She could feel the lump in her throat as they looked at her repulsively. They didn’t like her and she knew it. She could feel their hatred pulsating towards her as they gawked on. She wasn’t like them and they knew it. She didn’t have their silky, yellow hair. She didn’t have their sapphire blue eyes. She didn’t have their exquisite fair skin. She wasn’t tall, she wasn’t thin, she wasn’t pretty. She wasn’t like them at all.
This would be her third consecutive week sitting alone in the otherwise overcrowded lunchroom. She heard a jumble of talk and laughter among friends as she quietly unfoiled her homemade Moutabel Sandwich. Exhaling deeply she took a bite, reminiscing of her home, her friends, her laughter. A time when she was… if anything else, happy. A time that— her thoughts were disrupted. What is this ghastly flavor? she wondered, feeling her saliva drain. As she parted the bread slices, she’d realized Aunt Claire had smeared, instead of her usual Moutabel, some sort of strange brown paste between them.
“It’s what normal American kids eat, Sairah,” Claire had claimed that morning, “It’s called ‘Peanut Butter’.”
Suddenly, she heard a small “ahem” from behind her. As she turned around, she recognized who’d called for her attention. It was that guy from her math class that every girl seemed to ogle at. Was it Steven… or maybe Jason? She speculated, well whatever it is, one can’t argue he sure is something. With those stunning grey eyes and gorgeous olive tone, it was as if every feature had been knit with a golden thread. His face, seamed with beauty and perfection.
Once he’d realized he had had her absolute attention, he smiled… almost deviously it seemed. “So um, just so you know, we don’t like y...
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...o Kitty” lunch box was no longer at her table. She scanned the cafeteria, hoping someone had mistakenly taken it and planned on returning it.
Instead, however, she saw mocking eyes and guffawing mouths. Instead, she saw her lunch box laying at the center of the cafeteria floor, and her half-eaten sandwich, with several shoe prints embossed on it.
Her English teacher watched her burst into tears. Her Math teacher watched her clean up a mess that wasn’t her’s. Her Science teacher watched her look around for someone to hold her. Her History teacher looked away.
She didn’t belong. This was a golden town, filled with golden people. She didn’t have their silky, yellow hair. She didn’t have their sapphire blue eyes. She didn’t have their exquisite fair skin. She wasn’t tall, she wasn’t thin, she wasn’t pretty. She wasn’t like them at all. She didn’t belong.
In the story, this group of brownies came from the south suburbs of Atlanta where whites are “…real and existing, but rarely seen...” (p.518). Hence, this group’s impression of whites consisted of what they have seen on TV or shopping malls. As a result, the girls have a narrow view that all whites were wealthy snobs with superiority like “Superman” and people that “shampoo-commercial hair” (p.518). In their eyes “This alone was the reason for envy and hatred” (p 518). So when Arnetta felt “…foreign… (p.529), as a white woman stared at her in a shopping mall you sense where the revenge came from.
Everyone has once been someone that they aren’t necessarily ashamed of, but something they aren’t anymore. When you’re in school, everyone is different; between the popular kids, the jocks, the cheerleader, the dorks, the Goths, and all the other “types” of people. In “Her Kind,” Anne Sexton shows that she has been a lot of different women, and she is not them now. In this paper we will be diving into the meanings behind the displaced “I,” the tone and reparation, and who Anne Sexton really is and how that affects what she is trying to let people see through this poem.
way she downed their inner feelings and did not treat them as real people . From
After six years, she finally earned it. She was now a typical American teenager. She was even what you would consider a “popular kid”. She had her friends, and her thick accent was not so thick anymore, even if it was not gone. However, there was still one thing that separated her from the rest of her group, and every time she introduced herself to a new person she knew that.
“Have you ever eaten a bug?” asked Orson with much curiosity, “Or a hangnail from your finger? You’ve seen kids eat their own dried nasal mucus.”
The insecurity she felt through being bullied traveled with her while she grew up. In the end
The narrator, Twyla, begins by recalling the time she spent with her friend, Roberta, at the St. Bonaventure orphanage. From the beginning of the story, the only fact that is confirmed by the author is that Twyla and Roberta are of a different race, saying, “they looked like salt and pepper” (Morrison, 2254). They were eight-years old. In the beginning of the story, Twyla says, “My mother danced all night and Roberta’s was sick.” This line sets the tone of the story from the start. This quote begins to separate the two girls i...
When she madly demolished the beautiful marigolds, I wanted to scream;[ADM6] she had ruined the only things ravishing[ADM7] and worthwhile, taking her anger and confusion out on something that seemed so perfect. I felt like the marigolds because far too often I have been in a similar situation. For example, I play the saxophone well, making it into Wind Ensemble (the highest[ADM8] band) as a freshman. Many call me "perfect,"[ADM9] and because I can play better than they can, they hate me. They treat me rudely,[ADM10] and they don't even know me except for my ability to play an instrument. I feel dejected and trampled over socially because [ADM11]I happen to be able to be gifted in an area. Some also detest me because of my grades, making assumptions before knowing me [ADM12]that because I get decent grades, I am perfect and too good for everyone. Instead of seeing past me[ADM13], they make fun of me and put me down for achieving my highest goals. So when Lizabeth tore at the flowers, smoldering[ADM14] them and killing them because they were full of hope and bloom, which she had none of[ADM15], I felt angry with her for handling her situation in this way. She killed innocent life that thrived and stood out, because it possessed things that she wanted and that she was being deprived of[ADM16]. Because of this terrible reaction to this scene, I think that it is safe to assume [ADM17]I am not sympathetic towards anyone who hurts others, physically or mentally, for being happier or full of hope or more talented than them because they feel hopeless, fearful, or even feel confused and overwhelmed.
In two passages of Toni Morrison’s novel, Beloved, she describes a party at 124. Everyone become so full from the food that flows endlessly that they become angry at Baby Suggs extravagance. Baby Suggs thinks it was this overfullness that caused them all to not notice the coming of Schoolteacher and his sons. The narrator of one passage is Stamp Paid and he recounts to Paul D. what happened at the party – what they ate and how it made everyone feel.
she was pretty and that was everything” (225). This captivation with herself along with the constant looking in the mirrors and thinking her mother was only pestering her all the time because her mother’s own good looks were long gone by now (225) shows a sign of immaturity because she believes everything revolves around whether or not someo...
Her family life is depicted with contradictions of order and chaos, love and animosity, conventionality and avant-garde. Although the underlying story of her father’s dark secret was troubling, it lends itself to a better understanding of the family dynamics and what was normal for her family. The author doesn’t seem to suggest that her father’s behavior was acceptable or even tolerable. However, the ending of this excerpt leaves the reader with an undeniable sense that the author felt a connection to her father even if it wasn’t one that was desirable. This is best understood with her reaction to his suicide when she states, “But his absence resonated retroactively, echoing back through all the time I knew him. Maybe it was the converse of the way amputees feel pain in a missing limb.” (pg. 399)
tragedies that befell her. She is an example of a melancholic character that is not able to let go of her loss and therefore lets it t...
... how white females are very snobby to her and make her feel lonely and not beautiful. The Breedloves have been have been turned away from the harsh world around them.
She had endless wrinkles that were gold with age. Her hair was black, with an odor like copper that stopped to her neck. She wore a dark stripped dress, which came down to her shoe along with an apron that was equally the length of her dress (Welty 91). When she is in tough situations, she knows how to take advantage of the situation that she is in. For example, when the man on the path had dropped the nickel, she took it upon herself to get the nickel before he saw her. Although she felt that she sinned when the bird flew ahead, she knew God was watching over her (Welty 94). When Jackson was in the doctor’s office, with her silence she got what she came for, which was the medicine for her
and a carton of ‘Yum Yum Orange Juice’ in the other. She was wearing a