Textual analysis Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words - 1

Textual analysis - Essay Example In Chapters I-6 in Section IV, the topic of discussion was filled with the idea of how the soldier should distance himself from the enemy so that he will not hesitate to kill. This topic in turn affected how Grossman wrote the book as spoke about killing casually and objectively just like his argument s in the book. For example, he talked about the predisposition of a killer as a matter of fact to the point of being casual. In this instance, he hid under the blanket of studies to make the discussion impersonal and seemingly objective and achieve an emotional distance that enabled his book to carry the argument of Ben Shalit saying; â€Å"To me they were less than animals†. Increasing the distance between the combatants – whether by emphasizing their differences or by increasing the chain of responsibility between the aggressor and his victim allows for an increase in the degree of aggression – Ben Shalit. There are also several concepts in the book that have affected Grossman’s writing style to be distant and detached. These concepts are authority or the proximity and intensity of a demanding leader to the subject that is viewed legitimately makes an individual or soldier operational to kill. Next is through the group absolution whereby the individual feel less guilty to kill when a legitimate group has a support for the kill. The distance of the victim of which Grossman has inadvertently adopted in the writing style of the book which fell under two categories of moral distance and mechanical distance. Moral distance is the vilification of the enemy that justifies vindictive action while mechanical distance reduces the act of killing to a sterile video game, thermal sight, sniper sight or other kind of mechanical buffer that detaches the killer from his victim. In the same manner that he talked about killing as a distant and unemotional thing as best

Contextualising Our Countrys Good Essay Example for Free

Contextualising Our Countrys Good Essay The historical context of this play is most key, in that the play its self is based on the past. In mid seventeenth century there was a fear within the middle and upper classes of the raising crime rate, largely due to an increasing population and high unemployment figures. The chosen solution to this problem was the transportation of convicts to Australia, where they could be used as slaves to build a naval outpost. The writer Timberlake Wertenbaker was born in the United States, and also lived in France. Shortly after moving to London she became a play write, and is said to have produced her best work, including Our Countrys Good, during the 1980s. She wrote the play after she had read up on the history of the transportation of convicts from England to Australia. To do so she used resources such as the novel The Playmaker by Thomas Keneally, and journals of marines sent to Australia. Through these journals she could get a useful insight into what life for convict was really like. She could learn of the marines frustration that they had been sent to do just a job, in such a place, and the way in which they took out these frustrations on the convicts. Her knowledge of such wrong doings comes through very clearly in the text in scenes, and also through characters such as Sergeant Robbie Ross. Through these marines journals historians were also able to discover that in 1789 several convicts, and one officer put on a play for the whole colony. Through this they were able to teach themselves and their observers of compassion, co-operation and creativity. This is the key story in Our Countrys Good. In keeping with this realistic approach Timberlake Wertenbaker based her characters on real convicts of the first ship to Australia. From what little we know of the characters and their lives after Australia we can see Timberlakes influence for their personalities and traits which we can recognise: Timberlakes key character, Ralph Clark, was a real person. The journal he talks of in the play is a genuine historical item on which his character is based. After his time in Australia he is moved to a new post, and makes sure Mary Brenham, another key character in the play whom he falls in love with, is also transferred. Form this we can see parallels between life and the play in his apparent devotion for Mary that we as audience grow to love. The character Liz Morden is based on a convict called Nancy Turner. She lived to be pardoned and had a large family with a rich thief. This may be the life we would expect for Liz. Through the play she has restored her faith in humanity and has the confidence and love to build a family, but at the same time she will not turn on her own kind and chooses a thief as a lover. John Wisehammer began farming and became a respectable merchant. Just as we would expect of his character who always claimed to be innocent. John Freeman was exempted from hanging, just as his character had always waned. In the play we learn of his hate for the job. Dabby Bryant did escape, as we knew her character in the play would, she eventually ended up back home in Devon. From the above we can see to what extent Wertenbaker was true to the real story of the convicts in Australia. There is also a strong cultural significance to the play. It was written in 1988 for the Royal Court Theatre in London. It came at the end of an extremist period, Thatherite Britain, in which an us and them attitude was strong. And the fact that it was a strong capitalist party in power was evident. One of Thatchers most famous comments was there is no such thing as society, just individuals and their families. Wertenbaker was making a stand against such attitudes and showing we should take the time to think about each other and grow as people in community which can be formed, as the convicts show, in any group of people, however they are originally regarded. Wertenbaker used the play to portray a message that like sending the convokes away, or punishing them with floggings, Michael Howards short sharp shock tactics of the time would not work, but the key was reform, and giving the prisoners something more, by believing they could be more. The play was revived in 1997, as New Labour was coming into power. One of Labours visions is that people can change, its within them. Just as Phillip and Ralph believed the convicts could, and just as Liz Morden proved was true, as both her and Mary found themselves in different ways through the play. There are parallels present between this aspect of the play, and schemes for young offenders today. Young people use art such as graffiti to find themselves through something positive, constructive, enjoyable and rewarding, in much the same way the convicts used The Recruiting Officer. In reviving the play it became recognised again and The Recruiting Officer has been performed in prisons quite recently, as have other plays with the intention of doing what Ralph did for the convicts in Our Countrys Good, restoring their faith in humanity and humanitys faith in them.

The Terrorist :: essays research papers

This book â€Å"The Terrorist† was written by Caroline B. Cooney and published by Scolastic Inc. in Toronto Ontario Canada.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Laura is in high school and she had just moved from Boston. At the beginning of the book, her brother died when a terrorist’s package bomb exploded and killed Billy. Laura and her family were heart-broken when they found out the bad news. Laura becomes determined to do what ever she could to find out who killed Billy. One day, when Laura was questioning Mohammed, Jehran asked her if she would like to go to a sleep over. At first Laura did not want to but she finally agreed. While she was at the sleep over, Jehran told her about a marriage that she would be forced into by her brother. She asked for Laura’s help to run away to the airport and take a plane to New York. After a while, Laura agreed. A week later, they went to the airport as planned, but they did not know that Jimmy was following them. Jimmy warned Laura’s other friends that she was going to New York. While Laura was boarding the plane, she started getting suspicions about Jehran. L aura decided that Jehran should leave by herself on the plane and she should go home. Jehran didn’t want to go by herself, so Laura confronted her and Laura found out that Jehran was the one who told the terrorists to kill Billy.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Jehran was charged but was found innocent. Laura and her family moved back to Boston without Billy. Billy would be a part of them forever.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Billy used to live in Boston but he moved to London England. He owned a â€Å"Macaroni & Cheese† business and he was financially secure. When he was getting off the train, a man handed him a package that his friend had dropped. Billy examined the box and realized that it was a bomb. He wrapped himself around the bomb and it blew up (so he died). Laura’s (and Billy’s) parents were miserable and were very upset. They had cared a lot about Billy, and so had Laura. Laura was miserable and she wanted to find out who killed Billy. One day, while Laura was questioning Mohammed, Jehran invited her to a sleep over. Jehran is a thin elegant girl who had long black hair. She was the one who had chosen Billy to be killed by the terrorists.

The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner Chapters 14

â€Å"I heard someone get hurt – Kristie needs me more than Raoul,† he explained quickly. â€Å"Are you†¦ leaving us?† Riley's face changed. It was like I could see his shifting tactics written on his features. His eyes widened, suddenly anxious. â€Å"I'm worried, Bree. I told you that she was going to meet us, to help us, but I haven't crossed her trail. Something's wrong. I need to find her.† â€Å"But there's no way you can find her before Raoul gets to the yel ow-eyes,† I pointed out. â€Å"I have to find out what's going on.† He sounded genuinely desperate. â€Å"I need her. I wasn't supposed to do this alone!† â€Å"But the others†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Bree, I have to go find her! Now! There are enough of you to overwhelm the yel ow-eyes. I'l get back to you as soon as I can.† He sounded so sincere. I hesitated, glancing back the way we had come. Fred would be halfway to Vancouver by now. Riley hadn't even asked about him. Maybe Fred's talent was stil in effect. â€Å"Diego's down there, Bree,† Riley said urgently. â€Å"He'l be part of the first attack. Didn't you catch his scent back there? Did you not get close enough?† I shook my head, total y confused. â€Å"Diego was there?† â€Å"He's with Raoul by now. If you hurry, you can help him get out alive.† We stared at each other for a long second, and then I looked south after Raoul's path. â€Å"Good girl,† Riley said. â€Å"I'l go find her and we'l be back to help clean up. You guys have got this! It might be over by the time you get there!† He took off in a direction perpendicular to our original path. I clenched my teeth at how sure he seemed of his way. Lying to the end. But it didn't feel like I had a choice. I headed south in a flatout sprint again. I had to go get Diego. Drag him away if it came to that. We could catch up with Fred. Or take off on our own. We needed to run. I would tel Diego how Riley had lied. He would see that Riley had no intention of helping us fight the battle he'd set up. There was no reason to help him anymore. I found the human's scent and then Raoul's. I didn't catch Diego's. Was I going too fast? Or was the human's scent just overpowering me? Half my head was absorbed in this strangely counterproductive hunt – sure, we would find the girl, but would we be ready to fight together when we did? No, we'd be clawing each other apart to get to her. And then I heard the snarling and screaming and screeching explode from ahead and I knew the fight was happening and I was too late to beat Diego there. I only ran faster. Maybe I could stil save him. I smel ed the smoke – the sweet, thick scent of vampires burning – carried back to me on the wind. The sound of mayhem was louder. Maybe it was almost done. Would I find our coven victorious and Diego waiting? I dashed through a heavy fringe of smoke and found myself out of the forest in a huge grassy field. I leaped over a rock, only to realize in the instant I flew past it that it was a headless torso. My eyes raked the field. There were pieces of vampires everywhere, and a huge bonfire smoking purple into the sunny sky. Out from under the bil owing haze, I could see dazzling, glittering bodies darting and grappling as the sounds of vampires being torn apart went on and on. I looked for one thing: Diego's curly black hair. No one I could see had hair so dark. There was one huge vampire with brown hair that was almost black, but he was too big, and as I focused I watched him tear Kevin's head off and pitch it into the fire before leaping on someone else's back. Was that Jen? There was another with straight black hair that was too smal to be Diego. That one was moving so fast I couldn't tel if it was a boy or a girl. I scanned quickly again, feeling horribly exposed. I took in the faces. There weren't nearly enough vampires here, even counting those that were down. I didn't see any of Kristie's group. There must have been a lot of vampires burned already. Most of the vampires stil standing were strangers. A blond vampire glanced at me, meeting my gaze, and his eyes flashed gold in the sunlight. We were losing. Bad. I started backing toward the trees, not moving fast enough because I was stil looking for Diego. He wasn't here. There was no sign he had ever been here. No trace of his scent, though I could distinguish the smel s of most of Raoul's team and many strangers. I had made myself look at the pieces, too. None of them belonged to Diego. I would have recognized even a finger. I turned and real y ran for the trees, suddenly positive that Diego's presence here was just another of Riley's lies. And if Diego wasn't here, then he was already dead. This fel into place for me so easily that I thought I must have known the truth for a while. Since the moment that Diego had not fol owed Riley through the basement door. He'd already been gone. I was a few feet into the trees when a force like a wrecking bal hit me from behind and threw me to the ground. An arm slipped under my chin. â€Å"Please!† I sobbed. And I meant please kill me fast. The arm hesitated. I didn't fight back, though my instincts were urging me to bite and claw and rip the enemy apart. The saner part of me knew that wasn't going to work. Riley had lied about these weak, older vampires, too, and we'd never had a chance. But even if I'd had a way to beat this one, I wouldn't have been able to move. Diego was gone, and that glaring fact kil ed the fight in me. Suddenly I was airborne. I crashed into a tree and crumpled to the ground. I should have tried to run, but Diego was dead. I couldn't get around that. The blond vampire from the clearing was staring intently at me, his body ready to spring. He looked very capable, much more experienced than Riley. But he wasn't lunging at me. He wasn't crazed like Raoul or Kristie. He was total y in control. â€Å"Please,† I said again, wanting him to get this over with. â€Å"I don't want to fight.† Though he stil held himself ready, his face changed. He looked at me in a way I didn't total y get. There was a lot of knowledge in that face, and something else. Empathy? Pity, at least. â€Å"Neither do I, child,† he said in a calm, kind voice. â€Å"We are only defending ourselves.† There was such honesty in his odd yel ow eyes that it made me wonder how I had ever believed any of Riley's stories. I felt†¦ guilty. Maybe this coven had never planned to attack us in Seattle. How could I trust any part of what I'd been told? â€Å"We didn't know,† I explained, somehow ashamed. â€Å"Riley lied. I'm sorry.† He listened for a moment, and I realized that the battlefield was quiet. It was over. If I'd been in any doubt over who the winner was, that doubt was gone when, a second later, a female vampire with wavy brown hair and yel ow eyes hurried to his side. â€Å"Carlisle?† she asked in a confused voice, staring at me. â€Å"She doesn't want to fight,† he told her. The woman touched his arm. He was stil tensed to spring. â€Å"She's so frightened, Carlisle. Couldn't we†¦Ã¢â‚¬  The blond, Carlisle, glanced back at her, and then he straightened up a little, though I could see he was stil wary. â€Å"We have no wish to harm you,† the woman said to me. She had a soft, soothing voice. â€Å"We didn't want to fight any of you.† â€Å"I'm sorry,† I whispered again. I couldn't make sense of the mess in my head. Diego was dead, and that was the main thing, the devastating thing. Other than that, the fight was over, my coven had lost and my enemies had won. But my dead coven was ful of people who would have loved to watch me burn, and my enemies were speaking to me kindly when they had no reason to. Moreover, I felt safer with these two strangers than I'd ever felt with Raoul and Kristie. I was relieved that Raoul and Kristie were dead. It was so confusing. â€Å"Child,† Carlisle said, â€Å"wil you surrender to us? If you do not try to harm us, we promise we wil not harm you.† And I believed him. â€Å"Yes,† I whispered. â€Å"Yes, I surrender. I don't want to hurt anybody.† He held out his hand encouragingly. â€Å"Come, child. Let our family regroup for a moment, then we'l have some questions for you. If you answer honestly, you have nothing to fear.† I got up slowly, making no movements that could be considered threatening. â€Å"Carlisle?† a male voice cal ed. And then another yel ow-eyed vampire joined us. Any sort of safety I'd felt with these strangers vanished as soon as I saw him. He was blond, like the first, but tal er and leaner. His skin was absolutely covered in scars, spaced most thickly together on his neck and jaw. A few smal marks on his arm were fresh, but the rest were not from the brawl today. He had been in more fights than I could have imagined, and he'd never lost. His tawny eyes blazed and his stance exuded the barely contained violence of an angry lion. As soon as he saw me he coiled to spring. â€Å"Jasper!† Carlisle warned. Jasper pul ed up short and stared at Carlisle with wide eyes. â€Å"What's going on?† â€Å"She doesn't want to fight. She's surrendered.† The scarred vampire's brow clouded, and suddenly I felt an unexpected surge of frustration, though I had no idea what I was frustrated with. â€Å"Carlisle, I†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He hesitated, then continued, â€Å"I'm sorry, but that's not possible. We can't have any of these newborns associated with us when the Volturi come. Do you realize the danger that would put us in?† I didn't understand exactly what he was saying, but I got enough. He wanted to kil me. â€Å"Jasper, she's only a child,† the woman protested. â€Å"We can't just murder her in cold blood!† It was strange to hear her speak like we both were people, like murder was a bad thing. An avoidable thing. â€Å"It's our family on the line here, Esme. We can't afford to have them think we broke this rule.† The woman, Esme, walked between me and the one who wanted to kil me. Incomprehensibly, she turned her back to me. â€Å"No. I won't stand for it.† Carlisle shot me an anxious glance. I could see that he cared a lot for this woman. I would have looked the same way at anyone behind Diego's back. I tried to appear as docile as I felt. â€Å"Jasper, I think we have to take the chance,† he said slowly. â€Å"We are not the Volturi. We fol ow their rules, but we do not take lives lightly. We wil explain.† â€Å"They might think we created our own newborns in defense.† â€Å"But we didn't. And even had we, there was no indiscretion here, only in Seattle. There is no law against creating vampires if you control them.† â€Å"This is too dangerous.† Carlisle touched Jasper's shoulder tentatively. â€Å"Jasper. We cannot kil this child.† Jasper glowered at the man with the kind eyes, and I was suddenly angry. Surely he wouldn't hurt this gentle vampire or the woman he loved. Then Jasper sighed, and I knew it was okay. My anger evaporated. â€Å"I don't like this,† he said, but he was calmer. â€Å"At least let me take charge of her. You two don't know how to deal with someone who's been running wild so long.† â€Å"Of course, Jasper,† the woman said. â€Å"But be kind.† Jasper rol ed his eyes. â€Å"We need to be with the others. Alice said we don't have long.† Carlisle nodded. He held his hand out to Esme, and they headed past Jasper back toward the open field. â€Å"You there,† Jasper said to me, his face a glower again.

Multicultural Literature Essay- Eleithia Essay

Author, Alice Walker’s, Elethia, is a story of young Elethia who struggles to overcome a legacy of passivity, marginalization, inferiority, and misrepresentation of the Negro. To define her own identity she must break free and simultaneously hold on to the central figure that causes her to doubt her identity. Uncle Albert is a symbol of racism and the blindness that oftentimes presents itself within the Negro culture. There is a quote given by the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., â€Å"there are many Negros who will never fight for freedom, but will gladly accept it when it comes!† Dr. King’s remarks are favored by me in the fight against racism and I understand it to mean this. That while segregation, impartiality, brutality and blatant disrespect are present, there will always be a certain percentage of people, belonging to an oppressed culture, who will idly sit by and accept the countless improprieties set before them while others continuously fight to break down the walls of bigotry. In the town in which Elethia made her home, Uncle Albert had been a fixture in the window of the Old Uncle Albert’s restaurant for good length of time. So long that some of the old-timers, who had known Uncle Albert before his murder, were victims of fading memories, â€Å"perhaps both memory and eyesight were wrong (Brown p.307).† As a humanist, I am annoyed that the story is absent, perhaps accidentally or possibly on purpose, that not one member of the African American community protested or took any actions to give Uncle Albert’s likeness a release. I understand fear. The fear of retribution and death at the hands of white supremacists, however years, an entire generation in fact, had passed and Uncle Albert’s remains still stood smiling in the white-only eatery. Since slavery religious instruction was aimed â€Å"to inculcate meekness and docility (Aptheker 122).† What about after the doors  of the church were closed? Throughout the short story, there is no mention of a revolutionary plot or rebellion by any one person or persons of the community. Elethia, young and still not sure of who she was, made the horrific discovery that Uncle Albert was stuffed as if he were and animal. At that moment, she along with her friends made the conscious decision that smiling Uncle Albert had to be excluded as a fixture in a plated glass window in order to give dignity to the Negro culture. I am a firm believer in non-violence but only when you are dealing with people who share the same view of non-violence. The story does not give the reader any hint that there was a rumble from the community of Negro people at a time when a loud noise should have sounded off. At a time when the Civil Rights Movement was in its infancy, the passiveness of the entire African American community of the small southern town gave credence to the myth of the docile Negro. Throughout American history, any person or persons of the American society, whom skin is deemed to be colored has been marginalized since he has placed his foot on American soil. The Negros place in society has been viewed as less important than those of his white brethrens. In Elethia, a young black boy’s privates were left nailed to a post for the town’s people, which included blacks and whites to see. I will take this crude act and look at in two ways to support my theory of marginalization: the first angle will be taken from a white societal viewpoint in that a young Negro boy is not looked upon as a human being. He is simply a person of color who is absent of pathos, and intellect. His status in the general public is placed the lowest echelon on the societal chain, therefore he does not warrant the right to be buried properly in a grave. The act of inhumanity can secondly be viewed by the African American community as an act of intimidation by the oppressor to furt her propel the theory of marginalization and minimize their self worth as citizens of a so called pluralist society. This marginalization theory leads to societal exclusion, the act of leaving one social class at a disadvantage while elevating another social class to point where there becomes a false sense of superiority. This false sense of superiority can and will result in inferiority, a mental prison. The bedrock of inferiority, that is the views that white America or Americans  have toward their opposites, who are black Americans derived from the words set forth by one of our founding fathers, Thomas Jefferson, in his Letters to the State of Virginia. In its fourteenth query he describes what he perceives the Negro to be: â€Å"The negro differences which are physical and moral. The first difference which strikes us is that of colour. Is it not the foundation of a greater or less share of beauty in the two races? Are not the fine mixtures of red and white, the expressions of every passion by greater or less suffusions of colour in the one, preferable to that eternal monotony, which reigns i n the countenances, that immoveable veil of black which covers all the emotions of the other race? Add to these, flowing hair, a more elegant symmetry of form, their own judgment in favour of the whites, declared by their preference of them, as uniformly as is the preference of the Oranootan for the black women over those of his own species. The circumstance of superior beauty, is thought worthy attention in the propagation of our horses, dogs, and other domestic animals; why not in that of man? Besides those of colour, figure, and hair, there are other physical distinctions proving a difference of race. They have less hair on the face and body. Perhaps too a difference of structure in the pulmonary apparatus, which a late ingenious (1) experimentalist has discovered to be the principal regulator of animal heat, may have disabled them from extricating, in the act of inspiration, so much of that fluid from the outer air, or obliged them in expiration, to part with more of it. They seem to require less sleep. A black, after hard labour through the day, will be induced by the slightest amusements to sit up till midnight, or later, though knowing he must be out with the first dawn of the morning. An animal whose body is at rest, and who does not reflect, must be disposed to sleep of course. Comparing them by their faculties of memory, reason, and imagination, it appears to me, that in memory they are equal to the whites; in reason much inferior, as I think one could scarcely be found capable of tracing and comprehending the investigations of Euclid; and that in imagination they are dull, tasteless, and anomalous. It would be unfair to follow them to Africa for this investigation. We will consider them here, on the same stage with the whites, and where the facts are not apocryphal on which a judgment is to be formed. It will be right to make great allowances for the difference of condition, of education, of conversation, of the sphere in which they move. I find that a black had uttered a thought above the level of plain narration; never see even an elementary trait of painting or sculpture. In music they are more generally gifted than the whites with accurate ears for tune and time, and they have been found capable of imagining a small catch (2). Whether they will be equal to the composition of a more extensive run of melody, or of complicated harmony, is yet to be proved. Misery is often the parent of the most affecting touches in poetry. — Among the blacks is misery enough, God knows, but no poetry. Love is the peculiar ;oestrum of the poet. Their love is ardent, but it kindles the senses only, not the imagination. Religion indeed has produced a Phyllis Whately; but it could not produce a poet (Jefferson).† Mr. Jefferson claims that the Negro is less beautiful than whites and that Negro man desires the free flowing long hair of the white woman over that of the Negro women. He says the Negro lacks intelligence, so much so that he doesn’t know when to lie down when his body calls for rest. The Negro is quite capable of imagining, but lacks the skill to produce works of art. The Negro has a foul odor. The Negro has a different pulmonary apparatus than that of the Anglo- man. Thomas Jefferson’s query is the foundation in which biased racial views were built upon and the home in which inferiority breeds. In the context of Elethia, she was not allowed to eat in the white-only establishment, however, she was permitted to take a menial position as the kitchen help. This added to her as well as the other Negro worker’s persistent feelings of inadequacy. â€Å"Not good enough to eat here but good enough to clean your slop jar (Anderson, 323)!† She was able to look but not touch. In Walker’s, Elethia, Uncle Albert not only was he angry when he and his family learned that slavery had ended a decade prior to his knowledge. He felt inferior because due to the oppression of his owner he became an paradigm of Thomas Jefferson’s statement â€Å"the Negro lacks intelligence (Jefferson query XIV).† Uncle Albert did not possess the skill or intellect that kept him ignorant to the laws and abolishment of slavery. His lack of knowledge perpetuated the feelings of inferiority. Another example of inadequacy came to pass when Elethia learned the truth of Uncle Albert’s remains. She saw this as a mockery and another disregard for a Negro life. She viewed Uncle Albert’s standing in the window as a shadow  of racism. The plate glass window holding Uncle Albert’s smiling remains is a misrepresentation of the African American Community. He was placed there like a caricature advertisement to entice patrons to dine at the all white faci lity where they will be handled with the utmost care by our friendly waiter, Uncle Albert. First, the African American old-timers in the text make it clear that Uncle Albert was nobodies Uncle, â€Å"and wouldn’t sit still for anyone to call him that either (Brown 308)†. Second he never smiled, in fact the text leads the reader to believe that Uncle Albert was a bit of a surly man, who was filled with a lot of anger and nowhere to extinguish it. If occasionally he managed to open his mouth in the form of a smile, there would be vacancies where teeth had once dwelled. When the old timers, who were members of the African American community, talked about Uncle Albert, they used his name Albert Porter. This momentarily afforded a black man a little slice of dignity, a representation of a man lacking inferiorities. With the removing of the young black boy’s genitals from the post, Uncle Albert gave the boy and his family a slice of the same pie of dignity; a slice that represented that someone showed compassion for another human soul. In my opinion, the placing of Uncle Albert in the window of the segregated eatery, it says that the Negro will always be less than, enslaved, and subservient in life or in death so he should â€Å"grin and act like a nigger (Brown 309).† When in slavery, Uncle Albert was beaten severely because his oppressor wanted him to forget his past. This was a blatant misrepresentation of him and every black person housed between the walls of racism. Uncle Albert refused to forget. His refusal brought him additional pain and suffering. Stubbornness would not allow him to forget and succumb to the smiling happy Negro. In finding ones identity, one oftentimes has to look at others. Noted scholoar, WEB DuBois explore the Negro culture. In regards to identity he tells us about the double consciousness. â€Å"This double consciousness is a psychological sense experienced by the African Americans whereby they possess the national identity, â€Å"an American,† within a nation that despises their racial identity and that blacks see themselves only through the eyes of white Americans to measure intelligence beauty, and a sense of self-worth by standards set by others (DuBois 4).† Young Elethia was coming of age and her inquisitive nature uncovered truths and these truths led to more inquiries. Who am I? Who is Uncle Albert? Am I my community? Am I Uncle Albert? Am I going to let someone who keeps my community in oppression define who WE should be? Between the lines of the text these questions rang out to me. The title of the short story is Elethia, which when you search for names for girls you find that Elethia means healer. Was Elethia taking on the role as healer for the entire African American community? Was she only there to heal the memory of Uncle Albert? In a search for Elethia’s identity, I think that maybe the author, Walker, purposely named her character Elethia as a subtle way to aide her in the restorative process against inequality. The removal of the symbol of pain weaved together with a mythological symbol that helps lessen the pain in order to make a society whole, is nothing short of genius. It not only helped in the formation of young Elethia it gave a self-esteem booster to the African American community. The absence of Uncle Albert in effect may have unmasked the veil in which W.E.B. DuBois says the black folk live under (14). Uncle Albert’s persona displayed in the window puts me in the mind of Aunt Jemima, a mammy black face figure, with a big smile, whom is overly obedient, and whose primary goal in life is to be happy and subservient to the Anglo community. This is viewed as a negative stereotype in the African American community, not just in the small southern town, but all over America. Due to the veil worn by the African American community, Aunt Jemima was accepted by the African American community before the veil was lifted. The Aunt Jemima persona was juxtaposed as to what Uncle Albert was in life. With him no longer in the window that element has disappeared and the Negro has the freedom to create his own identity. By removing him from the window and giving him a proper cremation, the ‘young self imposed civil rights activist/reconciliators of the community’ not only released him from the glass plated walls of slavery but they gave him a spiritual release to heal his soul and the souls of the community. Not only was Uncle Albert a remembrance of pain he became a commemoration of healing when Elethia along with her friends decided in an act to resist racism decided to free Uncle Albert it became a cleansing for the African American’s of the town. By keeping his ashes it was a reminder of the past; albeit a past Uncle Albert refused to forget. Uncle Albert was not allowed to be free, to go  off to college to be and do better things. He was trapped. Keeping his ashes was also a symbol of humbleness to not forget where you started from. Elethia saw change that disallowed her and her friends to become trapped. This change allowed members of the African American community everywhere to claim and create who they wanted to be for themselves, as well as their families. In Elethia’s travels in life she had ran into several Uncle Alberts and Aunt Albertas who were not permitted to exist (Brown 309). The African American individuals whom were not permitted to be seen or heard by means of oppression, or their own lack or inability to seek a better life. His ashes are a constant reminder of who she is now in the present, how far she has come, and how much further she needs to maintain the feeling of wholeness. Although Wikipedia is not a scholarly source, it gave me the definition of identity and I believe it is reasonably accurate. Identity is defined as sameness, or whatever makes an entity definable and recognizable. By transcribing the memory of Uncle Albert it did just that and also Elethia also created a legacy. This legacy that can be retold without censure or wrong misgivings which gives legacy gives the African American Community a place in history; a place that says yes our people do and did exist. In addition a legacy is about the way one lived or is living in hopes that the future outcome will have results greater than the past. Elethia’s legacy also provides the African American community with history that mirrors the way they look, traditions that existed, the way they speak, and the way they were forced to live. This culmination of factors adds to Elethia as well as the Negro community and adds to each ones identity. I once read somewhere that without a legacy the meaning of life is sometimes lost. Had some of the Uncle Alberts and Aunt Albertas in Elethia path lost their meaning of life and may that loss caused them to be blind? Maybe or maybe not, however one struggle to overcome the products of racism can definitely effect the way ones views himself. In conclusion a legacy can oftentimes become the catalyst that brings about social change and is a definite component of identity. WORK CITED Anderson, J.D., My Bouquet of Kisses, Esquire Publications, Inc.: 3rd edition (April 2011). Aptheker, Henry., American Negro Slave Revolts, Publisher: Intl Pub; 5 edition (August 1983). Brown, Wesley & Ling, Amy, Imagining America Stories from the Promised Land: Persea Books, Inc.: 1st edition (2002). DuBois, W.E.B., The Souls of Black Folk, Barnes & Nobles Classics with New Introduction (1903) Republished 2003. Jefferson, Thomas, Notes on the State of Virginia, (1781) www.revolutionary-war-and-beyond.com/notes-on-the-state-of-virginia-by-thomas-jefferson-1781-1782-2. www.wikipedia.com Identity. Retrieved August 4, 2012.