Super Church (Chaper 6)

(Photo Taken by:Ashley Dyce)


In this story about superman written by: Chip Kidd, he talks about the difference that superman’s outfit is simply a uniform not a costume. “A superman costume is what you wear for Halloween” personally I can agree with him. Wearing a uniform vs. a costume is two different things. A costume is something you put on for parties or to look like someone else, just for fun, and its only on for that time, maybe a day or two. But a uniform means so much more, in some cases it becomes a part of your life, its who you are. When you put on this uniform you have to change your whole attitude and it helps to remind yourself of were you are and what you are doing. For army men they have to keep there uniforms in perfect condition and wear them in a certain way, but a costume you can just throw it on and no one will reprimand you for it.

At the church I go to, there are a lot of different uniforms for the different types of ministers, like; Deacons, reverends, pastors, bishops…etc. Even for the youth we have a certain uniform we were when we have our youth day services. As you can see in the picture above I took of some of our young people wearing the uniform. For me growing up I always had a uniform and when you were it you know exactly how you should act and behave in and outside of church. The uniform is to be kept clean, pressed and put on correctly, there should be nothing out of place. Also we have to wear a certain type of head covering and shoes cant be strapless or open toed. I do believe a uniform is something that keeps people in line and it does help lesson the distraction because everyone is wearing the same thing.

Reflecting Class (Chapter 5)

(Photo Taken by:Ashley Dyce)


In this picture I choose to take a snap shot of my car steering wheel, it shows my class in the type of car I drive.

“Class is the great unspoken word on most campuses in America.“ Any were in the world you go everyone and everything is divided into some type of class. Wither it is low class, mid class, or high class. In America people who live in big houses and have lots of money are high class citizens. They all dress in the most expensive clothes, drive the nicest cars and wear the finest jewelry. They are able to travel were ever they want when ever they want. On the other side you have the lower class citizen who usually live in more dangerous and wither cheap housing or no housing at all. They usually don’t have a lot of clothes or get to eat everyday. They usually walk or take public transportation to were they need to go, and may never travel out side the city they live in. But there are those who mover in between class, some people who were poor growing up become millionaires, or people who are rich go bankrupt.

A lot of people are easily judged by there financial class or class of race, which is never a good thing just because you are a certain color, or grew up in a certain location doesn’t determine the outcome of your life. Were I have grown up I’ve seen lots of people come and go, a lot of people like me in this country have grown up middle class citizens. And many of the people I know have either moved on to buy bigger and better houses, or gone down the wrong path were they had to move somewhere cheaper. my parents growing up were both poor in the country of Jamaica and when they came here they made sure that there children would grow up in a better home then they did. And for me I feel the same way when I have kids I want them to live in a better place then I do now.

Coming into The Country (Chapter 5)

(Photo Taken by:Ashley Dyce)


Living in America, has always taught me to be an individual. We always have options when you go to restaurants they ask you do you want soup or salad, or a grocery store paper or plastic. Theses days everything we do is an option either or, left or right, depends on the option you choice that’s the path you will take. Everyone choices something different which makes us all individuals. Like in the story Coming Into The Country Gish Jen Spoke about a Cochiti boy who’s basketball teem had to share one water bottle, but the team they were playing against each person had there own water bottles. Everyone as an individual, they probably each had different colors sizes and make different types of drinks in them, like water, Powerade or Gaterade. For the boy it wasn’t something he was shocked about because he never had the chance to choice he was just used to getting whatever he gets, no questions asked. I think as an American we are very spoiled, and all the different options we have in life, it is sometimes difficult to choice one thing.

For example women who have lots of shoes and clothes, it sometimes takes them hours to get dressed, because they have so many options and outfits to pick from its hard to find the one they want for the occasion. But if they just had one outfit to choice from one day they wouldn’t take as long to get dressed and it wouldn’t be difficult to choice what to wear, because it’s the only thing to wear. “Between freedom in theory and freedom in practice” in America “gapes a grand canyon” I think this quote is very true. Like I said before as an American we have to much freedom and options which is like practice so when we go to a place were there might be less freedom we feel out of place, and don’t know how to act. In other countries freedom is like a theory its something they hear about or maybe see on TV, but they never actually get to live it out in there own countries. And the separation between the two is like a grand canyon its just the two side and nothing in the middle.

In the picture I took I show all the different options I have in watching movies, sometimes it is hard to just pick one movie to watch. I have so many good ones sometimes I just end up not watching any because its to hard to choice, or I close my eyes and just grab one out the collection. And it just shows me how much being American is just pure freedom, and choice to be able to have all these things at my finger tips.

Gender Training (Chapter 4)

(Photo Taken by:Ashley Dyce)


Creating a gender identity for some are hard. For me growing up it was a struggle, because I was mostly raised by my farther, and I was always outside with him in the garden or in the garage helping him with the car. So I was always a tom boy, I didn’t play with barbies like my older sister did, and I didn’t wear dresses or pink or wear makeup or girly things like that. So when I started high school is when people actually started commenting on it, I usually kept my hair short or braided back because I didn’t like to do it. I wore baggy shirts and jeans because they were comfortable to me. But everyone assumed I was gay and trying to dress like a man. But that wasn’t the case at all, so it was hard going through high school because everyone thought I was someone I wasn’t. Once I got older in college I started to dress different and act different, and most people who I know from high school are always shocked to see me, because I guess I look more like a lady.

As far as style goes I know if you wear certain colors or designs it shows who you are on the inside. Most people if they are sad or angry inside they tend to wear a lot of black, they don’t want to stand out or be apart of everyone else. And for some people that’s not the case they just happen to like the color black, and it looks good on them. For me I like to wear lots of different colors because it kinds of represents my attitude and randomness. As a girl I think it also is better for us, because we can wear any color we want and people wont really look at us bad. But if a guy wears pink, they think he is feminine or gay. I think Just certain people should stick to certain colors so they wont be confused by other people.

Beauty Mark (Chapter 4)

(Photo Taken by:Ashley Dyce)

This story reminds me of a time a cut my arm, no not on purpose but by accident. It was a Sunday after church and as I was leaving to go out the door, I went against the choir seats and there was a needling sticking out, and it scratched deep into my arm. But no one was around to witness it, so I just cleaned myself off and went home. The next week when I cam back to church, everyone was looking at me with a question mark on there faces like what happened to her. Some of my friends did ask me and I told them, but it still seemed like they didn’t believe me. Then some of the adults would ask me if I was "OK", were things going fine at home, or if I was depressed. And I first I did not see why they were asking me these things, but then I realized that they probably thought I was cutting myself because I was depressed or I had problems at home.

In society today if u girl is found with cuts on her arm it is assumed to has been self mutilating herself due to depression or trying to escape problems at home. No one ever thinks it could be from an accident or anything else. So like in the story A Beaut of a Shiner By: Jane Slaughter she says “ When a woman has a black eye it is assumed that her husband or lover is responsible.” everyone just assumes if a woman has a scare or bruise she has been beaten or purposely hurt herself. But if I guy has a black eye, there friends would assume he’s been in a fight and won, or been doing something athletic or dangerous, and that makes him more of a man. In the photo above I took a picture of my arm, were you can still see the mark to this day.

New Country (Chapter 3)

(Photo Taken by:www.world66.com/kingston_jamaica)
After reading the story "Fish Cheeks" by Amy Tan, it reminds me of my first time traveling out of the USA. Coming to terms with that I was different then everyone else. In America being disabled has became the norm for some people, you see it all around and more people are accepting of it,and they realize everyone is human no matter the disability. Growing up i was always treated the same, and equal to all the other kids at school, church or anywhere i went. I was never stared at or teased about my disability it was just excepted by everyone.

The first time i went out of the country it was to the country Jamaica, and once i got off the plan i knew i was in a different world. Everyone was staring at me and looking and asking questions about me. I felt embarrassed, and confused because something like this has never happened to me before in my life. I remember my first day there once we got to the hotel i cried in my room for awhile till my mom talked to me about it. I realized i was different but it didn't mean i had to hide away and not be able to enjoy myself.

At the time i wasn't aware that in Jamaica people who are sick or disabled are put away in nursing home or kept in the house away from public, because they are ashamed of them. So me going to this country being independent and able to communicate well with people was a shock to them. After i was there for a week people started warming up to me and treating me like normal. I didn't really have to worry about being treated differently and i started to enjoy my time there. I will always remember who I'm, but also remember it shouldn't hold me back from enjoying my life.

The picture above is of Kingston Jamaica, its like downtown city type, and this is were i usually stay when I am in Jamaica. I didn't have any pictures from my last trip but this picture I found on www.world66.com/kingston_jamaica.

An Ode to The First Year of College (Chapter 3)

(Photo Taken By: http://www.academyart.edu/admissions/620sutter.html)


After reading the story "An Ode to Loved Labors Lost" by Tom Brokaw, it brought me back to my first year of college.

It was the Fall of 2005 I was fresh out of high school and 18 years old ready to take on the world. I decided to attend the Academy of Art University in San Francisco which was hours away from home northern California. It was a completely different world, at first I thought what am I doing out here, but once I got there I felt in place. I was the first to move into the brand new dorms that were just finished being built. I was anxious to see who else would be living here and around me. Since I was the only person there I had to sleep in a near by hotel till everyone moved in the next morning. So the next day had come and it was time to get back to my dorm and to meet everyone.

As I arrived to my room floor I realized there were only guys on my floor moving in and out the rooms with boxes. At first I thought I was on the wrong floor but as I went back into the elevator it was the right floor. I was assigned a room that happened to be on an all guys floor. I was out of my element, and after our first floor meeting I realized they were all older then me, I was the youngest. So some of there conversations weren't really things I was interested in or educated about. And they were always able to go out and party and drink but I was to young at the time, so the bond wasn't really there.

During the day it really wasn't a problem for me because I was in classes and on campus I met a lot of people and friends, that I could hang out with, but they lived in other dorms. Once it was time to go back to the dorms I felt alone and by myself because boys wanted to be boys and I'm not a boy so I couldn't relate to some things they did or say. But I do believe the experience helped me realize things don't always work out the way you imagine them. And the time there did help me mature more and learn how to live and deal with different situations on my own, and not always calling my mom and dad for help.