Reflections for February 3rd, 2010 Chapter 3 Assessing Students' Literacy Development
Highlighting and Summarizing Chapter Three
Aunt Rose and Uncle Mike
Takaki Reading 10/27
The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning,
The oranges piled in their creosote dumps;
They're flying 'em back to the Mexican border
To pay all their money to wade back again
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria;
You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you will be "deportees"
My father's own father, he waded that river,
They took all the money he made in his life;
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees,
And they rode the truck till they took down and died.
Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
Our work contract's out and we have to move on;
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border,
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.
We died in your hills, we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills,
Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says, "They are just deportees"
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil
And be called by no name except "deportees"?(Guthrie 1961.)
This song, I believe, brings to light the immigration policies of the Bush administration. These policies reflect those of 100 years ago. In the United States, immigrants are good enough to be laborers but not to become citizens.
Quote:
"The black migration to Chicago sparked an explosion of white resistance. "A new problem, demanding early solution, is facing Chicago," the Tribune warned. "It pertains to the sudden and unprecedented influx of southern Negro laborers." The newspaper depicted the newcomers as carefree and lazy."
Comment:
The white oppressors used whatever means to generate the stereotype of blacks not being qualified to be American. Seemingly harmless images like Aunt Jamima and movie characters such as the mammy played by Hattie McDonald in the classic Gone with the Wind, 1939. These seemingly harmless icons depicting African Americans only served to harm them and perpetuate hatred. This was orchestrated and calculated in this fashion for the reason of oppression by those in power to remain in power. Hattie McDonald who won the oscar that year for best supporting actress was not allowed to attend the premier opening of this movie in Atlanta because of racism.
Honestly, I laughed at her character when I first saw the movie. I still laugh at her inflections and tone of voice and her attack of the script and situation. However, I have since come to realize that these suspicious, lazy, sweet, dumb characters created by white folks to be played by black folks, just like the Tribune article, created a collective mindset in American that still haunts society today. After Hattie's triumph of winning the prestigous award she spent most of her remaining career playing menial roles. Upon her death in the 1950's Hattie McDonald was denied her request to be buried in a Hollywood cemetary.
Quote:
"The "New Negro" would be a "collaborator and participant in American civilization," and black intellectuals would be in the forefront of this great movement. But first blacks had to accept themselves. In his essay "The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain," Hughes explained that the tragic problem of black intellectuals was denial: they did not want to be black or write about black life. "...." To overcome the "racial mountain," Hughes insisted, black writers had to declare boldly: "I am a Negro-and beautiful!"(Takaki, p328-329.)
Comment:
I chose this poem for my response here because Nikki Giovanni is a poet and a student of Langston Hughes and a contemporary poet who, in this poem, writes of someone perhaps that does not see themselves as beautiful.
Life Cycles
she realized
she wasn't one
of life's winners
when she wasn't sure
life to her was some dark
dirty secret that
like some unwanted child
too late for an abortion
was to be borne
alone
she had so many private habits
she would masturbate sometimes
she always picked her nose when upset
she liked to sit with silence
in the dark
sadness is not an unusual state
for the black woman
or writers
she took to sneaking drinks
a habit which displeased her
both for its effects
and taste
yet eventually sleep
would wrestle her in triumph
onto the bed