Story Essay

Essay from “Bowling to Find a List Father” by Mee Her

 

My cousin and I are contemporary, meaning I was born on August 22, 1997 and she was born October 18, 1997. It was only fitting that we grow up together, and we did. We never liked the same things, we were total opposites; even in our physical appearance. She was fair skin, blonde, honey eyes with a thin smile. I was tanned skin, brown hair, dark eyes and full lips. She was all about sports and singing; I was all about reading and writing. Nevertheless, we both liked talking and we talked to each other, about everything and nothing; about our problems and dreams and crushes. I would always be the one behind her, in her shadows, encouraging her to do more; and I didn’t mind. I loved it because I loved her. We planned everything around each other. Even our weddings. I was her Angelica Schuyler to her Eliza.

A couple of years ago, after her crush turned her down, she started dating this boy out of spite. She eventually felt in love with him and have dated him since. Her world started revolving around him, and soon there wasn’t any space left for me. We stopped talking, she got new friends and made new plans. We fought a couple of times and she hated me even more when the boy who had refused her declared he liked me. For some reason, in her mind, it was a competition and she wanted to be the one happiest.

Despite my friends, despite feeling like I’ve found my soulmate, her absence feels like a little hole in my chest and I keep letting my heart open just in case she comes around. If only I could tell her that I’m here. All I ask is for her to understand her boyfriend does not need to carry all of her burdens and problems, she has friends and family, like me, who would love to be there if only she would let them in.

I believe that we could fix our relationship with a trip, we always have wanted to go to Paris. Planning and organizing were always our strongest suits, and believe me we have lots of those, and we can do the best activity-scenery coordinated wardrobe you have ever seen. I think that by making new memories out of old costumes might help us feel connected again. We could forget about this period and focus on having fun and creating a new experience to share as cousins, friends and sisters at heart. We could let each other to our lives again and enjoy each other’s companies like we used to. That way I wouldn’t feel as lonely as I do when she is gone and she wouldn’t feel as abandoned as she does.

Discussion Questions and Answers


1. What was it that caused Her's father to go bowling a second time?

I believe that before they went bowling he felt scared and insecure because he was out of his comfort zone and he did not know if it was a good decision or if he would "clicked"with his children after many years. After he went bowling with them, he realized even the smaller details could help bring the closer and it wasn't hard. So he decides to go bowling a second time because by now this is an action inside his comfort zone and his children's.

2.Do you agree with Her that it must have been "frightening" for her father to live with children who had adopted American culture and an American lifestyle?

I think that with each new and old generation, the transitioning state, can be hard. Every parent feels at odd with their children in a point of life. For a father who was raised in a certain society with certain rules and expectations when his children grow up in a completely different way, they might become like a stranger's kids; because Her's father already envisions a certain lifestyle for them which was not what they later on adapt to and embrace.

3. Why does the author feel "odd" teaching her father how to bowl?

As children, we feel or we think that it is our parents that provide us with new experiences and lessons every other kid has. For example, we expect them t teach us how to ride a bike because in our mind it is a typical thing to do. So when we teach our parent or older sibling to do something it feels rather like a really big responsibility, because we want them to learn it properly. Even more so when what you envision as typical is not the same as what your parent envisions, it makes it more special but also like the roles have reverse.  

POEM

Heritage: Then and Now

 

 

As I walk a man whistles behind me, he showers me with praises

Sends kisses full of venom and expects me to blush and giggle

I run away without answering,

Afraid of looking at him.

My mother taught me, it is better to stay silent than to angry them.

She said:

“It is not his fault he cannot control his needs like his ancestors couldn’t.

It is not their fault if they choke you while trying to hug you.

They do not know how to touch us.

Their hands are too hard, never gentle; they may touch our breast but never our hearts.”

And when I silently ask, she says:

“Our mothers endured so much for you and I

Injustice, oppression, rape

Just some of the things they had to bare.”

Pushed and overthrown

Mistreated and misunderstood

Used and abused

Alone and confused

Our heritage has been trampled on

Men have violated our bodies and minds

We are not enough

We are not smart enough, they say

We are worthless,

We are garbage

How can no one stand up for the injustice?

The cruelty, the poverty bestowed upon us.

It’s not fair, it’s not right for you to chain us.

To this world of these lies which ultimately condemn us.

We are more than bodies and baby machines.

You will not take my legacy away from me.

We have put up with you for so long, but I guess it was partially my fault.

My fault for not realizing that the mere sight of my completion arouses you.

My fault for not covering myself up so you’d feel comfortable.

My fault for not shutting up and making you feel smart when you make no sense.

My fault for being the woman that has to be raped beneath the stands

Woman, how can you let yourself be treated this way?

Can it be possible you deserved it, that you caused such acts of violence?

Against your mind, your body and spirit?

That’s what they think, that’s what they will say

They push out their own guilt, away from themselves and into our bodies

Until we’re suffocating with pain and rage.

I remember being chastises by my uncle for the way I dressed, clamming they would stare at me

I still went out anyway,

I have dressed in shorts and t-shirts, long sleeves and long skirts

Yet they called me names

If my mothers before me could use their spirits and minds to rebelled against them, then so can I.

My little victories, I show them with pride,

Because I dared

I dared to dress how I felt

I dared to speak what I though

I dared to look into a man’s eyes and say: no

Sometimes, you’ll be too much woman,

To beautiful, too smart, too strong

You’ll be more than just a slave,

You’ll be more than just a body to touch, more than a vessel

That makes a man feel less like a man,

They will coil away from you and try to tame you

That fire inside of you,

That fire that consumes you

Don’t let them put it out,

Let it be your fuel, your drive

Let them try and take it from you,

Let them try to crumble you.

They will find themselves turned into pieces of coal.
And as their world crashes you will turn them into ashes.