Fluent Essays

this week assignment Module 04 Content 1. Top of Form For this assignment, you will write a 2-page compare and contrast paper on two of the authors from this week's reading or video. Be sure to give equal weight to each author. You may include some background information on your authors, especially if their backgrounds impacted their subject matter. When writing about short stories, you do not want to simply restate the plot or events in the story, but instead, focus on the details of how each author handled the theme of the story. In this case, you might want to examine how the author explored gender roles in the time period of the story. Remember, this may not be in the same period as the author is writing but could be a different period in history. Ideas to consider when comparing and contrasting (these are not required, just suggested): · Do both stories reflect the same theme? If not, what is the theme of each story? · What are the characters' conflicts? How does each character resolve that conflict or do they? · Are there any epiphanies? (An epiphany is where the character changes as a result of the conflict) · What about symbolism? Are any major symbols or metaphorical images used? Use quotes and lines from the work to illustrate your points with in-text citations as needed. Use a References page to list your resources, including the assigned readings. You may use the Autumn Gem video as an outside resource if you choose to select Qiu Jin for one of the authors for your compare and contrast paper this week as well. Use the Study Guide tab on the video for more questions to guide your writing this week, if needed. Rasmussen's Library and Learning Services team has developed a LIT3382 Modern World Literature Course Guide with links to resources to help support your academic endeavors. For this assignment, please view the Writing About Literature Guide and Compare and Contrast Essay video. Also, the APA Guide may be helpful. You can access the course guide in your Module 01 course tab. Submit your completed assignment by following the directions linked below. Please check the Course Calendar for specific due dates. Bottom of Form "Happy Endings" Margaret Atwood John and Mary meet. What happens next? If you want a happy ending, try A. A. John and Mary fall in love and get married. They both have worthwhile and remunerative jobs which they find stimulating and challenging. They buy a charming house. Real estate values go up. Eventually, when they can afford live-in help, they have two children, to whom they are devoted. The children turn out well. John and Mary have a stimulating and challenging sex life and worthwhile friends. They go on fun vacations together. They retire. They both have hobbies which they find stimulating and challenging. Eventually they die. This is the end of the story. B. Mary falls in love with John but John doesn't fall in love with Mary. He merely uses her body for selfish pleasure and ego gratification of a tepid kind. He comes to her apartment twice a week and she cooks him dinner, you'll notice that he doesn't even consider her worth the price of a dinner out, and after he's eaten dinner he fucks her and after that he falls asleep, while she does the dishes so he won't think she's untidy, having all those dirty dishes lying around, and puts on fresh lipstick so she'll look good when he wakes up, but when he wakes up he doesn't even notice, he puts on his socks and his shorts and his pants and his shirt and his tie and his shoes, the reverse order from the one in which he took them off. He doesn't take off Mary's clothes, she takes them off herself, she acts as if she's dying for it every time, not because she likes sex exactly, she doesn't, but she wants John to think she does because if they do it often enough surely he'll get used to her, he'll come to depend on her and they will get married, but John goes out the door with hardly so much as a good-night and three days later he turns up at six o'clock and they do the whole thing over again. Mary gets run-down. Crying is bad for your face, everyone knows that and so does Mary but she can't stop. People at work notice. Her friends tell her John is a rat, a pig, a dog, he isn't good enough for her, but she can't believe it. Inside John, she thinks, is another John, who is much nicer. This other John will emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon, a Jack from a box, a pit from a prune, if the first John is only squeezed enough. One evening John complains about the food. He has never complained about her food before. Mary is hurt. Her friends tell her they've seen him in a restaurant with another woman, whose name is Madge. It's not even Madge that finally gets to Mary: it's the restaurant. John has never taken Mary to a restaurant. Mary collects all the sleeping pills and aspirins she can find, and takes them and a half a bottle of sherry. You can see what kind of a woman she is by the fact that it's not even whiskey. She leaves a note for John. She hopes he'll discover her and get her to the hospital in time and repent and then they can get married, but this fails to happen and she dies. John marries Madge and everything continues as in A. C. John, who is an older man, falls in love with Mary, and Mary, who is only twenty-two, feels sorry for him because he's worried about his hair falling out. She sleeps with him even though she's not in love with him. She met him at work. She's in love with someone called James, who is twenty-two also and not yet ready to settle down. John on the contrary settled down long ago: this is what is bothering him. John has a steady, respectable job and is getting ahead in his field, but Mary isn't impressed by him, she's impressed by James, who has a motorcycle and a fabulous record collection. But James is often away on his motorcycle, being free. Freedom isn't the same for girls, so in the meantime Mary spends Thursday evenings with John. Thursdays are the only days John can get away. John is married to a woman called Madge and they have two children, a charming house which they bought just before the real estate values went up, and hobbies which they find stimulating and challenging, when they have the time. John tells Mary how important she is to him, but of course he can't leave his wife because a commitment is a commitment. He goes on about this more than is necessary and Mary finds it boring, but older men can keep it up longer so on the whole she has a fairly good time. One day James breezes in on his motorcycle with some top-grade California hybrid and James and Mary get higher than you'd believe possible and they climb into bed. Everything becomes very underwater, but along comes John, who has a key to Mary's apartment. He finds them stoned and entwined. He's hardly in any position to be jealous, considering Madge, but nevertheless he's overcome with despair. Finally he's middle-aged, in two years he'll be as bald as an egg and he can't stand it. He purchases a handgun, saying he needs it for target practice-- this is the thin part of the plot, but it can be dealt with later--and shoots the two of them and himself. Madge, after a suitable period of mourning, marries an understanding man called Fred and everything continues as in A, but under different names. D. Fred and Madge have no problems. They get along exceptionally well and are good at working out any little difficulties that may arise. But their charming house is by the seashore and one day a giant tidal wave approaches. Real estate values go down. The rest of the story is about what caused the tidal wave and how they escape from it. They do, though thousands drown, but Fred and Madge are virtuous and grateful, and continue as in A. E. Yes, but Fred has a bad heart. The rest of the story is about how kind and understanding they both are until Fred dies. Then Madge devotes herself to charity work until the end of A. If you like, it can be "Madge," "cancer," "guilty and confused," and "bird watching." F. If you think this is all too bourgeois, make John a revolutionary and Mary a counterespionage agent and see how far that gets you. Remember, this is Canada. You'll still end up with A, though in between you may get a lustful brawling saga of passionate involvement, a chronicle of our times, sort of. You'll have to face it, the endings are the same however you slice it. Don't be deluded by any other endings, they're all fake, either deliberately fake, with malicious intent to deceive, or just motivated by excessive optimism if not by downright sentimentality. The only authentic ending is the one provided here: John and Mary die. John and Mary die. John and Mary die. So much for endings. Beginnings are always more fun. True connoisseurs, however, are known to favor the stretch in between, since it's the hardest to do anything with. That's about all that can be said for plots, which anyway are just one thing after another, a what and a what and a what. Now try How and Why. My roots lie in the village of Sibizane, three hours drive from Durban, South Africa. My grandmother and my mother struggled to raise us with the ability to face a world that they knew was tough. For them, life was to get married if you were a young woman, and to work in the mines or cities or stay home and look after a healthy herd of cattle if you were a young man. Work, livestock, and marriage were the sources of pride or failure among the residents of Sibizane. This was the society I stepped into in my teenage years. One afternoon when I was sixteen, I went to the Umzimkhulu River to fetch water as usual. I met two young women of my age group. Zenzile asked me, “Sibongile, who is your boyfriend?” “I don’t have one,” I answered. They both shouted at me “You are lying!” “It’s true!” I protested. Khethiwe then accused me, “I suspect when my boyfriend comes to you asking you to call me for him, you first give him a bite [have thigh sex with him]. If you don’t stop this habit of yours, we will fight you.” 43 Wo m a n We e p N o M o r e S i b o n g i l e M t u n g w a C o p y r i g h t 2 0 1 0 . U n i v e r s i t y o f W i s c o n s i n P r e s s . A l l r i g h t s r e s e r v e d . M a y n o t b e r e p r o d u c e d i n a n y f o r m w i t h o u t p e r m i s s i o n f r o m t h e p u b l i s h e r , e x c e p t f a i r u s e s p e r m i t t e d u n d e r U . S . o r a p p l i c a b l e c o p y r i g h t l a w . EBSCO Publishing : eBook Collection (EBSCOhost) - printed on 8/31/2021 10:09 PM via RASMUSSEN UNIVERSITY AN: 307568 ; Jennifer Browdy de Hernandez, Pauline Dongala, Omotayo Jolaosho, Anne Serafin.; African Women Writing Resistance : An Anthology of Contemporary Voices Account: s9076023.main.ehost I was shocked. I did not want a boyfriend because I knew my uncle would beat me to death. Also, I wanted to be a nun. When we were collecting firewood and the weather was hot, we normally walked bare-breasted. On one of these days, two young women, Ntombi and Nomusa, confronted me. “Why are your breasts so straight?” Nomusa asked. “That is just the way they are,” I answered. “You mean to tell us that you have not slept with a man since your first period?” Ntombi asked. (Sleeping with a man meant thigh sex. Sexual inter- course is not sanctioned for young women before marriage.) “Of course I have not slept with a man,” I answered. I did not know what the breasts had to do with sleeping with a man. They squeezed my breasts and both confirmed that they were hard, so it meant no man had slept on them. They looked at me with eyes of disapproval. That painful experience left me feeling confused and ashamed of myself. It taught me that to be a woman of my age and accepted in my community, I needed to have a boyfriend; otherwise I was in trouble with my peers, and perhaps with my parents too. I was afraid of being rejected. So I started to think whom I would choose of all the young men who were proposing love to me. I was afraid of any young man who was much bigger than me in case I would not be able to defend myself if he wanted to have sex with me. I decided to get involved with Vusi, who was five years older than me. Now was the time to practice all the things the iqhikiza (the older girl who is the advisor to girls in the village) had taught me about relationships. It was the time to learn to love and why to love. Control was awakened in me at this stage. The iqhikiza had taught me the rules of being with a man. “When you sleep with him, you always sleep on your left arm. That is to make sure that you will be able to defend yourself easily if necessary, using your right arm, which is powerful. Put his penis between your knees and the middle part of your thighs, not more than that because you can get pregnant. Wipe yourself downwards to avoid pregnancy.” The first day I had thigh sex with him, I forgot all those rules. I slept on the wrong side. That was bad because he could have interpreted that as a sign that I had previously had intercourse and it was difficult to change the habit. But luckily Vusi told me I was on the wrong side. I felt very embarrassed. But there were many other things about boy-girl relationships that I learned from him. I was eighteen years old. The nine years I spent in that relationship were full of moments of learning, awakening, questioning, and action. The learning stage 44 P a r t Tw o . S p e a k i n g O u t EBSCOhost - printed on 8/31/2021 10:09 PM via RASMUSSEN UNIVERSITY. All use subject to https://www.ebsco.com/terms-of-use was when I learned to deal with peer pressure and community expectations. At that time I did what my community expected me to do. Vusi had other girlfriends. That was allowed in the community. It was accept- able for the girls who were sharing the same man to be friends since it mini- mized conflicts. It was the man’s pride to have many girls and maintain them as virgins. But for a woman to be found with more than one boyfriend was taboo. She was insulted and called isifebe (loose woman). If the two young men dis- covered that they were sharing the same girl, they would take her to the Um- zimkhulu River in the middle of the night to wash her private parts as a way of removing ubufebe (promiscuity). They would insult her for hours while she was washing, saying, “Tonight you are going to take your ubufebe out. You are a dog. You are a pig and a bitch. Your vagina is insatiable.” If the girl could not use up the bar of soap in the freezing water (it was sometimes minus four or five degrees Celsius), they would beat her. I learned to like some of Vusi’s other girlfriends because they were good, but I hated others because their values did not match mine. I accepted the other girl- friends for some time. but then began to question why I was tolerating the situ- ation. It was 1996 and I had started to work for the Women’s Leadership and Training Programme as a center worker in Centocow. I was beginning to realize that there was more to my life than being a housewife whose purpose was to serve her in-laws. Those were significant times, when I followed my feelings and wisdom. I realized that I had been pleasing my boyfriend so that he could have a high status in the community. In 1997 I ended the relationship. I told my grandmother and my brothers and sisters. It was a great moment to be on my own. I was free from pleasing him or from having to live up to the expectations of other people and my peers. My eyes had been opened to other possibilities and new ways of enjoying myself. Unfortunately that freedom did not last even a month. One afternoon we were on our way back home from a traditional ceremony. I met a young woman friend who asked to accompany me on my way home. My home is next to many dongas (dry gulleys) and I was using a path to avoid meeting Vusi. Suddenly Vusi appeared between two dongas with a friend. They told me that one of my friends had told them that I was accusing them of a number of things. I was very angry. They told me to go with them back to the road so that we could meet the friend and solve the problem. I agreed, but when I asked where he was, a car drove up and they forced me into the car. I cried a lot. I cried about many Wo m a n We e p N o M o r e 45 EBSCOhost - printed on 8/31/2021 10:09 PM via RASMUSSEN UNIVERSITY. All use subject to https://www.ebsco.com/terms-of-use things—the people I was going to meet that evening and my feeling of power- lessness. I did not want to leave my home. I cried because I was going to miss my freedom and space. I thought it was the end. I arrived at his home and some herbs were put onto hot coals, and I was forced to inhale the smoke. Vusi told me he was not going to make me lose my vir- ginity because he had abducted me to pay lobola (dowry) to my family. And I should stop thinking that I was free to get involved with other young men. The following day I was told to write the letter that the negotiators were going to take to my home. My first letter was written like this: “My grandmother and uncle, I am here at Vusi’s home and I want to come back home. It was not my will to be here. Your daughter, Sibongile.” They told me that they could not take that letter home because they were going to be beaten up. They tore up that letter. I was confused about what to write next, but the second letter was written like this: “My grandmother and my uncle, I am here at Vusi’s home and I want these people to come and negotiate lobola with you.” That was not true in some ways, but when I talked to Vusi, he told me that he was willing to stop being involved with other girls. He promised to be faithful and to respect me, and I thought that he was serious. They went to my grand- mother and uncle and returned with the news that they had been accepted at home. I was very sad to hear that. I had hoped my relatives would request that I come back and tell them in front of the negotiators if it was really my will to get married to Vusi. They knew that young women were often forced to write those letters. I felt very powerless. I was left with no option but to accept Vusi’s apolo- gies and my parents’ decision to accept the money from the negotiators. On my second day in Vusi’s home, my grandmother came. I heard her talking outside. “Where is Sibongile? I want my child. Even if you are paying lobola, I want her home today.” She kicked open the door where I was and said, “Si- bongile, stand up. Let’s go home.” I was very happy. My power came flowing back and I stood up and followed her. Other women from Vusi’s family told her that they were going to accom- pany me home. That evening I slept at home. It was a relief. At least I was still going to attend workshops and continue with my work, and I was hoping to learn to love Vusi again. I had the space to think and adjust. But Vusi did not keep his promises. Things went from bad to worse. He con- tinued to have girlfriends all over, including some of the group members I 46 P a r t Tw o . S p e a k i n g O u t EBSCOhost - printed on 8/31/2021 10:09 PM via RASMUSSEN UNIVERSITY. All use subject to https://www.ebsco.com/terms-of-use was working with. I felt that he was not respecting me. By the end of 1998 I knew that I was not going to stay with him. But I was afraid of what people were going to say if I broke off the relationship. I tried to talk to my mother about it. “Ma, what will happen say if I decide not to marry Vusi?” “That will be very bad. People will think you are crazy. After all who is going to pay back the lobola?” One of my relatives told me, “To get married is a sign of good luck these days. People will think you are mad if you do not get married.” I knew that I was on my own and that my family could not understand my feelings of dislike for Vusi. In October 1999 I attended a Grail formation work- shop where I realized that I had to face up to the situation and act. (The Grail is an international women’s organization founded in 1921 that I still belong to today). In December I went to a week-long training class of health workers in Pieter- maritzburg. When it was time to go home, I told my colleagues that I was going to visit some people and was not going back home with them. I went to stay with a friend in Durban, and then in January 2000 I went to Kleinmond, where I lived with a Grail member for six months. That was a very difficult time for my grandmother, my mother, my brothers and sisters, and some friends. Vusi harassed them so they would tell him where I was. Of course it was fortunate that they all had no idea where I was. I did not tell anyone. I was on my own in that decision and I could not trust any person in Sibizane. My grandmother got very sick for the first time, and I was worried that she was going to die. A close friend, Gugu, was insulted and accused of knowing where I was. Later that year, in September 2000, I decided to come back to my home dis- trict. I began working for the Women’s Leadership and Training Programme at Reichenau. I was not able to visit my home because I was scared of being ab- ducted again. In July 2001 my uncle, Vusi, and two of his cousins came to my work place to take me home. I agreed to meet them with Sister Virginia Didi, Marilyn Aitken, and Mbali Khathi protecting me. Vusi and his two cousins said, “Sister-in-law, we are here to take you home. Whatever the problem is, it needs to be resolved.” I replied, “I am sorry, but I am not going home with you. I am at work and I have already told Vusi that I am no longer interested in him and will not marry him. I am sorry that he has brought you here. He knows that I do not love him anymore. I am telling you the truth even if he has not told you.” I told them I was not Vusi’s wife or girlfriend and that they should go to my home and fetch the gifts and cash they had given my family during the lobola negotiations. My grandmother had given me the strength to be very firm when Wo m a n We e p N o M o r e 47 EBSCOhost - printed on 8/31/2021 10:09 PM via RASMUSSEN UNIVERSITY. All use subject to https://www.ebsco.com/terms-of-use she told me, “There is no way we can force you to marry him if you don’t like him anymore.” She was with my elder sister and my mother when she told me this. She was very brave to advise against the cultural norm by setting me free from the bondage of marriages that are the result of abduction and unfair cultural practices. In August 2001 I went to a story-telling event at Centocow with other people from Reichenau. I saw Vusi and he asked me to talk to him about how they were going to get their lobola back. I saw a car parked next to the office where we were and two men walking toward us. I realized that they were going to try to abduct me again and I tried to run away. But they caught me and forced me into the car. I cried and fought off the three men. When some people tried to intervene, Vusi shouted, “I am going to stab anyone who tries to help her.” Forty women of all ages stopped and watched the “show.” I bit Vusi’s hand until he let me go. One of the men said “Let’s leave her, before they call the police.” They were indecisive, and I managed to escape. I was so angry that I tore my clothes while I continued to scream hysteri- cally. When I reached the office nearby, I fell down and cried so loudly that I could not hear anything. The police came and told me there was no case because he had not hurt me. I felt powerless again. What kind of system is this that does not protect women? What kind of system is this that waits until women are hurt before taking action? Soon after that, I sought a protection order against Vusi to enable me to visit my home. A woman official of the Women and Child Protection Unit in the Pietermaritzburg magistrate’s court told me “There is nothing we can do because he has paid lobola. He is looking for his wife. You just need to hide from him or go to the tribal authority.” I was shocked to hear her say that because South Africa has very good laws to protect women and children. I was very angry and pursued the matter in other ways. I went to the Hime- ville magistrate, who listened to me and believed me. He called Vusi and told him that if he touched me, or people close to me, he would be immediately ar- rested. He made him sign all the papers. That was the end of the saga in one way. At least I knew someone was listening to me and that justice had been done. It was sad that we were not able to talk and resolve our conflict without including the magistrate, a foreign system for both of us. There could have been other ways to resolve the conflict, but Vusi had been unwilling to admit that he was wrong. Some members of his family accused me of being a rude, cruel woman. They stopped talking to me and spread many stories about me in the 48 P a r t Tw o . S p e a k i n g O u t EBSCOhost - printed on 8/31/2021 10:09 PM via RASMUSSEN UNIVERSITY. All use subject to https://www.ebsco.com/terms-of-use community. Other people blamed the workshops I was attending for making me “uncontrollable.” I became a free woman again. I learned to live like a normal human being, not having to hide and run constantly. I continued with my work on gender, environment, and leadership training. I travelled to countries in Africa and Eu- rope, as well as to the United States. In the meeting I attended at Rutgers Uni- versity in 2002, I learned that women from Pakistan, India, Costa, Rica, Brazil, Nicaragua, and the United States were all encountering problems of male dom- ination, as well as cultural or religious oppression. I knew I was not on my own. I was in the midst of women fighting for their human rights and their dignity as citizens. I have learned a lot from these experiences, and I am now able to share the light with other women who are searching for their own ways in dif- ferent cultures and circles. Wo m a n We e p N o M o r e 49 EBSCOhost - printed on 8/31/2021 10:09 PM via RASMUSSEN UNIVERSITY. All use subject to https://www.ebsco.com/terms-of-use