" The first draft is just you telling yourself the story." -Terry Pratchett |
Pieces To My Research Puzzle Hello again this is blog #12 and I’ll be discussing my pro and struggles with my research paper. My research paper is supposed to reflect on the zeitgeist (a spirit of a time captured) of America. I chose a topic that was supposed to focus on the fentanyl crisis in the city of Baltimore, Md. and how it affects the African community. I was successful in finding many resources that were reliable such as The Baltimore Sun, (NIH) National Institute on Drug Abuse Maryland Opioids Summary, and a few more in which I will link in my further discussion. At first I came upon this documentary by the Washington Post called “Addicted and left behind: the opioid epidemic killing African Americans.” In this short documentary Washington, D. C. residents of the community Sam Rogers and Renee Howell fear their lives are in danger because their next high may be their last. The video goes as far as showing them experiencing the ultimate high off heroin. The problem is most addicts believe they’re buying heroin, but its heroin laced with fentanyl. Fentanyl is a deadly drug even though this drug was first created in America by legal pharmaceutical companies. It is being abused by many Americans. It was reported to the National Drug Threat Assessment that “fentanyl was responsible for more than 700 deaths in the U.S between late 2013 and early 2015. Although these number are disturbing the media shines the spotlight on the white suburban communities. Leading to many to say that it’s a crisis with fentanyl but that’s far from the truth the African American communities are dealing with the crisis as well. In the suburbs there are many resources and easier access to the pill forms of fentanyl. When I first started doing my research it was based on Baltimore but the more, I found other resources Baltimore was just the beginning of a bigger story. A story race did matter even amongst a drug crisis such as fentanyl. To find that there was bias even among drug abuse shocked me more than anything, so I decided to dig a little more where I found actual evidence. It was said in an article by Gaby Galvin staff writer of U.S. News & World Report “While affecting people across race and ethnicity, the opioids crisis gripping the nation has been concentrated largely among low income whites, and has bee labeled a problem primarily of public health, not of criminal justice.” The picture just became even bigger so not only was there a group of people being treated differently because of their skin color, but people were even being turned away and left to deal with pain because they were a different race. There were actual medical professionals that treated their patients due to the color of their skin and it was also mention that white poor people were more likely to get prescription more likely then their counterparts meaning black patients. I’m still working and trying to put all the pieces together for my research paper. My challenges are narrowing down the important information even though I feel its all very important. I must decide what is important and more likely to help me with my proving argument that African Americans were over looked when it came to the opioid crisis and how bias this country was when it came to two different races and deciding amongst themselves who were more important when it came to rescue from the fentanyl crisis. 11/9/2019 3 Comments Research Project: Fentanyl Crisis In Baltimore Will It Continue To Obliterate The Urban Community?Welcome again to yet another one of my blogs this is about me exploring my topic for my research paper pertaining to the Zeitgeist of America. Zeitgeist was originated to capture a spirit of a time period. Some may have captured good times and memorable moments. I decided to capture a time that many may have not been aware of. A time where people struggled with dealing with their reality of poverty, well-being, and pain. So, they turned to the only thing they believe could numb and alter their cruel reality an illicit drug called Fentanyl. The year 2016 America changed for the better or worse some may say. Our country went through a list of life changing events, an U.S. Presidential Election that involved alleged scandals with two of the famous candidates, The Orlando night club shooting, The Zika Virus, and the continues threat of Isis although the list may seem short there were other challenges we faced as a country here’s a link to a list of top 10 events in America 2016. Many made headlines, but there were more than a few that didn’t make headlines. While there was many to choose from this challenge caught my attention and it didn’t quite make enough headlines. The epidemic of Fentanyl Crisis in the city and cold streets of Baltimore. Although Fentanyl was created as early as 1959 it was introduced in 1960 through pharmaceutical companies as an intravenous anesthetic the irony of this same drug developed in America being pumped into addicts veins with needles on streets sends a chilling message to the community. “Fentanyl is 80-100 times stronger than morphine”. Most users aren’t even aware that they are using the drug because it is sold as heroin and by the time, they began to experience what they think is the ultimate high they have overdosed. This drug has torn the urban community of Baltimore that was once known for positive African heritages such as Frederick Douglas or activists Thurgood Marshall just a few to name. The point is if the Fentanyl epidemic continues to diminish the community what will be left? How will they explain thousands of overdose’s deaths? In a community which seem invisible to many. This research paper has been so challenging for me I don’t know if it was just the topic or the opening of my actual research paper. I felt really stuck at first until I sat down 1:1 with professor Sabatino and he helped me to focus more on narrowing my ideas down, which helped me to focus more on that one idea. This paper means a lot to me because this will be my first research paper in many years, but it will also represent me as a writer. The topic that I chose means a lot to me. I want to be able to make a difference not only in my communities but in all communities. I want to be the voice for the unheard, ignored, and discriminated by educating the people of their rights when it comes to know facts about side effects, and potential addictions with prescription and street drugs. My reflection so far has changed the way I see things that I had no idea was happening because it didn’t affect my family and I, but the more I talk to people about my research paper the more I realize this Fentanyl epidemic doesn’t have a preference when it comes to demographic it will destroy anyone who comes in contact with it. Welcome back to yet another one of my blogs. This is blog #10 for my English Composition I class. The purpose of this blog is to explain the meaning of Zeitgeist and capturing a specific moment in time which stood out to me. Zeitgeist means to capture a time of a spirit, and Mathew Arnold coined it in 1848. The idea was to capture the spirit of social Victorian. I have provided a link for Zeitgeist for a deeper incite.
America has so much history and with history comes many stories. Some stories are amazing while others are buried because they don’t fit the perfect textbook worthy profile. I would like to point out a spirit of a time that wasn’t so great for this country. The year 2016-2017 the Opioids Epidemic which existed in both the urban black and suburban communities. Although both communities suffered great losses, the urban black community epidemic was overlooked. Its so many topics or spirit of different times I could do my research on but this topic screams at me the most. Every community is important when it come to drug use and it shouldn’t matter where you live at all resource should be available equally to all no matter what class you reside in. I have found a number of resources where I was able to get facts, actual numbers, and even a small documentary on the lives of people affected by opioids in urban black communities, such as The Opioid Crisis in Black Communities: Who is Paying Attention?, THE OPIOID CRISIS AND ECONOMIC OPPORTUNITY: GEOGRAPHIC AND ECONOMIC TRENDS, Addicted and left behind: the opioids killing African Americans you can click on all of the links listed above. This topic may impact anyone who may not even be aware of this epidemic such as myself, my discourse community in the classroom, and anyone who may not be aware of the different challenges the urban black community faces everyday with poverty. The opioids urban epidemic increased in 2016 involving Black Americans. “Opioid-related deaths increased in black communities by 41% in 2016 alone.” The communities most impacted where, Chicago, Illinois and Washington D. C. Opioids exist because of prescription over use, abuse, failure to educate the patients and community of the danger of addiction to prescription drugs. This Zeitgeist impacts me with my surrounding neighborhood and to watch people walk along side the street and are extremely high on opioids and zoned out is a very sad sight to see, but what does it teaches the children who have to grow up in a household with parents who are users? The problem not only affects my community but my job as well when I have to deal with patients who are (drug seeking) for pain killers so they can get their next high vs the patients who are really in need to pain relieve because they suffer from a terminal illness or painful surgery. I feel sad to see people lives destroyed, families separated, and even losses of the community from drug overdose. The impact of knowing now feels like I’m responsible for trying to make a difference even if its just informing people of the epidemic of opioid in the black urban community. Its just figuring out a way to educate people more and warn our children since they are our future. I know some would say it’s not my problem, but I beg the difference its that feeling of carrying a burden once you are aware of a problem. How can I just ignore it just because its not affecting my household? My community is apart of me and the whole reason why I wanted to become a nurse was to make a difference in my community. This Zeitgeist has opened my awareness more and educated me more than I imagined. I’m not quite sure how I can help but a start is by researching more on this epidemic and finding other resources out in the community that are also fighting the war on opioids not just in urban black communities but as well as all communities. I had the pleasure of reading some amazing literature as a part of my English Composition I class. As much as this literature was informative to me it was haunting as well. I never realized that particular social classes could determine the level of literature one could be taught, or how one may have been informed as a student. Before reading these pieces, I had no idea that history could affect you even through your unconsciousness. Due to society’s ideal of belonging it has made some of us feel as though in order to feel important, well connected, and informed we need to be a part of something. We long as humans to be a part of a community or a bigger part of something. It makes me wonder if that means you are less valued if you don’t belong to a community, religious group, or social club. I have included the following texts for you to evaluate and read for yourself To You, I Belong (Becky Thompson), Our Discourse Community Values, What is Literacy? (James Paul Gee), and We Are Many (Pablo Neruda) . “A discourse community has a broadly agreed set of common public goals,” says John Swales. Swales also mention in his sixth characteristics that “A discourse community utilizes and hence possesses one or more genres in the communicative furtherance of its aims.” I believe the discourse of my classroom community has and will continue to help my classmate and myself shape our author identity even more. Before starting this class, I always loved working alone and I’ve never been big on group projects, but this community has taught me differently. This class challenges me in so many positive ways. I never imagined myself as an author or evening be a good writer. I’m challenged every day to read literature that I never in a million years thought I would’ve read, and even grew to be fond of. Our discourse community allows me to express myself and my emotions and tap back into my past, which Becky Thomas says, “Our lives are connected through history, experience, love, and hardship.” She also mentions that “Historical memory can be transmitted through tangible processes-writing, art, song, dance, the media, photography.” Which I feel is true and I was able to see that in my process of writing my memoir. My memoir is a specific story based on my past that involve many emotions. I was able to comfortably tap into in my past and emotions while embracing my writing process. Giving the fact that our discourse community allows us to talk freely, express ourselves, treat one another with respect, and give advice to our author selves without being cruel. It has created a connection between us as human beings. “In I Belong” Becky Thomas mentions a poet by the name of Joy Harjo who writes, “ Grief is the land of wet tenderness.” Becky Thomas then says, “This is one reason that community building needs to be a part of everyday class, not just at the beginning of the semester.” As I read “What Literacy” it was difficult at first and hard to understand. It wasn’t until our professor went more in details in the group amongst our classroom. As I decided to read the literature two more times myself, to get a better understanding, certain statements stood out more than others. I knew the focus was supposed to be on community of discourse, but what I interpreted from this literature was the segregation of culture, and people. The only thing I could take away from this was the fact how people learned was not by choice, but more so inherited without them even consciously being aware. I also found the hard truth when James Paul Gee says, “discourses are intimately related to the distribution of social power and hierarchical structure in society.” It almost seemed to me that if you were not in a certain social class, then your literature, education, and money reflected off of it and you didn’t have the same opportunities. 10/20/2019 1 Comment The Well-Being of My Digital Portfolio
10/14/2019 3 Comments Midterm Reflection A Writers Reflection In this blog I will include an unfiltered video of myself, where I’ll be discussing my reflection on how my English Composition I course had changed my aspects on writing, my author identity, and what have I taken away from this class. I’ll also discuss how applying this knowledge to my present academics has helped me with strengthening my writing ability as an author, as well as preparing me for future academics. I also had the pleasure of watching this video Reflective Writing.
This is blog I found it one of my harder blogs to compose. I believe because it felt as if I’m comparing my life story to the Wizard of Oz. Which happens to be one of my favorite childhood movies. Here are some links to three clips relating to the Wizard of Oz Wizard of Oz: If I Only Had The Brain, Heart, Nerve, Wizard of Oz: Meeting the Wizard, and Wizard of Oz: You've Always Had the Power . After watching some of the scenes it was clear to me how my narrative project reflected on the brain, heart, and nerve (emotions).
It allowed me to see my younger self and realize that I was stronger then what I thought I was back then. Even though I was able to get through those obstacles in the past, back then I wasn’t strong enough to write about my story. It appears that the me today able to write down what I experienced.
My feeling back then and now is still quite the same every time I tell my story to someone new, or even someone who’s aware of my past. I still get choked up and tears still run down my face as if it was just yesterday instead of 12 years ago. I don’t think the emotion will ever go away because it was personal, and a huge part of my life involved.
My story goes deep into a time in my life where I wasn’t sure of myself and my emotion were all over the place. I didn’t know if the huge decision I had made was the right choice or even the best choice for my life.
My narrative gave me the ability to write every event, or memory that I recalled to my best knowledge to give my audience to experience it as if they are in every scene beside me as it is happening.
Both, things you go through in life gives you an opinion as well as the stories we hear from others. When something happens to you it stays in the back of your mind. Even when time goes by that same memory will come back, and you’ll remember what you experienced at that moment. Now the stories we tell ourselves or believe may not necessarily ever happen to us in life, but because we have heard it previously from someone else life it may change or even effect how we make decisions in our own life. I had the pleasure of reading Hills Like White Elephants (Ernest Hemingway) . I read the story twice, first on my own then got the second chance of reading and discussing it with my class. I have linked the story in the beginning so you too can check it out. I felt that the girl in this story felt anger towards the man, but more so she felt alone on making a decision that could change not only her life but those around her as well. Reading this story, I can remember a time in my life where I felt alone and had to make an enormous decision, even though I had the support of others. It was springtime and I had a watermelon under my shirt that had amazing stripes on it. I could feel her kicking all the time. The small seed that resided inside of me was now a half-grown watermelon size baby. Forget about morning sickness I suffered from all day sickness. On top of being sick I also suffered from depression. I think the fact that I was given a choice to terminate my baby or go on everyday not knowing if she would make it through full term mad me even more sad by the day. I not only had to deal with feeling bad emotionally, and physical, but I was now told by my OB/ GYN that I was a high pregnancy risk because of my daughter diagnosis. I previously visited a specialist who explained to me that my unborn child wouldn’t live a normal nor long life. It was a lot to deal with especially since I was only 22 years old and had never been a mother before but was now going to be responsible for not only a baby but a severely ill infant. It was hard to even image my life as real I felt like I was living in one of those sad lifetime movies that never ended good. Was my life now a movie only difference was I didn’t know how things would turn out or end for that matter. Everyday I would wake up sick and just cry for hours I cried for me but mostly for my beautiful unborn girl. I didn’t know what to expect every day when I woke up, but no matter what I felt my mother made sure she came in my bedroom every morning to talk to my unborn daughter. “Good morning grand-daughter how’s mom mom’s baby doing in there,” my mom said. “Mom stop it mom it’s too early for you to be in my room,” I said. “Its never too early to talk to my grand-baby I don’t care what those doctors say, they don’t know only God has the last say,” my mom said. “I know mom I know,” I said with emotion. The truth was that I didn’t know what to believe I just knew I had a life in me that was growing more and more squeezing all my organ painfully together. My boyfriend was very supportive and there at every moment except at night, my mother was very religious and didn’t believe my boyfriend should stay the night with me since we weren’t married. The irony I’m 22 years old and pregnant already what more could happen I get double pregnant. It was a normal morning and my bladder was always full. I lived in the restroom between puking my guts up and peeing I spent most of my day near or on the bowl. I noticed that something was different today I didn’t feel my daughter kick much or even move, which seemed extremely weird to me since I normally had a little gymnastic inside of me. I told my mother of my concerns because my boyfriend was at work as usual. Now for most mom wouldn’t normally wig out but for me because it was told to me by the specialist with no compassion that my child could possibly die within my womb. I didn’t hesitate to tell my mother I needed to go to the emergency room. My mom drove me to Lankenau hospital where I sat maybe 20 minutes in the emergency room due to the circumstances of me being pregnant, I was in a room faster then normal. The tech came in to do an ultrasound on my watermelon formed belly, as she put the cold gel on my stop, I felt my chest getting tighter and tighter. What if she saw my baby girl lying the lifeless no heartbeat, no movement? I more I thought about the more I felt emotional, afraid, but more alone then anything. It didn’t matter how much my mom was by my side, or the fact that her dad was there at every appointment being supportive. At the end it was me alone, who held the cord to her life inside of me, me who would feel empty if my beautiful baby girl was lifeless, and me who would be seedless and empty of life. The ultrasound technician pressed the machine against my stomach and there she was balled up sleeping with the most perfect heartbeat that I’ve ever heard. I felt joy, love, and suddenly being alone I was no more my seed, my small watermelon size baby girl was still apart of my womb. I later found out that the reason why I didn’t feel her kicking was because I was severely dehydrated yes all I need was water for my little gymnastic to backstroke in. 9/10/2019 5 Comments Composing an Emotional Scene I had the pleasure of reading the story My Name is Margaret (Maya Angelou) I was able to relate to this story in so many ways. The anger that Margaret (Maya Angelou) felt towards Mrs. Cullinan, who insisted on calling Margaret the name Mary, even though she knew Margaret was her name. No matter how many times Mrs. Cullinan called her Mary, Margaret never accepted it as her name, and It only irritated Margaret more and more every time she said it. This emotion described reminded me of a time when I felt angry and sad at the same time, when someone tried to convince me to believe in something that I was totally against. I would love to share my story with others because you never know how you can change someone's life with your own personal story.
As I hold this cream-colored book in my hand tied with a silk ribbon which I’m contemplating if I should open it. This book isn’t just a normal book filled with photos or some beautiful memories, it’s a part of a story in my life. I finally got the heart to untie the ribbon and when I opened the book up it was a clay imprint of my daughter Mizani’s handprint. I’m sure to most they would say well what’s so special about a handprint well I’ll tell you why. Mizani lived a very short but happy life while she was here on this earth, and sadly God had only allowed me to burrow her for only 9month. So, you see this handprint amongst some other things symbolizes Mizani's life while she was here with me. The handprint has always made me have many mixed emotions both happy and sad, happy because God chose me to be her mother, and sad because I’m no longer able to hold her warm hands. It was sometime in the spring I remember because it was beautiful outside but not too hot but not cold enough to wear a jacket. It was the year 2007 and I had just found out I was carrying a beautiful baby girl inside of me. I’ll never forget it was a Saturday morning and my mother took me to get my first ultrasound, which I was highly excited about since I had just started to feel my baby's firsts kick. The ultrasound technician was extremely nice and showed me about five different pictures of my baby she was glad to announce that it was a girl. I always wanted a girl someone to; kiss all over, dress up in pink, and yellow dresses. I remember calling my boyfriend because he was at work to tell him our first born was going to be a girl. The excitement in his voice made me even happier that we were having this beautiful girl together. Monday morning came and my phone began to ring surprisingly it was from a number I didn’t recognize. It was a doctor who name I can’t quite remember, but the doctor did tell me that I had recently had an ultrasound and that they found something on the ultrasound and needed to discuss it with me in person. Nervously I said, “What’s wrong I have the ultrasound pictures right here, and the baby looked perfect.” The doctor continued to talk over me by saying “Ms. Montgomery we just need to come in as soon as possible. So many thoughts rambled through my head and I sat there confused on my bed. I called my boyfriend to let him know that we needed a follow up appointment with a specialist, he then questioned me about what the doctor spoke to be about on the phone which I couldn’t even mention because he didn't give me much information. I asked my mother if she could come along with us to the appointment for moral support and she answered quickly “absolutely daughter.” We arrived at the hospital and headed to the unit and office of the specialist, who happened to be a middle age man. Sitting down at his wooden desk he stood up to greet my mother, boyfriend, and I. He introduced his self and told us to make ourselves comfortable, which seemed amazedly hard since he had called me with news that he couldn’t discuss over the phone and it led me to believe it wasn’t good news at all. My boyfriend sat next to me holding my hand to comfort me for whatever news the doctor had planned on telling us. The Doctor went on to explain how the ultrasound had revealed a deformity he explained that our beautiful girl had a disease by the name of Anencephaly and that it meant she didn’t have a scull or fully-grown brain. After that the words he mentioned kind of was a blur to me I was stuck and trying to process the devastating news. My mother spoke for us “what do you mean without a scull doctor?” Something about his voice that I couldn't stomach I don’t know if it was the unsympathetic way he explained everything with no compassion. Tears ran down my face and every time I began to speak a huge lump would arise in the back of my throat. The doctor kept talking and the more he explained the more I cried and he said “Ms. Montgomery do you understand what I’m saying? I'm saying that the baby will be in pain, not thrive to eat, and most babies don’t even make it through a full term pregnancy.” More tears fell down my face and then he said something that made my stomach turn “Ms. Montgomery it’s not too late for you to terminate the pregnancy.” The tears came to a pause and something came over me and I was able to speak “ Doctor I don’t know if you know but there’s a life growing inside of me and she’s alive and kicking, I don’t care what you think or what you believe but I’m keeping my baby girl. He had the nerve to repeat it two more times and I had enough I was ready to go about 20 minutes into him talking. The anger I had for this doctor was a feeling I’ll never forget. There nothing worst then someone trying to convince to believe something that you know isn’t right, and no matter how many times they say it or how they try to sugar coat it, it will never sit well with you. I'm so glad that I decided to go with my heart and give Mizani the fighting chance she deserved. Even though she only lived for 10 months it was the happiest moments in my life everyday we made memories to last a lifetime. Now imagine if I went along with the doctor I would've never gotten the chance to experience truth love. It's amazing how someone else story can bring back emotions and memories of something that happen to in your past. The story “My Name Is Margaret may not have been my exact story, but I felt that same emotion of anger towards the doctor. Especially when he insisted I terminate my pregnancy as Margaret did towards Mrs. Cullinan when she insisted on calling her the wrong name even though she knew it was wrong. I hope after reading my story and “My Name Is Margaret that you too take something from it or that it also sparks some kind of emotion inside of you, and I hope you if you are ever in a situation where someone is saying something that is wrong or offensive to you that you stand up for yourself or others. |
Shayla MontgomeryHi I'm Shayla I'm a wife, mother, and student. I currently work full-time while going to school part-time to obtain an degree i nursing. Archives
December 2019
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