In class today discussing police brutality, specifically in the case of Willie Jordan, the article did not feel very dated.  There are still the same issues happening today and so this is nothing totally shocking.  The part that did differ though was the language used in describing this occurrence.  Although there were differences in the language, I did not note this as having much significance.  Our language changes continually, depending on who we are talking to or who we are talking about.  The amount of time that has passed since something has been written will allow for the amount of differences in the text.  During class, someone mentioned the writing of Shakespeare and I think this is a perfect example.

After learning about the hand that the abolistionists played in the production of The Narrative of Frederick Douglas, I feel really decieved. It's not that I was at all surprised, but through our various discussions or readings about the importance of the slave narrative I have realized that Douglass's is the only non fictionalized narrative of slavery I have read. Although I feel like i have read so much about slavery in the U.S. I think most of it has been through novels. While these historical fiction narratives are valid as well, I think everyone should have to read a true narrative of American slavery at some point in their lives.

After my conference today, I've decided to look into revolving my upcoming paper on the history of Bryn Mawr College's diversity, the development from consiting of mostly wealthy white women to a much more diverse community, and the diversification of the English Department's curriculum, and what it now means to be an English Major at Bryn Mawr College. I started thinking about what it means to be an English Major today, and realized that it has changed a lot throughout the last hundred years or so. Initially, and up until probably the last thirty, forty, maybe fifty years or so, studying English literature meant names like Shakespeare, Chaucer, Hemingway, etc., and wasn't very political.

I'm disapointed that I missed out on the discussion of June Jordan's "Nobody Mean More to Me Than You And the Future Life of Willie Jordan" this afternoon and I hope it was interesting.

For my paper, I've decided to write about the concept of safe spaces: encompassing the ideas of safe spaces, brave spaces, and trigger warnings. As a kid, I was always upset by teachers who seemed unwilling to tell me what was really going on: I wanted to have real discussions about real topics but kept hitting a sanatized wall. It's not that I believe that having safe spaces is bad; it's that it seems our society is obsessed with them (increasingly so in modern times). I don't believe I grew up overly sheltered and I was raised in a good family in a good town; but to say that no one ever struggled there seems wrong. However, no one talked about that. We had a major bullying problem in my high school- no one talked about that.

I have more questions than answers, but I have been thinking to myself about the politics of self care in relation to Frederick Douglass, in relation to me, and in relation to trauma. How can you practice self care via writing when your body is the intersection of all of these things? We talked of how the abolitionist movement coopted Frederick Douglass' pain to fuel their movement. We talked of how Europeans objectified Sarah Baartman (Here again lies this question of naming. This is not her name, but a name given to her). We talked of how Frederick Douglass was made to objectify himself, but is there any other way to write as a black body. What are you meant to do when your body itself is a political statement?

turns out to be quite eminent!

Notes towards further discussion about reflective writing:

Is this for safety or to establish a sense of order and control upon studnets? 

I found an article this morning that speaks to one of the questions we were worrying y'day afternoon: the degree to which Douglass' Narrative was edited by the abolitionists. See

Rachel A. Blumenthal, “Canonicity, Genre, and the Politics of Editing: How We Read Frederick Douglass,” Callaloo 36, 1 (Winter 2013):178-190:
https://muse.jhu.edu/article/507658/pdf