#i swear everything is too Eurocentric

[elegantlov3bird]

Working as a fat girl

I’m basically known as the one that spreads happy vibes and love. The one people not only laugh with, but also laugh at.

For me, my humor has turned into a defence mechanism. It’s the one thing I can control. I constantly make fun of my body, and people enjoy it because they are thinking it, but are too kind to say it.

It’s not just in working spaces, but every time I meet a new guy. Every. Single. Time.

Because if I make fun of myself, and constantly joke around - other people wouldn’t have to do it behind my back.

It gets tiring and lonely. Every time I get off work, and the second my back hits the bus seat my heart feels stepped on. Every ounce of happiness I spread, has left an empty hole inside of me now filled with void and hatred towards myself.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone has caught on? Has one of the many souls I encounter every day seen through the act? The answer is no, because I’v gotten terribly good at acting. Sometimes I catch myself believing it too.

Mini story time

This new guy just started at work. Everyone is obsessed with him. For good reason.

He seems kind, fun and like an overall being that enjoys the both small and big things in life. At least that’s what I noticed.

Other people see him as hot, sexy and as a trophy that should be shown off. These are actually his words, not mine.

The first day, I managed to make him laugh 17 times. I counted. And I swear, for every time this guy laughed, a part of my act felt genuine happiness.

He told me I was probably the funniest person he knew. We’ve become quite good friends...but I see how other people see us. The looks on the girls faces say everything.

I’m too ugly to be a thread, but I’m occupying someone whose time, they would rather want.

He always asks to sit together at lunch, and sometimes I wonder if it’s because he’s been dared to. It just...its just hard to believe that anyone would want to actually sit with me, you know? Considering he has a whole line of literally the most beautiful girls.

But I see the way he talks to me. The difference between when he compliments me, and compliments other girls.

“You’re hilarious” “you literally always know how to put a smile on my face” “kindhearted. That’s the word”

“You’re beautiful” “you’re hair looks really pretty” “hot as always” “your body in that dress, art”

Do you see the difference? I know what you’re thinking, and a part of me feels the same. Be appreciative.

But honestly, I’m just sick of those compliments. I couldn’t give less of a frick ab my personality. I would give my life to be called beautiful just once. Just bloody once. To be considered hot and sexy, instead of funny and kind. To be pretty enough to someone.

But society has it’s own evil little way of making sure I’ll never be able to match the Eurocentric beauty standards.

Anyways...this post got unnecessary long, and I’m sorry about that. I just....I have no where else to go to. I feel incredibly alone, but to share this post, I hope another lonely soul can relate.

Take care, and stay safe x

#ana trigger #anamia #eating disoder things #thigh gab #bullimia #skinyspo #anatipsandtricks #tw ana #ana thoughts #anatips #ed #eating disoder thoughts #disordered eating tw

[fuwushiguro]

Hi sweet sis 🦋

19,21,25

Hi gorgeous 🤍 trying this again since the post failed last night 🤬

19 - A fact about your personality

I’m really really into the early 2000s as a vibe! Like the music, the fashion, everything about it is something that is unintentionally a huge part of my day to day life, I’d die to be a girl in an early 2000s r&b music video I swear 😩

21 - What I love most about myself

Sorry to sound so incredibly vain but probably my face or my fashion sense! I spent a long ass time getting hating myself for being the only brown girl in my year group at school and not having Eurocentric features I just thought I was HIDEOUS but the older I’ve gotten and been able to find my identity and style it’s really helped me realise I am so?? Mf?? Pretty?? I think my face is bomb, without makeup even but it’s a great canvas for makeup too, I feel like the baddest bitch in the room when my makeup, hair and outfit are all on point bc I really really think I’m a babe n that’s that on that !!! (Again sorry if I sound vain for this hehe)

25 - My idea of a perfect date

I genuinely don’t have one tbh?? I’m more than happy to sit in bed with takeout watching movies or a TV show! However that being said I would not be opposed to someone with schmoney honey offering to whisk my away for a romantic evening in Paris or something 😂😂

Thank u for the questions babe love u the world 💙💕✨🌙💋

#Luxe Mail 💰

[honeylikewords]

how about T'Challa for the kissing headcanons??

Sure! However, I do feel like it’s important to mention that I want my Black Panther and T’Challa content to be explicitly inclusive of black readers. A lot of fanfiction defers to whiteness as the “default” and “baseline”, but I think it’s important for Black Panther to be represented in fanfiction as what it is: a tribute to all the world’s wonderful, strong, under-represented black people who deserve their chance to shine as worthy heroes and victors.

It’s also important because of the general political sphere of Wakanda, and T’Challa’s role in a society untouched by colonialist, imperialist, and Eurocentric ideals. Wakanda values its diverse array of beautiful, capable, intelligent and amazing women, and I want my stories about Wakanda to reflect that.

I have a lot of worries about writing for T’Challa because I do really love and appreciate him, and I love Black Panther, but the movie and the character are highly politically charged, and altering any part of the story alters some aspect of the original, intended message. I want to tread very carefully and with utmost respect for the original content, especially because I’m white and I want to do right by the people who Black Panther is by and for. 

Thank you all for understanding! Now, onto the smoochin’!

T’Challa is a man with a public and private persona. Public T’Challa is T’Challa Udaku, Son of T’Chaka, King of Wakanda, the most powerful and developed nation on earth. He is the Black Panther, the symbol and keeper of peace and prosperity, and he acts like it. He is elegant, put-together, calm and rational. In that way, T’Challa is not ever, ever gonna get handsy with his s/o in public.

Nope. 

He has a responsibility to his nation and to himself to remain mature and adult, and mature adults don’t go around clinging to their partners and kissing them like schoolchildren in the hallways. He’ll only, very rarely, allow himself to peck her cheek or hand, or, if they’re walking somewhere together, put his hand on her lower back to guide her. That’s it.

No hand-holding, no mouth-kisses, no hugging. He keeps it all very professional and is very limited in his physicality, to the point of frustration for both parties.

But then there’s private T’Challa, the man, not the king.

And good lord, T’Challa is kinda clingy.

He’s a very affectionate and happy guy once out of the spotlight. He likes to joke and laugh, and he’s actually quite the romantic and a little easy to bowl over when it comes to how much he loves the woman he’s with. He loves her so much that it makes him feel weak and strong all at once, and so he tries to balance the scales with playfulness and by being more than a little hover-y.

He’s very private with his kisses and won’t kiss in front of his family (Shuri would take pictures and blackmail him so hard that he’d be under her thumb for the rest of his life), but when it’s just him and his love alone, he kisses his darling quite often and quite well.

He likes to lead with his nose, brushing it against her cheek, craning his neck and rubbing his face against her. It’s a little bit of a kitty-cat move: he wants to rub up against her and feel her skin against his, almost like he’s marking his territory and staking a claim in her. He likes to take his time, too, appreciating everything about the woman before him: the texture of her hair against his fingertips, her curls so beautifully dense; the way her lips look when she smiles; the shape of her nose, its prominence and softness all at once. He loves to admire her with his hands and his eyes before he even gets to the kissing, showing his appreciation for her in as many ways as he possibly can.

When he does get down to the actual kissing, he’s still painfully slow, almost teasingly so. He starts with little kisses against her cheeks and the corners of her mouth, murmuring her praises in a mixture of different languages; some words are in isiXhosa, some in English, but most in whatever language his love speaks most commonly. 

He’s familiar with a wide variety of dialects and many of the languages spoken around his continent, from isiZulu to siSwati to isiBhaca. He likes to show off his intellect just a little bit, but also wants to show her that he makes a concerted effort to hear her, no matter how she speaks. If she grew up speaking Spanish, he’ll use Spanish affectionates. If she grew up speaking African French, he’ll bring that in, too. He can understand her no matter the language, and loves her in every tongue that can be spoken.

Once he’s done dancing around, he’ll brush his lips against hers so lightly that she could swear it was just a breeze passing by. He’s just so hell-bent on prolonging this for as long as he possibly can...

And then, once she’s off her guard and frustrated, he kisses her. He kisses her hard, moving his full lips against hers like he’s trying to steal her breath right out of her lungs. And he kinda does. When he pulls back, she’s spinning, breathless, giddy and blown away because it’s so easy to forget that under all that self-control and tactfulness there is a beating heart full of passion and desire. It’s so easy to forget that T’Challa is a man with wants and needs and not just the stoic king he has tried so hard to become.

After that initial whirlwind kiss, the rest comes naturally. The barrier that grows between them during their public-imposed separations breaks down and they’re two people in love; a love that needs to manifest itself, just like anyone else. They’re not royals, not figureheads, not heroes or warriors: just two human beings who are completely entranced by one another and need to just kiss, for god’s sake.

It’s also easy to forget that beneath all that calm demeanor and self-possession is a man with superhuman strength: T’Challa kisses hard and his lover is aware of how strong he is, how built and powerful, but how equally gentle he is. All of his movements are intense but measured, and it feels completely blissful to kiss him: he is the epitome of graceful strength, the balance of raw intensity and refined respect.

Everything melts together into the most pleasant of hazes after that first kiss, the following kisses ranging from languid and prolonged to hot and hasty, all of them charged with the intensity of a king’s love and a future queen’s admiration. They balance with one another and their kisses are immensely fulfilling, but also frustrating, as each wishes they could be like this all the time, and not have to go back to being composed, restrained public figures.

So, in short: T’Challa doesn’t get to kiss his beloved as often as he’d like, but when he does, he goes in with all his heart, and wow, does it show.

(Read About Other Kisses Here!)

#messages #black panther #marvel #t'challa #t'challa udaku #kisses #gif warning #Anonymous

[speechqueens-blog]

What If I’m a Black Woman Poetry Program

Ifrah Sahal 03/20/2018

Teaser

Angry Black woman by Imani Cezanne

This is my angry black woman poem. It’s loud. It’s angry. It’s black. It’s woman. It’s loud and it’s angry and it’s black and it’s woman because y’all love to watch us be loud and angry and black and woman.

Intro

Till today the media portrays black woman as angry or uncivilized. Because of the color of differences in the color of our skin, texture of our skin, and facial features. We are viewed as less attractive than the other black girls. When a black girl has lighter skin, softer hair, and eurocentric features she is viewed as more beautiful than the other black girls The angry black woman a stereotype we black woman can never escape. This mentality needs to stop. Using the poems the average black girl by Ernestine Johnson, Angry black woman by Porsha O, What if I am a black woman by anonymous, and Angry black woman by Imani Cezanne you will learn how we black girls go through on a daily basis. The average black girl a poetry program.

Angry black woman by Imani cezanne

So, ask me why I’m mad. I’m mad cuz I’m paying attention. See, this country think they slick. Prefer I get sterilized than get birth control. Swear it was Janay Rice’s fault, ask if Rihanna hit him first, call Quvenzhane Wallis “Annie” instead as a reminder that beasts of the Southern wilds don’t get to name themselves Discuss the hair on Gabby Douglas’ head before the gold draped around her neck and how it looks nothing like a rope and chain because it represents America. I’m mad ‘cuz you still asking to touch my hair Mad the revolution will not be televised because you must have a perm to report it but the white girls wanna start calling’ their curls natural. Wearing’ braids and gelled’ baby hairs like that’s new. Demanding access to this experience when they will never know the crack of a nap conquering the comb, the raw of skin scrubbed red but not quite white., I’m mad because Vogue magazine traced the lineage of my features back to Kim Kardashian, because somewhere in America, Miley Cyrus is still twerking, while Iggy Azalea sips the ghetto through a straw like she’s on vacation. See everyone wants to be me but they won’t let me be me. They tell me to lower my voice, straighten my hair, no braids no buns no twists no afros no scarves. Less hood rat. Less Nicki Minaj more Aunt Jemima, told to keep this sweet smile full of syrup, this belly haughty and singing, this head bowed and these hands busy. I’m mad because racism, sexism, patriarchy, misogyny and colorism at the same damn time. Because they won’t even cast dark skinned women to play dark skinned women in movies about dark skinned women. Because every time my brother walks out that door, the words “Be safe,” kneel at my lips and I pray to a god I’ll only believe in if he brings my brother home alive.

Angry black woman by Porsha O

Let me just say that I am a very beautiful person.

I’m sweet, and intelligent, and funny, and awkward…And I just had to say that, Only because I’m a little tired of the stereotype about The angry Black woman. Whoop-de-doo, right? ‘Cause as you can see I am Black, And a woman, And I’m not angry at all. Hell, I’m pissed off! I’m mad as hell. I’m so mad,I’m gettin’ ready to break my foot off in everybody’s ass, But pretend this is class so I can tell you why I’m mad at the education system. Mad, ‘cause “education is the key,”Yet they keep the poor locked out. They get hand me down books And hand me down chairs. Hand me down teachers Who give them hand me down stares. I’m pissed off at gentrification. Pissed that the rich be robbing ‘hoods,And mad that Robin Hood was just a myth. I’m mad because Barbie is the standard of beauty. I hate that fruits and vegetables are so damn expensive, So how the poor gon’ eat healthy off some damn tater chips? I’m mad that the government and media are controlled by the same people, And those same people, Are the same people who control everything. I’m mad, I hate that I only got three minutes to say this poem And I got about ten minutes worth of angry. And believe it or not, I’m still pissed about slavery. That’s right, I’m still mad ‘Cause I still pick cotton off clothes racks And never rack up operations. Mad, because niggers call each other niggAs, I’m mad at Black men for reasons I don’t have time to list, I’m pissed off at hip hop, I’m pissed off at Black on Black crime, I’m pissed off that Ricky Rolls got all the crack And we can’t turn that ship back. I’m pissed the fuck off, I’m mad, Because above everything, At any given time and in any given space, I, as a Black woman, Can suffer from racism, homophobia, classism. I can be raped, beat, be burned alive and NO ONE, Not a single soul would look up to acknowledge my absence from this universe Because I am insignificant, Because I am a Black woman.

What If I am a black woman by Anonymous

What If I Am A Black Woman?

Is it a disease? Well, if it is, I sure hope it's catching

Because they need to pour it into a bottle,

label it, and sprinkle it All over the people

men and women who Ever loved or cried,

worked or died For any one of us.

So...What if I am a Black woman?

0Is it a crime? Arrest me!

Because I'm strong, but I'm gentle,

I'm smart, but I'm learning,

I'm loving, but I'm hateful.

And I like to work because

I like to eat and feed and

clothe and house Me, mine

and yours and everybody's,  

Like I've been doing for the

past 300 years.

What if I am a Black woman?

Is it insane? Commit me!!

Because I want Happiness, not tears;

Truths not lies; Pleasure not pain;

Sunshine not rain; A man not a child!

What if I am a Black woman? Is it a sin?

Pray for me! And pray for you too,

If you don't like women of color

because we are... Midnight Black,

Chestnut Brown, Honey Bronzed,

Chocolate Covered, Cocoa Dipped,

Big Lipped,, and BEAUTIFUL

all at the same time!

 What if I am a Black woman? I've got rights,

same as you! I have worked for them,

died for them, played and laid for them,

On every plantation from Alabama to Boston and Back!

What if I am a Black woman?

I love me, and I want you to love me too,

But I am as I've always been,

Near you, close to you, beside you,

strong giving, loving.

The Average Black girl by Ernestine Johnson

They say I’m not the average black girl because I’m so well spoken Poised, full of etiquette, a white man’s token You know I remember my ex’s mother telling me, “I didn’t know how I was gonna react when he brought home a black girl, but I like you because you talk so white.” But when did me talking right equate to me talking white? They say I’m not the average black girl No! No! Not the average black girl because the pigment of my skin is just a shade lighter than that black girl over there You know, the black girl over there The black girl with the nappy hair The black girls whose elbows can’t skip a day without lotion Whose hearts and heads are filled up with self-hate and bottled up emotion The cocoa brown girls who have to face society every day and be tough Because no matter how good they straighten their hair, their good is still not good enough Oh, but see. Luckily for me, see I don’t fall in that category, 'Cause you don’t wanna come off as one of those average black girls and come off as rude You know, popping their gum and shaking their neck Yeah, 'cause those black girls get like no respect But see luckily for me, see I get pass 'Cause the melanin in my skin matches that brown paper bag And when I speak, my tongue pronounces every syllable And the combed part down the middle of my hair is naturally visible Oh! Oh! It must be a weave or she must be mixed 'Cause we all know the average black girl ain’t got that good (shit) Or when I walk in a room full of white men, they all stare It must be the long lengths of my un-average black girl hair See! See, they say I’m not the average black girl because I corrected the professor when he used the word conversate. Converse! The word is converse And in case you didn’t get the memo, there are now eight not nine planets in the universe And when you’re watching the numbers on your stocks move up and down Remember Oklahoma, in a small town One of the first Wall Streets was a Black Wall Street that got mysteriously burned down Oh, they say I’m not the average black girl Well let’s flip this script and rewind this.Repaint the lines and have them blurred over time See, the average black girl that I know made 19 trips through the Underground Railroad to free the slaves Sat on segregated buses, refused to get up and paved new waves See, the average black girl that I know...were Egyptian queens ruling dynasties and whole of men Excuse me, why I set fire to this poem on my pen 'cause I am tired! Tired of the stereotypes black girls have fallen into because of American mentality I am sick and tired of being sick and tired But do you think the ones who say I’m not the average black girl even give a damn? No! So pardon me if I can’t openly accept your compliments Pardon me if I can’t openly accept your compliment It’s just the average black girl that I know… The average black girl that I know had courage that surpassed her every fear And fought for justice and equality year after year So as I construct these words, pardon me as I shed a tear Because I’m not half the black girl she was! I am not half the black girl she was! See, there’s a minor clause She was out there fighting, breaking and changing laws So I bow down to my black queen standing in the merit of her work And as America society continuously throws these supercilious words onto me I say, “No!” I am not the average black girl, I can only aspire to be.

[portfolioforwritingwork-blog]

How does one of the novels studied reflect on the differences between history and Story-Telling?

In this essay, the question asks how the difference between history and storytelling is presented in one of the texts studied on the course. In this particular essay the novel chosen is Ian McEwan’s Black Dogs.

 McEwan is a well-known author, renowned for his use of macabre imagery, and disturbing adult themes. In his novel Black Dogs, there is a complex number of themes included in the narrative, including social, political and ideological tensions. A common trope in his novels is that the narrator has something to do with literature, whether it is writing, researching or reviewing literature. In his novel Black Dogs, the protagonist attempts to write a book of his mother in law’s story, which takes place just before WW2.

The main threads of this story take place in Vichy, France. Historically, this was a particular town that was ruled by the Nazis until they were liberated in 1945. Until then it had been used as a proxy for the Nazi government.

The frame of the story the protagonist is narrating is set in the 80s, when both the war and the occupation have ended, and just the shadows of these things remain.

However, the way we receive this story is through the two digressional characters narrating their conflicting experiences to their shared son-in-law. This shows that history is not neccesarily one collection of events, but a mix of perceptions of those events. (e.g. June’s experience with the Black Dogs would not be the same as the men and women who they were trained to rip apart).

One piece of imagery McEwan uses to affect the reader is the Churchillian image of the Black Dog. Neither Jeremy nor Bernard ever experience the Black Dogs for themselves. This creates two issues – one of the unreliable narrator, and one of constant hearsay. Jeremy states the problem of an unreliable narrator outright when June starts telling him the story again; “I swear she adds another dog every time she tells that story”. This also shows the obsession humanity has with sensationalism, and is an issue throughout the novel with every story that the reader is shown.

 However, the stories we receive from other characters such as the mayor’s

somehow makes the encounter seem more real

 “She had been raped by the Gestapo, excuse me Madame” and she placed her hand on June’s

“That’s what we all thought” the Maire said.  “That’s not what we discovered later…Pierre and Henri Sauvy…They saw it happen…but they tied Danielle Bertrand over a chair…It wasn’t the Gestapo who raped her. They used…The simple truth is, these animals can be trained.”

 Even though we are shown several instances where they attack humans, we have no evidence that the ones who attacked June were the same who attacked Danielle, or that they existed at all. However, when Madam Auriac goes on to deny that this could have happened, it seems very desperate, and somehow her disgusted reaction gives the story more weight. This makes it seem as though she knows it is true, but simply doesn’t want to believe it.

The reason Madam Auriac gives for the two drunks making up the story is that Danielle was a wealthy woman whom they were jealous of. However, with the testimony of June’s experience it seems a desperate qualifier to the original theory.

 Like many holocaust deniers, she refuses to believe the awful story about her friend, simply because it was too horrific to accept. Many Nazi collaborators had a similar reaction when being shown the atrocities inflicted upon their friends and neighbors. Many deniers claim that they knew what was happening but simply didn’t know to what extent the suffering was perpetrated due to propaganda or even self inflicted ignorance.

 However, with all that is known about the Nazi atrocities, and the horrific stories that are still being constantly unearthed today, it is sufficed to say that the two characters that witness the bestial rape in the Nazi offices were probably telling the truth. In any case, they would have had to have particularly grim imaginations to lie about such a thing.

 In the novel there are differing ideologies playing on the same events:

June and Bernard experience; the rational and spiritual, the Augustinian and Iranaean. Both characters see history differently. Both experience the black dogs differently, and both end up with different world views in the end of their relationship. This can be seen through the way June mocks Bernard’s political alliances as a mouthpiece for the labour party.

 “Do you know what he wanted to talk about when he came last month? Euro-communism!...He said he felt optimistic!...Jeremy, he was actually excited! Just as we were back then. Progression is too kind. Stasis, I’d say. Stagnation.”

 Through her stories which she tells to Jeremy, June portrays a postmodern apathy, resulting in a worldview of cyclical history: the idea that history repeats upon itself with no real change in the way we live our lives, therefore resulting in the “stagnation”. This can be seen through the fact that Hitler and Ghandi’s fame and infamy took place in the same historical period. However, these ‘cycles’ are mainly anecdotal, reliant on aposteriori knowledge of the world, rather than something that can be measured or quantified.

 This then brings into question, what is history and what is storytelling? Traditionally, storytelling is thought to be linked to fiction, and history to fact. However, this would then cause the relaying of personal experience into the wrong category.

  “As I was saying all this, our train pulled in with a great clatter and an awful lot of smoke and steam, and just as it came to a stop June burst into tears and threw her arms around me and broke the news that she was pregnant and that the little insect in her little hands made her feel not only for the life that was growing inside her, but for all life, and that letting me kill that beautiful dragon fly was an awful mistake, and she was sure nature would take its revenge out on the baby

 Most of the stories in which June is mentioned are given an underlying theme of superstition which Bernard rebuffs with cold skepticism. However, whilst it is not factual that June held a dragonfly which would hurt her unborn child, it is part of her own narrative, something personal to her.

 The fact that Jeremy then goes on to defend her when she isn’t present shows how the younger generation of the post war period became heavily involved in it’s history. By asserting that “Jenny’s extra finger” was directly caused by “the moth’s retribution”, Jeremy is imposing a grand narrative onto both Bernard and June’s lives. The fact that we hear the story from Bernard however, misappropriates the ownership of that story. Although we know what June thinks she experienced, we are receiving her experience from her ex husband instead, thereby rationalizing her story beyond the grand narrative she insinuates.

 However, according to Adorno, there is indeed a grand narrative to our lives. All humans strive to organize nature and violence is our way of rationalizing nature. Therefore, all humans are innately violent, and the holocaust whilst horrific was not anything new. History seeks to remember what time annihilates – time seeks ends to everything. The change in production depends upon the individual remembering history, something which doesn’t exist without people remembering it.

This brings in the idea however, of a grand narrative; that humanity is heading towards something. In the novel Black Dogs, there is nothing left to get better or worse. As stated by Jeremy, when entering the concentration camp museum, “there was no one to feed or free”. This is ironically reminiscent of Fukiyama, who claimed in his own works that “History was finished” as it had reached an equilibrium, and that justice was now restored.

 However, These ideas are born of grand narratives. These ideas date back to the biblical ideas displayed in Agustinian an Iranaeian theodicies, both based on the different accounts of The Fall. Augustinian theodicy supposes that because of Adam and Eve leaving the Garden of Eden creating an an equidistance with God, the world has depreciated, and evil has increased. The Irenaean theodicy, however, argues that God neither created nor necessitated evil, and that evil helps fully form humans. The alternative according to him, would be for us to live in a “toy world”.

 Both are too Eurocentric however. As the decades have progressed since WW2 and the holocaust, there has been more global coverage of other countries suffering from mass genocide. Therefore these theories on world progression are outdated, and the evil in the world is not growing we are simply becoming more aware of it.

 Whereas Hegel states that the soul is a determinate object, meant for a higher purpose as this quote states:

 Spirit does not toss itself about in the external play of chance occurrences; on the contrary, it is that which determines history absolutely, and it stands firm against the chance occurrences which it dominates.

  This brings into play the idea of cold rationalized violence, a sobering legacy left by the Nazis. Whilst Jeremy experiences the cold mechanized processing which Nazi camp inmates experienced during Auchwitch, he still can’t imagine the true horror of what the camp experience was like. In this passage he even slightly admires it the efficiency with which death and burial was carried out.

 “On our way out, Jenny spoke for the first time in an hour to tell me that in one day in November 1943 German authorities had machine gunned thirty six thousand Jews from Lublin. They made them lie in gigantic graves and slaughtered them to the sound of amplified dance music”

 Because there is nothing in this quote condemning the efficiency and irony of the Nazi’s methods in the extermination process, it leaves the reader with a sinister air of praise. It helps show the detachment of the younger generations of post war Britain and how they don’t immediately relate to the history unfolding around them, almost showing a sense of being overwhelmed by such a volume of history.

 The removal of the narrator from the novel’s main period of digressional action helps illustrate this point. Jeremy is not a part of this story, yet he makes it his simply through visiting the camp. “There was no one to feed or free” Perhaps this is McEwan accepting that he himself as a post war writer, has no part in telling the stories of the WW2 generation.  

In conclusion, storytelling is a powerful tool from any perspective. Past or present, the way that the generation who endured and fought through the holocaust are represented should always be represented in a  powerful way, as should the later generations learning about them.

 2. Philosophical problems in the novel

 This question asks for the evaluation of the philosophical problems in a novel studied on the course. This part of the essay will concern with the novel Black Dogs, by Ian McEwan.

The novel itself is set in the 80s, with the advent of the Berlin Wall being destroyed. Here McEwan is using retrospective to look back on something out of his, and anyone else’s control.

 A question which seems to arise a few times is the morality of nature. When June is attacked by the Black Dogs trained by the Nazis, the reader would most likely blame the men who trained them. However, surely if this principle can be applied to the dogs themselves, then it can go further. However, many choose not to, as if one goes far enough, we end up blaming the Allies, those who supposedly ‘won the war’ for us in the first place.

 During the post war period, many tried to create conditions to help explain the psychological conditions of the Holocaust. One of these experiments was implemented by Jewish psychologist Milgram. The actual participant would be placed in a room with a number of electric shock controls. They would then meet an actor who would pretend to go into the next room for a memory test. The actor would then pretend to receive electric shocks going up to 250 volts, acting as though he had heart trouble and remaining silent after a certain number of pretend shocks. The aim of the experiment was to show that Germans were more compliant than Americans, due to defined cultural differences, thereby creating a test for fascism. However, when testing the environment on 41 white working class American males, he found that most reacted by complying. This actually shows that most people do comply with authority when under stress.

 As this mainly shows how people can be convinced into commiting crimes they’d be uncomfortable with, a better example of conditions allowing the id to perpetrate harm is Zimbardo. ZImbardo’s study consisted of a group of college students who were going to take turns being the guards and prisoners of a made up prison, with hostile conditions. However, the prisoners became so disturbed and agitated that the study only lasted 5 days before ending. The result showed that the guards often enjoyed inflicting pain or discomfort, even asking for extra shifts.

However, rather than show why the holocaust happened, these studies simply show us that normal individuals can react in these ways should the conditions fit their purpose. In a way it is easier to focus on the evil itself, rather than the cause.

 In conclusion, there is no overall grand narrative in the post modern era which can explain atrocities such as this. Since global news has taken over, the significance of a European war ending whilst millions die overseas creates a feeling of apathy amongst the civilian population.