept in order: respect is reserved for la abuela, pap\u00e1, el patr\u00f3n, [the grandmother, father, the patron (head of the family)] those with power in the community. Women are at the bottom of the ladder one rung above the deviants.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
The Chicano, mexicano, and some Indian cultures have no tolerance for deviance. Deviance is whatever is condemned by the community. Most societies try to get rid of their deviants. Most cultures have burned and beaten their homosexuals and others who deviate from the sexual common. The queer are the mirror reflecting the heterosexual tribe\u2019s fear: being different, being other, and therefore lesser, therefore sub-human, in-human, non-human. very early age I had a strong sense of who I was and what I was about and what was fair. I had a stubborn will. I tried constantly to mobilize my soul under my own regime, to live life on my own terms no matter how unsuitable to others they were. Terca. [Stubborn.] Even as a child I would not obey. I was \u201clazy.\u201d Instead of ironing my younger brothers\u2019 shirts or cleaning the cupboards, I would pass many hours studying, reading, painting, writing. Every bit of self-faith I\u2019d painstakingly gathered took a beating daily. Nothing in my culture approved of me. Hab\u00eda agarrado malos pasos [I had chosen a bad course of life.]. Something was \u201cwrong\u201d with me. Estab\u00e1 m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de la tradici\u00f3n [I went outside of tradition].<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
There is a rebel in me\u2014the Shadow-Beast. It is a part of me that refuses to take orders from outside authorities. It refuses to take orders from my conscious will, it threatens the sovereignty of my rulership. It is that part of me that hates constraints of any kind, even those self-imposed. At the least hint of limitations on my time or space by others, it kicks out with both feet. Bolts.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Cultural Tyranny<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Culture forms our beliefs. We perceive the version of reality that it communicates. Dominant paradigms, predefined concepts that exist as unquestionable, unchallengeable, are transmitted to us through the culture. Culture is made by those in power\u2014men. Males make the rules and laws; women transmit them. How many times have I heard mothers and mothers-in-law tell their sons to beat their wives for not obeying them, for being hociconas (big mouths), for being callajeras (going to visit and gossip with neighbors), for expecting their husbands to help with the rearing of children and the housework, for wanting to be something other than housewives?<\/span><\/div>\n
The culture expects women to show greater acceptance of, and commitment to, the value system than men. The culture and the Church insist that women are subservient to males. If a woman rebels she is mujer mala [bad woman]. If a woman doesn\u2019t renounce herself in favor of the male, she is selfish. If a woman remains a virgen [virgin \u2013 but with connotations of the Virgin Mary] until she marries, she is a good woman. For a woman of my culture there used to be only three directions she could turn: to the Church as a nun, to the streets as a prostitute, or to the home as a mother. Today some of us have a fourth choice: entering the world by way of education and career and becoming self-autonomous persons. A very few of us. As a working<\/span><\/div>\n
class people our chief activity is to put food in our mouths, a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. Educating our children is out of reach for most of us. Educated or not, the onus is still on woman to be a wife\/mother\u2014only the nun can escape motherhood. Women are made to feel total failures if they don\u2019t marry and have children\u2026.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Humans fear the supernatural, both the undivine (the animal impulses such as sexuality, the unconscious, the unknown, the alien) and the divine (the superhuman, the god in us). Culture and religion seek to protect us from these two forces. The female, by virtue of creating entitites of flesh and blood in her stomach (she bleeds every month but does not die), by virtue of being in<\/span><\/div>\n
tune with nature\u2019s cycles, is feared. Because, according to Christianity and most other major religions, woman is carnal, animal, and closer to the undivine, she must be protected. Protected from herself. Woman is the stranger, the other. She is man\u2019s recognized nightmarish pieces, his Shadow-Beast. The sight of her sends him into a frenzy of anger and fear.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
La gorra, el rebozo, la mantilla [These are articles of clothing: hat, shoulder-scarf, head-scarf are symbols of my culture\u2019s \u201cprotection\u201d of women. Culture (read males) professes to protect women. Actually it keeps women in rigidly defined roles. It keeps the girlchild from other men\u2014don\u2019t poach on my preserves, only I can touch my child\u2019s body. Our mothers taught us well, \u201cLos hombres nom\u00e1s quieren una cosa\u201d [Men are only after one thing]; men aren\u2019t to be trusted, they are selfish and are like children. Mothers made sure we didn\u2019t walk into a room of brothers or fathers or uncles in nightgowns or shorts. We were never alone with men, not even those of our own family.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Through our mothers, the culture gave us mixed messages: No voy a dejar que ning\u00fan pelado desgraciado maltrate a mis hijos [I\u2019m not going to allow any broke (or just \u201cworthless\u201d) bastard mistreat my kids]. And in the next breath it would say, La mujer tiene que hacer lo que le diga el hombre [Women have to do what men says]. Which was it to be\u2014strong, or submissive, rebellious or conforming?<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Tribal rights over those of the individual insured the survival of the tribe and were necessary then, and, as in the case of all indigenous peoples in the world who are still fighting off intentional, premeditated murder (genocide), they are still necessary. Much of what the culture condemns focuses on kinship relationships. The welfare of the family, the community, and the tribe is more important than the welfare of the individual. The individual exists first as kin\u2014as sister, as father, as padrino [godfather]\u2014and last as self.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
In my culture, selfishness is condemned, especially in women; humility and selflessness, the absence of selfishness, is considered a virtue. In the past, acting humble with members outside the family ensured that you would make no one envidioso (envious); therefore he or she would not use witchcraft against you. If you get above yourself, you\u2019re an envidiosa [a jealous girl]. If you don\u2019t behave like everyone else, la gente [people] will say that you think you\u2019re better than<\/span><\/div>\n
others, que te crees grande [that you think you\u2019re a big shot]. With ambition (condemned in the Mexican culture and valued in the Anglo) comes envy. Respeto [respect] carries with it a set of rules so that social categories and hierarchies will be kept in order: respect is reserved for la abuela, pap\u00e1, el patr\u00f3n, [the grandmother, father, the patron (head of the family)] those with power in the community. Women are at the bottom of the ladder one rung above the deviants.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
The Chicano, mexicano, and some Indian cultures have no tolerance for deviance. Deviance is whatever is condemned by the community. Most societies try to get rid of their deviants. Most cultures have burned and beaten their homosexuals and others who deviate from the sexual common. The queer are the mirror reflecting the heterosexual tribe\u2019s fear: being different, being other, and therefore lesser, therefore sub-human, in-human, non-human. very early age I had a strong sense of who I was and what I was about and what was fair. I had a stubborn will. I tried constantly to mobilize my soul under my own regime, to live life on my own terms no matter how unsuitable to others they were. Terca. [Stubborn.] Even as a child I would not obey. I was \u201clazy.\u201d Instead of ironing my younger brothers\u2019 shirts or cleaning the cupboards, I would pass many hours studying, reading, painting, writing. Every bit of self-faith I\u2019d painstakingly gathered took a beating daily. Nothing in my culture approved of me. Hab\u00eda agarrado malos pasos [I had chosen a bad course of life.]. Something was \u201cwrong\u201d with me. Estab\u00e1 m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de la tradici\u00f3n [I went outside of tradition].<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
There is a rebel in me\u2014the Shadow-Beast. It is a part of me that refuses to take orders from outside authorities. It refuses to take orders from my conscious will, it threatens the sovereignty of my rulership. It is that part of me that hates constraints of any kind, even those self-imposed. At the least hint of limitations on my time or space by others, it kicks out with both feet. Bolts.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Cultural Tyranny<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Culture forms our beliefs. We perceive the version of reality that it communicates. Dominant paradigms, predefined concepts that exist as unquestionable, unchallengeable, are transmitted to us through the culture. Culture is made by those in power\u2014men. Males make the rules and laws; women transmit them. How many times have I heard mothers and mothers-in-law tell their sons to beat their wives for not obeying them, for being hociconas (big mouths), for being callajeras (going to visit and gossip with neighbors), for expecting their husbands to help with the rearing of children and the housework, for wanting to be something other than housewives?<\/span><\/div>\n
The culture expects women to show greater acceptance of, and commitment to, the value system than men. The culture and the Church insist that women are subservient to males. If a woman rebels she is mujer mala [bad woman]. If a woman doesn\u2019t renounce herself in favor of the male, she is selfish. If a woman remains a virgen [virgin \u2013 but with connotations of the Virgin Mary] until she marries, she is a good woman. For a woman of my culture there used to be only three directions she could turn: to the Church as a nun, to the streets as a prostitute, or to the home as a mother. Today some of us have a fourth choice: entering the world by way of education and career and becoming self-autonomous persons. A very few of us. As a working<\/span><\/div>\n
class people our chief activity is to put food in our mouths, a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. Educating our children is out of reach for most of us. Educated or not, the onus is still on woman to be a wife\/mother\u2014only the nun can escape motherhood. Women are made to feel total failures if they don\u2019t marry and have children\u2026.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Humans fear the supernatural, both the undivine (the animal impulses such as sexuality, the unconscious, the unknown, the alien) and the divine (the superhuman, the god in us). Culture and religion seek to protect us from these two forces. The female, by virtue of creating entitites of flesh and blood in her stomach (she bleeds every month but does not die), by virtue of being in<\/span><\/div>\n
tune with nature\u2019s cycles, is feared. Because, according to Christianity and most other major religions, woman is carnal, animal, and closer to the undivine, she must be protected. Protected from herself. Woman is the stranger, the other. She is man\u2019s recognized nightmarish pieces, his Shadow-Beast. The sight of her sends him into a frenzy of anger and fear.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
La gorra, el rebozo, la mantilla [These are articles of clothing: hat, shoulder-scarf, head-scarf are symbols of my culture\u2019s \u201cprotection\u201d of women. Culture (read males) professes to protect women. Actually it keeps women in rigidly defined roles. It keeps the girlchild from other men\u2014don\u2019t poach on my preserves, only I can touch my child\u2019s body. Our mothers taught us well, \u201cLos hombres nom\u00e1s quieren una cosa\u201d [Men are only after one thing]; men aren\u2019t to be trusted, they are selfish and are like children. Mothers made sure we didn\u2019t walk into a room of brothers or fathers or uncles in nightgowns or shorts. We were never alone with men, not even those of our own family.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Through our mothers, the culture gave us mixed messages: No voy a dejar que ning\u00fan pelado desgraciado maltrate a mis hijos [I\u2019m not going to allow any broke (or just \u201cworthless\u201d) bastard mistreat my kids]. And in the next breath it would say, La mujer tiene que hacer lo que le diga el hombre [Women have to do what men says]. Which was it to be\u2014strong, or submissive, rebellious or conforming?<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
Tribal rights over those of the individual insured the survival of the tribe and were necessary then, and, as in the case of all indigenous peoples in the world who are still fighting off intentional, premeditated murder (genocide), they are still necessary. Much of what the culture condemns focuses on kinship relationships. The welfare of the family, the community, and the tribe is more important than the welfare of the individual. The individual exists first as kin\u2014as sister, as father, as padrino [godfather]\u2014and last as self.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
In my culture, selfishness is condemned, especially in women; humility and selflessness, the absence of selfishness, is considered a virtue. In the past, acting humble with members outside the family ensured that you would make no one envidioso (envious); therefore he or she would not use witchcraft against you. If you get above yourself, you\u2019re an envidiosa [a jealous girl]. If you don\u2019t behave like everyone else, la gente [people] will say that you think you\u2019re better than<\/span><\/div>\n
others, que te crees grande [that you think you\u2019re a big shot]. With ambition (condemned in the Mexican culture and valued in the Anglo) comes envy. Respeto [respect] carries with it a set of rules so that social categories and hierarchies will be kept in order: respect is reserved for la abuela, pap\u00e1, el patr\u00f3n, [the grandmother, father, the patron (head of the family)] those with power in the community. Women are at the bottom of the ladder one rung above the deviants.<\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n
The Chicano, mexicano, and some Indian cultures have no tolerance for deviance. Deviance is whatever is condemned by the community. Most societies try to get rid of their deviants. Most cultures have burned and beaten their homosexuals and others who deviate from the sexual common. The queer are the mirror reflecting the heterosexual tribe\u2019s fear: being different, being other, and therefore lesser, therefore sub-human, in-human, non-human.<\/span><\/div>\n
There was a muchacha [girl] who lived near my house. La gente del pueblo [people around town] talked about her being una de las otras, \u201cof the Others.\u201d They said that for six months she was a woman who had a vagina that bled once a month, and that for the other six months she was a man, had a penis and she peed standing up. They called her half and half, mita\u2019 y mita\u2019, neither one nor the other but a strange doubling, a deviation of nature that horrified, a work of nature inverted. But there is a magic aspect in abnormality and so-called deformity. Maimed, mad, and<\/div>\n
sexually different people were believed to possess supernatural powers by primal cultures\u2019 magico-religious thinking. For them, abnormality was the price a person had to pay for her or his inborn extraordinary gift. There is something compelling about being both male and female, about having an entry into both worlds. Contrary to some psychiatric tenets, half and halfs are not suffering from a confusion of sexual identity, or even from a confusion of gender. What we are suffering from is<\/div>\n
an absolute despot duality that says we are able to be only one or the other. It claims that human nature is limited and cannot evolve into something better. But I, like other queer people, am two in one body, both male and female. I am the embodiment of the hieros gamos together of opposite qualities within.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Fear of Going Home: Homophobia<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
For the lesbian of color, the ultimate rebellion she can make against her native culture is through her sexual behavior. She goes against two moral prohibitions: sexuality and homosexuality. Being lesbian and raised Catholic, indoctrinated as straight, I made the choice to be queer (for some it is genetically inherent). It\u2019s an interesting path, one that continually slips in and out of the white, the Catholic, the Mexican, the indigenous, the instincts. In and out of my head. It makes for loquer\u00eda, the crazies. It is a path of knowledge\u2014one of knowing (and of learning) the history of oppression of our raza [race]. It is a way of balancing, of mitigating duality.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
In a New England college where I taught, the presence of a few lesbians threw the more conservative heterosexual students and faculty into a panic. The two lesbian students and we two lesbian instructors met with them to discuss their fears. One of the students said, \u201cI thought homophobia meant fear of going home after a residency.\u201d<\/div>\n
And I thought, how apt. Fear of going home. And of not being taken in. We\u2019re afraid of being abandoned by the mother, the culture, la Raza [race or, here, culture], for being unacceptable, faulty, damaged. Most of us unconsciously believe that if we reveal this unacceptable aspect of the coming together of opposite qualities within.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
According to Wikipedia, \u201cHieros gamos or Hierogamy refers to a sexual ritual that plays out a marriage between a god and a goddess, especially when enacted in a symbolic ritual where human participants represent the self our mother\/culture\/race will totally reject us. To avoid rejection, some of us conform to the values of the culture, push the unacceptable parts into the shadows. Which leaves only one fear\u2014that we will be found out and that the Shadow-Beast will break out of its cage. Some of<\/div>\n
us take another route. We try to make ourselves conscious of the Shadow-Beast, stare at the sexual lust and lust for power and destruction we see on its face, discern among its features the undershadow that the reigning order of heterosexual males project on our Beast. Yet still others of us take it another step: we try to waken the Shadow-Beast inside us. Not many jump at the chance to confront the Shadow-Beast in the mirror without flinching at her lidless serpent eyes, her cold clammy moist hand dragging us underground, fangs barred and hissing. How does one put feathers on this particular serpent? But a few of us have been lucky\u2014on the face of the Shadow-Beast we have seen not lust but tenderness; on its face we have uncovered the lie.There was a muchacha [girl] who lived near my house. La gente del pueblo [people around town] talked about her being una de las otras, \u201cof the Others.\u201d They said that for six months she was a woman who had a vagina that bled once a month, and that for the other six months she was a man, had a penis and she peed standing up. They called her half and half, mita\u2019 y mita\u2019, neither one nor the other but a strange doubling, a deviation of nature that horrified, a work of nature inverted. But there is a magic aspect in abnormality and so-called deformity. Maimed, mad, and<\/div>\n
sexually different people were believed to possess supernatural powers by primal cultures\u2019 magico-religious thinking. For them, abnormality was the price a person had to pay for her or his inborn extraordinary gift. There is something compelling about being both male and female, about having an entry into both worlds. Contrary to some psychiatric tenets, half and halfs are not suffering from a confusion of sexual identity, or even from a confusion of gender. What we are suffering from is<\/div>\n
an absolute despot duality that says we are able to be only one or the other. It claims that human nature is limited and cannot evolve into something better. But I, like other queer people, am two in one body, both male and female. I am the embodiment of the hieros gamos together of opposite qualities within.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Fear of Going Home: Homophobia<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
For the lesbian of color, the ultimate rebellion she can make against her native culture is through her sexual behavior. She goes against two moral prohibitions: sexuality and homosexuality. Being lesbian and raised Catholic, indoctrinated as straight, I made the choice to be queer (for some it is genetically inherent). It\u2019s an interesting path, one that continually slips in and out of the white, the Catholic, the Mexican, the indigenous, the instincts. In and out of my head. It makes for loquer\u00eda, the crazies. It is a path of knowledge\u2014one of knowing (and of learning) the history of oppression of our raza [race]. It is a way of balancing, of mitigating duality.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
In a New England college where I taught, the presence of a few lesbians threw the more conservative heterosexual students and faculty into a panic. The two lesbian students and we two lesbian instructors met with them to discuss their fears. One of the students said, \u201cI thought homophobia meant fear of going home after a residency.\u201d<\/div>\n
And I thought, how apt. Fear of going home. And of not being taken in. We\u2019re afraid of being abandoned by the mother, the culture, la Raza [race or, here, culture], for being unacceptable, faulty, damaged. Most of us unconsciously believe that if we reveal this unacceptable aspect of the coming together of opposite qualities within.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
According to Wikipedia, \u201cHieros gamos or Hierogamy refers to a sexual ritual that plays out a marriage between a god and a goddess, especially when enacted in a symbolic ritual where human participants represent the self our mother\/culture\/race will totally reject us. To avoid rejection, some of us conform to the values of the culture, push the unacceptable parts into the shadows. Which leaves only one fear\u2014that we will be found out and that the Shadow-Beast will break out of its cage. Some of<\/div>\n
us take another route. We try to make ourselves conscious of the Shadow-Beast, stare at the sexual lust and lust for power and destruction we see on its face, discern among its features the undershadow that the reigning order of heterosexual males project on our Beast. Yet still others of us take it another step: we try to waken the Shadow-Beast inside us. Not many jump at the chance to confront the Shadow-Beast in the mirror without flinching at her lidless serpent eyes, her cold clammy moist hand dragging us underground, fangs barred and hissing. How does one put feathers on this particular serpent? But a few of us have been lucky\u2014on the face of the Shadow-Beast we have seen not lust but tenderness; on its face we have uncovered the lie.There was a muchacha [girl] who lived near my house. La gente del pueblo [people around town] talked about her being una de las otras, \u201cof the Others.\u201d They said that for six months she was a woman who had a vagina that bled once a month, and that for the other six months she was a man, had a penis and she peed standing up. They called her half and half, mita\u2019 y mita\u2019, neither one nor the other but a strange doubling, a deviation of nature that horrified, a work of nature inverted. But there is a magic aspect in abnormality and so-called deformity. Maimed, mad, and<\/div>\n
sexually different people were believed to possess supernatural powers by primal cultures\u2019 magico-religious thinking. For them, abnormality was the price a person had to pay for her or his inborn extraordinary gift. There is something compelling about being both male and female, about having an entry into both worlds. Contrary to some psychiatric tenets, half and halfs are not suffering from a confusion of sexual identity, or even from a confusion of gender. What we are suffering from is<\/div>\n
an absolute despot duality that says we are able to be only one or the other. It claims that human nature is limited and cannot evolve into something better. But I, like other queer people, am two in one body, both male and female. I am the embodiment of the hieros gamos together of opposite qualities within.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Fear of Going Home: Homophobia<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
For the lesbian of color, the ultimate rebellion she can make against her native culture is through her sexual behavior. She goes against two moral prohibitions: sexuality and homosexuality. Being lesbian and raised Catholic, indoctrinated as straight, I made the choice to be queer (for some it is genetically inherent). It\u2019s an interesting path, one that continually slips in and out of the white, the Catholic, the Mexican, the indigenous, the instincts. In and out of my head. It makes for loquer\u00eda, the crazies. It is a path of knowledge\u2014one of knowing (and of learning) the history of oppression of our raza [race]. It is a way of balancing, of mitigating duality.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
In a New England college where I taught, the presence of a few lesbians threw the more conservative heterosexual students and faculty into a panic. The two lesbian students and we two lesbian instructors met with them to discuss their fears. One of the students said, \u201cI thought homophobia meant fear of going home after a residency.\u201d<\/div>\n
And I thought, how apt. Fear of going home. And of not being taken in. We\u2019re afraid of being abandoned by the mother, the culture, la Raza [race or, here, culture], for being unacceptable, faulty, damaged. Most of us unconsciously believe that if we reveal this unacceptable aspect of the coming together of opposite qualities within.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
According to Wikipedia, \u201cHieros gamos or Hierogamy refers to a sexual ritual that plays out a marriage between a god and a goddess, especially when enacted in a symbolic ritual where human participants represent the self our mother\/culture\/race will totally reject us. To avoid rejection, some of us conform to the values of the culture, push the unacceptable parts into the shadows. Which leaves only one fear\u2014that we will be found out and that the Shadow-Beast will break out of its cage. Some of<\/div>\n
us take another route. We try to make ourselves conscious of the Shadow-Beast, stare at the sexual lust and lust for power and destruction we see on its face, discern among its features the undershadow that the reigning order of heterosexual males project on our Beast. Yet still others of us take it another step: we try to waken the Shadow-Beast inside us. Not many jump at the chance to confront the Shadow-Beast in the mirror without flinching at her lidless serpent eyes, her cold clammy moist hand dragging us underground, fangs barred and hissing. How does one put feathers on this particular serpent? But a few of us have been lucky\u2014on the face of the Shadow-Beast we have seen not lust but tenderness; on its face we have uncovered the lie.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Then in the last two pages. <\/div>\n
Which of the two poems you were given stuck out to you the most, and why? What specific passages or references helped you better comprehend the experience of being an ethnic queer? Provide a thorough and convincing analysis of the poetry.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
First poem: Allen Ginsberg, “America”<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
America<\/div>\n
BY ALLEN GINSBERG<\/div>\n
America I\u2019ve given you all and now I\u2019m nothing.<\/div>\n
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.   <\/div>\n
I can\u2019t stand my own mind.<\/div>\n
America when will we end the human war?<\/div>\n
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.<\/div>\n
I don\u2019t feel good don\u2019t bother me.<\/div>\n
I won\u2019t write my poem till I\u2019m in my right mind.<\/div>\n
America when will you be angelic?<\/div>\n
When will you take off your clothes?<\/div>\n
When will you look at yourself through the grave?<\/div>\n
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?<\/div>\n
America why are your libraries full of tears?<\/div>\n
America when will you send your eggs to India?<\/div>\n
I\u2019m sick of your insane demands.<\/div>\n
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?<\/div>\n
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.   <\/div>\n
Your machinery is too much for me.<\/div>\n
You made me want to be a saint.<\/div>\n
There must be some other way to settle this argument.   <\/div>\n
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don\u2019t think he\u2019ll come back it\u2019s sinister.   <\/div>\n
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?   <\/div>\n
I\u2019m trying to come to the point.<\/div>\n
I refuse to give up my obsession.<\/div>\n
America stop pushing I know what I\u2019m doing.<\/div>\n
America the plum blossoms are falling.<\/div>\n
I haven\u2019t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.<\/div>\n
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.<\/div>\n
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I\u2019m not sorry.   <\/div>\n
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.<\/div>\n
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.   <\/div>\n
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.   <\/div>\n
My mind is made up there\u2019s going to be trouble.<\/div>\n
You should have seen me reading Marx.<\/div>\n
My psychoanalyst thinks I\u2019m perfectly right.<\/div>\n
I won\u2019t say the Lord\u2019s Prayer.<\/div>\n
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.<\/div>\n
America I still haven\u2019t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.<\/div>\n
I\u2019m addressing you.<\/div>\n
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?   <\/div>\n
I\u2019m obsessed by Time Magazine.<\/div>\n
I read it every week.<\/div>\n
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.   <\/div>\n
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.<\/div>\n
It\u2019s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody\u2019s serious but me.   <\/div>\n
It occurs to me that I am America.<\/div>\n
I am talking to myself again.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Asia is rising against me.<\/div>\n
I haven\u2019t got a chinaman\u2019s chance.<\/div>\n
I\u2019d better consider my national resources.<\/div>\n
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.<\/div>\n
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.<\/div>\n
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.<\/div>\n
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I\u2019m a Catholic.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?<\/div>\n
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they\u2019re all different sexes.<\/div>\n
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe<\/div>\n
America free Tom Mooney<\/div>\n
America save the Spanish Loyalists<\/div>\n
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die<\/div>\n
America I am the Scottsboro boys.<\/div>\n
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers\u2019 Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.<\/div>\n
America you don\u2019t really want to go to war.<\/div>\n
America its them bad Russians.<\/div>\n
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.   <\/div>\n
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia\u2019s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.<\/div>\n
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader\u2019s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.<\/div>\n
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.   <\/div>\n
America this is quite serious.<\/div>\n
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.   <\/div>\n
America is this correct?<\/div>\n
I\u2019d better get right down to the job.<\/div>\n
It\u2019s true I don\u2019t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I\u2019m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.<\/div>\n
America I\u2019m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.America<\/div>\n
BY ALLEN GINSBERG<\/div>\n
America I\u2019ve given you all and now I\u2019m nothing.<\/div>\n
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.   <\/div>\n
I can\u2019t stand my own mind.<\/div>\n
America when will we end the human war?<\/div>\n
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.<\/div>\n
I don\u2019t feel good don\u2019t bother me.<\/div>\n
I won\u2019t write my poem till I\u2019m in my right mind.<\/div>\n
America when will you be angelic?<\/div>\n
When will you take off your clothes?<\/div>\n
When will you look at yourself through the grave?<\/div>\n
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?<\/div>\n
America why are your libraries full of tears?<\/div>\n
America when will you send your eggs to India?<\/div>\n
I\u2019m sick of your insane demands.<\/div>\n
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?<\/div>\n
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.   <\/div>\n
Your machinery is too much for me.<\/div>\n
You made me want to be a saint.<\/div>\n
There must be some other way to settle this argument.   <\/div>\n
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don\u2019t think he\u2019ll come back it\u2019s sinister.   <\/div>\n
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?   <\/div>\n
I\u2019m trying to come to the point.<\/div>\n
I refuse to give up my obsession.<\/div>\n
America stop pushing I know what I\u2019m doing.<\/div>\n
America the plum blossoms are falling.<\/div>\n
I haven\u2019t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.<\/div>\n
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.<\/div>\n
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I\u2019m not sorry.   <\/div>\n
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.<\/div>\n
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.   <\/div>\n
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.   <\/div>\n
My mind is made up there\u2019s going to be trouble.<\/div>\n
You should have seen me reading Marx.<\/div>\n
My psychoanalyst thinks I\u2019m perfectly right.<\/div>\n
I won\u2019t say the Lord\u2019s Prayer.<\/div>\n
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.<\/div>\n
America I still haven\u2019t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.<\/div>\n
I\u2019m addressing you.<\/div>\n
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?   <\/div>\n
I\u2019m obsessed by Time Magazine.<\/div>\n
I read it every week.<\/div>\n
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.   <\/div>\n
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.<\/div>\n
It\u2019s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody\u2019s serious but me.   <\/div>\n
It occurs to me that I am America.<\/div>\n
I am talking to myself again.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Asia is rising against me.<\/div>\n
I haven\u2019t got a chinaman\u2019s chance.<\/div>\n
I\u2019d better consider my national resources.<\/div>\n
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.<\/div>\n
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.<\/div>\n
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.<\/div>\n
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I\u2019m a Catholic.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?<\/div>\n
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they\u2019re all different sexes.<\/div>\n
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe<\/div>\n
America free Tom Mooney<\/div>\n
America save the Spanish Loyalists<\/div>\n
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die<\/div>\n
America I am the Scottsboro boys.<\/div>\n
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers\u2019 Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.<\/div>\n
America you don\u2019t really want to go to war.<\/div>\n
America its them bad Russians.<\/div>\n
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.   <\/div>\n
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia\u2019s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.<\/div>\n
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader\u2019s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.<\/div>\n
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.   <\/div>\n
America this is quite serious.<\/div>\n
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.   <\/div>\n
America is this correct?<\/div>\n
I\u2019d better get right down to the job.<\/div>\n
It\u2019s true I don\u2019t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I\u2019m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.<\/div>\n
America I\u2019m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.America<\/div>\n
BY ALLEN GINSBERG<\/div>\n
America I\u2019ve given you all and now I\u2019m nothing.<\/div>\n
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.   <\/div>\n
I can\u2019t stand my own mind.<\/div>\n
America when will we end the human war?<\/div>\n
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.<\/div>\n
I don\u2019t feel good don\u2019t bother me.<\/div>\n
I won\u2019t write my poem till I\u2019m in my right mind.<\/div>\n
America when will you be angelic?<\/div>\n
When will you take off your clothes?<\/div>\n
When will you look at yourself through the grave?<\/div>\n
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?<\/div>\n
America why are your libraries full of tears?<\/div>\n
America when will you send your eggs to India?<\/div>\n
I\u2019m sick of your insane demands.<\/div>\n
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?<\/div>\n
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.   <\/div>\n
Your machinery is too much for me.<\/div>\n
You made me want to be a saint.<\/div>\n
There must be some other way to settle this argument.   <\/div>\n
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don\u2019t think he\u2019ll come back it\u2019s sinister.   <\/div>\n
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?   <\/div>\n
I\u2019m trying to come to the point.<\/div>\n
I refuse to give up my obsession.<\/div>\n
America stop pushing I know what I\u2019m doing.<\/div>\n
America the plum blossoms are falling.<\/div>\n
I haven\u2019t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.<\/div>\n
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.<\/div>\n
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I\u2019m not sorry.   <\/div>\n
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.<\/div>\n
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.   <\/div>\n
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.   <\/div>\n
My mind is made up there\u2019s going to be trouble.<\/div>\n
You should have seen me reading Marx.<\/div>\n
My psychoanalyst thinks I\u2019m perfectly right.<\/div>\n
I won\u2019t say the Lord\u2019s Prayer.<\/div>\n
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.<\/div>\n
America I still haven\u2019t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.<\/div>\n
I\u2019m addressing you.<\/div>\n
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?   <\/div>\n
I\u2019m obsessed by Time Magazine.<\/div>\n
I read it every week.<\/div>\n
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.   <\/div>\n
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.<\/div>\n
It\u2019s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody\u2019s serious but me.   <\/div>\n
It occurs to me that I am America.<\/div>\n
I am talking to myself again.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Asia is rising against me.<\/div>\n
I haven\u2019t got a chinaman\u2019s chance.<\/div>\n
I\u2019d better consider my national resources.<\/div>\n
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.<\/div>\n
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.<\/div>\n
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.<\/div>\n
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I\u2019m a Catholic.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?<\/div>\n
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they\u2019re all different sexes.<\/div>\n
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe<\/div>\n
America free Tom Mooney<\/div>\n
America save the Spanish Loyalists<\/div>\n
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die<\/div>\n
America I am the Scottsboro boys.<\/div>\n
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers\u2019 Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.<\/div>\n
America you don\u2019t really want to go to war.<\/div>\n
America its them bad Russians.<\/div>\n
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.   <\/div>\n
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia\u2019s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.<\/div>\n
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader\u2019s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.<\/div>\n
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.   <\/div>\n
America this is quite serious.<\/div>\n
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.   <\/div>\n
America is this correct?<\/div>\n
I\u2019d better get right down to the job.<\/div>\n
It\u2019s true I don\u2019t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I\u2019m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.<\/div>\n
America I\u2019m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Second poem: Malika Moustadraf, “Just Different” <\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Avenue Mohammed V is silent and desolate this late at night, empty apart from a few stray cats meowing like newborn babies; it\u2019s a creepy sound. Then a she-dog ambles up, stops in front of me, and raises her tail at a black male dog limping past. A single bark of seduction from her and he\u2019s mounting her. They\u2019re cleaved to each other, clinging on, and she shuts her eyes in ecstasy, surrenders to his movements. A delicious tingle runs through me. How lucky they are! They do it in public. They\u2019re shameless\u2014as the saying goes, \u201cNot only God sees them but his servants do too.\u201d They don\u2019t have to worry about a police patrol, or about what people will say.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Bushta shouts, \u201cI\u2019m gonna kick the fucking shit out of them!\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I take no notice of him. He flings a stone at the dogs, and when it hits them they both let out a shrill yelp that sounds like a human sob, and then separate. If I were them I\u2019d attack him and bite his buttocks.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I\u2019ve been pacing back and forth along the street for two hours now, and there hasn\u2019t been a single customer. It\u2019s a drought!Avenue Mohammed V is silent and desolate this late at night, empty apart from a few stray cats meowing like newborn babies; it\u2019s a creepy sound. Then a she-dog ambles up, stops in front of me, and raises her tail at a black male dog limping past. A single bark of seduction from her and he\u2019s mounting her. They\u2019re cleaved to each other, clinging on, and she shuts her eyes in ecstasy, surrenders to his movements. A delicious tingle runs through me. How lucky they are! They do it in public. They\u2019re shameless\u2014as the saying goes, \u201cNot only God sees them but his servants do too.\u201d They don\u2019t have to worry about a police patrol, or about what people will say.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Bushta shouts, \u201cI\u2019m gonna kick the fucking shit out of them!\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I take no notice of him. He flings a stone at the dogs, and when it hits them they both let out a shrill yelp that sounds like a human sob, and then separate. If I were them I\u2019d attack him and bite his buttocks.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I\u2019ve been pacing back and forth along the street for two hours now, and there hasn\u2019t been a single customer. It\u2019s a drought!Avenue Mohammed V is silent and desolate this late at night, empty apart from a few stray cats meowing like newborn babies; it\u2019s a creepy sound. Then a she-dog ambles up, stops in front of me, and raises her tail at a black male dog limping past. A single bark of seduction from her and he\u2019s mounting her. They\u2019re cleaved to each other, clinging on, and she shuts her eyes in ecstasy, surrenders to his movements. A delicious tingle runs through me. How lucky they are! They do it in public. They\u2019re shameless\u2014as the saying goes, \u201cNot only God sees them but his servants do too.\u201d They don\u2019t have to worry about a police patrol, or about what people will say.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Bushta shouts, \u201cI\u2019m gonna kick the fucking shit out of them!\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I take no notice of him. He flings a stone at the dogs, and when it hits them they both let out a shrill yelp that sounds like a human sob, and then separate. If I were them I\u2019d attack him and bite his buttocks.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I\u2019ve been pacing back and forth along the street for two hours now, and there hasn\u2019t been a single customer. It\u2019s a drought!<\/div>\n
I touch the razor blade in my pocket, checking it\u2019s still there. I always keep it on me in case someone suddenly does something dodgy\u2014in case I get cornered. Bushta stands near March\u00e9 Central, leaning on a wall and singing his favorite song in a tuneless croak: \u201cRed wine, red wine, ah, red wine! The sweetest way to get drunk!\u201d His coarse voice rips through the still night. He\u2019s waiting to take his cut. We sweat and stress and bear the repulsive customers, and he doesn\u2019t have to lift a finger. Fuck him and his\u2014<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Naimah found a client earlier on, went off on the back of his motorbike. He seemed like a worker from one of the factories. She said, \u201cI\u2019m a fan of the working classes: they\u2019re better than those inexperienced little pupils you\u2019re obliged to teach the ABCs of love. I\u2019m not some special learning car covered in L-plates for them to grind around in again and again.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The heel on my shoe is hurting me. I can\u2019t stand on it for very long at a time. I\u2019d like to go home, drink a little beer and eat a plate of mussels with hot pepper. That\u2019s the best prescription for warming a person up in this cold weather. But Bushta won\u2019t leave me alone. Plus I\u2019ve got so many expenses: food, clothes, transport, rent. Rent\u2019s the main thing. I pay my share of the room I rent with Naimah and Scummy. I\u2019m thinking about moving out and living alone\u2014I can\u2019t bear Scummy anymore. She only needs a couple drinks and she\u2019s off, scandalizing us in the street, making a scene. She flips into this weird delirious state. She rants, she says all these totally irrational things, and she insults everyone and everything in foul language. Things get even more awful if she crosses paths with any other drunks.I touch the razor blade in my pocket, checking it\u2019s still there. I always keep it on me in case someone suddenly does something dodgy\u2014in case I get cornered. Bushta stands near March\u00e9 Central, leaning on a wall and singing his favorite song in a tuneless croak: \u201cRed wine, red wine, ah, red wine! The sweetest way to get drunk!\u201d His coarse voice rips through the still night. He\u2019s waiting to take his cut. We sweat and stress and bear the repulsive customers, and he doesn\u2019t have to lift a finger. Fuck him and his\u2014<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Naimah found a client earlier on, went off on the back of his motorbike. He seemed like a worker from one of the factories. She said, \u201cI\u2019m a fan of the working classes: they\u2019re better than those inexperienced little pupils you\u2019re obliged to teach the ABCs of love. I\u2019m not some special learning car covered in L-plates for them to grind around in again and again.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The heel on my shoe is hurting me. I can\u2019t stand on it for very long at a time. I\u2019d like to go home, drink a little beer and eat a plate of mussels with hot pepper. That\u2019s the best prescription for warming a person up in this cold weather. But Bushta won\u2019t leave me alone. Plus I\u2019ve got so many expenses: food, clothes, transport, rent. Rent\u2019s the main thing. I pay my share of the room I rent with Naimah and Scummy. I\u2019m thinking about moving out and living alone\u2014I can\u2019t bear Scummy anymore. She only needs a couple drinks and she\u2019s off, scandalizing us in the street, making a scene. She flips into this weird delirious state. She rants, she says all these totally irrational things, and she insults everyone and everything in foul language. Things get even more awful if she crosses paths with any other drunks.I touch the razor blade in my pocket, checking it\u2019s still there. I always keep it on me in case someone suddenly does something dodgy\u2014in case I get cornered. Bushta stands near March\u00e9 Central, leaning on a wall and singing his favorite song in a tuneless croak: \u201cRed wine, red wine, ah, red wine! The sweetest way to get drunk!\u201d His coarse voice rips through the still night. He\u2019s waiting to take his cut. We sweat and stress and bear the repulsive customers, and he doesn\u2019t have to lift a finger. Fuck him and his\u2014<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Naimah found a client earlier on, went off on the back of his motorbike. He seemed like a worker from one of the factories. She said, \u201cI\u2019m a fan of the working classes: they\u2019re better than those inexperienced little pupils you\u2019re obliged to teach the ABCs of love. I\u2019m not some special learning car covered in L-plates for them to grind around in again and again.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The heel on my shoe is hurting me. I can\u2019t stand on it for very long at a time. I\u2019d like to go home, drink a little beer and eat a plate of mussels with hot pepper. That\u2019s the best prescription for warming a person up in this cold weather. But Bushta won\u2019t leave me alone. Plus I\u2019ve got so many expenses: food, clothes, transport, rent. Rent\u2019s the main thing. I pay my share of the room I rent with Naimah and Scummy. I\u2019m thinking about moving out and living alone\u2014I can\u2019t bear Scummy anymore. She only needs a couple drinks and she\u2019s off, scandalizing us in the street, making a scene. She flips into this weird delirious state. She rants, she says all these totally irrational things, and she insults everyone and everything in foul language. Things get even more awful if she crosses paths with any other drunks.<\/div>\n
The razor blade\u2019s still in my hand: I\u2019ve been practising using it ever since I got attacked by those bearded guys who said they wanted to clean up society. Since then I\u2019ve hated anyone with a beard. They shaved my head. Bushta behaved atrociously\u2014he ran away and left them to it. If the police patrol car hadn\u2019t come by, something worse would have happened, for sure. It\u2019s made me like the police, for the first time in my life; I\u2019d always run from them, but that day I ran toward them, and I\u2019m always pleased to see them nowadays. But the loss of my hair still pains me. My mother always used to love brushing it, and she\u2019d deliberately let it grow long, right down past my shoulders. One time my father came back from one of his long trips. He\u2019d go away for months on end, then come back with presents for us, and cheese, and tea\u2014and lots of problems.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
This particular time he turned up and caught my mum putting lipstick on my cheeks as rouge, my hair pinned up in a bun. He beat her that day till she soiled herself, and told her: \u201cYou\u2019re going to ruin this boy\u2014he\u2019ll turn into a girl.\u201dThe razor blade\u2019s still in my hand: I\u2019ve been practising using it ever since I got attacked by those bearded guys who said they wanted to clean up society. Since then I\u2019ve hated anyone with a beard. They shaved my head. Bushta behaved atrociously\u2014he ran away and left them to it. If the police patrol car hadn\u2019t come by, something worse would have happened, for sure. It\u2019s made me like the police, for the first time in my life; I\u2019d always run from them, but that day I ran toward them, and I\u2019m always pleased to see them nowadays. But the loss of my hair still pains me. My mother always used to love brushing it, and she\u2019d deliberately let it grow long, right down past my shoulders. One time my father came back from one of his long trips. He\u2019d go away for months on end, then come back with presents for us, and cheese, and tea\u2014and lots of problems.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
This particular time he turned up and caught my mum putting lipstick on my cheeks as rouge, my hair pinned up in a bun. He beat her that day till she soiled herself, and told her: \u201cYou\u2019re going to ruin this boy\u2014he\u2019ll turn into a girl.\u201dThe razor blade\u2019s still in my hand: I\u2019ve been practising using it ever since I got attacked by those bearded guys who said they wanted to clean up society. Since then I\u2019ve hated anyone with a beard. They shaved my head. Bushta behaved atrociously\u2014he ran away and left them to it. If the police patrol car hadn\u2019t come by, something worse would have happened, for sure. It\u2019s made me like the police, for the first time in my life; I\u2019d always run from them, but that day I ran toward them, and I\u2019m always pleased to see them nowadays. But the loss of my hair still pains me. My mother always used to love brushing it, and she\u2019d deliberately let it grow long, right down past my shoulders. One time my father came back from one of his long trips. He\u2019d go away for months on end, then come back with presents for us, and cheese, and tea\u2014and lots of problems.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
This particular time he turned up and caught my mum putting lipstick on my cheeks as rouge, my hair pinned up in a bun. He beat her that day till she soiled herself, and told her: \u201cYou\u2019re going to ruin this boy\u2014he\u2019ll turn into a girl.\u201d<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

What struck you the most about the two given short stories, and why? What specific passages or references helped you better comprehend the experience of being an ethnic queer? In two distinct paragraphs, analyze the short stories in great detail and with evidence. Brief narratives are: James Baldwin, “The outing” E ACH SUMMER the church […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":[],"disciplines":[186],"paper_types":[],"tagged":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/questions\/13562"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/questions"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/questions"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13562"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/questions\/13562\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13562"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"disciplines","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/disciplines?post=13562"},{"taxonomy":"paper_types","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/paper_types?post=13562"},{"taxonomy":"tagged","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.goodacademic.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tagged?post=13562"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}