Digital Poem Process: Signifiers, Identifiers & Cues

Signifiers, Identifiers & Cues

             Negative cultural identifiers, stereo types and general assumptions about a group of people, race, or specific culture that derives from outside that culture is more than likely based off ignorance. How do we formulate the way in which we view and understand other cultures? Where do we get our “knowledge” of these cultures? We are literally bombarded daily with media images and stories from newspapers, television programs, etc. that reinforce ideas we have about the “other” race, culture, or group. It was for this reason that I wanted to create a poem that reflected how racial signifiers and cues influence our view of each other.

             An empirical example of this is the news, for example, a crime is committed and often the race of the criminal is the first thing announced, never mind that it has nothing to do with the actual incident, actually, the “incident” becomes the backdrop to the race of the perpetrator. We take what we learn in the media and apply it to how we indentify specific groups of people For example,

·        Black people love chicken, are angry, aggressive, love hip-hop music, violent in nature, are great at basketball, and can run fast.

·        Mexican people love beans, are illegal and will work any job for little money.

·        Asian people love rice, can’t drive, and are math mathematicians

·        Native American people are wild and unruly, use bows and arrows, smoke pot and have names like Night Hawk and Moon Dance

·        White People are all racist, can't dance, smell like wet dogs, and are naturally Brandy Bunch-ish

·        Gays are responsible for the Aids endemic, are attracted to everyone of their sex, listen to Cher and worship Barbara Streisand

·        African people are cannibals, run with lions, live in huts and are dirt poor

·        Indian people all smell, the men are abusive and the women are submissive

These are just some of the many stereotypes and cultural identifiers we hear, see, read and use when talking about groups of people.  As I mentioned earlier we get a barrage of images and stories from the media that maintain the idea that these are authentic identifiers. 

            The idea behind my digital poem speaks to this. I wanted to call attention to it, to question it and inspire others to question it. To question would also mean to first, investigate why negative stereotypes exist, secondly why some of us fall victim by accepting them, and then third why we find ourselves reinforcing such categories.

                        Therefore, the process for this digital poem using Microsoft Movie Maker was to use images and text in the same way it is used in the media-constant, but with exaggeration to illustrate the effect it has on us. In addition, I wanted to weave in images of everyday individuals, to tell a story that is universal and applicable to illustrate same-ness. First, I used a bombardment of random images with negative inclinations about different groups, second applying text in a way that spoke to this.

I chose to include simple text because there was text already imbedded in most of the images; I wanted the images to speak for themselves. I also felt like simple text would not overpower the images, but still be potent. Moreover, I wanted the viewer to read the images rather than a bunch of text I created. I searched the internet for images some historical and some recent to set up an outline for how I wanted to organize and transition the chosen images to deliver an effective message.

I wanted to meld the perfect blend of text and image that create borders between cultures and then use images that breakdown those borders by showing how different cultures share uniformity, and are connected by our human experiences.

In regards to sound, I wanted to choose a sound that would also be identified as universal, nothing too pop, but more so mainstream, a sound that could be claimed by a diverse group of people. The foundation for creating sound across cultures share a commonality that does not belong to one single group and that was important in this particular idea. If the reader understands the similarities of cultures it breaks down the differences and this is fundamentally, what I wanted this entire poem to do.

Transition and pacing was and still is difficult for me as I struggled with successfully putting these things together. I got frustrated and gave up a couple times, then decided that a minimalist approach was my best choice; keeping in mind that I wanted my audience to absorb my message I settled on a slow pace.

In the end, I hope that I was successful in manipulating the images in a way where my intended message is received well. Although, I am telling a story about people to illuminate sameness, I chose use many images with women because when negative cultural signifiers are broken. down,

"The German"

The German

If only she could stretch, coil and sprang open the contours of her being right under a fully foliaged tree. All she would need, she decided finally, a bag of fresh ripe plums, perhaps some nuts and dates… then she, earth and the sun would become one and the past would bury itself.

            They met in the spring at a conference in Vermont. He was not particularly her type, but still she found him interesting and yet she was turned off at the same time. For one, his style of dress left little to be desired. Then there was a sort of arrogance about him. However, her curiosity in him overpowered everything else. Thoughts of him remained at the surface of her mind. In the beginning, she would roll her eyes in frustration, for allowing such thoughts, thoughts that were borderline intimate. Images of his wrist and lap kept going through her mind like movie stills and eventually these images grew into his eyes and smile. His eyes seemed so sincere.  It almost seemed like fate when he told her he would be able to transport her back to New York as he drove there. “Six hours,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement, it did not bother him, and he found driving therapeutic.  She could not resist. Hell, she almost wanted to leave a day early. “Get it together Riley,” she thought to herself. They still had two more days left at the conference and she was excited. Tomorrow would be his day to present his paper; she wondered what theories he would produce in his presentation. What was the title of his paper again? She knew it had something to do with the similarities in the culture of islanders, no; it was…How could she forget? Her own presentation on “Racial Masking for Advantage” was what sparked their conversation in the first place, that and the fact that they both taught for CUNY, he at City College and she at Hunter. This conversation led into the politics at each school and the CUNY system as a whole.  He was the Dean for the School of Liberal Arts and Education and she was an adjunct hoping to score a permanent spot.

            She told him how lucky he was to be secure, she on the other hand felt isolated and the bullshit bureaucracy would probably keep her feeling that way. One would be surprised at all the drama and backstabbing that went on in academia. All she wanted to do was teach! This he laughed at and said, “You can’t escape these things no matter where you are.” She knew this to be true. She did not know one person who loved every aspect of their career; at least she had one-sort of anyway.

            Driving back to New York, she was nervous. While she was happy she did not have to take a bus back, they would not have the busyness of the conference to fill any silence they might encounter. She felt almost like a teenager, but her nervousness soon subsided as they chatted up each other about personal business. He had received his PHD in American literature, in Germany at Bielefeld University. The way he talked about Germany, she was surprised he even came to America. “You sound like you really want to go back,” she said. “Yes,” he responded, “I loved it, but I wanted to branch out so to speak.”  He would go on and on about the culture in Germany, the way they dressed, the food they ate,  education, even down to how they cleaned their windows; often comparing and contrasting their lives to the lives of  Americans specifically African Americans. According to his description, one would have thought he had contempt for America. His talk of Germany disturbed her as he would make somewhat disparaging comments about African Americans, but she swept it to the back crevices of her mind. Surely, he did not have race issues-right? Perhaps it was nothing more than cultural differences. He appeared to be a good-natured person, his way of retelling his past, thick accent and all, was filled with excitement. Yes, he seemed authentic and Riley appreciated authenticity…

            The weeks that followed were identical to a tailspin. Riley and her new friend settled into a relationship, that she was very much excited about. She had started to prepare for him to meet her brother Niles, her only living relative and closest confidant. He seemed to be equally excited. However as the date drew close when Niles would come down from New England to visit, he began to come up with these “what if” scenarios. What if he was busy teaching? What if he had to tend to various issues at work-that might keep him from meeting Niles? It was all nonsensical, but she entertained him nonetheless assuring him that things would work out.

            Eventually, she started to regret making the suggestion. Maybe she should have kept Niles troubled past to herself. She, however, thought that they had established the kind of relationship where they could share such details. She told him almost everything. She a 32-year-old African American female was single never married, but engaged twice. Both times, she broke it off.  She had lived in Brooklyn for the past fifteen years, but grew up in both Harlem and Brooklyn. She had an MA from Temple University in African American studies, and minored in race theory.

            Her father was deceased and her mother was a recovering drug addict, before she lost her battle with cancer just two years earlier. Parts of her past still haunted her, but she had managed-for the most part to come to terms with it. It was a part of her life she could never escape it, and now she was sure she never wanted to. It was her deepest conviction that a person’s past good or bad shaped them. Her past not only shaped her it catapulted her into making a better life for herself.

            Yes, she had had a tumultuous childhood. Yes, her brother was almost ruined because of it, but they made it through. Niles, even more than herself was an extraordinary example of redemption and breakthrough. He dropped out of high school at sixteen, when he only had one year left before graduation. He was a tortured soul, his father was dead and his mother was an addict. So, he wanted to leave, saying he wanted to take his savings and go across country living off the grid. It was the silliest shit Riley had ever heard, and she told him just that. Still, she understood. She wanted to run away too, but where could she go? Fight or flight, Riley chose fight.

Niles did go; he left and wound up in Boston, where he has been ever since. Up in Boston he managed to graduate high school, and Boston University, where he received a BS in engineering; landed a high paying gig at a large firm, which he left 3 years later to open his own business providing services to public schools. Hell, he had done better than she had and she was proud of her little brother.

So, when her friend came up with another of his silly scenarios during a phone conversation, she told him that she changed her mind about his meeting her brother. She said that she wanted to spend quality time alone with her him, and it was best that they catch up later and hung up without saying goodbye. She was close to disgusted; who did he think he was? “Goddamn prick Urrgghhh!” she growled picking up the phone to slam it again. She was growing tired of him. His foolishness and words did not match. One thing Riley despised was back peddlers and future fakers. Why would he pretend to be all for meeting her brother, but come up with situations that would excuse him from doing so? It was exhausting and she did not have time for this bullshit.

Although Riley was not expecting Niles for at least another four days, she still avoided her friend. He called incessantly, but she refused to answer. “He could go chase himself,” she thought whenever she saw his number appear on her cell or home phone’s caller id. Above the anger, Riley was hurt because she let her wall down and allowed him in. Not only that, but his ideals were startling; he could not go a day without commenting on what he thought blacks needed to do right. If he interviewed an African American, he would come away with a snide comment about the persons education or credentials, then end it with, “These are your brothers and sisters. “It seemed he always had a racial comment and she did not know what to make of it from the start, but it slowly began to nag her. The comments he made were always negativity, masked in concern. She never really addressed it because she did not want to be the “Angry black woman,” with the bug up her ass. His comments still made her skin itch, and whenever she did say, “Well, what the hell does that mean,” he would laugh and say, “nothing I did not mean anything by it.”

            Silly of her to leave it at that, but love will turn you into a crash dummy for sure. Riley’s anger gave her the strength to avoid him for the entire week and almost through Niles’s visit. However, he decided to pop up to her apartment with a beautiful assortment of flowers.  He said upon her opening the door, “I did not know what your favorite was so I just took them all.” At first Riley just looked blankly at him and slammed the door shut, waited a few minutes while he squirmed, then opened it up to him again. Come in she said flatly, pleased that she could control her voice.

            “So, what brings you here?”

            “Riley,” he said “please talk to me, I have no idea why you have been hiding from me”

            “I am not hiding from you, I just have a lot to do and my brother is here so I wanted to give him all of my time.”

            “So, you do not want me around, is that it?”

            “Listen, don’t give me that, you did not want yourself around and I am not going to entertain nonsense so…”

            “Let me take you two to dinner, please, I want to be with you.”

Reluctantly, Riley agreed and she, Niles and her friend went to Cubano’s in the seaport, where they had a great time. Her friend seemed too interested in Niles degrees and at one point; she almost offered to produce his transcripts. She hoped he was not getting back on his foolhardiness, but as the night progressed he simmered down and everything ended well. Niles later told her he was a cool dude, except when he felt like an interviewee from all the questions. This combined with his continuous talk of Germany, troubled her brother to an extent “Am I blind sis, did I miss something?” Niles asked while cackling. “Dude, is cool, but he needs to get his mind right.” Was it just cultural differences? Riley was unsure, but he was a great person except for that one issue and so she decided to let him in again, slowly…

Colorful, feminine and flagrant Riley made her way to his table. Her friend, in an effort to make up his behavior invited her out for lunch the Saturday after Niles left, to a nice restaurant in the Park Slope area of Brooklyn. Riley, was pleased to get away from grading papers and jumped to the invite, but she still had reservations about him. She had to wait and see whether they could get back to where they were before Niles’s visit.  It was as if he could feel it and kept blowing hard. He was back to making plans and talking about the future- their future. Riley, however, was not feeling it. Something still seemed unsettling and her feelings were confirmed when he made an off the cuff remark about the waitress, “These young black girls that work these kinds of jobs need to consider school, I mean why get trapped here.” Riley, confused, asked, “What girls?” then realized who he was referring to and could not understand the relevance of his remark. The reality is that the girl looked not over a day of 17 and was more than likely still in high school. Riley, swallowed hard then, followed with a sip of her wine. He was finished and there was nothing left to consider. Riley, did not even respond, she enjoyed the rest of her lunch knowing this would be the last time she would spend time in his company. So, she went through the motions, and felt fine doing it as she knew that her heart was closed now because when she looked at him, she looked through him…

            BRNNGT BRNNGT,

            “Hello?”

            “Riley, girl, I have been trying to get you for weeks! Shannon and I are going out this coming Friday to celebrate her promotion.”

            “Oh Monica, forgive me, I have been so busy lately, but of course you can count me in.” That Friday, Riley and her two friends Monica and Shannon met at Dos Caminos in the     city. They chatted continuously about womanly things, clothes, shoes, and beaus with lots of giggles in between.

            Riley, asked, “What happened to Deb, I thought she wanted to come too?”

            “Girl,” Shannon said dramatically “Deborah has a new man in her life, she is actually thinking, or better they are thinking about marriage.”

            Marriage!

            “Yes honey,” Shannon quipped with a hiccup attached the alcohol was taking affect “to a Professor too.”

            “Wow,” Riley said excited.

            “Yup, he is Dean for the school of liberal arts and education over at City College. Mr. Germany ha, that is what me and Jackson calls him. We had dinner with them a couple of  nights ago and homeboy kept going on and on about Germany and much better it is…”

Riley almost choked on her wine. She could feel her body becoming hot and could not move. She felt frozen in time. Her head began to spin and she just felt like she would pass out. Shannon, not noticing anything kept bantering on about Deborah and her fiancé. Her fiancé!

The rest of the night was a blur, Riley got through it the best way she could, and managed not to put a damper on the celebration. She was done and she felt like there was nothing she wanted to do more than be as far away from him as possible. She did not want to confront him, argue with him or curse him out. She would let his deceitful ass fade to black as planned. He did not deserve anymore of her time. Deborah would not have to know anything either, they were not friends and she only knew her through Shannon. She knew it might not have been the right choice, but it was the best choice for her. She could not believe the entire situation and could not wait for this to be a part of her past; she was already leaving it in the dust, by putting one foot in front of the other. ““Mr. Germany,” Shannon called him,” Riley thought, this elicited a throaty laugh from her it was very fitting. Too bad, he was African.

In the Moment: Surviving Mommy’s Sickness

 

Surviving Mommy’s Sickness

            Arriving to my sisters, in Brooklyn a little past 7:30 pm, I felt anxious, but tried my best to relax. I would have to walk into her building, which I hated, but did not have the mental space to prepare myself.  So, I held my breath and walked into the building.

            “This goddamn elevator never works,” yelled an elderly tenant.

            “Nah, It works Mister, you have to press the button!” a young woman replied.

            I thought I would pass out by the time it arrived as I was still holding my breath, but did not succeed in stopping the scent of the lobby from assaulting my nostrils. The aroma of piss and food was intoxicating in the worse way. “Oh God, help me I am going to have a migraine by the time I leave this place, I know it,” I said to aloud to myself.

When my sister opened the door, I almost fainted. 

            “Where’s the food punk?” Rhonda asked.

            “Rat girl, I will get something on my way home!”

            “What about Nijah, Blanche, he hasn’t eaten.”

            “Okay Rhonda. He is going to have to come down with me, and bring it back, or I  will just give him the money. Jackiiiieeee, come on babe, auntie has to get home.”

            “What is going on in here Rhonda?” I said, suddenly taken notice of my messy surroundings.

Clothes appeared to be everywhere and the lights were all off. The only light emanated from the television in the living room where my niece watched some cartoon program and my nephew played on his laptop. “Dude, what the fuck?” I whispered to my sister.

            “Blanchie” she said, and I finally stopped to look at her. She was gaunt and obviously  had lost a tremendous amount of weight. 

            “I am tired,” she continued. Right then, I knew she had had another episode and I wanted to cry. This time it had to be bad because her apartment was in complete disarray.

            “What is happening Rhonda, what is going on?”

            “I am just tired and I need a break. Please take Jack for the weekend and Nijah is going to his dad’s house.”

            “Did you have another episode; did you take your medication?”

            “Yes and I am tired. I tried. I tried not to get down, but this thing with the kid’s dad is…I tried not to get down. I’m really tired Blanchie.”

            “Do you want to come with me and Jack to my house? We can make a girls weekend of it. We will hit the mall, movies and dinner.  Rhonda, you should come, I do not want you here by yourself babe,” I said trying to entice her by sounding upbeat.

            “No, I want to be alone. I am just so tired. I just want to sleep.”

            “You can sleep at my house. I will only bother you to eat and I will take Jack with me and we will stay out of your hair the whole weekend-promise”

            “No, I want to stay home.”

            “Rat girl, you need to get out of here and especially out of this building, it is falling to  pieces. Does the super even clean this place anymore?  I nearly choked to death on the odor in this building,” I said laughing hoping she would too.

            “I am not moving, I like my apartment and I will not be able to get another for the same amount of money.”

As my sister rationalized her wanting to stay in a building that was on its way to being labeled condemned, in my opinion, I surveyed the room again.  It was a hot mess and my niece still sat watching the television as if she was in a trance. My nephew finally stopped clacking away on his laptop to greet me.

            “Hi auntie, what’s up?

            “Nada Enchilada, what’s up with you?”

            “Nothing, I am about to leave, I wanted to see you before I mirked up outta here, ya dig?”

            “Boy, shut up,” I said playfully as I mushed him in the head.

            “Alright then auntie, I’m out.” My nephew said, grabbing his knapsack, kissing me, then his mom and plucking my niece in the head as he made his way towards the door.

“Wait, grown man,” I said reaching into my purse for a twenty. “Here dude, just in case you want a snack or something.”  Grabbing the money, my nephew was out the door.

 My niece still engrossed in her program sat there completely oblivious to everything going on around her.

            “Jack” I sang while snapping my fingers in front of her, “let’s go chubs. Auntie has lots   to do.”

            “I’m hungry auntie,” Jackie finally muttered as I shoved her 6-year-old limbs into her      coat.

            “Pizza or McDonalds?”

My sister stood by watching our exchange blankly, but managed to walk us to the door. My niece said her goodbyes to her mother and I, feeling torn, grabbed my sister in a strong hug then shuffled my niece out the door.

We made our way to New Jersey. My niece, a usual chatty Cathy remained quiet for most of the ride.

            “Jack, what’s up?” I said to her, trying to encourage conversation and take my mind off my sister in crisis.

            “Nuthiiin auntie, Nijah said we could survive this auntie.

            “Survive what chubs? “ I said poking her in her side.

            “I am not a chub auntie,” My niece said giggling, Nijah, said mommy’s sick again, but    we can survive.”

            “Oh,” I said swallowing hard. I did not know my niece and nephew talked about my sister’s situation at all, if any. I knew it had some affect as my niece’s behavior was changing. My nephew appeared to be cool, but I am no fool, and I know it has taken a toll on him too. I just did not know he would say anything to my niece.

            “So, how are you and Adonijah going to survive?”

            “Be good auntie, I am going to be good cause mommy is tired and needs her rest. Nijah is going to be good too and clean his room, and watch me for mommy.”

            “Sounds good,” I said with a weak smile.

This situation was graver than before, but I could not really understand why. I was angry with my sister for letting herself fall apart. I mean her and Jerome separated so long ago…

Finally, pulling into my driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief; my niece unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car. Once inside my house, I sent my niece to wash up for bed, and then put on her favorite movie. Before we settled ourselves on the couch to watch a movie, my niece had drifted off into a deep slumber. I made sure she was completely covered by the blanket and continued watching “Akeelah and the Bee,” alone. I had seen this several times, but it still held my interest…or so I thought. Not so long after Jack slept off, I could feel myself drifting too….

Bam, Bam, Bam

The sound of banging forced me out of my sleep and I ran to the door and opened without even asking whom it was. “Adonijah what are you doing here?”

            “Auntie, you have to come quick, its mommy, and she is going to hurt herself!”

            “Huh, what are you talking about?”

            “She is trying to hurt herself!”

I could not remember, how or when I got in the car, but the next thing I knew my nephew, and I were back in Brooklyn. My sister Rhonda was outside with a group of people I did not know. “Rhonda,” I called after her, but she began to walk away. “RHONDA,” I said again, this time louder. She must have heard me because she turned around and looked at me, but her expression was blank. “Rhonda, where are you going?” I asked, but she looked passed me with a blank stare then began to walk away. I tried to go after her, but somehow, and I cannot remember how, I lost her. In a frenzy, I must have turned down the wrong street. However, I managed to find her again. The funniest thing is, she no longer had on her coat. I ran toward her, but I could not reach her, no matter how fast I moved she remained out of my reach. Finally, I was right before her, close enough to grab her. “Rhonda,” I said reaching for her arm. She yanked away and pulled a gun from what seemed like the air and shot herself in the heart. The ear-splitting echo of the gun firing “BOOM” jolted me out of my sleep and I almost fell to the floor.

Research Paper and Short Story PAD

Select a topic of interest; write a research paper with annotated bibliography and short fiction piece based off the topic you chose for your research paper. Here are some things to consider when drafting your research paper, annotated bibliography and short story.

1. Choose a topic of interest and investigate it by collecting informative data that supports your research paper. You can use magazines, newspapers, scholarly journals, documentaries, and the internet. The information gathered will be used to support the points made in your research paper.

2.  Read your sources and take notes so that you can refer back to important quotations and document sources accurately. Your ideas must be proven, do not simply state it, but prove it with explanation and sources.

3.  Brainstorm, gather and organize your ideas by outlining main points and sub points so that you are avoid being repetitive. Your paper should be formatted in a logical sequence.

 4. Begin writing your first draft to flesh out what you want to say. Be sure to introduce your topic well, and arouse the readers’ interest.

5. Include sources where they fit and support your ideas. Use your collected sources to create an annotated bibliography (bibliography that gives a summary of source that is used in research paper). Proof read, edit and revise your draft where needed.

Short story

Using the main idea of your research paper, you will construct a five-page short fiction piece. Look to some of your favorite books to gather ideas on how this can be done effectively. For example, if your paper is about race, class and/or education you can use Lee Harper’s, To Kill a Mockingbird. If it is about politics and warfare, you might use Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.  Be as creative as possible.

1. Use the same central idea of your research paper to create a central theme for your short story.

2. Think about how your theme relates to everyday life so that your audience can relate to or understand your story.

3. Avoid complex words and metaphors, instead use language that is used everyday, but feel free to use some jargon to help shape characters.

4. Paint a picture for the reader. Offer important and unusual details, like, the location, scents, sounds, touch and texture. Use dialogue to give the reader a good portrait of each character. 

5. Ensure that your point is clear in the story; use every character to keep the story moving.  Not all characters have to be round; some can be flat if it helps in bringing out your central theme. For example, round characters in a story are usually round, and area well developed- they undergo changes. Flat characters; remain stagnant in a story, this is sometimes necessary to shape your story. Proof read and edit your story where needed.

Digital Poem: Signifiers, Identifiers & Cues

Digital Poem PAD

“Poetry in Motion”

Digital poetry is a process; it can be a culmination of elements, such as, still images, video, text, sound etc. all of which are used to express and idea or concept. Some are light and fun while others may hold a deeper meaning -depending on the creator. In pulling together different elements, you will create an original digital poem. Here are some things to consider when drafting your digital poem.

1. Creativity, once you have decided what software (i-movie, moviemaker) you will use, feel free to be as creative as possible.  No holds bars with this project.

2. Create a storyboard to brainstorm, gather and organize your still images, text, video and sound so that you can have an effective framework when putting together your poem.

3. Paint a picture for the reader. While it is okay to be abstract, you do not want to lose them especially if you have a strong message to deliver. Decide ahead of time how you will tell your story-by focusing on mechanical aspects such as, point of view, questions, emotional content, voice, music and pacing. This will allow for a perfect meld of each element.

4. Proof your digital poem by placing yourself in the viewer/reader shoes. You want to make sure all the dynamics flow fluidly and you have the effect you want to achieve, but be careful not to dabble too much that you get obsessed with minute details and miss project deadlines. 

5.  The final draft with four-page write up is due March 21, 2011. Remember to have fun, cite sources, and give acknowledgements with rolling credits.