“Man, I’m too tired to do this again,” Alex said to me regretfully. She and I are the two Executive Board officers for the student organization, Colleges Against Cancer, on campus. The difference between her and I is that she is the Club President. “I would stay if it didn’t mean so much work.”

“Wait, so what does that mean? You’re leaving me on the Board?” I replied, completely taken aback. I’ve only been a member of this club for two years, but she’s been here for nearly three. She definitely knows the ropes more on how to keep this club going strong.

“I’ll still be in the club, but I just want to have a smaller position this time,” Alex explained.

This conversation happened in April. With the end of the school year coming to a close, many student organizations on campus are beginning to make that transition to next year’s officers and members. I just so happened to be experiencing this first hand. Since that conversation with Alex in April, I have been conflicted with what leadership role I envision myself holding in the club next year, but more specifically questioning my capabilities of serving as a Club President. My own mentality is my biggest enemy. Accepting this position was a hard pill to swallow.

Why am I afraid that it will be difficult for me to bring success to the club? I thought this to myself. What if no one wants to even join next year? I’ll be as lonely as a cloud!

The whole goal of our club is to plan and hold an annual event called Relay For Life on the UC Davis campus in which all profits go directly towards the American Cancer Society. Under our current President’s term this year, Colleges Against Cancer was recognized by hospitals, newspapers, and received two awards for our efforts. These were all notable recognition to receive in just one year, and I feel the pressure more than ever to continue this momentum into the upcoming year.

Will I even be cut out for the workload? It’s your senior year. Be realistic, Michelle.

Because I will be a fourth-year student next year, I need to focus on finishing strong academically, applying to nursing school, and cherishing my last year as an undergraduate. Serving on the Executive Board this year taught me that the workload hours as an officer is 4-5 hours a week. This meant that the Club President position would translate into many more hours. I could already feel the stress and anxiety choking me.

Time is quickly passing and the school year is over in just a few weeks. If I was going to make a decision, it needed to be now or never. I take a step back and consider the bigger picture. My insecurities were rooted within me, so I sought the input of my fellow officers and general club members.

“Anything you need, I will be here for you,” Alex says as she consoles me. “You have a whole team with you and you’re not going to be alone.”

After receiving the reassurance I needed, I came back to recollect with myself once more. I reminded myself of the reason why I joined this club in the first place. My passion for the club’s mission, my desire to honor those affected by this disease, and our efforts to raise money for the American Cancer Society triumphs a lot of my doubts.

I decided that I am going to remain on the Executive Board and serve as next year’s President. I know that I will not be alone in this entire process, and my confidence grows more and more in my capabilities.

Today, I am currently in the process of holding interviews for open positions on the Board and for general club members. Through this experience, I learned that fear and anxiety is both inevitable and acceptable, but it should not triumph your decision to assert bravery.

Reflection

Overall, I did a lot of editing to my bravery story format-wise. My original draft focused too much on what the story is about, as opposed to telling the story itself. I think I had a hard time realizing this the first time around because I grew accustomed to writing reflections. To help fix this, I added in dialogue, spacing between paragraphs, and a more active word choice.

At the beginning of the story, I convey my attitude about becoming Club President through the thoughts I inserted, like “Why am I afraid that it will be difficult for me to bring success to the club?” or “Will I even be cut out for the workload?”. Instead of just stating how I felt, I hoped that including these thoughts would convey my uncertainty more effectively. I also included personification (“I could already feel the stress and anxiety choking me” and a metaphor (“Accepting this position was a hard pill to swallow”) to emphasize how conflicted I felt. Towards the falling action and resolution, there is a tone shift. The sentence, “My confidence grows more and more in my capabilities,” shows my tone change to an optimistic attitude. Adding these literary devices adds to the narrative, or story-telling aspect, of this assignment. It made me think more about my attitudes towards the subject and also helps the audience understand the story a little better.

The exposition of this story begins with the narrator, Val Rigodon, sharing that she recently discovered that someone from her childhood passed away. She felt uneasy about this and made her think that anything could happen to anyone at any moment. Rigodon is a 25-year-old African American woman. After watching the movie Leap about a beautiful ballerina, this got her thinking about her young childhood dream of doing ballet.

The beginning of her rising action starts when she enrolls in a beginner ballet class. Her biggest conflict was how far could she really go with this hobby considering that most ballerinas start at 7-10 years old? She initially felt out of place, but still did the exercises and dances to the best of her ability. Rigodon admitted that she had no idea what she was doing or what the ballet terms meant, and everyone around her appeared beautiful and graceful. At the end of her first beginner ballet class, she doubted whether or not ballet was something she should keep pursuing as a hobby.

The climax occurs when Rigodon decides to attend a second class. She also sought for inspiration on ballerinas who also started late, specifically Misty Copeland – a professional African American ballerina who started “late” (13 years old).

The falling action of this narrative is that Rigodon chooses to continue with ballet. She admits that her 25-year-old body makes it difficult for her to perform the moves, but she can see herself making progress. She now knows what the ballet terms are and is improving her flexibility.

The narrator knows that she has many more years to go before she can confidently show off her ballet skills. Months after her very first class, she is now taking 3 classes a week, demonstrating the resolution of her narrative.

Rigodon’s opening story about her childhood friend passing away could have played an influence in her “carpe diem” narrative. Overall, I think the theme revolves around seizing the present as an opportunity to chase after your desires because the future is not guaranteed.

Mini-reflection:

I chose this Moth story to read because I also did ballerina as a young child and into high school. I definitely respect everything that Rigodon claims about ballet being a very difficult form of dance that requires several years of professional training. I personally stopped ballet when I was 17 because I did not see myself doing anything professional with the dance. However, I admire Rigodon’s perseverance to take on ballet as a hobby and improving her craft. I could see myself taking classes as an adult, too.

The title of her story is ironic. The original ballet term is “pas de deux,” which is a dance between two partners. Rigodon humorously changes it to “pas de une,” insinuating that it is just her in this battle to learn ballet.

Link: https://player.themoth.org/#/?actionType=ADD_AND_PLAY&storyId=20049

With the end of the school year coming to a close, many student organizations on campus are beginning to transition its officers and members for next year. For the past two years, I have apart of the student organization on campus called Colleges Against Cancer. The goal of our club is to plan and hold an annual event called Relay For Life on the UC Davis campus in which all profits go directly towards the American Cancer Society. This school year, I served as one of three officers on the Executive Board. One Executive Board officer will be graduating this Spring, and the other officer who is also the President has decided that she will step down from her position next year. For the past few months, I have been conflicted with what leadership role I envision myself holding in this club next year, but more specifically questioning my capabilities of serving as a Club President.

The rising action of my narrative are the reasons behind my insecurities and doubts about accepting the position, many of which are internal battles. Thus, I consider the protagonist to be myself and the antagonist to be my own mentality. I am afraid that it will be difficult for me to bring success to the club. Under our current President’s term this year, Colleges Against Cancer was recognized by hospitals, newspapers, and received two awards for our efforts. These were all notable recognition to receive in just one year, and I feel the pressure more than ever to continue this momentum into the upcoming year. A second major battle I’m facing is my fear of the workload. Because I will be a fourth-year student next year, I am focusing on finishing strong academically, applying to nursing school, and cherishing my last year as an undergraduate. Serving on the Executive Board this year taught me that the workload hours as an officer is 4-5 hours a week, and the Club President position would translate into many more hours.

The turning point of my narrative occurs when I decided to take a step back and consider the bigger picture. My insecurities were rooted within me, and I had to seek the input of my fellow officers and general club members. After receiving the reassurance I needed, I came back to recollect with myself once more. I reminded myself of the reason why I joined this club in the first place. My passion for the club’s mission, my desire to honor those affected by this disease, and our efforts to raise money for the American Cancer Society triumphs a lot of my doubts. Therefore, I decided that I am going to remain on the Executive Board and serve as next year’s President. I know that I will not be alone in this entire process, and my confidence grows more and more in my capabilities. I consider my resolution to be me currently in the process of holding interviews for open positions on the Board and for general club members. The overarching theme of my narrative is that fear and anxiety is both inevitable and acceptable, but it should not triumph your decision to assert bravery.

Hannah Gadsby’s “Nanette” special on Netflix is one of the most powerful pieces I have seen in a very long time. Gadsby is famous for her comedy, writing, and tv personality, and her work commonly centers around the discourses of homosexuality, childhood turmoil, mental illness, and more. Her Netflix special discusses how a combination of her upbringing, comedy career, and external social constructs have denied her access to the LGBTQ+ discourse community. It was only through strength and an effective means of communicating her story that she is able to better align herself with her lesbian identity. Gadsby’s upbringing by a mother who raised her as straight in a small town that deemed homosexuality as a crime internalized with her. Both these factors made her feel shameful and failed to teach her the way that being homosexual works in the world. She even says that other members of the LGBTQ+ discourse community have criticized her for not being “lesbian enough.” To these people, my response is that an individual’s sexual identity cannot be measured to a certain degree or level because it is fluid.

Truthfully, the first third portion of “Nanette” did not appeal to me because I was interested in a deeper message without the constant humorous remarks around her own sexual orientation. Ironically, this ended up being one of Gadsby’s biggest arguments: She did not need to humiliate herself in order to have the platform to speak. This transition quickly grabbed my attention. Her primary audience is the corrupt white, heterosexual, cisgender men who she strongly feels have abused their power to deem her and other minority groups as powerless. She makes a direct connection to the political discourse by criticizing Trump for engaging in inappropriate relationships with women simply because he could. One of the things I found most unexpected was her application of the art history discourse community. Picasso is able to get away with being a misogynist and still have his work romanticized by the public, which demonstrates her claim about the power of the dominant gender. I appreciate how Gadsby used her art history background to improve her literacy development and also apply it to other discourses.

At the end of “Nanette,” Gadsby briefly shares her sexual assault and rape experiences. I believe that she strategically chose the placement of those statements near the closing to ensure that her audience’s perception of her as a victim would not become the only narrative of her show. I believe that Gadsby is working on normalizing her sexual orientation and would like the public, especially white cisgender men, to do the same. In order to do so, she advocates for humanity over reputation and an open-mind to difference.

“Because diversity is strength. Difference is a teacher. Fear difference, you learn nothing.”

The issue of this particular story of Nick Sandmann and Nathan Phillips centers around what the evidence portrays and what these men claim as the truth. What Sandmann claims as his truth does not necessarily have to be believed by everyone. Sometimes the evidence that we see and the truth that we hear does not always align. This is what ultimately stirs up dialogue in the public community. Similarly, it is safe to assume that the audience’s party identification could be a strong influence on one’s perception of the truth. For this particular event, I definitely experienced liberal reactions to it.

The evidence, in this case, is the original video of Sandmann and Phillips in the center of a mob-like group of Covington Catholic High School students at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I value what can be seen visually in the video, but I can also respect someone’s claims so long as what they are saying is largely supported by what’s in the video. From my perspective, the organization of Sandmann and Phillips in the circle reflects Sandmann getting an ego boost as the center of attention of his peers, which in turn makes him proceed to give them what they want.

Sandmann’s public statement was troubling to read, and I approached a lot of his claims with counter questions. If the High School supervisors really gave permission for the students to counteract the Black Hebrew Israelite protestors with a school chant, why would the adults perpetuate conflict and put their students at potential harm or allow them to negatively portray their school? If Sandmann blocked Phillips way to diffuse the commotion, wouldn’t this conflict with Phillips’ claim that the reason he even approached the students was to diffuse the commotion he saw between them and the protestors? If Sandmann felt “singled out” in front of Phillips, isn’t this his own fault by taking the initiative to step in front of Phillips? Similarly, isn’t his group’s actions simultaneously singling out Phillips by gathering around him? In the end, Sandmann refuses to apologize and hopes that no one felt threatened by the actions of him and his fellow students. I believe that he is close-minded with the clear fact that his actions triggered people the wrong way, so labeling him as a respectful person is wrong. If he were more culturally competent to the Native American minority group, he would be willing to issue an apology statement out of respect and decency.

Despite Covington Catholic High School’s public apology, this cannot be enough. It’s one thing to write out an apology, but to be able to teach its students the significance of this issue in order to prevent it from recurring is more meaningful than words. I also believe that acknowledging the Native American community through reparations would be necessary, as well. Considering Sandmann’s MAGA apparel, this event relates to the racial discourse and hateful rhetoric under Trump’s administration.

My literacy development is largely influenced by the intersection of the community I come from and my education. I grew up in a middle-class, suburban city: Elk Grove. As an overview, my hometown’s demographic is quite diverse, with an ethnic composition comprising of a discernible amount of minority groups. An online database actually reports the population includes 35.8% White residents, 27.8% Asian residents, 18.4% Hispanic residents, and 10.4% Black residents. This can be conveyed in my high school’s demographics, as well. Franklin High School was a moderately-funded school that was able to hire teachers who were adept in their field. I frequently challenged myself to take on rigorous courses, all of which came with a heavy load of reading and writing. I performed fairly well in these classes and was writing at a B or A level. When I think back on my honors and AP Arts and Humanities classes, each teacher encouraged me to read, write, and speak in a variety of ways. For example, my senior year AP Literature professor taught me critical reading strategies that transferred with me to college and helped me in my ENL 3 class. The effective ways in which my high school educators taught me to improve my language, writing, and reading knowledge contributed a great deal to my literacy development that laid a strong foundation for college.

Among all the pros, one con from my high school education, though, was the lack of multicultural curriculum. For myself, I never truly felt that diversity and ethnic populations were highlighted enough. As I think about it now, I find this ironic too considering how diverse Elk Grove is. Therefore, I was prohibited from furthering my critical literacy. As a high school student, I prided myself in thoroughly learning and understanding what was taught to me. Therefore by not being taught a multicultural curriculum in school, I feel like I was, in a sense, kept inside a bubble that protected me about the larger world issues and current events. However, when I arrived at UC Davis, I can say that I definitely took the matter into my own hands to change this.

When I entered UC Davis in 2016, the new president was elected into office and I quickly learned that student activism was very much alive here. Coming from the local context of my high school, the environment at Davis took me by surprise. By my second year, I decided to minor in Asian American Studies to further my multicultural literacy and critical literacy. This decision allowed me to immerse myself into a curriculum that wasn’t provided in my high school. Through these ethnic studies courses, my reading and writing is more purposeful and specialized in subjects that I find interesting and also applicable to society. I am also learning new strategies of drawing conclusions and analyzing points of views from scholarly texts. Overall, I am confident that my undergraduate education is a key turning point for my literacy development because I will carry with me relevant literacy skills into my personal and professional life.