Deliberations 2020

DELIBERATIONS A Journal of First-Year Writing at Duke University • Fall 2020
THOMPSON WRITING PROGRAM


“We are very pleased to present these fine examples of student work from Duke’s Academic Writing classes. You will see that our Academic Writing courses permit a wide range of work by students
in a variety of disciplines. This work is both creative and scholarly, and thus introduces first-year students to the kind of rigorous and innovative thinking that distinguishes an academic community such as Duke.”
J. Clare Woods, Ph.D., Director Thompson Writing Program
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Table of Contents
4 Starting Somewhere Michael Cao
8 Competition In A Learning Environment: Helpful or Harmful? Annika Allado
12 Observing a Convoluted State of Mind: The Story of a Girl Lost In Thought Anonymous
20 The Closet Revisited Jack Rickards
26 Food from the Far (Jade) East:
An Exploration of the Intersection between Chinese American Restaurants and Family History DavidLee
34 Not Black Enough: The Cost of a Static View of
What It Means to be Black for Black Women Performers Tia Smith
40 “To Tell the Truth”: Representing Race and Power in the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt
Franklin Wu
45 They Live in Cities Where They Don’t Belong: An Analysis of the Discrimination and Ideological Inequality Suffered by Chinese Migrant Workers’ Children in Public Schools Weiyi Zheng
51 Roma: A Humanistic Portrait of an Inhumane Reality Qi Xuan Khoo
55 The Ambivalent Aftermath of Harry Potter: Has Our Beloved Series Been Affected? Kaitlyn Luo
Please Note: The “Yelling Scholar” has been selected to represent the scholarly writing of Duke first-year students, and henceforth will be the cover image for Deliberations. The gargoyle, “Yelling Scholar,” was named by a Duke photographer and sits atop Kilgo, a residence hall on Duke’s West Campus. The “Yelling Scholar” serves as a visual reminder for scholars to express and share their scholarship with others.
Thompson Writing Program
Deliberations:
A Journal of First-Year Writing at Duke University
2020 Editorial Board
Editor: Sheryl Welte Emch, Ph.D. Managing Editor: Melissa Pascoe Director of Publications:
Denise Comer, Ph.D.
Editorial Board:
Lecturing Fellows
• MichaelAccinno • LisaAndres
• AlisonKlein
• LeslieMaxwell
• KerryOssi-Lupo
• LindseySmith
• SandraSotelo-Miller • AndrewTharler
• MirandaWelsh
Student Editors
• Abbey List, Trinity ‘22
• Anne Crabill, Trinity ‘22
• Nicholas Doak, Trinity ‘22
• MaddieFowler,Trinity‘21
• Miranda Gershoni, Trinity ‘22 • Carlee Goldberg, Trinity ‘22
• Santi Orozco, Trinity ‘21
• Alexa Putka, Trinity ‘21
• Jessica Zhao, Trinity ‘21
Deliberations is an annual publication of the Thompson Writing Program at Duke University. Correspondence may be sent to Thompson Writing Program, Box 90025, Duke University, Durham, NC 27708. writingprogram@duke. edu Issues of Deliberations can be found on the Thompson Writing Program website https://twp.duke. edu/students/undergraduate/ deliberations
Copyright © 2020 By Duke University All rights reserved. ISSN 1529-6547
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Foreword
Sheryl Emch
True to the name of the journal, Deliberations, this collection of outstanding essays, written by first- year students in Writing 101-- Duke’s one-semester, first-year course in academic writing-- are indeed deliberations. That is, each essay was written, and rewritten, with careful and reflective consideration. The process of generating ideas, exploring and reflecting on their significance, writing and revising and editing, was without a doubt an extremely deliberate process, done consciously, thoughtfully, slowly, (sometimes joyfully and sometimes painfully), with the utmost concern for the process and the product. In other words, these essays are deliberations of the highest quality, and have the potential to touch many lives.
I have been teaching first-year writing at Duke for over a decade (and loving every minute of it!), so I am no stranger to the fascinating and vast array of topics being offered to introduce first-year students to university- level writing. All Writing 101 classes share the goals of helping students to engage with the work of others, articulate a position, situate their writing within specific contexts, and transfer their writing knowledge beyond Writing 101. That said, each instructor, inspired by their academic discipline and personal interests, puts these goals into practice in different ways, creating very distinct classes with an array of unique final papers and projects.
These papers and projects foster the development of strategies for generating, supporting, and sharing their ideas within a community of scholars. While all Writing 101 students are encouraged to write as though they are writing for a broad audience, for most students their immediate community is comprised of another eleven first-year students and the professor. For students whose work is published in Deliberations (or elsewhere), however, their community expands infinitely. Their work is no longer being read just by their classmates, their professor, or anyone else with whom they decide to share their work. These students have chosen, and been chosen, to share their work with the entire Duke community and beyond. They have put their ideas out for public consumption, as well as public scrutiny, deliberately and bravely expanding their audience and community of scholars. This is no simple task, but rather an act of strength and courage, an ability and willingness to engage openly and honestly about their own and others’ ideas.
Our editorial board, consisting of an extraordinary group of Writing 101 instructors and previously published Deliberations’ student authors, selected ten remarkable essays that reflect the diversity of academic disciplines of the TWP faculty, and in turn, the impressive range of beliefs about and approaches to academic writing. Each of the published essays touched, inspired, moved, provoked, and/or resonated with several readers in some way.
This issue of Deliberations opens with Michael Cao’s essay, Starting Somewhere, a story about irrationality, written from the perspective of a personal narrative, and woven with the bizarre. The piece centers on his irrational inability to start things, inspired by late night hallucinations doing homework, and unexpectedly, a poem by Robert Frost. Starting Somewhere is also an internal dialogue. In it, Michael tries to understand what makes it so hard to begin things anew, why taking time to deliberate can sometimes be useful, and why, despite uncertainty and apprehension, it’s necessary to just start. Somewhere. Although Michael’s piece originally began as a novel, semi-humorous, partially embellished recount of an irrational behavior, I believe it ends up as a relatable experience about which we can jointly commiserate, reminisce, and share.
The next essay, Competition in a Learning Environment: Helpful or Harmful?, is by Annika Allado who transcribed her voice-over recording of her hand-drawn scribe video. In the essay/video, Annika explores the sometimes detrimental effects of competition in social settings by focusing in on its impacts in a classroom environment. By examining the impacts of human biology, evolution theories, and psychology on a human’s competitive drive, she is able to unravel how competition is an inseparable and often times integral part of a social setting. Annika concludes her essay/script with recommendations on how to formulate a classroom environment that is conducive to learning without compromising students’ overall mental and emotional well-being.
In the essay Observing a Convoluted State of Mind: The Story of a Girl Lost in Thought, the author examines her battle with mental illness, delving into the impact that obsessive-compulsive disorder, anxiety, and depression have had on her life. Her essay begins by describing scenes from different moments throughout the years that demonstrate the extent that anxiety controlled her daily life from grade school onwards, focusing on specific behaviors and the mindset that accompanied them. In the analysis of her past and present, she describes how insecurities and constant uncertainty led to the development of the elaborate rituals and routines that she used to seek control of her anxieties. This extremely vulnerable essay integrates outside sources to help explain and explore feelings the author was experiencing, such as how the stigma of mental illness became internalized and her use of self-preservation tactics. The essay concludes with the author finding her own personal roadmap for the successful management of her mental illness.
In his talk-turned-essay, The Closet Revisited, Jack Rickards embarks on a journey of intense self-reflection to explore the nuances of his ongoing coming out story. As he travels back into the closet to recount these intimate thoughts and experiences, he realizes that the idea of life before and after coming out is incomplete.
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Coming out to his parents, which was promised to be the conclusion of this arduous and emotionally taxing journey, was revealed to be one baby step of a much greater endeavor. Beyond the initial hurdle of openly identifying as gay, he struggles to answer the question of how this label fits into his entire identity. He also finds himself wondering which hardships are unique to him versus those that are universal to the LGBTQIA+ community or to the human experience altogether. While many of these questions cannot be answered at this point in his life, Jack sorts through and analyzes his experiences thus far on his continuing search for identity.
David Lee, in his essay Food from the Far (Jade) East: An Exploration of the Intersection between Chinese American Restaurants and Family History, investigates the history of Chinese immigration to the United States through the lens of Chinese restaurants and food, using this exploration to contextualize his family’s experiences in immigrating to and living in the United States. Starting with the first Chinese American restaurants in California and moving through the Chop Suey Craze of the 1900s, David examines how this history intersects with his grandparents’ narrative in running Jade East, the third recorded Chinese restaurant in Memphis, Tennessee. The exploration of these intersections reveals the role that these restaurants have played for Chinese communities and the significance that this food has had for both the people who consume it as well as the people who prepare it.
In Tia Smith’s essay, Not Black Enough: The Cost of a Static View of What It Means to be Black for Black Women Performers, she explores how a limited view of what it means to be black affects the relationship between black women performers and the black community. Tia argues that a narrowly curated view of blackness alienates black female performers who produce art beyond the traditionally accepted genres of R&B and soul. Using crossover artists Whitney Houston and Lizzo as focal points, Tia describes how their musical choices impact how they are seen and criticized. Drawing from Trey Ellis’ essay, The New Black Aesthetic, she defends the right for black women artists to create the music they desire free from criticism about their blackness. She concludes her essay with steps that the audience can take to make room for black women artists and suggests that once society is willing to expand their definition of blackness, the freer artists and individuals can be.
Franklin Wu, in his essay “To Tell the Truth”: Representing Race and Power in the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt, revisits the longstanding debate around the Theodore Roosevelt statue outside the American Natural History Museum. In light of recent events, Franklin seeks to assess current arguments surrounding the monument and develop an analytical interpretation of the statue’s significance in today’s society. Through Roosevelt’s presidential legacy, the institutions that pushed for the statue’s construction, as well as the physical form of the statue itself, he shines light on the explicitly discriminatory message that the statue broadcasts to the public. In the end, Franklin proposes a compromise solution that averts the statue’s symbolic racism while still preserving the original intent of honoring President Theodore Roosevelt.
In Weiyi Zheng’s essay, They Live in Cities Where They Don’t Belong: An Analysis of the Discrimination and Ideological Inequality Suffered by Chinese Migrant Workers’ Children in Public Schools, she discusses the administrative and peer discrimination suffered by migrant workers’ children in China. Through a linguistic perspective, Weiyi analyzes the language used to describe migrant students and to phrase policies, as well as quotes from migrant students themselves. By presenting multiple facets of evidence, Weiyi argues that current policies targeting the assimilation of migrant students must be reformed in order to achieve true ideological equality.
Qi Xuan Khoo, in his essay Roma: A Humanistic Portrait of an Inhumane Reality, explores the issues faced by domestic workers as portrayed in the award-winning film Roma. From cinematography to production contexts, he examines how the interplay between different elements of the film paints an accurate portrait of the humanity of live-in maids which are often neglected by society. Delving into the wider social reality behind Roma’s story, Khoo illustrates how the autobiographical film is more than just an award-winning piece of art but a tour de force for meaningful societal change.
In the final essay, The Ambivalent Aftermath of Harry Potter: How Has Our Beloved Series Been Affected?, Kaitlyn Luo dives into the impact of the world’s most popular children’s series, which sold 500 million copies worldwide. Leading to billion-dollar franchises, amusement parks, and toys, the Harry Potter books have generated massive profits and leveraged its popularity to influence millions of readers. Kaitlyn’s essay explains and explores the consequences of Harry Potter’s rapid, global diffusion, especially in relation to J.K. Rowling’s sustained and controversial social media presence. In particular, Kaitlyn’s essay raises the question for future creators and consumers - how is the legacy of a creation preserved and what responsibility do we as readers have in perpetuating content’s original messages?
Individually and collectively, these essays have pushed my thinking, my emotions, and my teaching, informing my ideas about their various topics, as well as about writing, revising, and collaborating. Each author possesses a distinct voice that comes across loudly and honestly, identifying and sharing with others what the author thinks is important, and why, and thus, who they are and/ or want to be. By reading these essays you will become part of an ongoing conversation about important and diverse ideas, about how to communicate those ideas in compelling and engaging ways, and ultimately, about how to find and make meaning. I hope that you, too, will be touched or provoked by, resonate or empathize with, and perhaps even be moved to take action as a result of reading the following essays. I invite you to experience these essays both personally and academically, or however you see these two dimensions intertwine.
Cheers! Sheryl
Sheryl Welte Emch, Ph.D.
Sheryl is an instructor of First-Year Writing in the Thompson Writing
Program at
Duke University. She earned her Master’s degree in Higher Education and Student Affairs from
the University
of Vermont,
and her Ph.D.
in Educational Psychology from Michigan State University. Her research and teaching focuses on coming of age, specifically how social and cultural factors influence college students’ epistemological and personal development. She loves working with and learning from first-year college students.
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Michael Cao
Whenever I find myself in a creative rut, my idiosyncrasies are always a reliable muse—like the time
I wrote about my strange fascination
with pre-GPS era roadmaps, or that other time decided to write about my unhealthy obsession with Taylor Swift for a creative writing final assignment (that one had bravado, even by my standards).
So when it came time to settle on a topic for a personal essay in Writing 101: Solitude and Solidarity, I was more than ready to probe my neuroses for something Nobel-worthy. I remember my first draft was something about my fondness for instant coffee mixed with bottled water. This treatise, of course, was quickly scrapped. But I did save the exposition, and I’m lucky I did, because it would provide the basis for my essay as it is today.
The reason I developed a tolerance for instant coffee in the first place was because in high school I would stay awake very late. Was I an insomniac? I didn’t think so. I actually loved to sleep (even more than pop music, cartography, or caffeine). Consequently, I was confident figuring out what kept me awake during those hellish school nights would be the main investigation of Starting Somewhere. But soon enough, my writing had devolved into a metacommentary about procrastination, and I could sense the piece was losing its luster. It was missing the element of poignant absurdism that made my previous pieces successful.
And so I decided to get psychological. Then philosophical. What was it about
a Spanish assignment that seemed so daunting? Why was starting new things
so hard for me? How did all of this relate to the nature of time? Looking back at
it now, Starting Somewhere might begin
as an investigation, but it really ends as a meditation into my own clockwork, and
I hope the piece makes you embracive of your own idiosyncrasies.
I’d like to thank Professor Kevin Spencer for his scholarship and tutelage.
I was consistently amazed by his intellect, and I benefited greatly from his writing feedback. The design of Solitude and Solidarity taught me to value introspection, which is a fundamental component of this essay and should be for future pieces.
I’d also like to thank the Deliberations editorial staff and members of the Thompson Writing Program for their feedback. They helped sculpt this essay as much as me. Finally, I’d like to recognize and thank Sheryl for her syntactical expertise and encouragement to take ownership of my prose.
Starting Somewhere Michael Cao
Writing 101: Solitude and Solidarity Instructor: Kevin Spencer
IT stares back at me.
t stares back at me dispassionately, but with a persistence that makes me shift
uncomfortably in my seat. My eyes are starting to strain. My faculties are
diminishing. A faint delirium patrols my mind. My gaze, however, is transfixed on the creature before me. We have been doing this for hours, stalking each other like two emaciated vultures. Pacified by the dead of night, we are both exhausted, yet impervious to surrender. But after another standstill, starved for mercy, we agree to a ceasefire.
Finally, the clock I have been staring at strikes two. Looking away, I know my relief will not last long.
It is with the renewal of another hour that I allow my suppressed optimism to filter back into my body. The beginning of a fresh hour suggests infinite possibilities for initiative. Maybe the empty college-ruled notebook beneath my palm will finally be christened with ink, mathematical formulae, and concrete solutions to calculus problems. Maybe the list of Spanish vocabulary waiting nearby will finally earn a read. And maybe, just maybe, the blank word document flickering on my computer screen will finally be decorated by Times New Roman font, double-spaced margins, and a literary analysis of The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.
As the clock begins to tick again, I flirt with the fanciful, fantasizing about how perfect my math solutions will be, how fluent my Spanish will sound, and how beautiful my essay will read. The time I spend in contemplation, however, is soon lost to idleness. I fiddle with my thumbs. I check the news for the fifth time. I meander about my kitchen before confronting my work yet again. I steal another glance at the clock. It has suddenly approached three. Where did the past hour go? I am incredulous, wondering how all this time has passed as another hour, the same as the last, marches by.
I
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For me, this a nightly enigma: of being locked in time without the verve to begin my work or accomplish my responsibilities. It is a paralysis of motivation from which I always recover too late, saved by a primal impulse only activated when times are truly dire. Indeed, not a lot of conscious piloting is required when my calculus homework is due twenty minutes before class. But for most of the time, when I can control my inhibitions, I lapse into a familiar state of unproductivity. Whereas I am quick to sprint after the sound of a starter’s pistol, and even quicker to cross a busy street (even though the meter says I have a generous thirty seconds to do so), I am deterred by mental activities that are neither instantaneous nor instinctive.
Perhaps my mind is too patient with itself. Perhaps my inability to begin things is a symptom of chronic laziness. I do not think this is true, for even though my mind fails to translate its thoughts about The Sun Also Rises into words, it still contemplates its themes in the same way it scans my math textbook and decodes the problems. My mind loves schematics. It just refuses to share them with the rest of my peripheries, namely the hands that obediently rest on a keyboard or clutch a pen. No, my mind is not lazy; I think it is scared. Why else do I tremor uncontrollably before speaking or presenting a paper? Why else do I cling to my most important beliefs in secret? My mind is scared to communicate its musings with the world, deciding the paragraphs I must write or the problems I have yet to solve are better off disguised, uninspected by everyone except me. The inevitable hesitation I experience before embarking on anything of substance is a frightened warning. Whatever I will produce, my mind tells me, will be critiqued, probed, and judged. And often, this paranoid reminder is enough for me to languish indefinitely.
I suppose, in some ways, my inability to start things is useful. In pursuits like fine art, architecture, or authorship, careful deliberation is instrumental. Every Mona Lisa, La Sagrada Familia, or Ulysses from human history started off as a figment of creativity incubated in someone’s mind. Indeed, there is
little value in approaching projects without a meticulous
plan. Although I am no Da Vinci, Gaudí, or James Joyce,
taking the time to deliberate over my work can encourage
greater skill. And when it comes time to share my work
with an audience, my apprehension of starting things (and
my fear of disapproval) can motivate me to create a more
thoughtful, polished product.
Crude and cobbled math solutions are not very compelling, however, nor is rehearsal Spanish. My English teacher, in addition, probably will not acclaim my eloquence after reading twenty other papers. I forget some tasks are unglamorous as they are rote, and that their completion is often enough alone. Not everything is meant to be a masterpiece.
But everything can be! My inner-artisan chides, blissfully
unaware of the ticking time bombs strapped to reality.
I ignore him. I know I cannot delay my responsibilities,
whatever they may be, if I am to maximize my energy or creative sanity. Start somewhere, the platitude holds, regardless of how many calculations, keystrokes, or repetitions it takes. Start somewhere.
Staring at the clock again, I find myself slipping into a spell of unproductivity. A “brainstorming session” appears imminent, so does a mental reprieve. Stuck at a juncture in time, I imagine myself as The Traveler in Robert Frost’s famous poem, Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening. Journeying the countryside, The Traveler, who is far from home, pauses near a patch of woods. The woods are “lovely, dark,
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and deep” (Frost 13), inviting The Traveler to linger. Though the temptation is great, The Traveler balks, and ultimately immortalizes the words that to me make Frost’s poem a timeless panegyric for all those who harbor, unabashed, the resolve to start something and keep going. “I have promises to keep”, The Traveler says, “And miles to go before I sleep / And miles to go before I sleep” (Frost 14-16).
When my willpower is scarce and my work immense, I may also find the lull of the woods, and of hesitation, to be irresistible. But instead of abandoning my obligations for work, for purpose, and for action, I, like The Traveler, realize the moment before starting something is only a temporary perch, a singularity in space when everything stops. But only briefly, for time always unsuspends itself, and so must I.
As I sneak another glance at the kitchen clock, The Traveler and I marvel one last time. He, upon a snowy evening, and I, upon a silent school night. He, upon the journey ahead, and I, upon the unwritten and unread.
One last stop for the both of us, before we go our separate ways.
Works Cited
Frost, Robert. “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Poetry Foundation, Poetry Foundation, www. poetryfoundation.org/
poems/42891/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening.
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Annika Allado
Whether it be through track competitions, dance team tryouts, or even a flashcard
race with my brother at the dinner table, I consistently find myself thriving in environments that inherently breed both unhealthy and healthy competition. My high school, in particular, groomed all its students to attain an unreasonably high level of academic and extra-curricular excellence through announcements on the telecom on which students won the gold medals, 3-hour awards ceremonies to exhibit what “model students” should look like, and the annual magazine publication of the seniors that were accepted into Ivy League Schools.
At college, the comparative measures for success are the same, if not heightened, as the race transitions from getting into the best university to getting the highest earning job. It becomes very easy for us students to measure ourselves by comparing letter grades or the type of internships we had in the summer whilst completely shoving our mental wellbeing to the side. The psychological tolls and stresses on a student’s mental health from exceedingly high expectations appear to be almost universal, especially at highly regarded institutions like Duke University. While my Writing 101 class focused primarily on the evolutions
of cooperation, for my final classroom piece, I chose to explore the detrimental effects of competition by releasing a scribe video (a video with hand-drawn images and an accompanying recorded explanation) to cater to two audiences.
I wanted students to reflect on their
own emotional journeys dealing with stress and I wanted school faculty
and administrators to re-evaluate the type of environment they host in their institutions.
I would like to thank Dr. Ossi- Luppo for providing all her support throughout the development of my piece and for also facilitating a healthy classroom environment that I always looked forward to. I would also like to thank Sheryl and the entire editorial staff of Deliberations for helping me polish my piece and pushing me to the best of my ability. Finally, I would like to thank my friends at Duke and the International School of Manila for sharing their experiences and struggles and inspiring me to write about this issue.
Competition In A
Learning Environment: Helpful or Harmful?
Click here for the Video
Annika Allado
Writing 101: Evolutions of Cooperation Instructor: Kerry Ossi-Lupo
In 2010, a straight-A high school student Cameron Lee takes his life with no explanation. Cameron went to Gunn, a high school where the student population is comprised mostly of over-achievers and perfectionists, where winning math and
biology Olympiads are the norm, where the robotics team always ranks in the top 10 in the country, and where the school musical is considered the best youth production by BroadwayWorld.com.
In a school where success is the norm, many people were shocked to learn of the student suicide rate. Carolyn Walworth, a student at Gunn, writes: “We are lifeless bodies in a system that breeds competition, hatred, and discourages teamwork and genuine learning.” Walworth showcases the toxic and often overlooked mental and emotional distress that students face in an environment that breeds competitive behavior and reinforces idealistic emblems of perfection. The student suicide rates in successful high schools and universities like Gunn raises pressing and relevant questions: Why do we compete if it comes at such a cost? Wouldn’t more cooperation lead to better, healthier outcomes?
Competition drove human evolution, therefore, it is an inseparable component of who we are as humans. Charles Darwin’s theory of natural selection asserts that it is our genetic and biological predisposition to compete since competition is inherently linked to the basic needs of survival for all animals. Darwin’s theory further explores the preservation of favorable traits through competition for resources.
Evolutionary biologist Ernst Mayr subdivided Darwin’s theory into five categories, one of them being natural selection, a process in which only the strongest and most adaptive species are able to survive in the struggle for resources. Both Mayr and Darwin reinforce the idea that evolution is driven through an environment that facilitates competitive behavior and acknowledges “superior” traits. This may explain our urges to work hard to win gold medals or earn A-pluses and why we feel a sense of fulfillment from winning spelling bees, sports competitions, or even a game of rock-paper-scissors.
Ashley Merryman, in her book Top Dog: The Science of Winning and Losing, discusses the neuroscience and psychology of competitive behaviors and distinguishes competitive behaviors based on chemical differences in our bodies. She asserts that the competitive gene arises from the recycling of dopamine in the
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prefrontal cortex—the part of the brain that deals with high-level planning, thinking, and memory. Humans possess genetic coding that influences the manner in which we react to the stress of competitive environments. The variations in genetic coding splits us into worriers and warriors.
Worriers sustain
higher levels of dopamine
- a chemical that affects
how we feel pleasure and
determines our abilities to react and plan. In stressful, competitive environments, however, worriers get overloaded with an excessive amount of dopamine. Warriors, on the other hand, have less dopamine on a regular basis, so in more competitive environments, the dopamine levels peak to the optimum amount, allowing them to perform their best. Merryman’s studies thus prove that competition is part of our genetic, biological makeup and inseparable from who we are as humans.
Roberto Cazolla Gatti, an evolutionary biologist, thinks otherwise. Gatti’s evolution model suggests that the coexistence and cooperation of human species in a low-stakes environment is what drove the expansion of the human race, indicating that our abilities to cooperate are just as primal as our competitive instincts.. While competition may have allowed for the preservation of certain traits, cooperation allowed for diversification, thus playing a significant role in human evolution.
Humans may have selfish genes, but they also have self-less genes. Neurophysiologists at the University of Parma in Italy discovered that we possess mirror neurons that drive the majority of our social interactions. They are stimulated when we witness the experiences of others to discern what their intentions are and which allows for empathy. Mirror neurons are responsible for the feelings of giddiness when we see our favorite people smile at us, as well as for pain when we witness an injury or failure, propelling us to empathize and perform random acts of kindness. Our possession of mirror neurons are prove that cooperative tendencies are just as primal as selfish ones, so why do humans still have the tendency to choose competition even when cooperation can be more beneficial?
There’s more to competition than biological drive. Consider the survival tactic: “when you are being chased by a bear, you don’t have to outrun the bear, just outrun your friend.” Competition can be shaped by environmental factors, especially in a society where socio-economic comparison is prevalent, which is why slogans that assert hierarchy and superlatives are used in political campaigns and success is often measured by rank and status. In a survey of faculty, students, and staff at the Harvard T. Chen School of Public Health, the majority of the respondents said they’d prefer to live in a world where the average salary was $25,000 and they earned $50,000, versus one where the average was $200,000 but they earned $100,000. This survey indicates that the majority of respondents preferred relative advantage (a case scenario in which they win over everyone else) over absolute advantage (a scenario where everyone else wins.)
Similarly, Richard Easterlin, an economist from the University of Southern California, introduced the Easterlin Paradox. Through a study of 12,000 British citizens who ranked their happiness levels, he discovered that people are only
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satisfied when their income rose higher than their peers of similar age, socio-economic status, and race. Easterlin reasoned that personal satisfaction depends on social comparison. This explains why members in a high ranking university compete for A-pluses when B-minuses are unheard of. Social comparison appears to be a driving force for success in our education system, where we are measured against our peers through learning curves, class averages, and standard deviations. Even if everyone gets richer, or smarter, nobody becomes happier, suggesting that competition is largely shaped by one’s environment.
Nevertheless, it is possible that competitive environments can still produce cooperative outcomes. Competition is an integral and inseparable part of human society, and we can still put our ingrained competitive genes to good use in group settings. Whether it be in a soccer tournament or on a debate team, it is evident that
even when groups are pitted against each other, they are motivated to work together which, in turn, induces a more cooperative environment.
However, we cannot ignore the detrimental effects competition has on humans, and specifically students. Oftentimes, the education system fosters a breeding ground that induces social comparison through grades, and unintentionally breeds learners who are more concerned with their GPA and class rank than actually learning.
The story of Cameron Lee is only one of many tragic stories about the toxic learning environments formed as a result of competition. As a society, we cannot let these stories go unaddressed. Educators must not only reinforce collaborative skills
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in the classroom at an early age rather than pitting students against each other, but also reassure high-achieving students that failure and asking for help does not make them imperfect, but, rather, human.
In summary, although it is impossible to completely negate competitive drive in the classroom, students need to
be encouraged and guided to be more cooperative through emphasis on teamwork and empathy. After all, the most efficient and healthy human environments are those where levels of competition and cooperation are inextricably intertwined, and where its members are mindful about balancing both evolutionary forces.
References:
Bronson, P., & Merryman, A. (2013, February 06). Why Can Some Kids Handle Pressure While Others Fall Apart? Retrieved November 20, 2019, from https://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/10/magazine/why- can-some-kids-handle-pressure-while-others-fall-apart.html
Evolution of competitiveness: Scientists explain diversity in competitiveness. (2014, October 29). Retrieved December 5, 2019, from https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/10/141029084021. htm.
Gatti, R. C. (2016, May 12). Cooperation, not struggle for survival, drives evolution, say researchers. Retrieved December 5, 2019, from https:// www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/05/160512100708.htm.
Gilbert, A. (2013, March 21). How to raise a winning child. Retrieved December 5, 2019, from https://www.cnn.com/2013/03/20/living/ po-bronson-ashley-merryman-top-dog-qa/index.html.
Kenyon, J. (2013, July 21). Is Competition in Your Genes? Retrieved December 5, 2019, from https://www.themuse.com/advice/is- competition-in-your-genes.
Page, M. L. (2008, April 16). Evolution myths: ‘Survival of the fittest’ justifies ‘everyone for themselves’. Retrieved December 5, 2019, from https://www.newscientist.com/article/dn13671-evolution-myths- survival-of-the-fittest-justifies-everyone-for-themselves/.
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Anonymous
When I read about the course Coming of Age & Happiness, I instantly signed up with the hope of getting to share
a unique perspective on happiness,
if I had the courage to tell my story.
I was afraid my ‘self-preservation’ tactics that had been engrained in my mind since I was a child would kick in, telling me to run far away from the idea of ever speaking about my mental illness to others. But coming to Duke was about expanding my horizons and challenging myself in more ways than I could imagine, and this opportunity was just one the first steps in that journey.
I followed through, adding a
new page to my story where I was finally able to have the experience talk about the anxiety, depression, and, most prominently, OCD that
has haunted me throughout most
of my life. While writing this case study as a final project, I was forced to take a step back and find a way
to put the ideas that remained well hidden from others onto paper for people to analyze and critique. I’ve relived some of the worst times in my life and wrote about the memories I had repressed, all while having my story continue on day by day here at Duke. Despite being painful at times, it was one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had, bringing me a sense of understanding and closure I never thought possible. I
can only hope that my words resonate with others who may be struggling in silence.
I would like to extend a huge thank you to Sheryl, who has shown such kindness and understanding throughout the process of completing this case study. Without her thorough and enthusiastic feedback, I would have never been able to write about such a personal and vulnerable subject matter. I am grateful to the Deliberations Editorial Board for providing me with valuable guidance and the opportunity to share my story. And finally, I would like to thank
my mother for always listening and pushing me to be a better writer.
Observing a Convoluted
State of Mind:
The Story of a Girl Lost In Thought
Anonymous
Writing 101: Coming of Age & Happiness Instructor: Sheryl Welte Emch
Prologue
“Why are you here?”
Iavert my eyes, opting to focus on anything other than the stranger in front of me. My eyes catch on the box of tissues next to me and suddenly I feel nauseated. Taking a shaky breath, I stare directly back at the psychiatrist, the first one I’ve ever
sought out.
“I need to change,” I tell him, because it’s true. “I have OCD, social anxiety, and
depression.” Also true. “I can’t keep doing this and I’m tired, but I need to get it under control before college before I’m forced to live with a roommate and they see the rituals and the routines and I just want to be normal, but I’m not and I feel like I can’t control it and I might be insane...” A little bit too true, I think to myself as I trail off, halting my nonsensical babbling before he becomes as uncomfortable as I am.
“I see,” He calmly tells me. He prompts me again. “Does your family have a history of mental illness?”
“Oh – uh yes.” I am relieved to talk about something other than myself. “Almost all of my aunts and uncles and grandparents have depression. My mom used to have OCD, but that was when she was younger. My grandma on my dad’s side has bipolar disorder and she’s also schizophrenic, but she takes meds so it’s under control.”
12


Mental illness was quite common in my family, this I knew. I want to tell him I know how it all works, I know how it’s genetic sometimes and my mom jokes about it being the perfect storm. I want him to know how aware I am of my problems; how aware I’ve always been since I was a kid. Instead, I shut my mouth, waiting for the next question.
“Do you think you can describe your symptoms? How you have been feeling?”
I hesitate before letting myself slump down in the chair. You’re going to have to tell him anyways, might as well just let it happen, I resign myself before repeating what I have practiced over and over again, trying to find a relatively nonchalant way to express what has been going on without making myself seem too crazy.
“Well, I have these routines I have to do all the time. Weird things, making sure things are symmetrical, cleaning, arranging things, counting to four. I’m not even sure why, I just have always done it since I was nine years old. If I don’t do it, I feel like something bad is going to happen. I know it sounds stupid, but I feel like I don’t have a choice. I am always nervous about everything, mostly school and talking to people, even though I have friends. I feel like people are constantly judging me, but I know they aren’t, I just can’t let it go.”
I look up at him, checking to see if he’s following my confession. He nods at me encouragingly. I continue.“I used to be pretty depressed earlier in high school. Pretty hopeless, didn’t really see the point in everything. It’s gone away, but sometimes I still feel drained and I sleep a lot because I have no energy. I feel on top of the world somedays, but half the time I don’t want to get out of bed, but I do it anyways...”
“I understand,” He tells me, and I actually think it’s true after studying him for a minute. Then he starts to speak, talking to me about my past and my future, which begins to seem a little brighter.
And I decide that I’ve made the right decision, that this appointment was necessary. I give him a small smile in return, sitting up a little bit straighter in my chair as he talks to me for nearly thirty more minutes.
On my way out, I carry a slip with a few prescriptions on it and the time of our next appointment, ready to go a little deeper into my story and where it may go as I await the beginning of my life at college.
•• •
This past summer, I sought help for the first time in my thirteen years of struggling with mental illness.
As a child, I had always been aware that something felt slightly off, but I clung onto the idea that it wasn’t something I could control. I kept to myself, convinced I would be ostracized by everyone I knew if they saw that I wasn’t as stable as I made myself out to be. Concealing the issue seemed like the only option available in order to ensure that I kept myself distracted by trying to promote the image of myself that I hoped others would see. Even though daily life felt extremely bleak, I learned to manage the obsessive, compulsive, and depressive thoughts that consumed me.
At this point in my life, however, I am left questioning how my battle with mental illness during my childhood and adolescent years shaped me into the person I am today. Being newly medicated does not instantly repair the damage after coping on my own for so long. It is hard to let go of old habits and, as my symptoms begin to fade over time, I can’t help but wonder why I experienced such a tumultuous journey with mental health and how my OCD influenced not only my personality, but my success and my self-worth. The vulnerability, self-awareness, and bravery it takes to openly share personal trauma that most keep to themselves intrigues me. I’ve never had the opportunity nor the courage to speak about my story before, but I feel like it is important to have that experience in order to grow as an individual slowly recovering day by day.
13


Profile FIFTH GRADE
I stared out the window as my bleary eyes focused on the cars making their way down the quiet suburban street in front of my house. My short legs began to cramp as the hours passed by, but I remained huddled near the window, my whole body shaking as I stood on my tiptoes, letting my head fall roughly against the glass.
The sight of bright headlights shot pain through the back of my head while relief flooded through my mind, my body slumping against the wall in exhaustion. That was the tenth car, meaning I was free to carry on with the rest of my rigid routine. Was this normal? Did other people spend hours on the same “habits” so nothing bad would happen to them? I pushed these thoughts into the back of my head, figuring that I had no choice in the matter either way. I let out a sigh as I pushed myself off the wall and faced the rest of my room.
Hit the lights four times. Four had seemed like a nice and even number and it strangely gave me the comfort and reassurance I needed as I saw myself walk across the room to the light switch.
One two three four. The lights flickered on-and off and on-and off and I eyed the door in the corner of my room cautiously, as if my parents would burst into the room at any moment and scream at me as they had done in the past when the rituals had woken them up. I couldn’t blame them — having a mentally unstable daughter in elementary school didn’t seem particularly appealing. I decided to mentally distance myself — I would be more efficient in finishing my routines without their hovering. I waited a few beats longer, paranoid I would be caught. Nothing happened.
The whole house must have been asleep, as I should’ve 14
been. My hands shook with frustration as I struggled to keep myself awake, raking my fingers through my messy curls and beginning the rest of my usual night-time customs.
Go to bed, I pleaded with myself, but muscle memory took over. As tears gathered in my eyes, I let the thoughts take over me, shamefully watching myself complete the routines with the same sharp precision that was always required for the rituals, most of which were centered around symmetry, incessant counting, and checking.
Did you close the pantry? Yes. But what about the refrigerator? Yes. But did you make sure everything was clean before you closed it?
I remember everything was in place from the last three times I checked. But what if someone else moved something?
Did you touch the handle four times with each hand before you came upstairs? Stop, you know this is stupid. But you should do it anyways.
I felt tears prick in my eyes as I glared at the door. A dim lamp, one of the only lights on inside the house, cast shadows on the wall, playing tricks on my mind and making me overthink until my head ached with a dull pain. I could not stop.
“Why does it even matter?” I muttered to myself as I padded my way into the darkness. I had scribbled my useless, intrusive thoughts into my journal earlier that night, commenting on my own insanity, impulsively scratching out the writing as if the listed-out rituals confirmed me to be as crazy as I feared I was. Now, the journal lay open on the floor, giving me a tangible reminder of what needed to be done, a disturbing manifestation that seemingly could not be ignored, for some reason. Not when it was on paper like that.
But I was still in control, I told myself as I made my way to the kitchen, for the fourth time that night. I had to be. So why did it even matter?
EIGHTH GRADE
My friends went ahead of me, filing out of my house and quickly trudging through the snow, not stopping to look back, having no reason to turn around. The feel of cool night breeze hit my skin, waking me up as I realized I was frozen in place, staring as the others kept moving forward.
It felt as though I was being held at gunpoint, with my own fingers gripping the gun as the cold metal barrel rested against my forehead, cooling my feverish skin as I grew more and more frantic and the urge to check and double-check consumed me.
I knew you were crazy.
“Hey! What are you doing? Let’s go!” One of my friends called out to me as they piled into the car. They had no idea I was in a mental standoff.
I turned my head, trying to make myself appear as though I was looking around in order to hide my face as it twitched


uncontrollably, a familiar ache shooting through the back of my skull. One two three four. I rapidly blinked over and over again in pathetic patterns, stalling while I made my decision.
Don’t go back to finish the routines. You know you don’t have to.
But I didn’t have that choice.
Check the door. Just in case something bad happens. Go back and flip the light switch one two three four times. Or else your friends will realize how much they hate you. Touch the wall sixteen times with your right thumb. What if you failed that test in math earlier today? Do the routine again, it felt off. Why can’t you just stop thinking?
Don’t go back to finish the routines. You know you don’t have to.
I glanced at my friends one last time as they stared at me in confusion from the car.
Then, I spun on my heel and sprinted back inside, promising to be back in one two three four minutes.
ELEVENTH GRADE
I grabbed my phone, looking at the time before starting to get back up and go back to bed.
Do that four times or else something will happen.
I didn’t even fight it, my hands no longer trembled with the same aggravation as they did five years prior when the routines first started, and the hesitancy vanished as I shut the phone on and off and on and off. One two three four. It was easier this way. It felt emptier, but easier.
Check your backpack again, just to be safe. Did you do all of your homework? Was it filed away correctly? Check a fourth time, or you might fail the rest of high school.
I completed the task and made my way back to bed, closing my eyes as if not to remind myself of any more things that needed to be done. I pried my eyes open to find faint light from the streetlamps outside casting those strange shadows across the room, and a sickening feeling grew in my stomach.
I pressed myself into the soft bed, clenching my hands tightly to my sides as I forced my eyes open and allowed them to flit back and forth between the clock sitting on the nightstand next to my bed and the floor.
Make sure you shut down your laptop.
There it was again. I stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling a dull pain crawl out of the corners of my mind. I already knew I had done it. I could remember doing so multiple times after finishing nearly all my homework for the next few weeks, not because I wanted to but simply because I had to.
Or had that been yesterday that I remembered to turn it off? The days all seemed to blend together.
I checked. It wasn’t off.
Suddenly, I was fully awake again, horrified at what this could mean for my routines and then what it could mean for my grades and social life and sports – I could not bear the thought of failure. I looked around me exactly four times. I absorbed every tiny detail of my room perhaps sixteen times, though I was not quite sure as the same images flashed through my head forty-eight more times. My eyes swept around me, glancing at the laptop, my bed, the window, the floor. I saw that it’s spotless, all of it, but it could be cleaner. I couldn’t remember how long ago I cleaned, I couldn’t quite find the light-switch, I can’t-
Why are my hands shaking?
I stared at my horrifying reflection in the mirror, and, just like that, it’s over. I felt myself shiver as a numb feeling washed over me, nearly collapsing where I stood. I blindly shuffled back to my bed, trying to fathom how I could end up like this. How can I keep doing this?
As I pulled the covers over my head, the empty feeling washed over me once again and I slowly closed my eyes, praying for the dull ache in the back of my head to subside.
I couldn’t afford to be tightly shoved into a room with the prying eyes and unruly whispers of my illness berating me, I couldn’t to do this alone anymore.
You need help.
15


PRESENT DAY
As I open the closet door, I continue to mindlessly prepare for bed. I watch my hand hesitate for a second, about to adjust the closet door one two three four times. Instead, I reach for the three tiny orange bottles sitting side by side on the shelf. The lids easily come off, and I collect one pill from each, just as the psychiatrist told me to.
The voice in the back of my head urging me to check and clean and check again becomes background noise as I shuffle past my slightly messy desk, making my way towards the lofted bed in the corner of my dorm room.
While laying down, my eyes catch on the photos from high school taped up on the wall. I blankly stare at them.
My own face smiles back at me, showing me with my friends, posing with teammates, laughing with my sisters. I made it through. Not all of it was a facade, of course. There were times where it almost seemed like I could forget the mental anguish I endured day after day, but I’m not sure if I was ever being completely truthful with myself during that time.
How did I keep doing that for so many years? With the rituals, the routines, the constant tension? Why?
I feel my hand twitch again, as if directly prompted to grasp on to something one two three four times.
The same hesitancy plagues my mind as I learn to live differently, still trying to understand what I went through. I am left to think for myself, whoever I might be referring to – I am not quite sure.
Analysis
Looking at the Numbers: The Gift of Control
It’s the itch that killed me sometimes. The itch that forced me to do things I knew were ridiculous, but I didn’t have the strength left to fight the thoughts. It felt, and occasionally still feels, truly easier to give into the obsessive and irrational thoughts that pop into my head rather than to wrestle with the uncertainty of what were to happen if I were not to act on them. In his book, OCD: A Guide for the Newly Diagnosed, Michael A. Tompkins, a licensed psychologist who specializes in anxiety disorders and is a founding fellow of the Academy of Cognitive Therapy, helps explain this desire that people suffering with obsessive compulsive disorder grapple with constantly. He emphasizes that people “carry out a compulsion because they believe that the compulsion will prevent harm or other bad things from happening” (16). While Thompkins asserts that most people with compulsive thoughts are subjected to images of their loved ones tragically passing away or being in eminent danger, I never found myself struggling with these ideas. Instead, I believe what I needed most was academic and social security, the two areas of my life where I was unconfident. I cannot remember my
specific fears as a child performing OCD routines as I felt generally superstitious, but, as a teenager, I was terrified of bad performance in school, being socially rejected, and even losing when participating in competitive sports. I believed that if I ignored the orders that the intrusive thoughts were giving me, I would be setting myself up for many different types of failure.
Looking back on it, I can’t help but wonder in a strange way if I was shallow and selfish for letting those thoughts consume me. Failing a test or embarrassing myself in front of other people is miniscule compared to most people’s fears of their loved ones dying or their lives falling apart. In a way, I suppose it seems trivial that these were the biggest worries that plagued my mind, making me so anxious that I spent hours performing precise rituals. I nearly pushed myself to the breaking point because I thought I wouldn’t have any friends or get perfect grades if I didn’t take extreme precautions. These areas of my life must have troubled me the most, making me cling onto whatever reassurances I could, even if I knew logically that the rituals would not guarantee me any success.
Somehow, the thought of death must have been less frightening than living a life of failure. While most people with OCD primarily fear loss and life-threatening situations as Tompkins mentions, I have never had a great deal of anxiety about this subject; from a young age, I accepted I had no control over tragic events, and while death seemed awful, it was completely natural. While I was alive, however, I felt I had to make something of myself when I had the time because that was within my control. Or at least, that’s how it seemed. In reality, success could never be controlled to the extent that I liked. As I strived to control the prospect of failure, my rituals developed further. My itch to check and count and check and repeat was so strong that “over time, [I tended] to resist [my] compulsions less often,” allowing me to run on autopilot as I completed hours of thorough
16


routines (Thompkins 18). Rather than actively think about my actions, it was less exhausting to blindly follow the typical rituals that popped into my strange mind. By submitting to my anxieties, I gave them a significant amount of power over me, which I now see was disturbingly unhealthy since having moved away from the compulsive thoughts.
My belief that completing rituals would give me a sense of security caused me to succumb to the cycle that OCD traps its victims in, making it nearly impossible to “face the anxiety and distress of obsessions without resorting to rituals,” as Dr. Karen Landsmen, a leading clinical psychologist in the treatment of anxiety disorders in children and adolescents states (87). Desiring a sense of control, I grasped onto things that I could control — the numbers, the constant checking, the exhaustive counting compulsions.
I continued to act on these obsessive thoughts that filled my head for years due to the delusional belief that I had “the power to cause or prevent certain disastrous events,” giving me the “inflated sense of responsibility” commonly seen in people with OCD (Thompkins 22). My compulsion wasn’t necessarily to prevent the typical “disastrous event” that Thompkins describes, but rather ease my worries and insecurities about my own life. I am still haunted by fears of academic failure and social ineptness brought on by generalized anxiety and social anxiety. Repressing the thoughts to decrease the pain and shame that come along with my disorder inexplicably impacts my ability to feel other emotions – like happiness or curiosity and hope. What I have discovered over time is that sometimes the only thing that reverberates in my mind is a sense of numbness. This feeling, this emptiness, overcomes me when I watch in horror as thoughts crawl out of the corners of my mind, whispering something that vaguely sounds like one two three four.
When OCD Takes a Darker Turn
Being tormented nonstop by these uncontrollable thoughts and unwanted images flashing through my mind telling me what might happen if I ignored them was exhausting. Escaping the thoughts was simply impossible, forcing my mind into a cage where progress felt unattainable. Sometimes I would try to control the thoughts by distracting myself, praying one day they would just vanish and I could live my life in peace, but any attempt to escape the compulsive urges appeared to make my mental state worse, leaving me more emotionally drained. Christine Purdon and David A. Clark, clinical psychologists and researchers who specialize in OCD and similar anxiety disorders, suggest that my efforts to suppress my thoughts led me into a cycle in which my “mood state would deteriorate,” causing the impulsive thought to be more accessible, and leading to “greater negative appraisal of its recurrence” (48). I was unable to let go of the extremely irrational thoughts that made the words one two three four echo over and over again in my mind whenever I was awake.
To escape, I relied on sleep. Whenever I was left alone with my thoughts, away from the distraction of school and sports, I would sleep. Only when I was unconscious did the itch to check and reassure myself and ease the anxiety disappear. My intense reliance on sleep was evidence that I was “highly motivated to keep obsessional thoughts from entering consciousness in order to avoid the anxiety-evoking sense of responsibility” (Purdon & Clark 47). In essence, I had developed the unhealthy coping mechanism of sleep to deal with my even unhealthier rituals. Finding myself trapped in depressive episodes for weeks at a time, an empty feeling began to grow, only further enflaming the OCD and “control attempts would thus escalate” (Purdon & Clark 48), perpetuating the cycle. The anxiety impacted the OCD, which seemed to escalate my discomfort overtime, which in turn led to increased compulsive thoughts, making it harder and harder to escape. My mental illness remained a persistent force because of this pattern of attempted suppression followed by the continued regression of my mental state over time.
It was exhausting. I felt as though I was buried alive, slowly suffocating in my own thoughts and rapidly losing my will to continue living as it would only lead to more internal suffering.Myonlygoalleftwastokeepthesufferinginternal, far away from my parents’ prying eyes and anyone else who dared to question my mental stability.
The Stigma of Mental Illness and My Decaying Self-Worth
With unwavering determination, I decided it was best to keep my internal and external states separate, projecting an image of perfection when I was also acutely aware that I was mentally ill. I was so good at pretending that I managed to trek alone through four years of high school with the weight of my mental illness dragging closely behind me, silently urging me to stop and take a closer look at where I was headed in life. But I averted my eyes and kept my gaze straight ahead, working to distract myself. I worked hard so that when I
17


looked in the mirror, I would see a top student, the captain of two varsity sports, a Science Olympiad state medalist, a National Hispanic Scholar, and eventually a future Duke student rather than the shy, insecure girl I saw myself as. This depleted self-confidence was
only enhanced by my OCD, which made me feel as though I was insane and immoral for the repetitive, trivial nature of my thoughts. Every time a new compulsion popped into my head, the “thought recurrence would be interpreted as evidence of undesirable personality characteristics” (Purdon & Clark 47). I feared I would be rejected by others for being the self-centered, depressed person I perceived myself to be.
Extremely self-aware, I
was not living in a delusion
in which I was normal, causing my depression to worsen; instead, I was dedicating myself to pretending I was a typical high school girl with ordinary problems. My determination to feign normalcy was seemingly based on trying to be accepted socially and on continuing to compare myself to others around me. This only caused me to become more “frustrated and dissatisfied with [myself] when [I] did not follow age appropriate life cycle goals” (Murphy & Perera- Delcourt). For me, I think these “goals” were more oriented around social life rather than the typical milestones, such as graduating high school or getting my first job, referred to by social psychologists Murphy and Perera-Delcourt, who focus on the lived experience of anxiety disorders. I still remained successful, particularly in the academic arena, with more achievements than those around me who I compared myself to. However, while my friends were out partying and drinking and getting into relationships for the first time, I still spent a great deal of time surrendering to my elaborate rituals and kept to my routines, feeling dejected as I watched from the sidelines most of the time. Constantly feeling like I was missing out, my perceived social ineptness caused me to withdraw further into myself.
I was not excited about high school or optimistic about my future; I was simply hanging on because I felt I had to. Keeping up with the students in my competitive classes was expected, not only by family and teachers, but because I held myself to a high standard. I knew that seeking help and possibly visiting a mental hospital, like some of my peers had done, would mess up what I had going for me. Putting my best effort into getting into a top ranked college seemed imperative in order for me to have a happy future. According
to Murphy and Perera-Delcourt, “processes of self-stigma” cause people with OCD to label themselves as worthless and immoral for experiencing such invasive thoughts. For me, these fully internalized processes only created more issues
with my perceived identity and purpose in life.
Change was needed, but this enhanced self-stigma that came with the idea of addressing my OCD and talking to someone held me back. According to Murphy and Perea-Delcourt, the “fears of being stigmatized...can delay help seeking behaviors by up to 10 years” in people suffering from OCD. This definitely applied to me as I prolonged my pain throughout parts of my childhood and teenage years. Looking back, I have no idea how I pulled
myself together in front of my friends and family every single day, especially during high school.
Seeking Help
Suffering in silence became customary at some point along my journey. Losing control usually came in the form of acting out on a compulsive thought that was so abnormal I couldn’t disguise it in front of others. The occasional depressive episode would also take place, but my despair was usually confined to my room at night when I could let it all out far from the prying eyes of others, whose pity would only make me feel worse. I didn’t want them to regard me with same shameful “prejudice [I had] against people who [had] mental illness,” which is a primary reason that people like myself delay seeing a professional for help (Henderson et al.). I would occasionally open up to my mother and some of my closest friends, but their support usually heightened my guilt, making me feel as though I was burdening them by sharing such awful things. Another common factor that drove me away from the help I needed was the common “expectation of the discrimination against people diagnosed with mental illness” (Henderson et al.). I wanted to maintain my reputation in school of being put together and sharp, not treated as though I was unstable and incapable of keeping up with others, even after I already proved I could be successful in school with the internal turmoil constantly ringing in my brain. My greatest nightmare was that someone would catch on to my perceived insanity and proceed to lock me in some psych ward against my will, destroying all the work I put into pretending to be normal.
18


My issues were largely normalized in my mind because they were all I knew. Treatment seemed so foreign, there was no way for me to process that there were resources for people with the same uncontrollable thoughts. I think I may have feared the very concept of help itself. Depression, OCD, and anxiety had taken up residence in my mind, and the concept of separating them from my identity seemed impossible. I had grown up with them by my side, telling me what to think, guiding me through life until I became so broken; I began to drag them along with me, incapable of leaving them behind.
College seemed like an opportunity to abandon this part of me back home in the Midwest as I moved my life somewhere else, far away from everything and everyone I knew. The concept of building a new me – one who was free to be happy without the weight of mental illness –was enthralling. I took a chance and made the decision to seek out a psychiatrist recommended by a trusted friend. Though I was sick to my stomach at the prospect of speaking about the rituals, the social situations that petrified me, and the depressive thoughts that shook me to my core, the doctor gave me the best reaction I could have dreamed of: he barely reacted at all. He showed me I wasn’t alone; there were other people out there like me, and I wasn’t as crazy as I had deemed myself for all these years.
I was prescribed medication specifically for OCD and separate antidepressants to help improve my mood swings. I exited the office with a prescription that the doctor was confident would restore the chemical imbalance in my brain. I became mentally ready and committed to making progress. But I also knew this couldn’t be fixed by a few small pills – I was going to have to do some internal work as well.
Analyzing Recovery
After finding the proper combination of medications to address my issues, I noticed significant changes in my mental state: less mood swings, minimized anxiety, and the near disappearance of my OCD routines. However, I think there is much more to talk about with my internal mental recovery, for which I view myself as fully responsible. Self-preservation
Bibliography:
Amering, Michaela, and Schmolke, Margit. Recovery in Mental Health: Reshaping Scientific and Clinical Responsibilities, John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated, 2009. ProQuest eBook Central, http://ebookcentral. proquest.com/lib/duke/detail.action?docID=437480
Henderson, Claire et al. “Mental illness stigma, help seeking, and public health programs.” American journal of public health vol. 103,5 (2013): 777-80. doi:10.2105/AJPH.2012.301056
Landsman, Karen J., et al. Loving Someone with OCD: Help for You and Your Family, New Harbinger Publications, 2005. ProQuest Ebook Central.
was no longer my only goal, I needed to focus on self-care. While the familiar itch had mostly disappeared with the help of the medication, I occasionally caught myself slipping back into old ways, telling myself it was just to be safe. I was still looking “for ways to transform the land of ‘maybe’ into the land of ‘for sure’” (Amering & Schmolke) to calm the anxieties I still had about school and finding good friends in college. In fact, it seemed like the few compulsive urges that remained were ironically centered around my concern about having the same mental health problems going into college. This mentality was just prolonging my OCD. Over the past summer, I learned a meaningful lesson: “A recovery attitude accepts that certainty is not possible and that the desire for certainty creates more problems than it solves” (Amering & Schmolke). In order for me to move on from acting on my intrusive thoughts and performing the routines I knew like the back of my hand, I had to recognize that I was only making my life worse by dwelling on them. Actively resisting was exhausting, but the medicine made it easier, decreasing my anxiety and pushing compulsive thoughts further into the back of my mind. Over time, I came to realize that my “tolerance of uncertainty,” which Amering and Schmolke believe is the only way to recover from OCD, had increased, allowing me to live more in present rather than fretting about what my future held. By the end of the summer and shortly into my first semester at Duke, I had given up the OCD
rituals that had consumed so much of my life back home. While the medication has helped my chances of transforming my mentality, a large part of my improvement has been due to the support I have from friends, family, and, most importantly, myself. The pace of my progress varies from sprinting, to walking, to simply standing in one place sometimes, trying not fall backwards. Changing how I approach my anxieties and thoughts has been a tough road for me after everything I have experienced. With a new understanding of how my mental illness has shaped me, I feel hopeful that I will continue to be more and more free of the suffering it has caused, heading one step closer to the
recovery and life I deserve.
Murphy, Helen, and Ramesh Perera‐Delcourt. “‘Learning to Live with OCD Is a Little Mantra I Often Repeat’: Understanding the Lived Experience of Obsessive‐Compulsive Disorder (OCD) in the Contemporary Therapeutic Context.” Wiley Online Library, The British Psychological Society, 12 Oct. 2012, onlinelibrary.wiley.com/ doi/pdfdirect/10.1111/j.2044-8341.2012.02076.x.
Purdon, Christine, and Clark, David A. (1994b). Perceived control and appraisal of obsessional intrusive thoughts: A replication and extension. Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy, 22,269- 285.
Tompkins, Michael A. OCD: A Guide for the Newly Diagnosed, New Harbinger Publications, 2012. ProQuest Ebook Central, http:// ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/duke/detail.action?docID=805083.
19


Jack Rickards
For many of us, the thought of going to college and starting anew is both exhilarating and terrifying. The slate is wiped clean
as we abandon our high school personas in search of our true identities. However, we may be stepping out of one box and into another. Leaving high school, I was in limbo between being closeted and being openly gay. My close friends and family all knew, but I never mentioned my sexuality outside of my inner circle. Walking onto Duke’s campus, I wanted to just jump off that cliff despite my greatest inhibitions. Fortunately, Duke made that decision for me early on.
A few days after arriving on
campus, I participated in one of the many diversity-centered activities of Orientation Week. This particular exercise consisted of several brightly colored poster boards with identifying labels: race, gender, socioeconomic status, politics, religion, disability, and,
of course, sexuality. The challenge was to select the label that personally affected you the most. And so, I really had no other choice but to shine a ginormous gay light on myself.
As I began to navigate this new chapter of my life as an openly gay man, Dr. Nan Mullenneaux’s Stand and Deliver Writing 101 came as a welcome sanctuary. The final argumentative paper drew upon personal experience, allowing me to unload the pent-up observations and anecdotes bubbling inside my mind. Thanks to Dr. Nan,
I learned to be comfortable stepping out of my comfort zone, giving me the courage to both reflect on and challenge the binary notion of the gay closet.
Coming back to this essay months later felt like rereading an old diary entry. In that time span, I had added new experiences to the gay facet of my identity (including the strange sense of community I found on gay Tik Tok). An essay as personal as The Closet Revisited was a living, breathing document, leaving me overwhelmed with the urge to completely gut and rewrite it in order to reflect my current feelings. However, after hearing the much-needed advice of Dr. Sheryl Welte Emch, I realized that there was both beauty and meaning in allowing this essay to be a time capsule of my first semester in college. I am eternally grateful to Dr. Nan, Dr. Sheryl, and the entire Deliberations team for giving me the opportunity to share this vulnerable side of my story.
The Closet Revisited
Jack Rickards
Writing 101: Stand and Deliver Instructor: Nan Mullenneaux
M
my kitchen erratically, trying to tune out the hellish shrieks screaming louder and louder inside my mind. No, don’t do it! Everything will change. Just keep your mouth shut. It’s not worth it.
Three years of whispering behind people’s backs, three years of thinking, “I’ll do it soon enough,” three years of relentless dishonesty, all culminating in 250 words on my application to Duke University. One button on my keyboard, and suddenly the facade I so carefully constructed comes crashing down. One Google Doc becomes the wrecking ball that demolishes my palace of lies.
The moment I press send, I’m sharing that document with my parents. They are going to read over my essays, just like they do with every other application. Then, they will see my response to that third prompt.
y index finger has been hovering over the “return” button for half an hour.
Just waiting to press send. Begging for freedom. I pace back and forth in
Here are five reasons why some people think I’m gay:
1. I’m fashionable.
2. Almost all of my friends are girls.
3. I’m a hardcore Mariah Carey fan.
4. I use phrases like “that’s tea” and “I’m shooketh” frequently.
5. I’m pretty adorable.
These are all gross assumptions based on dated stereotypes about gay men. But yes, I’m gay.
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They will probably nod in agreement with all of those assumptions. Then I’ll hear my mom call out, “Jack, honey, can you come up here?” And that will be it. I’ll have opened that closet door, and before I have the chance to change my mind and return to my treasured hiding spot, it will be locked behind me.
The truth was that I wouldn’t have been gay until I started saying it out loud. Of course, we all make assumptions about each other behind closed doors. But in our heteronormative society, we consider everyone to be straight until they say otherwise. Back in the closet, I had control over my labels. And that kind of power felt good—too good to just give up.
***
I remember my first time peeking through the keyhole, testing the doorknob. My best friend was pestering me about a girl at school.
“You have to. Everyone has a crush.” “I promise you I don’t.”
“You’re lying!”
“I’m not!”
“I don’t believe you.”
Why doesn’t he understand? How can I explain it to him? I don’t like that girl. But why don’t I like her? He’s right, everyone has a crush. Shouldn’t I like her? Then, it dawns on me. Without even realizing, I find my fingers typing away on my phone, spelling out the answer to his question—to my question: “I’m attracted to guys.”
I stare at those words with a sense of relief. A reality that has been buried in the deepest recesses of my subconscious is finally forcing itself into the forefront of my mind. But with this answer comes a million more questions. Yes, I’m gay. But what does that mean? Does that change who I am? Does that change what people will think of me? Do I have to act gay?
And so, my three-year journey of slowly opening that closet door began. I started telling more and more friends. Some over text, some in person. Sometimes I even had the courage to type out those two words. I was getting better and better at coming out. Yet I was still very much in the closet, setting up camp in between all of my clothes and shoes as I kept an eye on the door. When I was alone with my friends, I could talk about cute boys and cute clothes as much as I wanted. But as soon as I heard footsteps or voices around the corner, I censored any discussion of sexuality.
“Shhh, quiet down, my parents are in the other room.”
“We’ll talk about it later. Not at school.”
In those three years of keeping my lips sealed, I had adapted.
I was somewhat content staying in that closet. Was it perfect? Of
course not. But was it comfortable? Absolutely. Biting my tongue
almost became a game. And it wasn’t just about keeping my voice
down. My incessant need to veil my gayness in a shroud of ambiguity manifested in strange ways.
Flashback to a typical weekday morning in high school. I’m getting ready: showering, brushing my teeth, getting dressed. Then I sit down on my bed and stare at a pair of pink shoes for what feels like hours. They have been sitting in my closet for over a year, just slowly collecting dust. I was so excited when I first ordered them. They’re cute, cheap, chic. I know that the second I try them on, the world around me will transform into a pastel daydream as I frolic through the fields like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. But when it comes time to put them on, the panic sets in: to
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wear or not to wear. Just wear them! You love these shoes. They look so good on you.
But what will people think? No, I can’t do it. I want to wear them so bad, but not today. I just can’t
do it.
In hindsight, it seems so trivial.
Why was I so scared of those
shoes? Is the color pink really
that gay? Even if I wasn’t wearing
them, people would still be making
assumptions about my sexuality. It’s
in the tone of my voice, it’s in the way
my hands move, it’s in the friends I
have. The list goes on and on. It was
never a secret, yet those shoes felt
like a confession. They were the final
clue that allowed others to confirm
their suspicions. I might as well have
wrapped a rainbow flag around my
entire body and written “G-A-Y”
across my forehead in permanent
marker. I never wanted to be that stereotypical gay best friend screaming obnoxiously flamboyant comments from the sidelines. I’m not some walking cliché tending to the fashion needs and boy problems of my girlfriends. I don’t want to be reduced to some side character in everyone else’s story with just one defining personality trait. I mean, I’m not just gay. Right?
Something about that word really freaked me out. Not that I was bothered by who I was attracted to, but I was resistant to the implications of that label. Homosexual? Of course. But gay? No, I wanted to be more than that. I’m Jack, not “the gay kid.” When people think of me, I want that three-letter word to be at the bottom of an entire laundry list. Otherwise, every other descriptor that follows that word will be replaced with the abundance of gay stereotypes. But I want to be known as smart, hilarious, self-deprecating, musical, sweet. Maybe even cute. But not just gay.
As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie describes in her famous TED Talk, The Danger of a Single Story, “the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.”1 My problem was not necessarily with the connotation of these gay stereotypes, but simply their existence. Whether I fit these assumptions or not, it was demoralizing to think that the complexities of my life story could be reduced to a single word based purely on preconceived notions. I feared being seen as another common stone; I wanted to be a multi-faceted diamond. Of course, being constrained by labels hasn’t been limited to my sexuality. Having been closeted throughout high school, I was primarily perceived as a book
_________________________
1 Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. “The Danger of a Single Story.” TED, July 2009. https://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_ngozi_adichie_the_danger_
smart nerd. But so were all of my friends. It wasn’t a unique label, and any weight it carried would have dissipated once I went to a college full of overachievers. However, there were
only a few gay kids at my school. And that’s what they were known as: “the gay kids.” That label seemed all-encompassing. In my eyes, being defined by a single story of being gay was confining, almost suffocating.
I always worried that it would be impossible to escape that label the second my parents knew. Even though I had come out to friends, it wasn’t the same. All those times were like practice tests. Maybe they helped me prepare for the real exam, but they had no impact on my final grades. My parents are some of the only constants in my life, some of the only people who I know will be at my wedding one day. Telling my parents
would mean allowing my future dreams to become attainable goals. Telling them would mean breaking down those walls I had been building all that time. Telling them would mean finally allowing that label to become part of my identity.
***
Just as I’m about to share that college application with Mom and Dad, my finger freezes above the keyboard. A violent battle between truth and power wages in my mind. By sharing this essay, I’ll be free to live an honest and genuine life. But by revealing this facet of my identity for the rest of the world to see, I’ll lose control of how others label me. I’ll allow myself to become “the gay kid” in everyone else’s eyes. I know that truth is inevitable, but how am I supposed to let go after years of being in control?
Eventually, my finger stumbles upon the key, but the doubts in the back of my mind never cease. All there is left to do is wait. Wait for my parents to read through the entire application until they get to the very end. Then I’ll be powerless. Why did I do this to myself?
“Jack, come up here,” my mom calls. Goodbye sweet closet, it was nice knowing you. As I walk into my parents’ room, I’m bombarded with an unexpected assault of compliments about my essays.
“Wow, the analogy in this first one was amazing!”
“The second one is really well written.”
“Great job, honey!”
Oh my God, did they not get to the last prompt? Do I ask?
What the hell do I do?
of_a_single_story?tm_campaign=tedspread&utm_medium=referral&utm_ source=tedcomshare
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After I endure minutes of soul-crushing anticipation, they finally manage to subtly slip in that they’ve read the third essay. I barely register what they’re saying because my mind is lost in a panicky haze. But that’s it. It’s over. The bandage is ripped off. I don’t even have to say those two words. Now they just know. Simple as that.
Later that night, my mom hugs me in the middle of the hallway and whispers, “I’ve known since you were three.” And I can’t help but smile. This moment I have been anticipating for years, building it up to be this giant emotional mess, turned out to be easier than I ever could have imagined.
Fast-forward a few months and everything’s just peachy, right? I must be living my best life, completely secure in who I am. Maybe I even found a cute boy. I have come out of my closet, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, ready to spread its wings. But my wings are still very much forming, covered in a gooey residue that has prevented me from flying.
I had always hoped that coming out would be like flipping a light switch. You’re in the closet, and then you’re out. Equality advocate and TED speaker Ash Beckham describes the closet as simply a hard conversation.2 By that definition, we all have closets. However, the term “conversation” creates the expectation that acceptance from others is the finish line. Of course, we cannot deny the importance of acceptance and support, especially when so many are deprived of these necessities. However, as someone who grew up in a wonderfully supportive environment, my greatest hurdle was self-acceptance. The actual conversation I needed to have, and the most difficult one, was my own inner dialogue, a battle between my conscious and subconscious thoughts. It’s a process. Slowly creak that closet door open, millimeter by millimeter, until it’s time to take a step out.
Despite the universality of these hard conversations, my journey has demonstrated that coming out is much more nuanced and complex than that. For me, the conversation with my parents was the easy part. I didn’t even
have to say anything. But after three years spent glorifying life outside
of the closet, I was met with unexpected disappointment. What I had hoped to be the final unveiling of my true self was actually a rebirth. And there’s a learning curve that comes with being a baby gay.
Even after telling my parents, there has been an adjustment period where I have avoided becoming “too gay.” On those mornings when I finally chose to don those pink shoes, I cowered behind the kitchen island. As I heard footsteps coming from upstairs, I’d quickly wrap around the island to disguise my feet beneath the counter. When my dad finally got to the kitchen to make his morning coffee, I’d move in his same counterclockwise direction around the tabletop separating us as if we were playing musical chairs. He couldn’t care less about what shoes I wore. In his eyes, I was Jack, not just his gay son. Yet I was determined to hide my shoes from him. It’s hard to understand what was going through my head at the time. Perhaps it was a residual defense mechanism from all the years of secrecy. However, those worries have faded over time.
Even now, as an openly gay college student, I still have questions about my identity. I went from not talking about my sexuality at all to worrying that it’s all I can talk about. I feel like I’m overcompensating: nails painted, eyebrows threaded, ears pierced, slowly falling into the trap of becoming the archetypical gay man. And yet, there’s still a part of me that’s hard-wired to think, “Don’t let anyone know.” There’s
_________________________
2 Beckham, Ash. “We’re All Hiding Something. Let’s Find the Courage to Open Up.” TED, September 2013. https://www.ted.com/talks/ash_beckham_
we_re_all_hiding_something_let_s_find_the_courage_to_open_up
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a part of me that doesn’t want to listen to recordings of my own voice because it sounds too flamboyant. There’s a part of me that remembers to cross my arms so that I don’t gesticulate in a stereotypical way. There’s a part of me yearning to crawl back into that closet and lock everyone else out.
Do I regret coming out? Definitely not. But back in the closet, I was free to explore my identity without anyone else knowing. Out here in the real world, I feel obligated to have an answer for everyone else.
***
There’s a whole slew of academic terms to explain and justify my feelings of distress: homophobia (overt and internalized), toxic masculinity, gender norms, etc. And while there is comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my thoughts and experiences, that much needed relief has come with the consequence of perpetuating an inner conflict. It’s an ongoing battle between identifying as a gay man, which is associated with an abundance of assumptions and stereotypes, and maintaining my unique individuality. Navigating the battle outside of the closet amplifies this confusing contradiction. For instance, if I feel uncomfortable wearing an outfit that breaks gender norms or social conventions, is it due to the pressures of a heteronormative society or simply because the clothes aren’t representative of who I am or want to be? Is it even possible to discern this distinction? Beyond the basic knowledge of my queer identity, which is my sexual orientation, my understanding of what feels natural to me remains unclear.
Determining the facets of my identity has been and continues to be a mountain I must climb. Sometimes I face Everest, while other times I simply hop over a hill. But every journey I embark on is important, maybe even necessary. Regardless of the plethora of struggles I have encountered, almost every aspect of my coming out experience has been critical to my own identity development. Ash Beckham is right when she says that “a closet is no place for a person to truly live.” To that point, I never want to minimize the reality that many LGBTQIA+ individuals have experienced hate and discrimination that I’ve never faced. I’m eternally grateful for the privilege of growing up knowing that acceptance and unconditional love were waiting for me outside those closet doors, both in my home and in my community.
With this understanding in mind, there are aspects of my experience that have cultivated my growth. I wish to cherry-pick the parts of my coming out journey that can be seen as a model of identity realization rather than a source of pity. There was value in taking a pit stop in the closet on the road to self-identification. While I was forced into the closet by a heteronormative society, discovering myself on my own was enlightening. I had the privilege of shopping around and trying on different clothes with different labels, literally and figuratively. Playing with all sorts of identities, alternate versions of the same person depending on the outfit on my body. Even now, having taken a few baby steps away from that closet door, I still turn my head back every once in a while, making sure I’m not forgetting an accessory or jacket paramount to my outfit. Maybe the closet does not have to be some dark dungeon where we
cower in fear of a seemingly bleak future. The closet can be an opportunity. It offers one the freedom to explore in the comfort of their own mind.
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Learning to understand and appreciate my identity is taking time. It requires intense self-interrogation and introspection. My coming out journey may seem like the prototypical gay experience, but the questions in the back of my mind have gone far beyond the scope of sexuality and masculinity. I struggled with my own sense of individuality. I still question what truly defines me. Nevertheless, my time spent in the closet was conscious and self-aware. I understood that, in the face of our society’s incessant need for labels, I had to determine and differentiate the many facets of my identity
Works Cited
Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. “The Danger of a Single Story.” TED, July 2009. https://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_ngozi_adichie_ the_danger_of_a_single_story? tm_campaign=tedspread&utm_ medium=referral&utm_source=tedcomshare
and not just latch onto the default handed to me. Does this mean my experience in the closet was entirely pleasant? Obviously not. And sometimes it’s easy to feel as though I’m behind everyone around me and to wish that I had come out sooner. But then I remember that it took a lot of courage to share that Google Doc and wear those pink shoes. Maybe it took me a little bit longer to get ready for the party, but who cares if I show up late? When I arrive, I want to look and feel fabulous. And I never would have known what to wear without spending some time in the closet.
Beckham, Ash. “We’re All Hiding Something. Let’s Find the Courage to Open Up.” TED, September 2013. https://www.ted.com/talks/ash_ beckham_we_re_all_hiding_something_let_s_find_the_courage_ to_open_up.
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David Lee
As a Chinese American, I wasn’t taught my history. In school I’d be lucky to learn bits and pieces— some railroad laborers here, a Red Scare there—mere footnotes to the larger (whiter)
history that textbooks paint for students. That’s why when I first started looking into Asian American history, it was a whole new world to me, with so many untold stories, so many unmentioned names that helped build the foundation for the communities that exist today. It’s a multifaceted history, but as I continued to learn more, it just felt like that: history. Although it was fulfilling to learn, I felt disconnected.
When I learned of my Writing 101
class, Asian American Memoirs, I knew immediately I had to take it. Through that class I learned to be critical of the history that I had become so fond of learning. Therefore, when Dr. Thananopavarn (who I will forever call Dr. T) announced that our final was a personal narrative project, I had
a vague notion of what I wanted to explore. I knew my grandfather had immigrated to the United States, started a family, and opened a restaurant in Memphis, but I wanted to learn more and analyze the history that preceded him, the history that set the tone for Chinese restaurants like my grandfather’s to exist at all. At the time, I thought it’d be a simple research project, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
While researching the history of Chinese American restaurants for this essay was fairly straightforward, investigating my grandparents’ narrative was not. Before this, the things I read about felt detached and
far away, yet now I began to realize that so many of the things I had read about were part of my grandparents’ lived experiences.. I began to see the ways in which my family’s history intertwined with the history of Chinese American restaurants, and I realized that this history was my family’s history. I no longer felt disconnected; on
the contrary, I was more connected to this history than I could ever imagine, with a greater appreciation of my family and all they endured, and eager to learn more.
I would like to thank Dr. T for
teaching such an amazing class, guiding her students along as we discovered more about Asian America and about ourselves. I would also like to thank the Deliberations editorial board for the thoughtful edits and comments as well as Dr. Sheryl Welte Emch for patiently sticking with me during the editing process. Last but not least, I’d like
to thank my family, specifically my dad for sharing his stories, my cousin Jennifer for talking to me for hours on end about our family history, and Ma Ma and Yeh Yeh for living the lives they did.
Food from the Far (Jade) East:
An Exploration of the Intersection between Chinese American Restaurants and Family History
David Lee
Writing 101: Asian American Memoirs Instructor: Susan Thananopavarn
I
American restaurants in the area. Some took a similar pun route (Wok and Roll), while others used more familiar names to draw attention (Great Wall, Yums, Asian Palace...you get the point). However, this wasn’t Wok’n in Memphis’ first time as a restaurant; it had actually debuted in Seattle a few years earlier. According to the restaurant’s owner, Wok’n in Memphis opened with the goal to “elevate” Chinese food from the “cheap, feed-the-masses” variety into “American Chinese fine dining” (Ellis).
Back when I first heard of the restaurant’s name, I rolled my eyes. When I first learned of the restaurant’s purpose, I groaned and felt my stomach drop. What did this white guy from Seattle know about the history of Chinese American restaurants, let alone Chinese American restaurants in Memphis? Did he know the reasons why this “cheap, feed-the-masses” food, this “Chinese American” flavor, existed in the first place? No, of course not, he was just a person with a catchy pun and a yearning to gentrify the food that has supported the livelihoods of millions for decades. When I recently angry-googled “Wok’n in Memphis,” I was greeted with a page filled with Orientalist text (think of the faux-calligraphy, State Fair Chinese food truck kind of font) and Chinese food-based puns (wok’s cooking, let’s roll, chow down!).
At this point, my anger-turned questioning actually made me consider: what did I actually know about Chinese restaurants in Memphis and the United States? Well, I felt like I knew the basics. Starting from the Gold Rush era, these restaurants were a way for immigrants from Southern China to carve a living wherever they found themselves, catering to the white clientele and their tastes. I also knew my paternal grandfather, who I call Yeh Yeh, had run a Chinese restaurant in Memphis, Tennessee; he operated Jade East, the third recorded Chinese restaurant in the city, from 1968 to 1988. I couldn’t help but notice the massive span of time from the 1850s to 1968. What developments occurred in the United States that caused Chinese restaurants and Chinese food to take the form they did? What history was I missing that allowed Yeh Yeh to find his niche in Memphis, a place with a historically small population of Chinese Americans? Finally, what specifically about Wok’n in Memphis actually made me so mad? As all of these questions churned in my mind, I realized I was falling into a rabbit hole, not only of Chinese American restaurant history, but of family history as well.
n November 2017, a small restaurant appeared in downtown Memphis. This pop-
up, called Wok’n in Memphis, seemed like one of the other countless Chinese
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The first Chinese restaurant in North America was opened in November 19, 1849, welcoming 300 Chinese immigrants from Guangdong as the first arrivals in California (Liu). This fact immediately created a paradox with my prior understanding of Chinese restaurants: a restaurant that can house 300 people is no small feat, even by today’s standards, yet in my mind the first immigrants were all laborers looking to strike it rich and just happened to open up restaurants instead. Therefore, this plot hole forces the reconsideration of the common narrative peddled in history classes that all Chinese immigrants
during the Gold Rush era were “illiterate peasants
and greedy ‘sojourners’” whose actions were
solely defined by the poverty and social upheaval
back in China (Liu 8-9). This narrative construes
Chinese immigrants as the antithesis to European
immigrants; while European immigrants are
portrayed as freedom-seeking settlers, Chinese
immigrants were “aliens” looking to make a quick
buck and return to China—neither interested nor
fit to stay in the United States (Liu 9).
I had never questioned this common American immigration narrative, but historian Haiming Liu offers an alternative perspective: the initial wave of immigrants were not laborers but merchants looking to establish business practices, including restaurants, outside of China (Liu). The original Chinese restaurants, while open to white clientele, were not created specifically for this demographic; rather, these restaurants served as safe havens for new immigrants in an unfamiliar country while also maintaining a cheap price point to attract white customers (Liu). These merchant groups capitalized on the growing Gold Rush scene, mirroring their trading experience in Canton by creating an intricate social network of businesses to allow future waves of immigrants to join them (Liu). Liu’s contrasting narrative creates a multi-dimensional view of the earliest Chinese immigrants, illustrating their agency in establishing a home for themselves in the United States rather than painting them solely as victims defined by poverty and the need to survive.
My first conceptualization of Chinese immigrants in the mid-1800s as those simultaneously escaping poverty and searching for riches was not completely inaccurate. Although these initial waves of immigrants were often rich businessmen looking to establish business ventures in a budding economic zone, immigration of general workers and laborers from Southern China boomed from the late-1850s to the 1870s. In 1850, there were roughly 800 Chinese people in the United States, and by 1870, that number had grown to 63,000 (Lee). The influx of immigrants also came with an increase in the racialized rhetoric used against Chinese people. Starting as early as 1853, Californian newspapers published articles describing the “Chinese diet,” denouncing Chinese immigrants for eating rats, snakes, and other vermin (Liu 37-38). This anti-Chinese rhetoric was a thinly-veiled analogy to the immigrants themselves—dirty, devious, sub-human, fueling the argument for Chinese discrimination and exclusion. This rhetoric also directly impacted the
Jade East had two locations: the first store (“Old” Jade East), seen in the first picture with Ma Ma, was founded in 1968. It wasn’t until 1980 that Yeh Yeh wanted to expand, and they spent a long time deciding where they should move to. Eventually, they found a nice space, and they hired a specialty architect to construct the pagoda-style building seen in the second picture (“New” Jade East). Something that my dad pointed out was the deliberate choice to construct the New
Jade East to play into “oriental” stereotypes.
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The next two pictures are the family standing outside the New Jade East circa the 1980s and the interior of New Jade East, set up for a banquet. Th e first picture shows four out of the five of their children and both of my great- grandmothers. Yeh Yeh and Ma Ma are front and center.
popularity of Chinese restaurants. Although Chinese restaurants began as havens for new waves of Chinese immigrants, the combination of a white aversion to the “inferior race” in conjunction with new Chinese immigrants finding it easier to cook at home lead to a decrease in demand for Chinese eating establishments (Liu 46). Following the culmination of the anti-Chinese push with the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, the prejudices that white Americans held against China and Chinese immigrants were projected onto Chinese restaurants, where these establishments became synonymous with the vices and corruption associated with the Chinese (King).
Given this intense anti-Chinese period, how did Chinese restaurants eventually gain the massive appeal that they saw in the early-1900s, the after-effects of which we still see today? Historian Samuel King points to the United States’ historical enthusiasm for mainland China— more accurately, an enthusiasm for its conceptualization of China—termed Sinophilia. King explains Sinophilia as an outgrowth of Orientalism, where the United States holds its relationship with China and its cultural products in special regard while wanting only to interact with its idea of China, not China itself or Chinese people.. This yearning culminated in the “chop suey craze,” the moment at the turn of the twentieth-century when white Americans “suddenly embraced Chinese cuisine”—or at the very least, their perception of it—by eating at Chinese restaurants (King 162). Although these establishments were once shunned as dens of sin, the spiraling popularity of “chop suey,” a general term for stir-fried meat and vegetables in a brown sauce over rice, pushed China’s “national dish” to be equated with “playing Chinese” (King 171). Restaurant owners began to embrace the idea of chop suey—an attempt to cater to white clientele—by advertising chop suey as a key dish served (King). Despite having no origins in traditional Chinese cuisine, chop suey and its newfound popularity caused Chinese American restaurants to develop and refine this “chop suey flavor” (Liu). Even with most Chinese restaurants adopting the style and flavors of chop suey, anti-Chinese stereotypes and prejudice did not end. Although white Americans had a “safe” way to interact with their conceptualization of China, this was not mutually exclusive with anti-Chinese racism: white America yearned to safely interact with this mysterious, exotic culture
while simultaneously rejecting Chinese bodies for being unsafe and unclean. Chop suey continued to be a synonym for Chinese food well into the 1940s, with some white entrepreneurs even beginning to sell canned chop suey (Liu). Historian
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Liu summarizes the chop suey craze as an embodiment of “cheap exoticism in the eyes of American customers.” By extension, Chinese restaurants did relatively well in this time period despite harsh exclusionary laws, with restaurants accounting for 29.8 percent of Chinese American employment in the 1940s (Mendelson). However, in the 1950s, the arrival of migrants following the Chinese Nationalist Party’s exodus to Taiwan and eventually to the United States altered the way in which “Chinese food” was viewed by the general American public (Mendelson). Suddenly, the consumption of the exotic Chinese culture had to be imbued with an aura of authenticity, as the white majority viewed “fake” Chinese food as cheap, working-class fare (Mendelson). Especially with the influx of skilled workers after the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, Chinese restaurants, and by extension Chinese American food, were suddenly expected to fit a level of authenticity that was antithetical to the way of survival that these establishments had adopted for decades (Lee).
It was during this time Yeh Yeh decided to open his restaurant in Memphis. But before we get to Jade East, it is important to know a little about the conditions that Yeh Yeh found himself in while immigrating to and raising a family in the United States. Although the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act was repealed in 1943, the race- based immigration quotas instituted by the 1924 Immigration Act and updated in 1952 were still in full effect (Lee). Needless to say, Yeh Yeh and my family’s immigration story, which unfolded despite continued anti-immigration laws, was no easy feat.
In 1952, Yeh Yeh immigrated to New York City from Canada, joining his father who had already been living there, and they worked together at a laundromat. After about five years, he returned to China, marrying my grandmother, Ma Ma, in Hong Kong. At this point, despite having only been able to communicate with her through letters, he had just about three months to spend
with her before he returned to the United States. As
he continued to work at the laundromat, Yeh Yeh
still wrote to Ma Ma while working to bring the
entire family over. Then, in 1959, he wrote to Ma
Ma saying that she needed to get herself and their
three-month old son to Japan as soon as possible in
order to come to the United States: he had managed
to secure visas, and they needed to act fast. Despite
their baby being sick at the time, Ma Ma managed
to reach Japan safely, and the family reunited in
New York.
In 1962, Yeh Yeh and his family became
naturalized, aiding in allowing his mother and
mother-in-law to join them. From there, Yeh Yeh
and Ma Ma had four more children, and during
that time he found work at Chinese restaurants
while she worked at a garment sweatshop. Using
his experience from various establishments, Yeh
Yeh opened his own restaurant in New York.
Fearing for his family’s safety in Chinatown, however, he soon sold the business and decided to move everyone down South, meeting with his father-in-law who owned a grocery store in Memphis. As the family grew accustomed to their new environment, they lived and worked at the store. Although his father-in-law wanted him to take over the business, Yeh Yeh’s true interest was to open his own restaurant again. After only being in Memphis for a few months, in 1968, Yeh Yeh managed to open his own restaurant again, this time named Jade East.
Yeh Yeh posing next to a car in Chinatown circa 1950s.
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These last three pictures are Yeh Yeh working at a restaurant in New York, most likely sometime after he brought Ma Ma and my uncle over (~1960s).
Although Chinese American-style restaurants were generally losing popularity in favor of Szechuan and other more “authentic” regional flavors, Memphis had yet to see a relatively un- Americanized Chinese restaurant. The oldest recorded Chinese American restaurant, aptly named Chop Suey Café, was in operation from around 1922 to 1967 (Spencer). Chop Suey Café operated like most Chinese food establishments near small Chinese populations: they only offered take-out, families making their living by selling outside their homes, not the large- scale establishments typically associated with restaurants. Therefore, Memphis had yet to see more than one or two substantial Chinese American restaurants, a position that Jade East was able to fill.
Although Yeh Yeh listed chop suey in a small section on the back of the menu—a far cry from the focus it had seen in the early-1900s, he employed a similar strategy to appeal to his non-Chinese clientele. Jade East’s menus used Toisonese romanizations—things like Pineapple Gai Woo, Sai-Wu Chicken, Wor Shew Opp. These romanizations were either descriptions of the food itself or the names of cities tacked on to make the dish stand out, chosen to cater to a sense of exoticism and build curiosity around the restaurant’s menu. Additionally, similar to the first Chinese restaurants in the Gold Rush era, Jade East became not only a place to work but also a shelter for dozens of newly arrived Asian immigrants to the South, where my grandfather offered them a meal or a place to rest until they could get themselves situated in Memphis. Yeh Yeh’s efforts in running Jade East mirror much of the history preceding him, representing a microcosm of Chinese American restaurant history for the generations of Chinese Americans in Memphis. He managed to run a successful restaurant in a new environment while also offering support to newcomers, developing his own niche.
This exploration of Chinese American restaurants has redefined my understanding of what these establishments have meant to both the owners and the consumers. For the owners, Chinese American restaurants serve as a way of survival. From the restaurants’ origins as a haven for new immigrants during the Gold Rush to the adoption of chop suey in the 1900s, immigrants have utilized these restaurants to honor the cultural significance of food while creating a
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viable livelihood. For the non-Chinese Americans that eat at these establishments, Chinese restaurants have also represented a manifestation of their concept of China, a way to briefly (and safely) engage with their idea of Chinese culture without having to confront or question anti-Chinese stereotypes and prejudice. From its outward racialization in the 1900s as a trendy, cosmopolitan activity to today’s more subtle, Sinophilic representation, Chinese restaurants continue to serve as a form of consumption for those wanting an “exotic” experience.
So, where does that leave Wok’n in Memphis? More specifically, how does the history of Chinese American restaurants, Wok’n in Memphis, and my grandfather’s experiences with Jade East intersect? Wok’n in Memphis’ appropriation of Chinese American food reduces the history of Chinese restaurants into a commodity to safely interact with. The pain, struggle, and hardship that this food represents are being appropriated by a business that cannot possibly empathize with this history. Their endeavor to improve Chinese American flavors disregards the struggles of the communities that have prepared these foods while also insinuating that these communities (who are very much still present in Memphis) have not had the knowledge or capacity to elevate the flavors themselves
Simply put, the Chinese American flavor is not the creation of a single entrepreneur: it has been a collaborative project spanning history and the entirety of the United States over almost two-hundred years. Chop suey stands as the most famous case study; after its boom in the 1900s, restaurants continued to create and refine it because, well, it worked. Once chop suey fell out of America’s favor, restaurateurs moved on and continued to innovate, creating new dishes to appeal to America’s conceptualization of China. Therefore, this food and the communities that have prepared it are inextricably linked.
Wok’n in Memphis’ pretense to improve “American Chinese” food to fine dining for the masses (as if this food was not for the masses in the first place) may be the root of why this restaurant bothers me so much. Wok’n in Memphis’ claim to elevate “American Chinese” food is to erase these communities, to discount their experiences as nothing more than chow mein or sweet-and-sour chicken. This elevation-turned-erasure disregards the conditions in which Chinese food was and continues to be constructed, where a white owner can gentrify these flavors without worrying about their clientele’s negative perceptions based on the racist, classist, and xenophobic stereotypes associated with Chinese people and cuisine.
When Yeh Yeh first came to Memphis and opened Jade East, the menu that he made was deliberately crafted; the flavors he chose were a mixture of the styles he learned in New York along with his own techniques. These flavors, while not something he’d necessarily prepare for his family at home, were created specifically to be as popular as possible in this new environment he found himself in, flavors that would succeed despite the negative perception that my family garnered as one of the few dozen Chinese families in the area. He expanded and improved the Chinese American flavor that had allowed hundreds of restaurants before him to be successful.
Jade East has been closed for more than 30 years, and with my grandfather’s passing a year and a half ago, he leaves behind a legacy through not only my family but also the Chinese community in the area. As Jade East was one of the earliest larger Chinese restaurants in Memphis, Yeh Yeh profoundly altered the way Chinese food, and therefore Chinese people, were perceived in the area. Whether it is through the customers he served, the workers he helped, or the family he raised, Yeh Yeh’s contributions to creating community for future immigrants—just like the countless Chinese restaurants and restauranteurs before him—continue to be felt today.
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The updated menu created for the New Jade East location, with most of the American-style dishes removed.
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Works Cited
Ellis, Susan.“Wok’n in Memphis Pop Up Sunday.” Memphis Flyer, Memphis Flyer, 17 July 2018, www.memphisflyer.com/HungryMemphis/ archives/2017/11/06/wokn-in-memphis-pop-up-sunday.
King, Samuel C. “Sinophile Consumption: Chinese Restaurants and Consumer Culture in Turn-of-the-Century American Cities.” Global Food History, vol. 5, no. 3, 2019, pp. 162–182., doi:10.1080/2054954 7.2019.1605774.
Lee, Erika. The Making of Asian America: a History. Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2016.
Liu, Haiming. From Canton Restaurant to Panda Express: a History of Chinese Food in the United States. Rutgers University Press, 2015. Mendelson, Anne. Chow Chop Suey: Food and the Chinese American
Journey. Columbia University Press, 2016.
Spencer, Alexa. “Chinese Presence in Memphis Honored in Historical
Marker Unveiling.” The Commercial Appeal, Memphis Commercial Appeal, 16 Sept. 2019, www.commercialappeal.com/story/news/ local/2019/09/15/chop-suey-cafe-memphis-honored-historical- marker-unveiling/2338249001/.
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Tia Smith
My favorite movie is The Five Heartbeats. The film focuses
on the journey of a fictionalized R&B singing group, The Five Heartbeats, from the 1960s to
the 1990s. During the scene in which the group discovers a white family on the beach will represent them on their album cover, one of the most poignant lines from the film is delivered by one of The Heartbeats: “Crossover ain’t nothing but a double cross.”
For years I wondered about the relationship between black musical artists and black versus white audiences. What does it mean that black people could perform at the Cotton Club but not be members of the audience? What allowed for the backlash of Beyonce’s performance at the Country Music Awards? What is the impact of Leon Bridges performing his song “Brown Skin Girl” for a white audience?
Additionally, I noticed how black male musical artists were granted more flexibility to venture into genres associated with whiteness without the harsh backlash faced by black female artists. The King of Pop is Michael Jackson, yet his music is appreciated within and outside of the black community.
In Dr. Town’s Writing 101 course, I was encouraged to engage with popular music and dance cultures that are a
part of my experience. Throughout the class, I was challenged to use my own perspective and language to describe, analyze, and construct arguments based off of performances. I discovered a tweet comparing the criticisms Lizzo currently faces to the criticisms targeted towards the late Whitney Houston. This tweet directed the focus for my final project, an exploration of how blackness is attributed to or taken away from black female artists.
My essay was not written to
instruct black women on who to accept as representation or to encourage
black women to accept all types of representation. This piece was written to encourage the use of specific language concerning blackness. It was written to question the standards we set for black musical artists and to interrogate whether or not we implement these standards equally.
I would like to thank Dr. Sarah Town for encouraging me to use my own words to describe what I see in the world. In addition,Iwouldliketothank Dr.Sheryl Welte Emch and the Deliberations editorial board for their feedback. Lastly, I would like to thank my sister, Tyra, and my best friend, Marlena, who aided me in writing my essay at all of its stages.
Not Black Enough:
The Cost of a Static View of What It Means to be Black for Black Women Performers
Tia Smith
Writing 101: ¡La gozadera! Music/ Dance/ Emotion Instructor: Sarah Town
Before Whitney Houston’s iconic rendition of the “Star Spangled Banner” at the Tampa Stadium for the 1991 Super Bowl XXV, Houston appeared on the late- night talk show, The Arsenio Hall Show, to promote her most recent album I’m
Your Baby Tonight. After performing the single from the album of the same name, Houston sat down with Arsenio Hall to discuss her upcoming performance of the national anthem and future musical projects. While the interview maintained a lighthearted tone coated in smiles and laughter, the mood began to shift as Arsenio transitioned the conversation to a more pressing issue.
Arsenio: (looking downward and away from Houston) Can I ask you one serious question? Something that always--
Houston: (jokingly) How serious is it?
Arsenio: Well it’s not about your personal life--
Houston: (with great relief ) Oh, thank you.
She places her left hand on top of his right hand. Immediately following, Arsenio leans forward to bring his left hand on top of hers.
Arsenio: It’s about a little professional thing that always bothered me. (pause) What is this deal in the past when you’ve had the friction at the Soul Train Awards? Where does that come from?
Arsenio separates his hand from Houston, brings it to the center of his chest and moves it back and forth.
Houston: Oh.
Arsenio: For those of you who don’t know--
Houston slightly opens her mouth, then proceeds to speak.
Houston: (bluntly) They booed me at the Soul Train Awards.
She follows that with a quick laugh while leaning forward. ...
Houston: I don’t really know what it’s about, but I think that I’ve gotten a lot of flack about ‘I sing too white.’ Uh, you know. Or that I sing you know, ‘I sing white’ or something like that. So I think that maybe that’s where it comes from.
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The idea of Houston singing white is interchangeable with the idea of Houston not being black enough in terms of her proximity to black culture. This ideology perpetrated inside of the black community often plagues the experience of black youth and follows them into adulthood. The term oreo (black on the outside and white on the inside) is also used to describe who is not black enough. The quality of your speech, the level of your education, the way you wear your hair, the shade of your skin, the country of your origin, the fashion trends you follow, or the media you consume, all of your attributes come into play in determining how black you are.
While the black community may have some unwritten standards about how one’s blackness should manifest, white people also hold certain perceptions about what it means to be black. Black journalist, Ernest Owens, details his experience as an undergraduate at the University of Pennsylvania in his 2017 article, “A Black Face in a White Space: My Four Years at Penn.” Owens provides information about his high school education and experience where his “background and school were often used to stereotype” him. His excellence in academic decathlon was attributed to him being a “supernatural being” (Owens).
The 1987 film Hollywood Shuffle addresses the notions that white people hold about black people and the pressures faced by black actors
to uphold stereotypical perceptions. The main character,
Bobby Taylor, is a young black actor who is cast in the movie
Jivetime Jimmy’s Revenge. Already engaged in layering
stereotypes for the development of his movie character,
Bobby is informed by the white director that he needs to see,
“a little more black. You know what I’m saying...um... like
stick your ass out. Bug the eyes. You know how they move.
You know.”
In the case of Whitney Houston, in addition to the
sound of her voice, the style of music Houston produced
influenced others’ perception of her blackness. Early in her
career, Houston worked alongside the chairman of Arista
Records, Clive Davis, to create her sound. Having a desire
to make a pop idol, Davis refrained from producing music
easily associated with blackness. The 1987 pop single “I
Wanna Dance with Somebody” contributed to Houston’s acceptance by a white audience instead of a black audience. But as Houston’s success in pop music grew, black music listeners developed resentment towards Houston’s acceptance by white America. This led to backlash such as the booing at the 1988 Soul Train Awards. Following this incident, Houston advocated to produce more R&B music for her career with the songs found on her album I’m Your Baby Tonight (Leight). Houston’s appearance on The Arsenio Hall Show reaffirms her efforts to reconstruct the narrative of her blackness.
The lines between being black and one’s blackness are often blurred. While black is a racial category based on one’s phenotype or physical appearance, blackness is comprised of the expressions, actions, and thoughts associated with being black. Because these attributes are often thought of as interchangeable, there are “expectations about not only what they [black Americans] look like but also how they are distinctly inclined to think and act” (Zack). Despite the possibility and reality of different definitions of blackness for every black person, there is a narrow view, carried by both black and non-black people, of how one’s blackness should manifest. There is a belief in the shared common experience among black people, such as being raised in a low-income environment, knowing how to braid (for black women), and/or using slang in one’s style of verbal communication. While
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these experiences may be true for many black people in America, they are not true for all. And oftentimes, when one’s experience deviates from the shared common
experience, one’s blackness is questioned.
Identifying his experience as a “cultural mulatto,” in his article, “The New Black Aesthetic,” Trey Ellis recounts his experience navigating through both black and white communities. Ellis, a writer of many mediums, including essays, novels, and screenplays, initially penned the “The New Black Aesthetic” during his time at Stanford University. Ellis’ coined phrase “cultural mulatto,” references the racialized and often derogatory term “mulatto” which describes the race of one who is both black and white. Living in various white middle class suburbs and attending Stanford, a predominantly white elite university, are factors that have shaped Ellis’ blackness. The New Black Aesthetic is a movement in which black artists create their “own definition of blackness no matter how loudly either white or black people might complain” (Ellis 241). The artist puts themselves first over their audience.
Even still, the New Black Aesthetic movement did not erase the backlash faced by black artists when wanting to define their own blackness. Despite the broadening media representation of blacks in the 1980s and 1990s, black art that was deemed negative faced criticism. For example, Spike Lee was forced by Hugh Gloster, the president of Morehouse College (Lee’s alma mater and a historically black college) to terminate filming his 1988 film School Daze (which explored the experience of young black students attending a historically black college) because the college president believed that the film lacked positive black representation.
Thepresident’sactionswereacaseof“propagandisticpositivism,”inwhichsolely positive images of black people are accepted and deviant narratives are denounced to counteract negative associations with blackness (Ellis). Gloster believed that the actor who portrayed the president of Lee’s fictional HBCU “somehow looked like Uncle Tom.” Gloster’s treatment of Lee shows that beyond not being black enough, there is a rejection of blackness that does not align with the representations some desire to see (Ellis 238). If one does not approve of the way a person represents their blackness, that person could be ostracized from being black. This ideology is at the root of several critiques faced by the black female musical artist Lizzo.
Many of the representations of black people are not controlled by black people. Throughout American entertainment history, there have been efforts by individual black people and black organizations to regain control over their media representation. The continuing and overwhelming negative depiction of blacks motivates some black people to only support undeniably positive depictions of black life in hopes of counteracting demeaning stereotypes. While these actions are noble and many times necessary, divergent truths of the black experience from black artists can fall victim to these choices.
Through her gradual success, accompanied by a series of live performances on talk shows and awards shows, Lizzo has solidified her place within the music industry with her song “Truth Hurts” (originally released in 2017) recently ascending to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart, a feat that only five female rappers have acquired prior. After Billboard acknowledged this achievement on Instagram, black female rapper Azealia Banks responded with several degrading comments, includingaccusingtheartistofbeinga“millennialmammy.”Themammyarchetype, which Banks refers to, is a stereotype that emerged in the antebellum era to refer to the enslaved black women who were caregivers for white children. In various
36


media and imagery, the mammy figure has been depicted as “extremely overweight, very tall, broad-shouldered; her skin is nearly black. She manages to be a jolly presence” (Wallace-Sanders 6). The domestic role of the mammy is a caregiver to white children; “her unprecedented devotion to her white family reflects her racial inferiority” (Wallace-Sanders 6). Lizzo’s association with the mammy archetype does not improve the pre-existing representations of black women, and therefore her image is rejected by other black women. The closeness between Lizzo and the mammy stereotype brings into question: Is this the type of representation that black women want to see? Additionally, like Houston, Lizzo is denounced by members of the black community for attracting a white audience.
The mammy archetype is rooted in the history of American cinema and media representations of black women. The most notable example comes from the 1939 film Gone with the Wind, in which the actress Hattie McDaniel plays the character Mammy. Oftentimes, playing this stereotypical role, and others, is rewarded by white media as McDaniel became the first black actress to win an Academy Award. The sole physical aspect of the mammy archetype that Lizzo possesses is her heavier body weight. However, the most significant attribute of the archetype is the mammy’s dedication to the white children she cares for, which is evident in how Lizzo’s body-positive, self-loving image and music is endorsed by white audiences. Before her performance of “Good as Hell” at the 2019 Glastonbury Festival, Lizzo gives an inspiring speech to her predominately white audience. She recites a mantra and encourages the audience to say it to themselves at home: “I love you. You are beautiful. And you can do anything.” However, Lizzo is not ignorant about her audience’s demographics. In preparation for her 2019 BET Awards performance, Lizzo alluded to struggling to garner a
black audience stating, “It’s really special that it’s the BET Awards because my music is finally reaching the black community and that’s exciting for me.” Lizzo’s appearance at the BET Awards and Houston’s appearance on The Arsenio Hall Show (with the first black late-night talk show host) highlight both artists’ awareness of how their audience view their proximity to the standard, widely accepted version of blackness.
For black female artists, black performance is
confined to perceived traditional black genres, such as
R&B and hip-hop. When these artists venture outside
of these bounds they are often faced with backlash.
However, their blackness should be expanded to
their own personal definitions. Houston’s musical
identity should incorporate not only her roots in
gospel and R&B music, but also her transition to pop.
For Lizzo, her blackness is a spectrum that ranges
from marching band music to hip-hop and pop to
R&B. It is one that focuses on body positivity and inclusion. Like the artists from Ellis’ generation, Lizzo should be free to define and express her blackness without regard to how it will align with perceived notions of what is or is not white or black. Ellis attributes Houston’s early conflict between her black and white audience to Houston not putting her satisfaction above her audience’s (Ellis 242). For Lizzo there seems to lack substantial evidence that she puts the needs of her audience over her own. Additionally, critics have weaponized her style of music in order to erase her blackness.
As an artist, Lizzo’s musical and performance style is derived from past popular culture elements, including ones from black popular culture. Mirroring the narrative
Hattie McDaniel (left) with Olivia de Havilland and Vivien Leigh in a publicity photo for the classic 1939 movie Gone With The Wind.
McDaniel (1895-1952) was the first Black actor to receive a Best Supporting Actress Oscar in 1940 for her portrayal of the maid “Mammy” in Gone with the Wind.
Photo credit: MGM flikr.com, Public Domain
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style of neo-soul found in artist Erykah Badu’s “Tyrone,” in her song “Jerome” and performing an unofficial tribute to 1992 film Sister Act at the 2019 MTV Movie & TV Awards are just two notable examples.
In the spring of 2019, Lizzo performed her funk-inspired pop single “Juice” on Jimmy Kimmel Live!. The song mirrors the carefree lyrical tone of pop songs such as Cyndi Lauper’s 1983 single “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” and Houston’s 1987 track “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” for a contemporary audience. In The New York Times video, “How Lizzo Made ‘Juice’ as Joyous as She Is,” Lizzo, Theron Thomas (songwriter), and Ricky Reed (producer) all reiterate how “Juice” “has a throwback feel but [was] definitely made in 2019.” Inspired by artists such as Prince and David Bowie, Reed incorporated horns and a synthesizer to reference electronic music made in the 1980s.
The pattern of connecting new to old is referenced in both the music video and live performance on Jimmy Kimmel Live! of “Juice.” The music video includes scenes of Lizzo exercising in a hot
pink leotard with weights as
she performs biceps curls—a
reference to the 1980s aerobic
craze. Singing and dancing in
a Supremes-like style, Lizzo
performs in a slit dress with
a faux fur wrap resting on her
shoulders as two matching
backup singers perform
alongside her, alluding to
the Motown era of music. In
her live performance, Lizzo
demonstrates this connection
by juxtaposing attributes
found in the shared common
experience of black American
culture (found physically in
her performance) with aspects
that deviate within this experience (represented tonally).
The Jimmy Kimmel Live! performance begins with a close-up on Lizzo’s face. Metallic gold eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, soft red blush, and a pink lip gloss all adorn her face. Large gold hoop earrings, specifically door knockers, hang from her ears. The environment is undeniably summer as Lizzo and her gang of friends wear jerseys and t-shirts with “Crenshaw” emblazoned in white screen print along with black shorts. With a microphone in hand, the camera highlights her gold acrylic nails as she sways her head from left to right. This performance demonstrates how Lizzo affirms her connection to traditionally accepted black culture while performing in her true artistic style.
Braids, references to Crenshaw, large hoop earrings, and acrylic nails are all aspects of popular black culture that were
used in Lizzo’s performance. Used as protective styling for black hair, braids are a popular hairstyle and are used as a vehicle of personal expression found on both women and men, young and old. The specific style of braids worn by one of the performers—box braids (sometimes referred to as Poetic Justice braids)—grew in popularity in the 1990s as they were worn by Janet Jackson in the 1993 John Singleton film, Poetic Justice. Crenshaw, a neighborhood in Los Angeles, has been depicted in the media several times over—such as in the 2006 film, Bring it On: All or Nothing and All American, the current CW teen television show. The name of the neighborhood is worn of the shirts of the main characters in the films Love & Basketball and Boyz n the Hood respectively. Door knocker earrings and acrylic are accessories highlighted during the‘80s and ‘90s and were solidified through media representation of black artists and entertainers. A sense of community found amongst black people presents itself as Lizzo and her dancers interact as a group of friends and participate in a call and response. As these attributes are commonly tied to blackness,
Lizzo is tapping into the shared
common experience. However, when
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the camera pans out, Lizzo is seen performing her blackness in her plus-size body for Jimmy Kimmel’s predominantly white audience. Lyrically, “Juice” induces an upbeat tone. Hanging out with friends, drinking, materialism, and hooking up with guys, are not taboo topics within black music, yet in conveying these themes in a joyous and carefree tone, “Juice” aligns itself more within the pop genre than funk or R&B. There is not much of a visible precedent for black women in the pop music industry, despite pop music’s dependency on black music. In turn, this has caused members of the black community to associate Lizzo’s music with whiteness while ignoring the several references to the shared common experience. Even if Lizzo’s performances did not reference this experience, her art should not be deemed not black enough. Once there is the realization that being black is conflated with blackness, it can be acknowledged that artists have been judged based upon personal opinions
of what it means to be black and not the artist’s definition. Thirty-one years after Houston was booed at 1988 Soul Train Awards, the conversation of who and what is black enough resurfaced. In November of 2019, Lizzo was awarded the Album of the Year award for her album Cuz I Love You. After one of her fellow nominees, R&B/Soul artist


Ari Lennox, expressed her disappointment in her loss on social media, several Twitter users responded to her video and the results of the award ceremony. There is a genuine critique that Lennox should have won the award over Lizzo as Lennox is a definitive soul artist. At the same time, Lizzo’s multi-genre sound is often ignored as her default category is pop. Both Lizzo songs on her award-winning album, “Cuz I Love You” and “Jerome,” are within the soul genre. This alone should qualify her as a nominee as the list of past winners and nominees contains non-R&B/Soul artists and albums. From its inception, both R&B/Soul and non-R&B/Soul artists have been nominated and won the award. In 2016, Beyoncé won the same award with her multi-genre album Lemonade. Two days after the 2019 Soul Train Awards aired, Twitter user @ goddessway_ wrote “Lizzo didn’t deserve that award. Facts only. She makes pop music for white girls who have live laugh love tattooed on them. Ari Lennox made a black ass SOUL album and got snubbed. I’m tight.” This statement not only disregards the history of the award, but intentionally others Lizzo’s music from blackness.
When encountering a black person who challenges associations of what it means to be black, there is the
opportunity to either adapt commonly held associations or denounce the encountered person’s blackness. Ellis urges us to remember that no matter how one chooses to express their blackness, one’s blackness does not supersede another. He affirms that “the culturally mulatto Cosby girls are equally as black as a black teenage welfare mother. Neither side of the tracks should forget that” (235).
How do we get to a society that continually expands its associations of blackness instead of upholding rigid standards? 1) We must understand the difference between black and blackness. 2) We must educate ourselves on the historical representations and identifications that black people have held. Here we can learn if there is precedence to the blackness that we may be quick to reject. 3) We should use specific language to describe our thoughts on one’s blackness. What is truly meant by not black enough? Is someone’s blackness different? Does one’s blackness make you feel uncomfortable? 4) We need to understand that we should accept one’s blackness for that person, not for ourselves as individuals. The more we open ourselves to new definitions of what it means to be black, the more freedoms we grant to not only to the artist, but the audience as well.
Works Cited
@azealiabanks. “Lmao the fact that the public and the media...” Instagram. 4 Sep. 2019
(goddessway). “Lizzo didn’t deserve that award. Facts only. She makes pop music for white girls who have live laugh love tattooed on them. Ari Lennox made a black ass SOUL album and got snubbed. I’m tight.” 19 Nov. 2019, 11:54 a.m. Tweet.
Coscarelli, Joe. “How Lizzo Made ‘Juice’ as Joyous as She Is.” YouTube, uploaded by The New York Times, 23 April 2019. www.youtube.com/ watch?v=gaKq-gDmuGg. Accessed 6 Nov. 2019.
Ellis, Trey. “The New Black Aesthetic.” Callaloo. Winter 2008: 233-243. Print.
Houston, Whitney. Interview with Arsenio Hall. The Arsenio Hall Show, PDT. 1991. Television.
Leight, Elias. “Whitney Houston Doc ‘Can I Be Me’: 8 Things We Learned.” Rolling Stone. 25. Aug. 2017, www.rollingstone.com/music/ music-features/whitney-houston-doc-can-i-be- me-8-things-we- learned-196537. Accessed 6 Nov. 2019.
McPherson, Lionel K. “Black American Social Identity and Its Blackness.” The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy and Race. 2017, doi:10.1093/ oxfordhb/9780190236953.013.34. Accessed 1 Dec. 2019.
Owens, Ernest. A Black Face in a White Space: My Four Years at Pen. Philadelphia Magazine, 26 Aug. 2017, https://www.phillymag.com/ news/2017/08/26/black-students-university-pennsylvania/. Accessed 12 Jul. 2020.
Simonot, Colette. “Houston, Whitney.” Oxford Music Online, Oxford University Press, 10 Jul. 2012. Crossref, doi:10.1093/ gmo/9781561592630.article.a2224643. Accessed 16 Oct. 2019.
Wallace-Sanders, Kimberly. Mammy: A Century of Race, Gender, and Southern Memory. University of Michigan Press. 2008.
Hollywood Shuffle. Directed by Robert Townsend, performances by Robert Townsend, Craigus R. Johnson, and Helen Martin, The Samuel Goldwyn Company, 1987. “Lizzo – Good As Hell + Speech (Live at Glastonbury 2019).” YouTube, uploaded by Lizzo Brasil, 12 Jul. 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QnIbJi_jWII. Accessed 3 Jul. 2020.
“Lionel Richie/ Sharon Horgan/ Rob Delany/ Lizzo.” Jimmy Kimmel Live! ABC. 18 Apr. 2019. Television.
“The Making of Lizzo’s ‘Truth Hurts’ Performance at the BET Awards.” YouTube, uploaded by BETNetworks, 27 Jun. 2019, www.youtube. com/watch?v=1eR25kf4kxQ. Accessed 17 Nov. 2019.
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Franklin Wu
“To Tell the Truth”:
Representing Race and Power in the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt
Franklin Wu
Writing 101: Monuments and Memory Instructor: Andrew Tharler
Up until just a few years ago, I had always seen statues only for what they appeared to be: large pieces of rock or metal shaped in the form of someone
famous. Most of the time, I would pass
by them without thinking twice. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I reconsidered the significance of statues. Sitting in my history class, I watched as others engaged in a discussion about tearing down confederate monuments. I distinctly remember that as one of the first times I realized that statues carry a message, even if society no longer agrees with it. As the fight for social justice has intensified, so too has the debate around controversial monuments, and the campaign to remove or modify them has been pushed to the forefront.
On a whim, I chose to take Monuments and Memory with Dr. Andrew Tharler for my Writing 101 class purely. As a STEM major, I wanted to diversify my course load, and I thought it’d be an interesting class to take. It’s
no exaggeration when I say that the course completely changed my outlook on statues. Everything about a statue is intentional—its location, inscriptions, posture, and even its placement relative to its landscape. When researching noteworthy monuments, the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt was the first one that truly shocked me. While other statues may portray figures who held problematic beliefs, this statue literally and physically depicted an explicit racial hierarchy. As such, I chose to dedicate
my essay to the Roosevelt statue, in hopes of providing an analytical interpretation of the statue that could ultimately spur remedial action.
I would like to thank Dr. Tharler for introducing me to the field of archeology, challenging me to always think one
step further than I normally would,
and supporting me through every step of the writing process. His passion for archeology is infectious, and his ability to extract a story from seemingly mundane monuments is truly remarkable. I would also like to thank Dr. Sheryl Welte Emch, as well as the Deliberations editorial board, for offering valuable insights and commentary through the publication process.
Figure 1: A frontal view of the statue showcases Theodore Roosevelt sitting on the horse with an African man on his left and a Native American man on his right.
s former President Theodore Roosevelt once remarked,“it is more important to
tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about [the president] than about anyone
else.” While Roosevelt delivered this statement in reflection of his presidency, his association with this quote has recently resurfaced amidst the controversy surrounding his statue in New York City. Located on the doorstep of the American National History Museum, the bronze Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt depicts the president sitting on horseback with an African man walking on his left and a Native American chief walking on his right (Fig. 1). Although originally intended to commemorate the president as a naturalist and conservationist, to some, the statue serves as an extension of obsolete values, ones which fuel racism and perpetuate social unrest. Debates between the two sides have escalated, culminating recently in public protests around the statue. Current arguments hinge
A
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primarily on appraisals of Theodore Roosevelt’s various accomplishments and ideologies. This paper seeks to reframe the existing discourse by drawing attention to the physical monument instead of the man it represents. I argue that while a tribute to Roosevelt’s presidential accomplishments is justifiable, the current statue’s hierarchical representations of race and prominent location in New York City impose an unacceptable white supremacist message onto today’s society. As such, I suggest that the statue be altered to align with its original goal of honoring Roosevelt for his conservation efforts in the early twentieth century.
Shortly after Theodore Roosevelt’s death in 1919, the New York state government chose to honor Roosevelt, who, at the time, was the only New York native to serve as president, by commissioning a statue in his name. The project was undertaken by sculptor James Earle Fraser, who also designed the Benjamin Franklin memorial and the End of the Trail sculpture. The statue was set to be constructed on the steps of the American Natural History Museum. Supporters envisioned the monument serving two primary purposes: to celebrate Roosevelt as a trailblazing environmentalist and a progressive leader. The American Natural History Museum endorsed the statue to honor Roosevelt’s passion for nature and his renown as a naturalist and conservationist (Addressing the Theodore). Roosevelt’s efforts to conserve nature through the creation of national parks and forest reserves set him apart from his predecessors. In fact, historian Douglas Brinkley, in his book The Wilderness Warrior, considers Roosevelt’s “crusade for American wilderness” as the greatest U.S. presidential initiative between the Civil War and World War I. His endeavors not only prevented widespread environmental damage, but also sparked an “educational campaign... purely in the interest of the people,” generating eco-friendly awareness across the nation (Ponder). At the same time, the New York state government also wanted to commemorate Roosevelt as a bold and progressive leader who “symbolically united the races of America” during his presidency (Theodore Roosevelt Park). The statue was officially revealed to the public in 1940.
Although the statue may have been well-intentioned, many critics contend that Roosevelt does not merit his reputation as a racial progressive. While Roosevelt did indeed serve as the driving force for the conservationist movements in the early twentieth century, he also publicly harbored racist beliefs, many of which would be deemed inappropriate by today’s standards. For example, Roosevelt openly supported social Darwinism, the idea that certain groups of people hold power in society because they are innately better. In his 1905 speech titled “Lincoln and the Race Problem,” Roosevelt expressed his views on race relations in the United States. In this speech, he openly labeled black people as the “backward race,” who must be “trained [to accept] the priceless boons of freedom, industrial
efficiency, political capacity, and domestic morality,” while simultaneously referring to white people as “the forward race” who must “preserve... the high civilization wrought out by its forefathers” (Theodore Roosevelt, Lincoln). Roosevelt’s racist ideologies spilled beyond domestic boundaries as well. According to historian David H. Burton, Roosevelt was known to claim with “dramatic, pungent confidence” that there were “superior and inferior peoples possessing differing responsibilities and privileges, that force was frequently needed to accomplish good among men as among nations”. This sentiment is reflected in Roosevelt’s foreign policy decisions, as he exerted military control over Cuba, Puerto Rico, and other Latin American countries (Russell). Due to these racist attitudes, opponents argue that Roosevelt does not merit being celebrated in a monument.
Indeed, in many ways, the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt mirrors Roosevelt’s own social Darwinist beliefs. Upon first glance, the positioning of Roosevelt, the Native American man, and the African man establishes a telling relationship between them. From a frontal view, Roosevelt is sitting on a horse facing forwards, with the African man on his left and the Native American man on his right. Roosevelt’s horse is noticeably wider than the Native American man and the African man, almost squeezing the two figures off the edge of the pedestal. Roosevelt straddles the horse comfortably, holding the reins in his left hand and reaching for his pistol with his right (Fig. 2). The contrast in the positioning of the three figures reveals a clear hierarchy: Roosevelt’s place atop the horse suggests his importance and power, while the Native American and African man, traveling on foot below, are subordinate (Loewen). And while Roosevelt rides freely in the center of the composition, the other figures are pushed
Figure 2: Roosevelt’s right hand hovers over a holstered pistol while his left hand holds the horse’s reins
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Figure 3: Roosevelt’s face suggests determination and courage as his eyes look out to the skyline.left and a Native American man on his right.
to the sides. In a crude double entendre, the statue marginalizes minority races by physically confining them to the margins of the pedestal.
Differences in gesture and countenance portray Theodore Roosevelt as a vitalizing leader and the two other men as passive followers. Roosevelt, on horseback, appears energetic and enterprising. His face is set in determined lines with his eyes gaze towards the skyline (Fig. 3). Additionally, with his left-hand on the reins and his right-hand hovering over his pistol, Roosevelt exudes an air of confidence and seems primed for action. By contrast, the African man and the Native American man both appear weary and dejected. On the left, the Native American man’s face is heavier set, lined with creases, and his eyes simply stare straight ahead (Fig. 4). On the right, the African man’s head is visibly tilted down, and his face is virtually expressionless, suggesting a sense of defeat and hopelessness (Fig. 5). With these differing poses, the statue again propagates a racist view, portraying white people as more fit and competent than Africans and Native Americans.
The clothing donned by each figure drives home these racial connotations, as Roosevelt’s dapper attire eclipses the two other men’s indigenous outfits. Roosevelt wears a long sleeve shirt that has been rolled up to his elbows, a belt, pants, and riding boots (Fig. 6). Not only is the attire suitable for horseback riding, but it also seems to fit him well, accentuating his musculature and imparting on him an air of majesty. On the other hand, the outfits worn by the Native American man and African man are extremely stereotypical to their respective cultures. The Native American man is wearing a feathered headdress, medallions, and moccasins—all articles of clothing indicative of a Native American chief (Fig. 7). The African man is only wearing a loincloth, which is seen as traditional African clothing for men (Fig. 8). The stark contrast between Roosevelt’s attire and the clothing of the Native American man and African man sends a racist message on two levels. First, it emphasizes the socioeconomic gap separating white men from black and native people, as
Figure 4: The Native American man’s face seems more dejected, as there are creases all around his face and his eyes are more weary.
Figure 7: The Native American man wears traditional clothes, such as a feathered head- dress, a breechcloth, and moccasins.
Figure 5: The African man’s face is also very dispirited, with no
expression and eyes clearly
downcast.
Figure 6: Theodore Roosevelt is seen wear- ing a well-fitting long sleeve shirt, pants, and riding boots.
Figure 8: The African man also wears stereotypical traditional clothes, as seen by the loincloth and a lack of other clothing.
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Roosevelt is able to dress comfortably and appropriately, whereas the African man and the Native American man are significantly underdressed. Second, in juxtaposing Roose-velt’s contemporary clothing with the two men’s traditional attire, it conveys the idea that the white people have progressed to modern times while black people and Native Americans have been left behind. These two messages combine to firmly instill the impression that white people are superior to black and native races.
These racist messages are amplified
by the monument’s size and prominent
location. Standing at ten feet tall, the
statue towers over its surroundings,
naturally drawing the attention of
passersby. It also occupies a central
location in front of the American Museum of Natural History at the base of the front steps (Fig. 9). Its rectangular platform divides the lowest flight of stairs into two halves, while the main staircase leading up to the museum entrance continues directly behind the statue’s platform. Visitors to the museum are then forced to physically confront the monument as they enter. This positioning sets the monument on the axis of symmetry for the entire building, thereby focusing attention toward the statue. As a result, New Yorkers and tourists alike can hardly avoid the monument, and in turn, its racist message.
The recent debates over Roosevelt’s legacy have culminated in public protests centered around the equestrian statue—to date, there have been two documented incidents of defacement. In 1971, Native American protesters splashed red paint on the statue’s pedestal, fighting the government’s decision to evict a group of indigenous people off of Alcatraz Island in San Francisco (Oelsner). More recently, in the wake of controversies over Confederate monuments, activists have renewed their fury towards the Roosevelt statue. In 2017, protesters again vandalized the base with red paint (Fig. 10). This time, they claimed that the gesture represented a “counter- monumental act that does symbolic damage to the values [the statue] represents: genocide, dispossession, displacement, enslavement, and state terror” (Voon). In the wake of the 2017 incident, a new city commission was assembled to reconsider the statue’s presence. Although the commission was split on keeping or relocating the statue, they ultimately reached a decision to add more historical context around the statue in an attempt to “re-think how the statue is presented [and] to frame it in a way that discloses the historical distance we have traveled from once-popular ideas” (Mayoral Advisory Commission).
In June 2019, the museum opened an indoor exhibit titled “Addressing the Statue,” which presents various perspectives on the statue’s message and origins. The exhibit attempts to contextualize the Roosevelt statue on placards for visitors to peruse. In particular, it addresses the original motive for construction, Roosevelt’s troubling views on race relations, and how the statue can play a role in modern dialogue. Additionally, the museum has also published resources on its website regarding the statue’s controversy, providing a more balanced interpretation of the statue that highlights both the merits and faults of the statue.
With all factors in consideration, I still believe that there is merit to honoring Roosevelt outside the Natural History Museum. Despite the statue’s overtly racist
Figure 9: The statue stands in a centralized spot in front of the museum and divides the stairs into two walkways.
Figure 10: Red paint coats the pedestal of the statue after a protest in 2017, symbolizing the “bleeding” of the statue.
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message, a closer look at the historical context surrounding its commission reveals an unintentional mismatch between the statue’s intent and its execution. As previously mentioned, the board of commissioners wanted the statue both to commend Roosevelt’s dedication to nature conservation and celebrate his willingness to improve race relations. However, the statue’s final racist and white supremacist message grossly misrepresents the original celebratory vision of Roosevelt’s accomplishments as president. As such, I propose that the current statue be altered in such a way that more aptly depicts Roosevelt as a naturalist rather than an imperialist. To do this, I suggest replacing the current statue with one that shows Roosevelt interacting with nature, such as surveying land or engaging in outdoor activities. To avoid downplaying Roosevelt’s problematic racist beliefs, I also suggest that the current statue be moved into the museum’s “Addressing the Statue” exhibit, where it would not interfere with public proceedings while still educating visitors about Roosevelt’s shortcomings.
While the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt was constructed with well- founded intentions, its final portrayal of Roosevelt yields a drastically different result. Rather than depicting him as a naturalist, the statue mirrors his racist views and imposes them on the public. To remedy this, a statue celebrating Roosevelt’s environmentalism, as originally intended, would be more suitable in the present location, and the current monument should be relocated inside the museum for educational purposes. Though some may disagree, I presumptuously submit the argument that even Roosevelt himself may be more pleased with this result—after all, in accordance with his own words, the truth about him, both pleasant and unpleasant, will be on display around the museum, presenting a raw and uncensored account of his legacy for future visitors to consider.
Author’s Note: As of June 21, 2020, the American Natural History Museum and the New York City government have jointly decided to remove the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt from the museum’s entrance. Further steps have not been disclosed.
Works Cited
“Addressing the Theodore Roosevelt Statue: Special Exhibit: AMNH.” American Museum of Natural History, www.amnh.org/exhibitions/ addressing-the-theodore-roosevelt-statue.
Brinkley, Douglas. The Wilderness Warrior: Theodore Roosevelt and the Crusade for America. Harper Perennial, 2010.
Burton, David H. “Theodore Roosevelt’s Social Darwinism and Views on Imperialism.” Vol. 26, no. 1, 1965, pp. 103–118. JSTOR, doi:10.2307/2708402. Accessed 4 Dec. 2019.
Donald Aïda DiPace. Lion in the White House: A Life of Theodore Roosevelt. Basic Books, 2008.
“James Earle Fraser.” Smithsonian American Art Museum, americanart. si.edu/artist/james-earle-fraser-1647.
Loewen, James W. Lies across America: What Our Historic Sites and Monuments Get Wrong. Touchstone, 2001.
Mayoral Advisory Commission on City Art, Monuments, and Markers Report to the City of New York, January 2018. https://www1.nyc. gov/assets/monuments/downloads/pdf/mac-monuments-report.pdf
Milkis, Sidney, and University of Virginia. “Theodore Roosevelt: Impact and Legacy.” Miller Center, 27 Nov. 2017, millercenter.org/president/ roosevelt/impact-and-legacy.
Oelsner, Lesley. “Six Indians Accused of Defacing Theodore Roosevelt Statue Here.” The New York Times, 15 June 1971, www.nytimes.com/ 1971/06/15/archives/six-indians-accused-of-defacing-theodore- roosevelt-statue-here.html.
Ponder, Stephen. “‘Publicity in the Interest of the People’ Theodore Roosevelt’s Conservation Crusade.” Presidential Studies Quarterly, vol. 20, no. 3, 1990, pp. 547–555. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/ 40574534.
Russell, Greg. “Theodore Roosevelt, Geopolitics, and Cosmopolitan Ideals.” Vol. 32, no. 3, 2006, pp. 541–559. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/ stable/40072202. Accessed 4 Dec. 2019.
“Theodore Roosevelt Park.” Theodore Roosevelt Park Monuments - Theodore Roosevelt : NYC Parks, www.nycgovparks.org/parks/ theodore-roosevelt-park/monuments/1375.
“Theodore Roosevelt, ‘Lincoln and the Race Problem’ .” BlackPast, 7 Feb. 2020, www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/1905-theodore- roosevelt-lincoln-and-race-problem-3/.
Vo o n , C l a i r e “A c t i v i s t s S p l a t t e r R e d P a i n t o n R o o s e v e l t M o n u m e n t a t A m e r i c a n Museum of Natural History.” Hyperallergic, 27 Oct. 2017, hyperallergic. com/407921/activists-splatter-roosevelt-monument-amnh/.
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They Live in Cities
Where They Don’t
Belong:
An Analysis of the Discrimination and Ideological Inequality Suffered by Chinese Migrant Workers’ Children in Public Schools
Weiyi Zheng
Writing 101: The Myth of Meritocracy Instructor: Haleema Welji
Introduction & Thesis
Internal migration, different from international immigration that has dominated news and politics in the U.S. and Europe in recent years, is defined as a movement internally from one region to another within one country; it is recognized as an
important characteristic in developing countries (Chan et al., 2009). In China, rural workers migrate to cities in search of better opportunities and high-paying jobs, often bringing their children, too, hoping that they can receive a decent education. It is estimated that 36.9 million migrant children are living in cities and towns in 2020, which created a huge influx in urban population that renders their host cities and towns incapable of accommodating their needs, especially education (New Citizen Project, 2020).
These children have two choices for schooling. They can either go to public schools, which are well-regulated and offer high-quality education in China, or they can go to migrant schools that are exclusively established to accommodate migrant children. These migrant schools are categorized as private schools, but they share nothing in common with the expensive, elite private schools. In fact, many migrant schools started off informally or illegally by migrants themselves and lacked basic funds to support teachers and facilities (Li, 2011). As a result, migrant children in migrant schools do not really receive proper education, and statistics show that these children performed significantly worse in all test subjects compared to their counterparts in public schools (Chen & Feng, 2017). In recent years, integration-oriented policies helping migrant students go to public schools have been implemented (China Labour Bulletin, 2018). For example, in 2017, the city of Beijing closed twelve disqualifying migrant schools and steadily increased public school attendance rate by migrant children (Hernandez & Zhao, 2017).
Even with all the benefits the public school system offers, however, many migrant students are reluctant to attend public schools, with some even deciding to drop out of school (Jilin Daily, 2013). It is my aim to find out why migrant students are reluctant to go to public schools despite their advantages over migrant schools, and to what extent current educational measures are helping migrant students in public schools. I argue that migrant workers’ children in public schools suffer from
Weiyi Zheng
45
Born in a small city categorized
as a “third-tier city” in China, I witnessed the huge economic disparity between my hometown and its
metropolitan counterparts. When I
was 10-years-old, my family and I moved to Guiyang, the capital city of my province. Many migrant workers reside in this city; I remember driving by “migrant schools” and being appalled by their lack of infrastructure. This summer, I volunteered at a project that aims to bring liberal arts education
to non-metropolitan cities in China. This experience led me to reflect more deeply about my own privilege and the educational inequity in China and elsewhere in the world. Some students, like me, are privileged enough to come across the Pacific Ocean and attend expensive colleges here in the United States; however, there are also students whose existence is ignored by us and whose lives are being pushed to the periphery of cities on a daily basis.
In Professor Welji’s class, we examined cases of discrimination faced by immigrant children, and we learned many different forms of discrimination, especially linguistic ones which I
was not aware of, that promotes a problematic ideology which creates a forced assimilation and silences diverse voices. It is not hard to find a connection between the plight faced by immigrant children in the United States and migrant children in China.
I would like to thank Professor Welji
for her continuous support during this process, and also thank you to Professor Sheryl Welte Emch as well as the editorial board for their help in revising this essay. Without their suggestions and feedback, this essay would not have been complete.


both administrative discrimination and peer discrimination. The discrimination not only makes migrant students ashamed of their identity but also impacts their academic performance. Current measures aim to integrate migrant children into public schools through a process of urban assimilation, which fails to recognize and further marginalizes the identity of migrant children. Thus, I contend that the measures designed by Chinese policymakers and educators are simple, brutal shortcuts that fail to solve the complex educational problem, while further reinforcing ideological inequality.
Background
The children of migrant workers in China face a similar dilemma to immigrant children elsewhere in the world due to China’s particular hukou (户口household registration) system (Roberts, 1997). Under this system, the Chinese population is divided into two groups: the urban population which is registered under their respective cities as legal residents of the city, and the countryside population which does not have the urban resident status. As the Chinese economy has expanded, cities have become increasingly attractive to rural populations, as they provide more high-paying jobs and better standards of living. Thus, rural residents swarm into the cities, making up 36% of China’s total workforce at around 288.4 million in 2018 (China Labour Bulletin, 2018). Yet, even after migrating to cities, these workers are still categorized as rural residents by the hukou system. Therefore, they are barred from many social services in cities, including basic healthcare and, for their children, rights to public education (China Labour Bulletin, 2018).
Recognizing the difficulty faced by many migrant children, the education bureau in many cities lowered the bars for migrant children to enroll in public schools, closed down many unregulated migrant schools, increased funding for primary and secondary public schools, and designated more public schools to accept migrant students. These measures had a positive effect on admitting migrant students to public schools, increasing the number of migrant children who do attend public schools in 2018 by 40% (New Citizen Project, 2020).
Despite recent efforts, many issues still need to be addressed, such as migrant students’ mental health and relevant support offered to them in public schools. Thus, this paper will focus on the current situation of migrant children in public schools, as well as relevant educational discourses and their implementation.
Children remaining in migrant schools will not be discussed because their learning conditions are relatively unaffected by these recent policies.
Methods
In this paper, I will present some interviews of migrant families that are either translated by a native Chinese speaker who is fluent in English or from scholarly sources that are already in English. I will also present current Chinese school policies as well as educational discourses that aim to mitigate the issue. I analyzed the quotes and current policies from a linguistic perspective, which puts a heavy focus on the way someone talks or writes. Linguistics is a very essential part of investigating issues relating to ideology or identity; through analyzing language use, I was able
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to find some disparities between the promoted equality and the problematic reality. Thus, I hope to offer readers a more comprehensive understanding of the fundamental problems that migrant students in China face today.
Discrimination, Psychology, and Denial of Identity
Migrant students who go to public schools face discrimination from both the administration and their classmates, making them sensitive to the differences between them and the urban students. One migrant student, Wu, who goes to a public school, noted:
I am scared every time the school checks household registration because then my classmates would know that I come from the countryside and I attend this school by paying an extra jiedu fee. This makes me feel inferior. My classmates make fun of me, and they call me “little peasant”. (Wu qtd.in Jilin Daily, 2013)
The jiedu fee (借读费 borrow-place-to-study fee) is a mandatory fee required by school administrations that migrant students have to pay in order to be admitted to public schools. Although the fee itself may not necessarily seem discriminatory, its name, which literally translates to borrowing a place to study, encapsulates a sense of official rejection and inhospitality toward the migrant children. It signals to migrant children that their placement in public schools is temporary, and that they are borrowing a spot from a school where they do not belong. This fee, thus, is discriminatory in nature, as it rejects the migrant students’ ability to call their schools home.
Another administrative discrimination faced by migrant students is the Gaokao (高考 China’s College Entrance Exam) system. Migrant students are often not permitted to take the exam in the city where they have been studying for years, but rather have to take it in their home province, which is determined by their hukou (户口 household registration). Gaokao, or the College Entrance Exam in China, is famous for its difficulty and once-a-year policy. The Gaokao not only dominates high school experience but also serves as virtually the only criteria for college admissions, meaning that this exam score will be the only factor that determines what colleges they can get into. It is also administered independently by each province, meaning that each province’s exam will be somewhat different from each other. In addition, Each province has different cut-off scores for different universities. For example, the cut-off score in Beijing for Peking University is much lower than that in Guizhou, giving Beijing students a huge advantage over students in Guizhou. Migrant students, however, need to go
back to their registered home province to take the gaokao, which is a tremendous adjustment and unfair treatment that will inevitably affect their performance. In the northern part of China, 21.3% migrant workers reported that their children could not take the gaokao locally in 2019 (National Bureau of Statistics, 2019). However, their children’s urban classmates who have their hukou in the cities would never have to face this problem; they also enjoy the advantage of a lower cut-off score. To simply study well is not enough for migrant children to succeed in this exam that may determine their life; compared to their urban counterparts, they need to study exceptionally well to be able to adjust within a few days to a different testing standard.
The administrative discrimination is also reinforced by discrimination at the peer level. Urban students make fun of migrant students and call them “little peasant”, a derogatory term that highlights urban superiority and rural inferiority. Migrant students are also used to being called “xiangbalao (乡巴佬 redneck)” and “sworn at” by the urban students (Wang qtd.in Lu, 2008, p.697). Migrant students also describe ways that urban students bully them, including that “[t]hey bully waidi (外地 coming from elsewhere) people on the ground that they are local” (Wang qtd.in Lu, 2008, p.697). This discrimination suggests that migrant students in public schools are being treated as an outgroup; the urban students do not welcome them as their peers.
The multiple levels of discrimination that migrant students face, both by the administration and peers, leads to psychological reluctance to go to school. Being in a state of uncertainty, unaware of where their future leads them to, many migrant children experience a sense of rejection and lack of self-esteem. In an environment where they experience
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discrimination and the lack of attention, some migrant students choose to quit school, even though public schools offer a superior education compared to migrant schools. One migrant worker remarked on the reason his son gave him for refusing to go to public school:
I wanted to find a good public school for my son in the city too, but my son wouldn’t go anymore because he said the urban kids looked down on him and he earned bad grades (Zhang qtd.in Jilin Daily, 2013).
Migrant students understand that public schools are more regulated and better for their future than migrant schools, but they “wouldn’t go anymore” to public schools. The alternative option of going to migrant schools, however, means that they will be de facto segregated from the urban world that their families sacrifice so much to join.
Education bureaus and schools who started to admit more migrant students to public schools deserve credit for helping migrant students to perform better academically in public schools than their peers in migrant schools. In turn, this suggests that the current public school system is helping migrant students. However,
it is important to note that
a significant gap in their test
scores across all subjects
is still present between
migrant students and their
urban peers in public
schools (Lu & Zhou, 2013).
One potential explanation
could be that this gap is
correlated to the poorer
mental health of migrant
children, as studies have
shown that mental health
has an impact on academic
performance (DeSocio & Hootman, 2004). To say that the schools are already supporting migrant students substantially is intentionally overlooking the correlation between the discrimination that migrant students suffer and their academic performance. Public schools should not take all the responsibility for migrant children’s growth. On the home front, migrant parents often cannot understand what their children are going through. Many of them only care about test performance because it is their only hope to have their children be admitted to urban high schools and universities. One migrant student said that “[m]y parents always gauge my learning through my examination performance. If I get a low score, I will be beaten. Neither parent cares about the reasons for why I received a low score” (Anonymous qtd.in Liu & Jacob, 2012, p.186). Parental pressure on test performance and ignorance of children’s psychological well-being make it
harder for schools to communicate with parents and foster a healthy environment for migrant education.
The discrimination that migrant students suffer in public schools leads to a mindset that an urban identity will protect them from all the suffering. They believe that being born in the countryside is a disadvantage that needs to be corrected, and by being assimilated into the urban population, they will erase any inferiority attributed to them. Thus, they acquiesce to their suffering given the promise of a bright future. One migrant student, Song, remarked about her situation:
I know my parents wanted me to have a bright future, so they brought me to the city to study. What I can do is to not care about people who discriminate against me, study well, and find a job that pays well so that my parents do not need to be migrant workers anymore (Song qtd.in Jilin Daily, 2013).
Some migrant students, like Song, are eager to study hard and find a good job to get rid of their migrant identities and achieve an urban status. This identity crisis is a result of a perceived, inferior positionality that migrant children have when they
compare themselves to their urban counterparts. Migrant children are often very sensitive and feel that urban teachers treat them differently (Wang, 2013). Rather than question the legitimacy of the system and whether they have been treated fairly, migrant families attribute many struggles that they suffer to their perceived inferior rural status. They use phrases like “don’t make them lose on
the starting line”,“bring them to the city to change their fate”, and “leave the countryside and live a better life” to describe their reasoning for migrating to the city with their children (Anonymous qtd.in Jilin Daily, 2013). The lack of confidence in their own identity and the wish to become someone else are dangerous, as they further confirm a problematic system that arbitrarily divides the urban from the rural. It is the system, not their identity, that needs to be fixed.
Problematic Educational Discourse, Reinforced Inequality, and Direction of Change
The ideology that an urban identity is better than a rural one is also reinforced by Chinese educators, whose discourses describe migrant students as innately inferior, a belief that
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