Response to The Woman Warrior
In the short story collection, The Woman
Warrior, I read a lot of stories of different women striving for lives in the
United States. These women, regardless of their different situations and
personalities, share a mutual quality: nationality. They’re all Chinese.
An immigrant’s story
My uncle and my aunt are an immigrant couple. They moved individually
from Taiwan to America when they were young. Their families didn’t move there
with them. Instead, my uncle moved there alone for his asthma problem, as the mild
In
the article in “Ways of Seeing” we read in the class, the paragraph our small group
read was about how different advertisements are designed and displayed as it
used to and at present. The advertisements in the past were pretty much closer
to reality and true, while the ones nowadays tend to be made in a more
“When I was young,” my mom says, “I was labeled by the teachers at school as a rebel, since I never obeyed their instructions.” “But as a matter of fact, I consider myself as a person who just had too many different ideas from most other students in class, and therefore did not feel the need to do things in the teachers’ ways. I felt it was necessary for me to do things in the ways I thought to be more efficient to achieve the goal.”
“But as time went by, I found my relationships with people around me were much more terrible than I had realized myself. Teachers picked me out in class because I seemed to be the one who always break the peace and order during their lectures, as I often asked questions which I were confused about, or stated my opinions which were opposite to theirs, or even criticized their points of view. They saw me as nothing but a trouble maker.”
“My parents were upset by the continuous complaint and warning phone calls made by my teachers in school, too. They couldn’t understand how their used-to-be-obedient, lovely little girl could have changed so dramatically. Their higher position as being parents were challenged by me, too, as I treated them equally as school teachers. They got really annoyed and we had fights almost everyday whenever I was at home.”
“Peers of mine were separated into two different kinds to me back then, too.” “Most of them, as one group of the two, were afraid of speaking to me as they were afraid I would attack their statements or viewpoints. Which I was not that offensive at all. And another group, on the contrary, admired me for being such a daring person in class. But in retrospect, most of them in the latter group were the real rebels, like bullies in campus, and so they admired my acts out of their own perspective(challenging the authorities), which is not a good thing at all.”
“Now I can tell you confidently, that it is not a bad thing having your own different opinions from the authorities around you now, but how to convey or even conceal them for a while instead of challenging people directly in the face is what you need to learn now. You were just like the old young me back then in the teenage period. I know sometimes it’s hard to control the desire wanting to ‘correct’ people who are giving a seemingly wrong speech towards a crowd, but it’s just something you’ll have to learn in the future. I came through it. And that’s why I’m telling you all this story.”
There’s a man who devotes all his time and efforts without a complaint in my family. He is my father, Jay.
My father is a businessman who imports compressors from Germany to Taiwan. He studied there in Berlin during his Master’s Degree on Engineering, and that’s the reason why the biggest compressor company in Germany asked him to work for them - he speaks their language and knows everything about how compressors and fans related stuff work. Only a few people spoke German back then in my father’s days.
The compressor importing company is not a mass enterprise like the most well-known ones in Taiwan like Chimei or Samsung, but the profit it produces is sort of remarkable.
My dad has always been a hard working person since he was born and raised in a straitened family background. His hometown is a fishing port in Taitung, and he has 4 older brothers and 1 older sister. With the considerable number of children in his family and concern about living out a different life from back when he was born, my dad and his brothers and sisters all work hard and now have their achievements in their field.
However, my dad does not brag about his achievements of work at home. Instead, he seems to choose to let us notice the efforts he makes by giving us a better life and just working hard. As his company is getting more and more successful, Dad starts to expand the domain from compressor related sales to real estate trades. He opens up some commercial motels with partners these years, and with the motels’ opening, he needs to go there to the motels and his company back and forth and watch over stuff.
Plot
The film, Beloved, is a film based on Toni Morrison’s eponymous Pulitzer-Prize-winning novel. The entire story takes place during the time of Civil War, and is steered around a difficult struggle of a colored woman who had been slaved, sexually assaulted, escaped but still suffered with her daughter in their cursed, haunted house and their embarrassing status in the village. The colored obstinate woman, who was called Sethe, was visited by an old friend, Paul D., who was also from her hometown, the place she escaped from. Sethe invited Paul D into her haunted house and Paul D. stood his ground and drove the spirit away. The relationship between Sethe and Paul was sharply increased, and Sethe agreed on Paul’s proposal to live together and strike out a life together.
A mysterious girl appeared shortly after Paul’s arrival in front of Sethe‘s house. She was groomed, and Sethe and her daughter, Denver, quickly took the girl in to their house and rested her there. The girl told them her name was “Beloved.”
But as the girl’s appearance, Sethe, Denver and Paul D.’s just-to-be-started new life was totally interrupted. She got to enjoy Sethe’s care and caught Denver’s full attention, as she was the only similar-aged girl with Denver and who was not afraid of Denver(as they lived in such a horrible haunted house) like other people in the village. Beloved found that Paul D.’s dislike towards her, and forced him to have sex with her. Paul D. got to know that Sethe murdered her baby daughter and almost killed the others by sharing a newspaper clip afterwards. Being unable to stand this kind of messed up situation, Paul ended up leaving the house.
But one night, Beloved revealed her otherworldly identity that she was virtually Denver’s dead little sister. Denver, in fear and mixed emotions, asked Beloved not to tell Sethe about this fact but was angrily rejected by Beloved. Later on in the story, Sethe realized this fact by hearing Beloved humming a song that Sethe made and had sung only to her children. She assured with seeing a scar on Beloved’s neck - which was left when Sethe murdered her youngest baby daughter when the slave catchers almost got her.
An eighteen year old girl who just started her new life in college. A girl who has a great passion for music, and also loves arts(literature, paintings, sculptures and other related included). Admiring arts and composing them are two of the most wonderful things in the world. Indulging herself in music and playing/displaying it for people are awesome for her, too.
I’m not that kind of girl who still lives in her dreamy fairy tale imagination and waits for some Prince Charm to come to “save” me. I’m a pretty down-to-earth person. And because I have been through some difficult situations which most people don’t have the experiences of, I think I can say that I am pretty much a tough girl who is mentally independent and is able to make my own decisions and take the responsibilities for them.
: D
p.s. I finished this introduction before I posted the first article, "Walking in the streets", but I put it in my profile instead of posting it as an article... just thought it might be better if i make a reminder of this.
Walking in the streets
It’s a brilliant sunny day in first spring. I’m walking along in the campus, on the wooden sidewalk beside the green, green grass field and Hundred-Flower Stream Path. I see families having great fun in their different kinds of ways. Frisbees are thrown back and forth between kids and seniors in some of the families. Pieces of clothes being comfortably lain upon by people are unfolded and laid smoothly on the ground. Under the tree shades, some families are sitting laid-back on the benches, sharing their lives with big, relaxed smiles on their faces. There’s no walls between them. Balls fly high up in the clear blue sky without a cloud - just like their crystal-clear joyous minds at the moment.
Under the surface of this lively scene lies domestic bliss, happiness shared by blood relationship people, trust built between family members(as people play balls as team works and pass the balls to the ones of whom they trust) and peace that can hardly be found in this busy city life. I feel completely at ease watching this peaceful, wonderful scene. I remember the time when I was little and my family picnicked like they do now, and when we played badminton and rode bicycles in the oil refinery in my hometown, Kaohsiung. The activities we did/do are different, but we share a mutual core spirit. We’re families who love one another with our hearts and are always willing to spend quality leisure time with one another.
But in the meanwhile, I feel a little bit guilty and sorrowful, too. Because even though I’m certain about the fact that my family and I still, and always will, love each other deeply, the time we spend with one another is sharply decreased as my time is split into fragmentary pieces by myself ‘cause my friends play a more and more important role in my life. It’s definitely not those families who are enjoying their time together who put me on this guilt trip, but this beautiful scene reminds me of this seem-to-be-inevitable phenomenon which is actually a decision made by myself. I miss the good old times I shared with my family. We still do share, but the frequency is not enough for me.
Observing what’s happening outside around a person can make the effect of stirring up the inner emotions or memories inside that person, too!
