# 15 An Issue of Immigrants



Firstly, I really enjoyed reading this essay and gaining some insight from a native Indian perspective. Especially as Texans, it is very important to read articles like this since it addresses issues that are right in our own backyard literally. There were some points I found myself agreeing with Silko on and others that I did not necessarily disagree with but feel that they should definitely be changed. I completely agreed with here on the unnecessary roughness and racial prejudice that the Border Patrol Men enforce. I personally have never been farther south than San Antonio but I could still greatly identify with what Silko experienced at the hands of the officers. My family and I were on our way to my uncle’s house in a very affluent neighborhood in Dallas when we were pulled over by the police. We were driving our somewhat brand new SUV and the passengers consisted of me, my parents, and my older sister. We were goofily dressed for the holiday occasion in matching sweaters, so when the officer asked my father to get out of the car and began shining his bright flashlight into the faces of my preteen sister and mother, I felt so confused. We weren’t aware of having committed any kind of driving violation and we certainly didn’t seem suspicious in any way (except maybe for our tacky Christmas attire), nonetheless, the officer searched my father and kept us pulled over on the side of the road for nearly an hour. When the officer finally ventured back to the car for the final time, he said that he had pulled us over because one of the lights that shined on our rear license plate had gone out. When I read this article, I felt just as Silko did, like we were in violation of some law for being somewhere we didn’t belong, according to law. At the same time, being a born and bread Texan and a very patriotic American citizen, I have been practically programmed to fear and have hatred of the “illegal aliens” who are “intruding” on my freedoms. At times, I feel like it is so wrong for those sneaky people to be creeping over the border in the middle of the night carrying their disastrously addictive drugs and criminal ways into my beautiful country. But then I imagine the little Indian girl clinging to her mothers hand as she and her poor family runaway from disparity and governmental injustices to the safe haven of our borders. When Silko describes the image of the passengers allover the train heading north I slightly disagree with her describing it as an image of beauty. What I feel would be beautiful is if the foreigners with intentions for good( not the drug smugglers) would come to America and become a legal citizen so that they may pay taxes and not only function but also contribute to the betterment of the American society.



# 14 The Weight of War

If I were a soldier in Lieutenant Jimmy Cross’s unit I would carry several items. The first and most important item would be my bible. I would carry the bible as a source of strength and encouragement in the face of my self-doubts and fears amid the depressing atmosphere of war. When I would lose a fellow soldier, I’d turn the page to a scripture and bid them farewell with the sweet words of God’s glory. Once the ever present feeling of despair would finally overtake my weak and feeble mind, I would look to my bible for ways in which to refill my thoughts with encouragement and uplifting phrases. The second item I’d carry would be a small scented candle. I’d pick one that smelled like fresh baked cookies or apple pie. I’d carry the candle to remind me of home and the many loved ones that I’d be fighting for back there. The pie or cookie scent would remind me of the Holiday seasons when, for either Thanksgiving or Christmas, all my family would get together to celebrate. I’d want to think back to a time like this, when everyone was together, so that I could remember the people I loved at their best moments, when everyone at least tried to set aside their differences and put on a happy face. The candle smells would excite memories of Grandma’s flour covered apron, long dining room tables, homes filled with bustling conversation and laughter, and hours spent hanging lavish holiday decorations. My final and most certainly heaviest item would the animosity I would carry for defending a country that up until recently counted me as less than a human being. Every time I would crawl out of my foxhole, I’d do so with oozing bitterness at the fact that I, an African American, would be seen as expendable to my fellow soldiers, superiors, and nation. My resentment would be especially heavy when I would be given the lesser quality rifles and weapons because I was black and when I’d be deemed the person to explore the extremely dangerous territories ahead of my unit  because the loss of my life was less valuable than that of a white soldier. This resentment would surely be the heaviest.

# 13 A Dream Remains A Dream . . .



Gertrude Bonnin’s The School Days of an Indian Girl, in my perception, is a story of the American Dream not coming true. Firstly, my definition of the American Dream is defined as being able to enjoy ultimate success and happiness achieved by taking full advantage of all the many opportunities that life in the United States has to offer an individual. In reading the text, I got a continual sense that Gertrude was never really and truly happy. This lacking in happiness stemmed from the racial prejudices she endured in her attempts at an “American” education and the disapproving attitude of her still very Indian mother. The sentence I chose conveys these origins of the author’s unhappiness, “Her few words hinted that I had better give up my slow attempt to learn the white man’s ways, and be content to roam over the prairies and find my living upon wild roots”. From this sentence I got that although Gertrude was very dissatisfied with her schooling experiences, she still understood that an education in the East would allow her more opportunities than being complacent on the reservation. At the same time, Gertrude must have felt torn between the extremely deep love she felt for her very Indian mother and her own desire to explore the opportunities awaiting her in the East, despite the white people. Sadly, once Gertrude has accomplished a small victory in the academic realm of the white man’s world, she could not even take part in fully enjoying the moment, for she dwelled on the ill feelings her own mother had against her and the discriminatory participants and members of the audience. Zitkala-Sa was never able to enjoy her successes, her American Dream.

# 12 Statehood: To Be or Not To Be?

My favorite sentence from Hawaii’s Story is “So it happens that, overawed by the power of the United States to the extent that they can neither themselves throw off the usurpers, nor obtain assistance from other friendly states, the people of the Islands have no voice in determining their future, but are virtually relegated to the condition of the aborigines of the American continent.” I chose this sentence because in reading the text of Hawaii’s history and learning how it became a part of the US, I greatly sympathized with the victimized and even kidnapped people of Hawaii. However, being a native-born American citizen I have long been exposed to and believed the hoopla surrounding the peaceful and mutual joining of the two nations resulting in a fantastic travel destination for Americans. However my attention was drawn to this particular sentence because it utilized the common sentiment of modern times that European settlers greatly mistreated and stole from the Native peoples who were inhabiting this land prior to their discovery of it. I thought it was genius on the part of the Queen to play on this sentiment because not everyone, due to the misinformation given out to the public as expressed by her in previous chapters, may have felt any sympathy for the people of Hawaii and they may have even gone as far as to think they were doing Hawaii a favor by taking it on as a fellow state. But to compare the experiences of the Hawaiian natives to that of the indisputably cruel treatment and land theft experienced by the Indians of America may have evoked a second thought in the minds of those in support of the US taking control over the island. Even the choice of calling the “Indians” aborigines, meaning the original or native flora of a region, evokes some type of emotion to reconsider one’s position on the subject matter of the US’s greedy, power hungry ways.