Women's story circles, is a place, where you don't want to end up if you are a kid. Like Judith, I have been part of a women's "story" circle; not my cup of tea. Everything and everyone is discussed among them. Political, religious, and social issues suddenly acquire solutions. Anything amusing or worth having a conversation about, is brought up. Judith calls it story time, they call it chisme time. The elders always lead the conversations, deciding what is worthy of attention and what must not be discussed. Children are not allowed during such conversation. They believe certain information should not penetrate a mind too early in life.
Personally, my interest in these conversations, is minimum. Now 18 I am invited to share my opinion and contribute with topics, But my level of appreciation for such ritual, is low. My way of thinking is rather eccentric; usually not appreciated by elders. To avoid conflict, I avoid chisme time at all cost.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
July 6, 2010
Not being able to read or write can be quite a frustrating situation; I personally know.
It was a hot summer afternoon the day I boarded an air plane whose destination was a country in South America. I was exited yet nervous. The thought of having to speak another language let alone write it tormented my mind. I had very little knowledge of where I was heading. I was a stranger in a country whose culture and language stands at the opposite end of the spectrum. I began to feel distressed as I cruised through Learning to Read and Write by Fredrick Douglas. Indulging in to Fredrick's detailed description on how he learned to read, touched me. His struggle to obtain resources to learn and dangerously lurking around for such. Brought me back to the long days of absolute silence. In order to protect myself from kidnappers , I was not allowed to talk in anything other than Spanish. Something I was yet to learn. To their society I was nothing more than a way to obtain a large sum of money. To the slave holder Fredrick was no more than a loss of income. His struggle to balance who he was raised to be, and who he secretly became is admirable. Being watched from every angle, having to hold back from expressing and lurking to survive can become quite the burden.
It was a hot summer afternoon the day I boarded an air plane whose destination was a country in South America. I was exited yet nervous. The thought of having to speak another language let alone write it tormented my mind. I had very little knowledge of where I was heading. I was a stranger in a country whose culture and language stands at the opposite end of the spectrum. I began to feel distressed as I cruised through Learning to Read and Write by Fredrick Douglas. Indulging in to Fredrick's detailed description on how he learned to read, touched me. His struggle to obtain resources to learn and dangerously lurking around for such. Brought me back to the long days of absolute silence. In order to protect myself from kidnappers , I was not allowed to talk in anything other than Spanish. Something I was yet to learn. To their society I was nothing more than a way to obtain a large sum of money. To the slave holder Fredrick was no more than a loss of income. His struggle to balance who he was raised to be, and who he secretly became is admirable. Being watched from every angle, having to hold back from expressing and lurking to survive can become quite the burden.
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