Ive always been this way, she says without turning round. I suppose i got used to your height. my eyes are too blue. I ought to wear contact lenses of mother-of-pearl. A wig of seaweed. The shampoo leaked inside my suitcase. It lathered up like mad when I tried to rinse the sponge bag.
Ateneo de manila University
You say going to denmark. So you go to denmark and stay here a few days. You sit at my round dining table, rock yourself back and forth in my chair and frown. When you leave you go home. Theres nothing here for me, you say several times. you slept in my bed the these other night, you woke up early. The time difference between our continents ruins your sleep. Now you have again crossed the Atlantic. Left behind, without thoughts, i am standing in front of the mirror in the dark hallway when my other sister, my fathers daughter, comes in through the door. Why are you so small? I blurt out astonished, almost in fright, as she brushes past.
Then we see a supermarket in the middle of nowhere. You say you could live here too, just to find out how it feels. Sometimes I feel nothing, i forget to ache. Sometimes I think i have lost you, that it is impossible to know each other across an ocean and a desert. It takes less than a day to cross the Atlantic. We squabble literature about what to call. I ask when you are coming home.
You listen to the same music as when we were kids, you have taught your boyfriend to like it, country and folk. It makes me laugh, i am surprised and find it touching when you both sing along. In the desert you cant remember your name. We drive through the barren, stony desert. There are cactuses as tall as trees. Mobile homes scattered biography among the rocks. We ask each other how people make a living here. Who first do they work for, where do they buy their groceries, do they have running water?
You believed that skin-coloured Danes preferred to be on their own with others who are likewise skin-coloured. When you lived in Denmark, african Danes you didnt know sometimes nodded on the subway train or in the street. Perhaps it was an unwritten rule to say hello when noticing each other among the skin-coloured. Africans and Danes nod differently, you said. Danes give an abrupt, downward nod, Africans tip their head back gently. I adopted the African nod. But obviously i could never go acknowledging occasional brothers on the subway train as though I were a sister. you have retained many of your old habits. Your breakfast is oatmeal and tea.
Mga Artikulo at Mga sanaysay archives - unreal Blog
Arent you provoked by the ads for call girls and topless shows? Youre more preoccupied by the racist structures. The good modelling and dancing jobs often go to skin-coloured women, and you can only think of one black nightclub boss, whereas most prostitutes are black. I ask if any of the nightclub owners are women. I say ive been thinking of going to a strip joint, just to see how it feels. You think its a strange idea.
Besides, you say, they would never let me in, they would think i was a prostitute, what else would a woman on her own be doing in a strip joint? I am indignant: What if I were lesbian? I can freak out. Im leaving in a week anyway. you say racism essay in the usa is like a remnant of a stubborn old societal system, a hierarchy that wont give. Who is where in the hierarchy. You once said racism in Denmark is different.
Hunger is always so inconvenient. Where you are, the fast-food chains are open all night long. You go out and buy frozen yoghurt at three in the morning. You buy food in a drive-through and eat in the car. You feel totally at home in the drivers seat. You change clothes, put on make-up, sleep in the car, drive around to auditions and jobs.
You dance, catwalk, pose. Your body is your tool, you know your own movements. You have a professional smile. you have a boyfriend and a job in Las Vegas. But I cant figure out how you can stand to live here. Arent you a feminist?
Wika questions including Ano ang katwiran
What you lack is what I have in abundance: another family, other birthdays, other vacations. You are there each time i come home. One day i ask you if you look up. I have thought about it for a long time, i have heard it is normal among sisters. You give a shrug: you cant with dance, you dont go to parties, and I think your clothes are uncool. I suppose that beneath the skin our bodies are the same, though of course i am an older, flabbier version. I expect you will keep yourself slim and attractive, while i fall into decay early due to insufficient exercise, excessive drinking and inappropriate eating habits. I buy vitamin pills at the drug store. I must eat properly.
i am in the big family room of my aunt and uncle who live one floor above us in the building on Østerbro. The light is sharp, it floods in through the windows. There are many couches in the room. The light is on their blue covers and my two cousins who tease me because i say that you are my little sister. Just as earlier in the day gallery i tried to convince them a day has 48 hours, not 24 as they claim, they now try to convince me that you are only partly my sister, and that I cannot call you sister when we have only. I realize there is a difference between us two one evening when you lie in your bed punching your small fists into the mattress because you miss your daddy whom you have never met. I am on the other side of the wall waiting for mummy to do something. We can always hear each other in that little apartment. We share everything except everything we cannot share.
asking where you are from, how come we can be sisters. Wow, so youve got this gorgeous young mulatto sister. It never ceases to amaze me that they should need to say mulatto before sister. I wish I could turn a deaf ear, that I could be colour-blind, but that is my figment of fantasy. To be sisters: Equal. Fed at the same breast. The milk, the name connect. The Atlantic separates, connects.
I used it in the kindergarten, in the recreation club after school when I needed a felt tip in that indeterminable shade of pink to draw a fleshy arm or a face: I need the skin-coloured one. There was no other use for that felt tip. you are home on a visit and tell me you tried to buy a foundation at Copenhagen Airport, but the assistant was unable to help. Your skin is too dark. Welcome to the skin-coloured land. Here you were born and grew. Here your colour has sometimes attracted attention. My colour has not, not here.
Mbedkar you ought to know Free
The Atlantic Grows investigates notions of family, colour and race, and specifically the relationship between two sisters who share the same mother and yet are divided by their different fathers, by the colour of their skin, and by the Atlantic Ocean that separates their continents. in the light of the desk lamp that is yellower than the daylight the skin of my hand looks almost green, almost red, with a golden wash. It is not white. The wall is white. The used tissues and the unpaid bills are white. My paper hand has a different colour. The colour has a name. I learned it when I was small.