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Throughout the semester, autobiographies have been a platform through which those “unnaturally silenced” (Carter), the groups and individuals who are “denied the ability to speak, to make a statement, [or] to voice their opinions” (Carter 218), have a space to counter the hegemonic ruling class in society that induces this bubble of silence. And while the publications of these voices are a revolution in itself, it makes me wonder the role that life narratives play in provoking social change. In other words, after completing a yearlong course, studying various counter-narratives that challenge the dominant frames of marginalized groups, I pause to consider the very power of the voices that we read, and the power of our own attitudes towards them.

One article studied in the beginning of the year that I refer back to is Kay Schaffer and Sidonie Smith’s Conjunctions: Life Narratives in the Field of Human Rights. Schaffer and Smith explore the influence of these published life narratives as a catalyst in advancing human rights campaigns on an international scale. I refer back to this text now with a clearer understanding of the barriers that life narratives must overcome just to manage its way into the leading public sphere of knowledge, one of which being our own judgment of certain texts. After working with the archives, and looking at the stories that are stowed away, it is interesting to see the similarities between what is documented as being important enough to be kept as an installment in history, and, thinking back to the published texts, what is important enough to be published in today’s market. Like archivists, we, as a society, are “constantly confronted with choices about what to include and what to exclude, allowing for some voices to be heard while others are silenced” (Carter 219).

I am drawn to the power of our opinions in this matter. In a previous blog post, I examine the banning of Marjane’s Satrapi’s graphic narrative Persepolis. It makes me wonder, specifically in the West, in a society where an individual can simply search up “publishing a book”, and come up with an abundance of options to get their work published, what stops certain voices from doing so, to take a stand against a society that oppresses their identities?

The method may seem simple enough, but again it is our own reception and power that stops various voices from being heard. As Rodney Carter examines in his article, “Of Things Said and Unsaid: Power, Archival Silences, and Power in Silence”, those in power have the ability to make their words heard (Carter). Consequently, this selection of authority creates a “perfect” silence (Carter) that “occurs when and individual speaks but they have no authority behind them…[resulting] in the speech act not being acknowledged and hence the words are not able to achieve their desired effect or fulfill their purpose” (Carter 218).

So while the narrative form does present an accessible way for victims to reclaim their self-determination and cultural identity, to be able to speak and represent their respective identities to the fullest extent, to provide an insight for the rest of the world ignorant of the conditions and stigma many people face (Schaffer & Smith), we as an audience also have the task to listen to these stories, and provide the audience that they wish to reach. I reflect on this at the end of year, and realize the power of the narratives we have read, and simultaneously, realize the power that we have in simply reading and taking the time to be aware of the social issues brought forth.

Works Cited

Carter, Rodney G.S. “Of Things Said and Unsaid: Power, Archival Silences, and Power in Silence.” Archivaria 61 (2006): 215-33.  Archivaria. Association of Canadian Archivists. Web. 6. Apr. 2017. <http://archivaria.ca/index.php/archivaria/article/view/12541>.

Satrapi, Marjane. Persepolis. New York, NY: Pantheon, 2003.

Schaffer, Kay. and Smith, Sidonie. “Conjunctions: Life Narratives in the Field of Human Rights.” Biography, vol. 27 no. 1, 2004, pp. 1-24. DOI: 10.1353/bio.2004.0039

Dong, Maya . “Publishing A Book.” Google.ca, n.d. Photograph. 8 April 2017.

A major concept that we have examined throughout the year is the idea of self-representation through life narratives – how the writer chooses to portray him or herself, and the coercion that may insinuate this specific portrayal. Sociologist Ashley Barnwell’s essay, “Friday Essay: Can You Keep A Secret? Family Memoirs Break Taboos – And Trust” on The Conversation, however, raises an important question regarding the ethics surrounding the idea of a family memoir, in other words, the representation of other people in life narratives. She explores the various other identities of other people beyond the writer themselves that are present, and often play an integral role in the writer’s life. Thus, Barnwell examines the idea of making the “public private” (Barnwell) as writers choose to “divulge the experiences of siblings, parents, and lovers” (Barnwell). In doing so, the writer not only uses these fragments of other people’s lives to build on their own story, but they also subsequently create an identity of other person. Yet, does this result in the inaccurate and misrepresentation of another individual?

Specifically Barnwell looks at David Sedaris’ essay, “Now We Are Five” published on The New Yorker, which recounts Sedaris’ family’s attempt to deal with his sister Tiffany’s suicide. In his previous published works, Tiffany explicitly asked “to be left out of his stories” (Sedaris), wishing to keep her life private. In this essay, however, Sedaris breaks this obligation, and in turn shares various anecdotes regarding his sister. Although he states that “[they] didn’t really know [their] sister very well. Each of [them] had pulled away from the family at some point in [their] lives—[they] had to in order to forge [their] own identities, to go from being a Sedaris to being [their] own specific Sedaris” (Sedaris), he goes on to recall instances of “the chaos [Tiffany would] inevitably leave in her wake” (Sedaris). He paints a picture of her troubled history with the family, and consequently, paints an identity of a person whom he had not spoken to in eight years. He recalls one story with Tiffany regarding a scar on her face, leading to her sister being called unattractive. Yet he later mentions that this did not bother Tiffany as “being pretty was never one of Tiffany’s problems” (Sedaris). Is this a true representation of his sister’s character? Is this breaking the obligation with his sister to not mention her in his writing, bring out a private side of her that she may have wished to keep private? Some criticize Sedaris for “exploiting [Tiffany’s] death for artistic and monetary gain” (Barnwell), but can his inclusion of Tiffany also be seen as a way to deal with the grief of losing a sister?

One article that I found interesting while trying to research more about the idea of “family memoirs” is an article written by Guest Column titled “How to Write about Family in a Memoir”. He states, “To write honestly and compassionately about members of your family, you must first reflect on your purpose, your approach, the details of your story and the potential reactions your family members might have” (Column). Column writes that we must write about others as “whole people” (Column), acknowledging that there is an entire context and story behind their actions. In getting to know the people we write about, we can include this “humanness” (Column) into our stories. For example, perhaps a person’s misogynistic treatment towards you stems from the time era and society in which they grew up. Yet, in understanding a possible reason behind a person’s actions, does this change the way we are supposed to feel about the person actions? Or is it simply a way to ensure, for the person being written about, that there is an alternative portrayal of them that differs from the writer’s perspective?

It makes me further question, however, to what extent do we acknowledge the other people’s lives? How do we as writers differentiate between what is appropriate to include in our pieces, and what is to be left out? Do obtain consent from every influencing source in our lives? How do we determine what may be private for others, but may be public for us? Why is certain information kept private in the first place? And if we as writers must take special care attention to how we portray other people, in the process do we truly capture our true lives?

Works Cited

Column, Guest. “How To Write About Family In A Memoir | Writersdigest.Com”. WritersDigest.com. N.p., 2017. Web. 20 Mar. 2017.

“Friday Essay: Can You Keep A Secret? Family Memoirs Break Taboos – And Trust”. The Conversation. N.p., 2017. Web. 20 Mar. 2017.

Mouly, Françoise et al. “Now We Are Five”. The New Yorker. N.p., 2017. Web. 20 Mar. 2017.

“A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a

king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm…

Nothing but to show you how a king may go a

progress through the guts of a beggar.”

(Shakespeare IV.iii.28-32)

One of main overlying themes throughout William Shakespeare’s play, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, is the idea, as exemplified by the quote above, that death acts as an equalizer between individuals. Specifically in this example, Hamlet states to Claudius that despite the power, wealth, and status of his position as a king, in death he can rank below a beggar. It embodies the idea that regardless of how much you achieve in life, and no matter your socioeconomic standing, you can never beat death – it will eventually consume everyone, making death an equal playing field. Yet one aspect of death being a great equalizer that I never thought about was the fact that the life leading up to death, and what ultimately what becomes the reason for death, can differ greatly between individuals, making death an unfair experience for many.

The CSI:Dixie cases offers an insight to these stories. These inquests provide some background information into the lives of the people at the morgue. One thing, however, that I found interesting, as Stephen Berry points out on his website is “that inquests do not remotely represent a complete portrait of how people died at a particular place and time. They represent only what the ruling class of a community chose to investigate.” (Homicide | CSI: Dixie). This was a very interesting point that caused me to raise the question – do we, as an audience, choose the stories that are circulated in the market? In other words, what is the impact of society in determining which marginalized groups get a voice, and which do not?

While scrolling through the page of homicide deaths, one that I found very interesting amidst a plague of brutal and unfair deaths, was that of a man named Gabriel. His inquest finding states, “died from wounds inflicted upon him in his rebellion and violent resistance against his master. A justifiable homicide.” (Homicide | CSI: Dixie). The statement pronounces that his death is one that “justifiable”. This leads to me wonder, if a life narrative was published around Gabriel’s life, would the public see it as no more than a blank sheet of paper? It also makes me question how the way we perceive life narratives changes throughout time. Perhaps society would not be accepting of Gabriel’s autobiography in the 1800’s, whereas now perhaps it would become a bestseller. In the article by Rebecca Onion, she identifies that “the documents collected in CSI:Dixie were the results of inquests that tried to resolve each local death in a way that would ensure stability in the community”. (Slate Magazine) In other words, a conclusion was conceived to ensure that the social organization of the community is not to be disrupted. This highlights the power of a life narrative in its ability to propel change in society, or at least bring to light the injustice that builds a social hierarchy.

I find it interesting that in documenting the past, it can show how we can go about change in the future. Much like the documenting of widespread epidemics, injustice is just another infection that has caused the death of many individuals. Yet I still wonder about the role of the audience in the success of a narrative, and how we approach the social issues that many of these narratives dictate. Is a narrative’s success a result of the fight for equality – for example now that marginalized groups have a greater voice in justifying their own actions, and we have lend more attention to listen? And if that is the case, does that mean the audience has the say in what stories are “justifiable?”, and which social issues are important enough to disrupt our concrete organization of society?

Works Cited

Shakespeare, William, Barbara A. Mowat, and Paul Werstine. The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. New York: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2012. Print.

“Homicide | CSI: Dixie”. Csidixie.org. N.p., 2017. Web. 26 Feb. 2017.

“The Hundreds Of Life Stories Found In Coroner’S Reports From The 19Th-Century South”. Slate Magazine. N.p., 2017. Web. 26 Feb. 2017.

Hillary Chute’s article, “The Texture of Retracing In Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis”, commends Marjane’s Satrapi’s ability to capture the trauma she both faced and witnessed as a child in Iran during the Islamic Revolution. Through Satrapi’s graphic narrative, “Persepolis” she uses a minimalistic approach, composed of using simple lines and a black and white colour scheme, to depict the unfathomable events against the political revolutionaries in an almost child-like fashion. Although these images may seem unrealistic, and almost exaggerated to the extent of fiction, the true horror lies within the idea that the images produced by Satrapi are “plausible visualizations” (Chute 101). With images including bodies “cut to pieces” (Satrapi 52), and burned with irons (Satrapi 51), I found that images that fit along with these scenes, although extremely simple, captured the almost “simple” of idea of torture itself. A cut up body remains a cut up body. Regardless of the gruesome details Satrapi chose to leave out, the horror of the act itself remains prevalent within each frame.

In recognizing the simplicity of the images, I in turn also recognized the tremendous power that results from a minimalistic style. When skimming through the novel, I was not particularly upset by the passing images; at first glance, the cartoon-like frames did not evoke a strong sense of horror. Yet, this is one of the very reasons that caused “Persepolis” to be included in the American Libraries Association’s (ALA) list of Frequently Challenged Young Adult Books, and in 2014, to be included in their list of Top Ten Most Challenged Books. One of their reasons stated that puts “Persepolis” so high up on these lists include “graphic depictions” (ALA 2014). I found this extremely interesting due to the fact that the images themselves are not extremely detailed or violent in the events that they are representing, yet the idea behind them is enough to propel an association to deem this novel as having content that may be inappropriate to be used in schools.

Furthermore, the Chicago Public Schools in 2013 also deemed Satrapi’s “Persepolis” to contain content that they view as potentially harmful, and as a result, “took steps…to restrict student’s access” (Publisher’s Weekly) to the novel. Again, it was based off the idea that the images were too graphic and thus the inhumanity that it represents is not what they want their “kids [to] walk away with, not [with] the images of someone with exposed body parts urinating on someone’s back or someone’s being tortured” (Publisher’s Weekly). Yet, with extremely graphic and violent content, in the form of films and video games, dominating the attention of the youth, I wonder why images that depict real-life humanitarian crises around the world can be labeled as containing images too explicit to enter the knowledge of students.

Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novel “Persepolis” exemplifies the ability express trauma in a way “more horrifically than…realism” (Chute 102). In presenting her life through a simple and childish demeanor, she puts it into a context in which I find very easy to comprehend. I feel that I am able to relate to the character, which in a sense similar to myself, is unable to fathom the severity and injustice occurring during the time period, and is learning throughout the novel. In researching the reception of this novel, I was surprised to that “political viewpoint” (ALA Top Ten) was also another reason that this book was listed, along with “politically, racially, and socially offensive” (ALA Top Ten). This makes me wonder as to why having a “political viewpoint” and expressing it through a narrative poses to be an issue according to the ALA. Is it because it differs from their personal beliefs? Or is due to the fact that this book contests and highlights a current ongoing and debatable problem? And how can our own viewpoints and perspectives be broadened if these are the reasons for restricted literature access?

Works Referenced

Chute, Hillary. “The Texture of Retracing in Marjane Satrapi’s ‘Persepolis.’” Women’s Studies Quarterly, vol. 36, no. 1/2, 2008, pp. 92–110

Satrapi, Marjane. Persepolis. New York, NY: Pantheon, 2003.

“Issues And Trends”. News and Press Center. N.p., 2017. Web. 12 Jan. 2017.

“Frequently Challenged Young Adult Books”. Banned & Challenged Books. N.p., 2017. Web. 12 Jan. 2017.

“Chicago Schools Restrict Access To ‘Persepolis'”. PublishersWeekly.com. N.p., 2017. Web. 12 Jan. 2017.

One aspect of life narratives that I find really interesting is the topic of self-representation, the ability for the writers to create a specific image of themselves that they wish to portray through the selection of experiences they chose to include in their writing. In response to this self-creation, I am fascinated by the way people choose to represent themselves through digital media, especially with the readily access of editing apps. Digital media, specifically filming, played a central role in my high school years. When editing videos, one key piece of advice that is always followed when editing shots that contained people, is to pick and edit from shots that portrayed your actor/actress the best, and in a sense, creating their identities. The end goal was to show off their best side. In creating a self-portrait, I wanted to see how this similar goal is emulated through the usage of photography and digital media on myself.

Erving Goffman’s theory of “audience segregation” depicts the idea that way we portray ourselves, our performances, varies between the groups of people we interact with (Goffman). In other words, the way we portray ourselves in one area of our lives, for example at school, does not carry on to other areas, like in our homes. This became evident when thinking about which parts of myself I wished to represent in the photo. Through social interaction, it is a lot easier to act a specific way around certain people. Working on an image for the blog, however, it proves to more difficult to ensure that one person looks at one specific portrayal of yourself, while another looks at a differing one. How do you create one coherent image that meets the expectations that you have set for yourself in your own respective areas of life? Which parts of yourself do you wish to share, and which parts do you wish to hide? How do you meet everyone’s approval? Consequently, I found myself wrapped up around the idea of my self-portrayal, and thus attempting to pick out the “best” qualities of myself, ones that would be universally seen as acceptable – identical to the mindset of video editing.

Through the use of fragmentation in my final image, I hope to represent the different complex aspects that work together to make up an individual’s identity. By taking different parts of various photographs, similar to how writers piece together a text through combining different passages, I realized the difficulty of creating one singular image. It was unfitting, at first, and very unpleasing to start with a few scraps of imagery, all of which seemed unable to balance each other out. As you keep editing, however, you gain a sense of direction in terms of where you want your image to go, and in doing so, a sense of the overall identity you are creating through the image. I wonder if this experience imitates the experience of life writing, and the sense of character gained through piecing together various fragments.

Works Referenced

Goffman, Erving. “The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life.” New York: Anchor Books, 1959. Print. pp. 139-145.

Global reception is an area heavily studied when examining life narratives and autobiographies. (Schaffer and Smith) Society often focuses on their ability to provoke social change, to influence the public worldwide. Yet, it is often neglected that these narratives are works beyond a mode of mass communication. Life narratives act as an extension of the author’s memories, a physical piece of the stories within their minds. In creating this tangible piece of work, I question what specific aspect of the physical act of life writing creates such a therapeutic liberation.

Dany Laferrière in his memoir, The World Is Moving Around Me, calls upon the need to identify the trauma triggered by the 2010 Haiti Earthquake. He emphasizes the importance of “[confronting] “the thing”” (World 46), in this case the trauma and aftermath of the earthquake, if the people “intend to digest” (World 46) the struggles facing them. For Laferrière himself, the act of noting down daily events proves to be his liberation. In the passage, “Brussels Hotel” he depicts the necessity and impulse to write as he is faced with the frenzy of the Brussels Book Fair. The book, the source for him to relay his experiences, is “just as much for [himself] as for others.” (World 180). So while he is writing to show the world Haiti from an insider perspective, he is also writing in order for himself to become an outsider. By converting thoughts on to paper, it provides Laferrière the ability to view his own experience objectively, void of the emotional impact of internal memories (Psychology Today). In doing so, he can better observe the given situation, and provide an analysis to the confused and fragmented memories resulting from trauma.

In addition to the act of writing, it is the fact that the writer has full mobility to represent the situation to the most accurate detail that separates life-writing therapy from other forms of treatment. Yet one interesting point that Dany Laferrière brings up is the question of who is entitled to represent the situation of the earthquake. Laferrière’s nephew states that the earthquake is “the event of his generation, not [Laferrière’s]” (World 50). How does this mindset influence the older generations of Haiti to handle and grasp the aftermath? Does it prevent people from truly dealing with the trauma they face, and force them to “look untouched” (World 47)? Laferrière describes people’s deliberant avoidance to talk about “the thing” (World 46). Is this evasion due to fear of the topic itself, or the lack of a platform to openly express their reactions?

In my last post, I examined the social constructions of self-identity through social media. In a time where tweets and Facebook statuses dominate the online blogging of an individual’s life, I wonder how these acts contribute the ability to cope with traumatic events. Can hashtags create the same sense of validation that victims of distress can turn to as their voice? Are location check-ins and blurb posts the modern remedy to help those going through hardship cope with their struggles? And is social media a way to cater to the younger generations, making current events no longer events of the older generations?

Works Referenced

Schaffer, Kay. and Smith, Sidonie. “Conjunctions: Life Narratives in the Field of Human Rights.” Biography, vol. 27 no. 1, 2004, pp. 1-24.

“Turning Trauma Into Story: The Benefits Of Journaling”. Psychology Today. N.p., 2016. Web. 7 Nov. 2016.

Laferrière, Dany, “The World Is Moving Around Me”. Translated by David Homel. Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp Press. 2011. Print.

Through examining life narratives and autobiographies, I am intrigued by the ability of these texts to create an identity. Instead of directly stating personal attributes, they are embedded into the stories told by the author. In doing so, it builds the image of a person the author wishes to portray. With all the time spent examining these stories, however, it can give the idea that these snippets of self-identity primarily exists in the forms of diaries and memoirs. Growing up in a society dominated by social media, it becomes easy to forget that we practice this self-creation everyday. The rise and expansion of social media serves as a platform for the public to publish, though differing from traditional ways, their own life narratives on a daily basis. Yet how can we validate the content we view and post everyday?

On one hand, these digital narratives provide an easily accessible for the public to share their stories with the world. Its ability to reach millions of people around the world, free of charge, is absolutely astounding. But like any life narrative, it brings about the question of authenticity. Social networking sites are full of built-in options for the individual to edit posts so that they fit their liking. Websites, such as Facebook, recognize the importance of the audience the individual is posting their life to. It even allows for users to view their own page through the eyes of their targeted audience. Consequently, this affects the style of the content posted by the user.

But why are individuals so consumed by the idea that they must portray a specific image? Sociologist Erving Goffman draws on the idea of impression management, the actions that we carry out everyday to ensure that the projection of ourselves are acceptable. He acknowledges that “in everyday life…there is a clear understanding that first impressions are important.” (Goffman, 143) So, in order to give off the desired image, individuals must conceal parts of themselves that do not fit into this mold. Insecurities are easily blanketed by the array of filters and editing options social networks provide.

Acquiring audience approval seems to take the forefront priority in any post an individual chooses to share online. Lessons are shared online to educate users on what kind of posts or pictures will garner more attention, or yield “66% higher traffic” (Brink AddThis Tips). These websites provide insight on how to gather a broader audience to broadcast to, and subsequently providing a greater sense of acceptance by society. In addition to websites stressing the need to post within a certain criteria, celebrities and Internet sensations also act as indirect coercers. They create an online society in which only an elite group of users are able to join, promoting users to share specific content that are accepted by this group.

Celebrities such as Selena Gomez, who stands as the most followed individual on Instragram, engages with her followers by reminding them of her presence. By stating that she is “stalking” some of her follower’s pages as well, she forces users to believe that they too must fill their profiles with content that matches her level of excitement, as this is no ordinary audience. Gomez is an individual who embodies a life of luxury and fame, and users see her profile as one that gains attention, and in turn, elect and edit certain parts of their own lives in an attempt to emulate this lifestyle.

As a result of editing and coaxing, digital narratives challenges the value of authenticity. Can individuals say that extracts of their lives posted online are authentic, and true to themselves? Does our true self-identity get buried under a blanket of hashtags and filters, reducing us to carbon copies of one another? As more options become available to alter our own projections, how do we ensure that the content remains an accurate representation of our lives?

Works Referenced

Brink, Christian. “5 Instagram Tips For Beginners”. AddThis Blog. N.p., 2016. Web. 17 Oct. 2016.

“Most Followed Instagram Accounts 2016 | Statista”. Statista. N.p., 2016. Web. 17 Oct. 2016.

“Instagram Photo By Selena Gomez • Nov 8, 2015 At 8:34Pm UTC”. Instagram. N.p., 2016. Web. 17 Oct. 2016.

Smith, Sidonie and Watson, Julia, “Reading Autobiography : A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives”, Second Edition, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 2010. Print.

Goffman, Erving. “The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life.” New York: Anchor Books, 1959. Print. pp. 139-145.

A Peritextual Analysis

Ryan Knighton’s Cockeyed, exemplifies the feeling of both absence and hope through his minimalistic book cover. Upon first glance, the most noticeable aspect of this cover is in fact how little imagery dominates the front. Set on stark white background, the attention of the reader is drawn to the key aspects of this cover – the title, the name, and the one subject, a man holding a white cane. This minimalistic approach allows for closer examination of the each of these aspects.

As Thomas G. Couser examines another disability memoir, Ruth Siekiewicz-Mercer’s, I Raise My Eyes to Say Yes, he notes this form of “self creation:… crucial to [the] physical and psychological emancipation”. Likewise, the cover is a further extension of this creation of self, and the fundamental ideas of self-representation within the novel. The image seems to emulate an image society is used to receiving of a blind man. When you look at his face, however, you realize that there are no borders, or outline, that frames it. It blends seemingly into the background, giving the sense of a lost inner self, while the outside, his body, remains in tact. He remains just a blind man, with a cane that acts as his eyeball. The embodiment of this lost self is intriguing as it makes you wonder its deliberate use and its connection to the memoir.

Furthermore, the choice of font for both the book title, as well as the author’s name is unkempt. It seems to be written by hand, with each letter unique to itself, rather than a computer made digitalized font. The cover depicts the very basis of what the book is about, a memoir, who wrote it, Ryan Knighton. In doing so, the typeface establishes the connection with the reader that Knighton composes this book himself with raw details and emotions, sentiments often associated with penmanship.

Although this memoir depicts the life of a blind man, a disability society has grown to pity, the choice of the colour white allows it to seems hopeful and light, as opposed to dark and grave. This light view is further supported by Don McKellar’s review on the back, commenting on Knighton “[screwing] up [his] job” and “[crashing his] Dad’s car”, all incidents the public can relate to humorously. McKellar also gives insight to Knighton’s strained love life, and coupled with Knighton’s dedication “for [his] gal” on the inside, provokes society’s empathy for a romantic love story, and increasing both interest and sales. (TheRichest). Together, these aspects lead readers to assume that this memoir is a “triumph rhetoric” (Couser). In other words, it plays on society’s love for “triumph over adversity” (Couser, 33) by signaling the happiness the disabled will inevitably experience, and in turn, evoke the same emotion from the readers.

As a consumer, the exterior of this book is not only visually stimulating, but also emotionally. The synopsis describes Knighton as a “wicked, smart, blind guide at the wheel” inviting the public on a journey that differs from the norm of an incapable handicap. Ryan Knighton’s memoir, Cockeyed, physically embodies the sense of lost identity and hope, spurring readers to further investigate correlation between the two, wondering about the obstacles the author faces, and ultimately reading to the end in hopes for the “inspirational…and generalizable” (Couser, 33) outcome.

Works Referenced

Knighton, Ryan “Cockeyed” Penguin Group: Toronto, 2006. Print.

Couser, G Thomas “Signifying Bodies: Disability in Contemporary Life Writing” University of Michigan Press, 2009. Print. pp. 31-48

Stewart, Thomas. “Which 5 Book Genres Make The Most Money?”. TheRichest. N.p., 2014. Web. 7 Oct. 2016.

The discrimination Rigoberta Menchú faces in her autobiography I, Rigoberta Menchú: An Indian Women in Guatemala, brings to light the impacts of today’s rapid globalization, while challenging the ideas of proper education. During the Guatemalan Civil War, Menchú recounts her fight for the right to her self-identity and voice under a repressive government regime. Today, hidden under the idea of a bright future built upon an interconnected community, the act of repression and discrimination still exist.

Although differing in objectives, both Menchú’s work and the idea of globalization share a common foundation, the unification of society. In this process, however, Menchú expresses her frustration of linguistic barriers, of “[wanting] so much to talk to everybody and feel close to many of the women as [she] was to her mother” (Menchú 164). Yet this experience is not antique in its occurrence. Similar to Menchú’s longing of communication, this feeling is also experienced by Syrian refugee, Yaman Ghazel. Discrimination is not absent in a country that aims to connect with the world and offer support, and to have papers rejected due to miscommunication is not uncommon. Menchú recognizes that people will not work together, if “people [do not] understand…one another” (Menchú 164), regardless of how similar their circumstances may be.

Another aspect Menchú discuses include the exploitation of a group by an elite power. In today’s society, ecomonic growth is a significant catalyst that drives the process of globalization (Globalization 101). Similar to General Kjell’s campaign, a promise of “sharing out the land”, (Menchú 157) countries offer refuge to those in crisis do so under the banner of a new start in a new land. But it also opens the door to the exploitation and “[usage] of the refugee crisis to reap financial benefits” (CafeBabel). Menchú asses that exploitation is an abuse of their ignorance.

Discrimination is said to be the result of ignorance. Menchú, however, does not recognize knowledge as the facts learned at school, and is entirely grateful “[that her] parents didn’t accept teachers or schools in [her] community” (Menchú 169). Instead she values life experiences, and the passing down of recommendations from one individual to the next. She challenges the modern education system, where facts of justice are presented, yet the world is still full of racial and cultural divide. Can her work of “[erasing] all the images… all the cultural differences, and all the ethnic barriers” be applied to society on a global scale in such a way they adopt a hospitably towards each other? In a world easily connected together by the Internet and social media, Menchú goal of teaching seems simple. So based on her belief valuing the common ground between different groups, what is stopping people today from being accepting towards each other? Does the education system need to comprised of more life narratives and examples that demonstrate values through actions rather than concepts?

Rigoberta Menchú speaks of past challenges against discrimination, of repression of cultural practices, and of frustrations that are still prevalent in today’s growing society. Her bravery to work against a violent opposing force for human rights, and patience to “listen to the views of all the masses” (Menchú 165) regardless of her opposing views are traits society should assimilate to.

Works Cited

“Rigoberta Menchú Tum – Biographical”. Nobelprize.org. N.p., 2016. Web. 19 Sept. 2016.

“Genocide In Guatemala”. Hmh.org. N.p., 2016. Web. 19 Sept. 2016.

“A Syrian Refugee In The US: ‘I Want To Contribute To Society Here’”. America.aljazeera.com. N.p., 2015. Web. 19 Sept. 2016.

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