September 23, 2019

March Response



Dear John Lewis,

        Based on what I’ve read so far, your story, March, incorporates great details that contributed to the fact that segregation was an ongoing event many were struggling against, including yourself, back in your time. The risk of lives taken and the danger that surrounded the colored community continued to increase, which can be particularly seen when the church in Birmingham was bombed. This resulted in the deaths of the four children and sparked intentions to take action. Members of organizations, like the SNCC, responded to this incident by trying to propose ways to effectively execute justice without violence in order to unify and direct their outrage in ways that it can be heard, starting with the rights to vote.

       While reading this story, I felt profoundly connected with the way the visuals correlated to the narrative. I was able to visualize the situation more clearly and grasp a better understanding of the empathy I felt as the story progressed with the violence that occurred. The introduction of the book with the bombing of the church, I felt, was a great way to start the story since it gives a strong sense to the severeness of the situation and insights to the actions and goals that develops throughout the story. In the case of today’s issues, we as a community should focus more on societal interactions and the discipline to be open-minded to any situation. I feel there isn’t a real general solution to the problems faced today, but I think focusing on interactions in society will influence the way many people interpret things since most of it revolves around the fact that the development of how one perceive things excludes other major factors that should also be considered.




September 16, 2019

a story in time…

An image of the blogger at 8 years old

Shela, 8 years old

I was around eight when I remembered the first few moments of my mom teaching my sister and I how to read a Vietnamese children’s storybook. With the colorful, thin book in her hand, my mom would call for us to sit on the pale, wrinkled couch that made us sink every time we sat down. It is hard for me to recall what exactly the story was about but I do remember it being quite difficult for me to comprehend because of all the words that appeared foreign to me; each page that was read had a new set of vocabulary that seemed to not want to register in my brain. Inevitably, my parents caught onto the fact that English was developing faster in us and therefore didn’t allow any English to be spoken in the house. We were only to listen, watch, and speak in anything relating to Vietnamiese. Now this may sound terrible, which looking back now I would agree as well, but it has helped me catch on to words and tie them to their meanings. My reading gradually improved on the long run and eventually the house rule of the ‘no English deal’ ceased since my sister and I proved ourselves to be able to handle being bilingual, which I came to appreciate later on in life.