History, culture, and hypocrisy #3_Neat

Chicago is my New York. History, culture and hypocrisy is cemented

throughout the city. At night, driving in the city is magical, I would even go

as far as to say peacefully intoxicating. It happens to be the one time

throughout the day were the city is relaxed from the everyday hustle and


bustle that is chicago. At night, you truly have a chance to appreciate

everything. The buildings seem massive. The street lights shine on the

concrete and coats it in that weird orange glow. the streets even smell

different according to the season. What makes this city great however is

the people. Everyone's a little rough around the edges. We learn from a


young age what is means to be a chicagoan. We learn how to operate in a

city that feels like it could swallow you whole any minute. When the sun

rises and the street lights begin to fade, it's back to business as usual.

As a kid, I learned how to read and write quickly. I had to learn how to

communicate because I had so much to say, with what felt like a limited


amount of time to say it. I learned how to bend words and manipulate the

language, in order to become more palatable for my audience. Changing

the way I speak and articulate the words that would roll off my tongue,

blending to my environment like a chameleon. The way an actor changes

roles for a movie, because where i am from being educated and speaking

clearly isn’t cool.



































I would often hear the other kids say “Why you talk so white for?” The

words pouring out of their mouths like an indescribable acid. I could feel the


self hatred spread like cancer, unconsciuosly dimming the lights within

each other. The light that represented the hope instilled within us by our

parents, that told us we could be anything we wanted to be in life. The

words tore away at the idea that minorities would ever fit into a world as

equals. That we were destined to remain at the bottom, a reality I didn’t see

for myself. So I taught myself how to read every situation, to learn and


adapt and use the language warranted by my audience. I loved the idea of

being intelligent and even more I loved to read. I was everything cool was

not, I was the reciprocal, so I had to protect myself.

I remember the first book I ever read on my own. Green Eggs and


Ham by Dr. Seuss. I remember feeling proud of myself, so proud in fact, I



read the book to each and every person in my household. I would take a


deep breath and begin to work my way through the book. “I do not like


green eggs and ham, I do not like them sam I am.” After each successful


line I would feel a rush of pride course through my veins. What I enjoyed


the most about learning to read was that in the end it eventually became



my way to retreat from my own thoughts and troubles. To plunge into the


pages of a new adventure with the boxcar kids, Harry Potter, or the


gangsters of chicago. Reading books is the closest thing to having a super


power. The author allows you a small window of opportunity to reach into



their minds, a chance to see the world the way do.





While I was in grammar school, I learned that I absolutely despised math


and science. The people who made going to school endurable were Mr.



Stone and Mrs. Lynch. Although I don't remember everything I learned in


school, I remember Mr. stone Never giving up on me as a student. I


distinctly remember this part of a conversation we had. More like a lecture,


he talked and I listened : “. . .You are a pain in the ass. It pisses me off that


you waste the brains you have goofing off in class. . .” Partly distracted by



the coffee breath, I was both astonished and speechless that he actually


cared. He was the first person to tell me I had a chance and that I was


slowly letting it slip away from me. I knew I wanted better, I just didn't think I


had a second chance. It was his lecture and Mrs. Lynch the librarian who



made school bearable. Mrs. Lynch would sit everyone down and read a


book. My all time favorite book to listen to was the story about


Rumpelstiltskin.

She would breathe life into the words, and for that moment we were not


confined to the library, but it felt as though we were in the book. Her eyes lit



up as she became engrossed in the story, her hair would shake a bit as


she waved her freckled hand in one direction or the other. She


demonstrated the power of good literature and when the scholastic book


fair came to the school, I was not ashamed to want to read any more. Each



year, I would see piles and piles of new books, inspiring me to continue


reading. I was drawn to them, the way a cat is drawn to laser pointers. I


would pick up one the books and smell the pages, because new books


smelled good to me. Although I didn’t have any money for the book fair it


was nice to participate and look around. It was after the first book fair that I



truly felt liberated from the idea of what it meant to be cool.

There is a quote that perfectly describes what I felt: “Our deepest fear


is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful



beyond measure. We ask ourselves who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,


talented, fabulous.? Actually, who are you not to be? We were born to


make manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our own


light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the


same.” -Marianne williamson

By the time I was in highschool I understood that there was a


difference between book smarts and street smarts. I was involved in many



forms of artistic expression while i was in highschool. I was in the LGBTQ


club, I played jazz, I even read and wrote poetry. It felt as though every


where I went everyone had a box that I was supposed to fit in. The world


had already formulated this preconceived notion about what this black and


puerto rican kid was supposed to be in life. Public schools in the city



seemed to be concerned with one thing. How can we get students to pass


state exams. Opening students up like an autopsy, in search of the light


within students that was their identity. In order to crush that light to make


student pliable and enslave us to the thoughts that would make us robots.



Memorize this and memorize that. Show up and dress the same as


everyone else, uniformity the would call it. Just another way they would


mold young people into what they considered desirable students. Under the


guise of future preparations for the nine to five job we were all destined to


end up with. French philosopher Rene Descartes once said “I think



therefore I am.” It is that quote that drives me every day to think critically


about the world. Maybe I don’t have all the answers. Maybe I will spend the


rest of my life searching for them. But when I read stories by other people, I

know that there are others in the world who imagine and see the world


differently.