Archives for November 2005

Racism is one of the prevalent themes in the novel Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe. The author Fannie Flagg portrays this theme in a few different ways. One ways she shows racism is through Big George and Onzell’s twin sons Artis and Jasper. Jasper has a much lighter skin tone than that of Artis. This seemingly minor difference leads them down completely separate paths in life. The lives of Artis and Jasper are greatly affected by their skin tone.

From the time the two boys are born, there is already tension between them. They are first described in this way: “The oldest son, whom she named Jasper, was the color of a creamy cup of coffee, and the other one, named Artis, was black as coal (75).” Already Jasper, the lighter skinned boy, is compared to a “creamy cup of coffee,” which is something typically thought of to be pleasant and warming. Artis, on the other hand, is compared to coal, which is something that is dirty and found in dark dreary places. These comparisons are almost symbolic of their lives. Jasper makes a good living working on a high-end train. He lives a very respectable life. Artis is poor and spends his life living in destitute cities. He also constantly chases women around. His life is a lot lower in merit than Jasper’s life. The way they end up in these situations is directly affected by their skin colors.

Early in their lives, the affect of their skin colors is apparent. When Ms. Threadgoode describes the boys to Evelyn, she says, “Jasper went on to become the president of the Brotherhood of the Sleeping-Car Porter’s Union. He and his brother Artis moved to Birmingham when they were young. . .but Artis wound up in jail two or three times (103).” This shows that Jasper was successful, but does say why he was successful. It also shows that Artis was considered a bad person because he went to jail a few times, but it doesn’t say why he went to jail. They are both brothers raised by the same parents. It doesn’t seem logical that one would turn out good and the other would turn out bad. The only way they are different is their skin color. Jasper has lighter skin color, and he is able to hold a steady job and become president of his union. Artis has darker skin color, and he ends up in jail and wandering the streets. Racism is the only thing that could separate the two brothers and lead them to completely different lives.

Artis wants to be accepted, but his skin color won’t allow him to be. When Artis is in Chicago, he realizes how bad his situation is. “As Artis stood there today in the doorway, he was hurting so bad, he thought he would die. He missed Birmingham and he wanted to go back (226).” Unfortunately, Artis cannot go back. He knows he can never fit in with the racist society living there. The only place he can live without those pressures is in desolate shagtowns. He doesn’t want to be in this situation, but he has no way out. A dark African American is often prejudged and has a harder time in life. When Artis tries to save his friend’s dog, he cuts the rope tying the dog to the truck and sets him free. The dogcatchers claim that Artis pulled a knife on them, and Artis ends up spending six months in prison. This is just one instance that shows how his skin color is detrimental to his being, while Jaspers light tone allows him to marry a wealthy respected woman, hold a good job, and live amongst white people.

All of these examples show how Artis’s dark skin led him to a hard, tough life, while Jasper’s light skin showed him a life his brother could never dream of. Racism is abundant in the book, and this one piece portrays that problem well. Their skin color directly represents the kind of life they will live. Though they are twin brothers, their two lives are like night and day. The lives of Artis and Jasper are shaped by their skin color and tone.

People living in France or its colonies during the Enlightenment and French Revolution debated that they needed slavery in order for France to remain economically buoyant, slaves needed rights and slavery should end, and slaves were better off being slaves (as a rational for their greed.)

Some people argued that slavery was needed in order for France to prosper. A delegate from Bordeaux once said during a speech to the National Assembly that “the abolition of slavery and the slave trade would mean the loss of our colonies” and later says that “the colonies bring in an annual income of more than 200 million livres.” Being a delegate, he would of course do the best to persuade the National Assembly for the people he is representing. Likewise Antoine Barnave reports to the National Assembly’s Committee on the Colonies that “[France has] reached this level of prosperity thanks to our colonies.” He also comments that if the colonies do gain independence, France would have to prepare in advance to “lose them without an economic shock and without a disturbance to our political existence.” A bar graph of slaves delivered by French ships shows that during times of war, the number of slaves delivered by French ships goes up dramatically, going up by eight times as much in about eighty years.

Others debated that slaves deserved rights like every other man and that slavery should not even exist. Louis de Jaucourt, being a philosophe takes the view of many philosophes that slaves should be treated like people. He says that “we can not take away from a person that natural dignity which is liberty.” Jean-Jacques Rousseau, another philosophe, is strongly against slavery, commenting that “seeing one-fourth of my fellow humans changed into beasts for the service of others, I have grieved to be a human.” Jacques Necker likewise says slaves “have been made a barbaric object of trade.” Count Mirabeau also believes slaves need rights, commenting during a speech, “I demand to know how the twenty White people here from the colonies can be said to represent the people of color from whom they have received no authority.” Maximilien Robespierre is a little more radical, and thinks that the slaves should be freed no matter what and he has really no care for the colonies, whether they produce for France or not. Voltaire comments that the slaves are working to get the common folk things besides the necessities, “things unknown to our ancestors.” Lastly, Olympe de Gouges says that it makes no difference the color of a person’s skin. “Why destroy nature’s work?”

The rest of people basically made the point that slaves should be happier being slaves. A delegate of the Owners of Property in the French Colonies of America Residing in Bordeaux says that they have taken the slaves out of cruel slavery, but have put them “under a kind of humane government“ where “they live without fear for tomorrow.” I’m not sure if a slave would agree with this. Guillaume Raynal concurs with this statement, saying that the colonies the slaves work on have “a milder climate for the slaves than the hot climate from which they have been transplanted.” In reality, the slaves are just tools for the government to produce. These people are just rationalizing their greed. Louis de Jaucourt, a philosophe, says that “Masters who acquired new slaves were obligated by law to have them instructed in the Catholic faith. This motivated Louis XIII to authorize this horrid commerce in human flesh.” This shows how they were just being used to boost the number of Catholics in the world. “Why did the Christian powers not consider that their religion, independent of natural law, was fundamentally opposed to Black slavery?” asks Denis Diderot, another philosophe. “The answer is that those nations needed slaves for their colonies, their plantations, and their mines.”

French citizens living during the times of the Enlightenment and French Revolution argued that slavery was needed in order for France to economically prosper, slaves needed rights and slavery should end, and slaves were happier being slaves (as an excuse to cover up their hunger or wealth.)

I guess this was for some kind of assessment.

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Losing my dad was the hardest event to go through in my life. It was a horrible time emotionally for me. I had just started middle school, and I was trying to adjust to the leap from elementary school. I was in school for about a week, trying to make new friends and become situated with my new surroundings. That was tough enough, just becoming comfortable in middle school. I was stressed from that whole process, but not nearly as emotionally distraught from the news my mom told me one morning. My dad had to be rushed to the hospital during the night and died.

The news hit me hard. I was totally numb; I couldn’t believe what my mom had told me. My whole world was destroyed. My dad meant a lot to me. He was the person I could joke around with. He would play games with me and be my friend. He treated me like I was older than I really was. He let me help him at his work. He was the world to me, and I really thought he was going to survive his illness. I had no doubt that he was going to get through it. He had been on chemotherapy to help with his disease, and survived through that. He and my mom said that he was going to be fine. I don’t know if they were just saying that to make life easier for me while I started middle school, but either way I would have been crushed.

I didn’t go to school for about a week; I needed to stay home and try to deal with my grief. I was either moping around the house or crying in my room. The funeral services were very hard on me. So many people I knew came to the viewing for my dad. Seeing all the people come made me happy, but in turn that made me even more sad that he died. He meant a great deal to many people, and that made me even more upset that he had to be taken from us.

Once all of that was over, I made my attempt to come back to school. Coming back was very hard and awkward. I am fairly sure all my teachers were notified and told the kids in all my classes. This made fitting in difficult because I’m sure most people were nice to me because they felt bad, and thus making new friends became really hard. I didn’t know if someone simply felt bad for me or really liked me. I had friends from elementary school, but most of them weren’t in my classes. I needed to make new friends. It was also hard to make friends because I don’t think I acted like myself. After my dad died, I think I became a lot quieter and conceited. Along with just being in a new place with new people, this made me very shy. In elementary school I was definitely a lot more outgoing, but all these events changed me.

Somehow I made it through the school year with some new friends that I’m still friends with today for the most part. I have trudged through all my school years since then. My personality is still trying to recover from those few weeks during my dad’s death. I think I’ve become more outgoing than I was since then, but I’m still shy. Not having my dad during those middle school and high school years was really hard. Those are the times I think it’s most important to have your father. Without my dad, I struggled, but I made it through in one piece. I accepted his death fairly quickly when it first happened, but I still think about him from time to time. I think about how my life would be different and how I might be different. There is nothing that can be done about it now, so all I can do it try to be the best person I can be every day. I’m still working on trying to be open, but it can be hard sometimes. Losing my dad was the most difficult thing in my life. It has and is still affecting my life, even though it happened six years ago. I hope that eventually I will become more like I was in elementary school, friendly and outgoing, but it is something that will take a few more years.

When my mom first told me she was going to remarry, I was shocked. She had been seeing Mr. Sullivan for a several months, and I had met him and his five children numerous times. We were all pretty friendly with each other, but I couldn’t believe that our family of four would combine with their family of six. There would be ten people all living under one roof! I knew this would be a monumental change in my life.

Before our parents married, all of us children were pretty friendly with each other. We got along well and enjoyed our company. This soon changed. Once our parents married, all ten of us moved into my family’s house. Our house only had three bedrooms, so an addition was necessary. My mom and step-dad slept upstairs while all seven of my siblings and I had the basement. We were stuck down there for six months. During those six months, our living quarters turned from a pleasant jocular area to a war zone.

Us children had never been so close together. There were three bunk beds set up, and the two girls had control of the couches. I’m fairly sure there is a law forbidding this many children to be living in that close of a proximity. I didn’t realize how annoying seven younger siblings could be. I had been friendly with all my new siblings at first, but that was mostly just time spent with one or two at a time. When all of them were together, they were unbearable. I think my brother, my sister, and I felt outnumbered; we just couldn’t take the constant yelling and screaming, the throwing of projectiles in the air, and mostly the nonstop talking.

My side of the family was more quiet and relaxed than the Sullivan family, so we did not know how to adjust. I tried yelling to make them quiet down; no affect. I tried being more subtle and friendly; nothing. I tried beating them over the head; still the same constant chaos. My brother, my sister, and I did not adjust to their company very well during that time in the basement. As a result, our relationship with our new siblings did not start out very well.

Once the addition on the house was finished, I could not wait to get out of the basement. All eight of us children received our own room. Words cannot express how happy I was. I moved all my belongings into my new room and just stayed in there by myself for a while. I finally had some solitude and could get away from everyone. My relations with my new siblings were still not going well, however.

My brother, who was the second youngest in the family, was picked on constantly. I, being the oldest, was not pestered much at all. I had to stand up for my little brother very often. Because everyone picked on him, I became angry at my other side of the family and began to hate them. Everything they did annoyed me. I was embarrassed to be around them. I hated them for being mean to my little brother. He was the only one in my family they could pick on and get away with it. I heard them complaining about my side of the family, and that upset me too. I tried to stay as away from them as possible even though they lived in the same house as me.

Our family went through some tough times for a few years. My parents made us go to counseling to try to fix our social problems, but it didn’t really work. We, the children, didn’t want it to work. We couldn’t stand each other and wanted to get away. The time we spent stuck in the basement started an anger toward one another that just grew and grew. Our parents didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately, over the last year or two, things have gotten a lot better. All the kids are a couple years older and more mature. Our own rooms have given us a chance to cool down. Things have gotten bearable again. I am friends with my step-siblings again. I can finally tolerate and enjoy their presence. Things still aren’t perfect, but I guess things are never perfect with a family. I still don’t treat all five of them like brothers or sisters, but at least a few of them I am comfortable with. Things are not as crazy anymore and that suits me well.

Overall it has been an experience; I’m not sure what kind of experience, but it has definitely been one. If we hadn’t all been stuck together for six months, I think things could have gone better and our relationships could have grown more. I will be off in college next year, so I’m not sure how well I’ll keep in touch with everyone. The future will tell how well the family sticks together and how good our relationships become.