by Katherine SantanaI am a Daughter: I am a daughter of two loving parents who have risked everything to give me the life that I have today. I spend the majority of my time repaying their kindness by furthering my education, cooking, cleaning and running errands to show appreciation for the things they have done for me.
I am a Sister: I am a sister who is overprotective of the youngest and lax with the oldest. Having three sisters and one brother, I share a deep respect for each and every one of them. I would do anything for their happiness. I am an Introvert: Silent and withdrawn, I enjoy spending time alone, formulating my thoughts and drowning in my imagination. Too many hours around people and I find myself exhausted, but I keep pushing forward. Many people tell me that being introverted is horrible, but I feel the opposite. I am Shy: Fearful and anxious, I find myself terrified of people and not knowing what to do. Meeting new people horrifies me, I become timid and nervous around the company of others. Sometimes, it will become so bad, that I would just nod and smile without saying a word. I am Awkward: I get embarrassed easily, have poor social skills and use aggression to express my affection. This also connects with my shyness, anyone who is not my immediate family or a close friend, may feel that there is something wrong with me. I am Driven: Despite my fears and worries, I push forward in life. Nothing will be done if I sit around hoping for something to happen. I take the things that scare me or cause me anxiety and use it as a way to conquer my fears and become the person that everyone has yet to see. I am Bold: I am not afraid to say what’s on my mind if deemed necessary. Many people tell me I’m terrible but I find it as a form of honesty. I love making statements with my makeup and clothes. I make silent statements. I am an Anime Fanatic: When I am not studying, working or doing chores, I am watching anime in my living room with a plate of food and headphones on. Anime for me is a time where I can relax, and enjoy my time. It is the time when I can escape for even just a moment from the world around me. I am In Love with Food: Maybe it is because of my culture, but the connection I have with food runs so deep that nobody will be able to break it. Food for me, is connecting with my culture, connecting with my friends and family as well as an escape. For me, food is a luxury and a time where I can relax. I cannot have food before showering or before getting my work done, or else the idea of food as a luxury has no meaning. I am Imperfect: There is nothing about me that is perfect. I am a walking ball of imperfections, I am full of flaws that transmits its own beauty. Imperfection is beauty! I am Easily Broken: While most of the times I am seen as someone with a strong personality and strong willed. I am very easily shattered. I constantly show up as someone strong and unemotional, so when a sad or enraging moment occurs, I snap in a second. I am a Human Being: Like everyone else, I have dreams and aspirations. I make mistakes, confront them and move forward. I have good days and bad days. I have memories that I try to suppress and future goals that keep me in a loop. I am trying to figure my life out like everyone else. I am Me… and that won’t change.
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by Ummer AliWhen I was 6, I met Sheikh Muhammad Sharif.
He helped me learn kindness. When I was 10, I wrote my first short story. That began my love for writing. When I was 12, I got my first in school suspension. I learned to watch what I say. When I was 13, I had my first heartbreak. It taught me that you can’t always have what you want. When I was 15, I wrote my first good short story. It showed me that I actually had the talent for writing. When I was 16, I had been to 7 funerals. Each one took a part of me with it. When I was 16, I met Mr. Kanakis. He showed me that you could be a good person, even if you’re surrounded by bad things. When I was 16, I watched my best friend kill himself. It broke me. When I was 17, I graduated high school. Fuck everyone who said I wouldn’t. When I was 20, I had my first real heartbreak. It showed me to never trust anyone with my secrets. When I was 21, I graduated college in 4 years. Fuck everyone who said I couldn’t. When I was 22, my dad became my best friend. Love you pops, I wouldn’t be where I am right now without you. And Now I’m 23. 3 heartbreaks, 9 suspensions, 4 graduations, 14 funerals, 1 loving family, 1 fractured mind, countless hours of self-doubt, and I have no idea what I am. All I know is that I am everything I’ve written in this piece and so much more. The only thing I know how to do is fight; fight for happiness, for love, for knowledge, for my family. So I guess I’m a fighter. by Joseph "Joey" ButtsA couple days ago, a documentary entitled The Witness was recommended to me. If you aren’t familiar with it, it is about the 1964 murder of a girl named Kitty Genovese in Kew Gardens, Queens. Kitty’s brother, William, who was 16 at the time, now goes on to explore her controversial death. A reported 37 or 38 witnesses to the murder, yet none of them offered to help, shockingly, or even called the police. This was what the New York Times reported back then. This incident is thought to be the birth of the famous Bystander Effect. The Bystander Effect deals with situations where an individual does not help a victim in a public/populated place. Living in New York, you’ve probably seen and even participated in this effect at some point in the City. For example, if you're walking down an avenue and see a homeless man, asking for money or help, chances are you won’t help him or her. If others in front of you are concerned, being attentive, and acting on it, then maybe you would feel more inclined to act as well. I was raised in a small town with a population of about 2,000 people on the far east of Long Island. Life was much different there than here in the Big Apple. But for the most part back home, everybody knows everybody. If a person was struggling and needed help, the chances of someone seeing it may be lower but if someone does see something, the chances are greater that they will take action. There is more of a sense of community in small towns across America. When the New York Times first covered Kitty’s murder back in 1964 they choose some very particular things to omit in their coverage of the story. The documentary seemed to expose this, but I’m sure that was not their primary goal. It turned out that many people did in fact claim to help. The New York Times seemed to not include names or follow up on many leads at the time, probably because they wanted higher ratings. They were looking for a story to tell; and found a very opportune way to tell it. What captures a big city more than a violent killer on the loose killing women? Maybe that is the problem right there. As a specie, we enjoy excitement and scandal too much. To many journalists and reporters, they are just stories. Another face in the crowd. The documentary showcases the aftermath of Kitty’s death on the Genovese family, especially her brother William; who narrates the story. Her death led William to make drastic decisions in his young life, for example, he enlisted in the military and sadly, during his tour in Vietnam, he lost both legs after stepping on a landmine. For many in the media and the news business, it is just that, a business and a way to make money which requires adding or forgetting a little detail here and there in hopes of getting more readers and viewers. It is a sad and inconvenient truth. The title of the documentary was interesting to me. The Witness. Singular. When there were as many as 38 potential witnesses, why not have the title plural? Maybe because they are grouping all 38 into one? Because they didn’t do anything to have any individual worth? I don’t mean in life, I just mean in this particular situation. The poor coverage by the New York Times makes me question journalism because they play a huge role in many people’s lives. If they are simply skewing information to benefit their personal wealth, how well can they be trusted? It is a tough situation, because journalism is a field I want to pursue. I wouldn’t want to have to change or provide false information on a subject, just so it appeals to a broader audience. The documentary opened my eyes to the Bystander Effect, journalism, and humanity at large. A few months ago I was sitting alone, minding my own business. Suddenly, something happened. A man was screaming. I barely heard it, with my headphones plugged into my ears and my eyes closed. But somehow I did, and I did whatever I could do to help, even if I couldn’t do too much. A woman was choking, and a man was asking for someone to help him while he helped her. I helped but I didn’t feel any gratification from it, it just felt natural, like an instinct. It wasn’t until I had an in depth conversation with a friend and watching The Witness that I understood what these moments are like for some people. Looking back at it, if I had just sat there and ignored the situation like many people had done, then I don’t know what I would think of myself. I would have to try to make conscious decisions and actions to feel better about myself. I’m thankful that I do not have to do that. There are ways in which I do though, try to make myself feel like a better person, but everyone does in their own way as well. People always feel the need to better themselves. But it’s their motives to do so that are in question. People will claim that they help just out of the goodness of their heart, and many people probably do. But there are also many people who just want to appear to be good. It reminds me of a line from the 2006 Scorsese film, The Departed. Martin Sheen’s character says to Leonardo DiCaprio; “Do you want to be a cop, or do you want to appear to be a cop?” People are always so concerned with being, or at least appearing to be, a good person. Yet, situations like this just prove that they won't step out of the comfort zone to do so. Ultimately, how concerned can they be then? Maybe it doesn't matter what they appear to be in front of people they might never see again. This could be especially true in the city of New York with 8.5 million people because chances are, you may never see them again. Unless you are in your neighborhood and even then, the chances are slim. But put people in a room full of people they know and I'm sure the outcome would be different. I don't mean their closest friends and family, but maybe co-workers, classmates or people they see in church. I'm positive their reactions to emergency and high stress situations would be much different. The necessity of many narcissists to feel like they are just as “good” as the man or woman sitting next to them is uncanny. I learned at a young age a very important concept, which I’m sure many have heard before: character is who you are when nobody's watching. This article is acting as a prelude to a bigger, and more in depth project that I have been working on since December. The larger project will be presented at the 1st Annual Anthropology Conference at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, on March 16th, where I will delve into the Bystander Effect. I am looking at people I know and how willing or quick they are to come forth with their actions in situations that maybe aren’t as traumatic or severe as Kitty Genovese, but similar. In New York City, everyday millions are subject to the Bystander Effect. I want to explore why, and what can be done to help this. by Kevin TranAs of September 28, 2016: 571 total homicides 700 plus projected murders at the end of 2016 3308 total people shot 2 murders a day 1 person shot every two hours These are the statistics of crime in Chicago. The violence in Chicago—in the form of shooting deaths--has become the deadliest in almost two decades and unfortunately the city is one of the deadliest in the United States. This problem did not occur overnight but over the course of many years, with only lackadaisical efforts to try to combat such violence. Much of the crime committed in the city is gun-related and the addition of readily-available illegal weapons, has led to an average of 82 shootings per week. [Chicago Tribune] shockingly, social media has led a public campaign for the gang violence that has occurred. On a larger scale, we will examine the leading factors that cause the upsurge of violence, how lead poisoning correlates with crime, and ways to find reform that might make Chicago a safer place to live. The violence in Chicago is closely related to the rising number of gangs there and accounts for almost 80% of all crimes committed. [Social Sentinel]. The correlation between gangs and crime show that a majority of the crimes committed are in Chicago’s West and South sides. The first gangs of Chicago date back all the way to the late 1800s and were not originally violent. The sole purpose of the original gangs was social; for example in the 1800s a gang named the “Fire Kings” made up of volunteer firefighters was formed to compete against other volunteer firefighters for a positive departmental review. That was a friendly competition but today gang rivalry has turned into something detrimental. Gang rivalry has been fostered by social media. “Gang members use publicly available social media to sell drugs and weapons, threaten or harass rival gang members, and even brag about crimes” says Social Sentinel. Gangs compete to match each other’s violence and lawlessness. Jens Ludwig, the director of the Crime Lab at the University of Chicago has stated that “Chicago’s Police Department, overwhelmed, can respond only to the most serious problems, leaving citizens to feel responsible for their own security” [NY Times]. He adds, “People carry guns in public because other people are carrying guns. It’s an arms race.” This has an impact on the safety of the people of Chicago. The crimes committed happen to occur in the most segregated communities within Chicago and violent crime rates show a correlation with neighborhood poverty. A study conducted by the Chicago Tribune in 2016 links childhood lead exposure and violent crimes. The lead accumulating in young brains disables the frontal lobe, leaving young people with learning difficulties, attention deficits, and lowered IQ. The map of lead poisoning shows a positive correlation with a map of aggravated assault crimes, created much later when those kids were 17 to 22. The scientific journal Environmental Health found that “exposure to lead during early childhood significantly increased the chance that a student would fail reading and math tests, even when controlling for other factors such as poverty, race, birth weight, and the mother’s education level.” The city of Chicago is taking steps to combat the amount of crime. The police department is attempting to seize all guns off of the street. By doing this, Chicago has been able to lower the amount of crime committed with weapons. The city is also trying to get more police officers on the streets and has done do so by using mapping to determine where crime happens the most. There are important proposals on how to stop the violence that involve structural change and thus have not yet been implemented. Creating summer jobs for youth would give teenagers skills and experience while keeping them off the streets. Help in finding employment for those who are getting out of prison would prevent ex-convicts from turning back to the street, the gang and to violence after their records prevented them from finding jobs. A change the drug laws themselves would help, since a majority of first convictions stem from misdemeanors. “Instead of a man of peace and love, I have become a man of violence and revenge” said Hiawatha. In Chicago’s case, instead of finding peace and love for one another, they all have filled with violence. Yet Chicago will find itself with peace one day; it is only a matter of time. Crimes can happen anywhere in the world. Would you take action toward it if it happened in your backyard? It only takes one man/woman to change the world. Will you be that change? by Samantha SheetsCan you imagine being enclosed in one location—a single room--for months on end? Or only leaving that room for an hour a day? Or simply being accused of a crime you may or may not have committed? Imagine you are rotting in a cell as hope begins to fade away like it did when the jury first declared you were “guilty”. Will anyone be able to reach you or help you? One Thursday evening, instead of getting off the R train at the Whitehall station in downtown Manhattan, I got off at Queens Plaza. I was heading toward the Q100 bus, embarking on a journey to the last stop. The last stop is Rikers Island, the penitentiary for criminals with short sentences. I was to wait at the bus station for my coworkers who would also be receiving this once-in-a-lifetime tour. I am a “College Aide” for the Department of Probation, and since Rikers Island is affiliated with the Department of Corrections, we were able to visit, and to bear witness to the lives of those incarcerated. The bus ride to the correctional van that would take us through the security gates was filled with discussions. The things we discussed were the do’s and don’ts of what is acceptable behind the eldritch wired fence. We were to leave our electronics in the locked van, and carry an identification card at all times. We entered the facility and quickly learned it was on lockdown for reasons they chose not to specify. One week prior to this, we were given instructions on how to dress. All skin was to be covered, including our feet. While this struck me as abnormal at the time, once we passed security and a rigorous metal detector, I realized why these limitations were put in place. We were led down a series of lengthy hallways, into an area with a set of five holding cells. The five cells were divided by borough and held a variety of inmates with a range of ages and races--all men. These inmates had their arms stretched out through the bars and were making obscene statements and gestures from the moment my group entered; the entire scene was extremely intimidating. This was not how prison was portrayed on Orange is the New Black. We were given a brief presentation of what to expect from this tour, but with these noisy grown men looming around us it was difficult to remain attentive. We learned about the establishment of Rikers Island prison in 1932, and the creation of a new section within the facility which was opening later that day. The new facility exclusively includes men ages 18-21. The unit is supposed to create new initiatives in hopes of getting these men back on their feet, and on the right side of justice. We never heard what these initiatives were to be. The room itself reeked of bleach, and although it had been recently painted, the walls were already chipping. The cells themselves remained bare, with heavily stained bedding. Not far from the cells was an “education center”, which included six metal tables and chairs, spaced several feet apart. Long chains were attached to the chairs to ensure prisoners would not attempt to move their seating. The restraints made me think back to a giant corkboard chart shown to us at the beginning of the tour. The chart showcased the number of ”incidents” that have occurred within the facility in the past month. Color-coded pins were used to indicated where the event occurred and the type of incident. Whether it is a simple fight, or the more extreme a murder, they used the board to keep track of potential gang activity within the facility. An assortment of pins scattered the entire board. A majority were blue, indicating a fight had occurred involving the use of a weapon. As the tour commenced we continued to see more disturbing aspects of the facility. This included a bleak five-by-five concrete fenced-in box for inmates to get some “fresh” air. Then, from the compact outdoor area, we were speedily led to the medical center. On the walk there, a heavily chained inmate passed us. Both his feet and hands were chained as he shuffled through the hallway. Our tour guide suggested we not make eye contact with him. Aside from this particular inmate, every other inmate we passed in the halls was simply instructed by a single officer to hug and face the wall. But in this inmate’s case, he was surrounded by several officers who were covered head to toe in protection gear. We were not supposed to pass him but were rapidly pushed into the next area of the tour. This made me question: what else were they not showing us on this tour? The inside of Rikers Island penitentiary was grim. And my final question arose: is Rikers Island an inhumane place? The location fills you up with mixed emotions. You pity these people, but you are constantly reminded of the crimes they committed because pictures of their faces are plastered on the door to their cells with notes on their arrest. Feces cover their walls, but you are reminded by the guards that they not only smeared it there themselves, but they put themselves into this situation. You hear only the guards’ side of situations, while inmates can be heard screaming from their solitary cells. Their basic needs may be met, but their lives are immensely restricted. And while you know they are let out for one hour’s recreation time, you understand that all these restrictions exist for specific reasons. As you walk down hallways that feel labyrinthine, you are reminded of the giant corkboard that they showed you earlier, showing the levels of violence all over the institution. You are reminded of an area in which a murder possibly took place, potentially hours before your arrival. You ask yourself: is this the only way a prison can be run? Do people come out more violent than they went in? The experience was eye-opening; the glorification of prison on television shows masks the grim truths that occur behind these closed walls. Being inside those enclosed walls as a visitor for only a few hours, I felt my own hope slowly slip away. The sense of hopelessness endured is truly what makes Rikers Island inhumane. |
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