HOW DO WE SEE (+ STUDY) YOUNG PEOPLE?

Put the key theories/ resonances/ teachings from these texts in conversation. Choose one takeaway from each piece--what jumped out at you, made you feel/ think/ wonder? How do these learnings speak to each other, line up, crisscross, or complicate? 

Reading Carla Shalaby’s "On Being Out-Standing" was captivating from the very first page. I found myself wishing that my family had established a clear system of affirmations, a set of encouraging messages that I could see and reflect on each time I returned home. Such a practice could have significantly bolstered my confidence and provided a consistent source of positive reinforcement. 

As I continued reading, it was disheartening to discover that Zora is marginalized within her school community. Early in the text, it becomes evident that Zora’s sense of isolation stems from her biracial identity. This insight prompted me to reflect on my own independent study on immigration, particularly the concept encapsulated by the phrase "ni de aquí ni de allá," which translates to "neither from here nor from there." This expression captures the struggles of individuals who find themselves caught between two worlds, unable to fully belong to either due to their bicultural status.

What stood out in the text was that instead of conforming to societal norms, Zora's parents chose to fully embrace a life and identity on the fringes. Their mindset, characterized by the attitude of "We know you see us, so we'll give you something to look at," reinforced their resilience and pride despite facing adversity. They didn't merely accept their differences; they celebrated and encouraged them, hoping to instill this same sense of self-affirmation in Zora. However, navigating the delicate balance between blending in and standing out is both challenging and exhausting. For Zora, this struggle is compounded by the fact that her differences are often unfairly equated with deviance, making the quest for acceptance even more difficult.

The conclusion featuring a thought-provoking question by W.E.B. Du Bois was particularly striking. He spoke of "this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity," which prompted deep reflection on how I perceive myself through the perspectives of others. This introspection challenges me to consider if my self-worth is reliant on external validation or if I can embrace my own identity and value independent of others' opinions. I found myself questioning whether I am truly content and if I can find fulfillment in simply being myself, as ultimately, that should be what matters most.

The camp offered a space where "teenagers could be teenagers, without the stereotypes and all the labels"—a kind of environment that Zora yearned for and would have thrived in. The texts intersect because, if Zora had been given the same opportunities, she would have thrived in such a place, regardless of her skin tone or background. This sanctuary from societal judgments would have enabled her to express herself authentically and fully engage without the limitations imposed by external prejudices.

What struck me from the 2020 American documentary film Crip Camp was the lawsuit filed against the New York City Board of Education. Disabled in Action, which worked on deinstitutionalization, highlighted the horrors of the Willowbrook state hospital. The film depicted it as genuinely chilling—like something straight out of a horror movie. Unlike fictional horror, intended to scare and shock its audience, this was a grim reality. The scene was distressing: there was one attendant for fifty children, many of whom were left lying on the floor naked, and feeding times averaged just three minutes. The level of chaos and neglect in the institution was beyond comprehension. It is horrifying to think that such inhumane treatment could be inflicted upon other human beings.