Harriet Tubman and the 20-Dollar Bill Controversy

By Sabrina Völz

Pub­lic Domain, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61139114

Mere days after Joe Biden was sworn in as Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States, the new admin­is­tra­tion announced its inten­tion to put Har­ri­et Tub­man – known as Moses – on the twen­ty-dol­lar bill. The cur­ren­cy redesign – a rel­a­tive­ly com­mon occur­rence in the 19th cen­tu­ry – was orig­i­nal­ly set for release in 2020 to mark the cen­ten­ni­al of the 19th Amend­ment that grant­ed women the right to vote. The major­i­ty of Amer­i­cans sup­port­ed the redesign in 2016 when the last poll on the issue was tak­en. Pres­i­dent Don­ald Trump put the project on hold, cit­ing secu­ri­ty issues and attribut­ing the Oba­ma ini­tia­tive to sheer polit­i­cal cor­rect­ness. While Trump may still view Andrew Jack­son as an Amer­i­can hero, his­to­ri­ans are quick to point out the com­plex­i­ties of the for­mer U.S. president’s biog­ra­phy. Jack­son owned hun­dreds of slaves and was respon­si­ble for the Indi­an Removal Act that led to the death of about 4,000 Chero­kees, forced to walk from the South­ern states to mod­ern-day Okla­homa on what is now referred to as the Trail of Tears. Even though he prob­a­bly should be, Jack­son will not be com­plete­ly removed from the twen­ty-dol­lar bill – he’ll just be demot­ed to the back. The irony of plac­ing Tub­man on one side and Jack­son on the oth­er on a sym­bol of nation­al iden­ti­ty has not gone unno­ticed and cer­tain­ly speaks to the divi­sion in Amer­i­can soci­ety today.

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Collaborative Writing – The Final Frontier

By Lynette Kirschner

If you want to go where no man has gone before, why not try your hand at col­lab­o­ra­tive writ­ing? The idea is sim­ple: Com­bine var­i­ous types of writ­ing in an elec­tive course with a deep under­stand­ing of a spe­cif­ic the­o­ry. The sem­i­nar, “Where no man has gone before: Women and Sci­ence Fic­tion,” was my attempt to have stu­dents not only apply var­i­ous forms of writ­ing but also gain a deep­er knowl­edge of inter­sec­tion­al­i­ty using social sci­ence fic­tion – with a dose of cre­ativ­i­ty. Just look at these stu­dent-pro­duced project covers!

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Chicana/o Quiz

By Maria Moss

 

In order to cel­e­brate Cin­co de Mayo, the – unfor­tu­nate­ly not offi­cial – hol­i­day of Mex­i­can Amer­i­cans in the Unit­ed States, I’d like you to do the quiz and see how much you know about “la cul­tura chicana.”

Down­load the quiz and don’t look at the answers yet!

Hemingway

By Michael Lederer

I first read Hem­ing­way at col­lege in 1978, an intro course called Mod­ern Exis­ten­tial Lit­er­a­ture. The Old Man and the Sea was like look­ing at an x‑ray to see how we are put togeth­er. The Sun Also Ris­es was a look at how we fall apart. It was also a siren’s call: “This way, fol­low me.”

Pho­to cred­it: Kata­ri­na Led­er­er: Michael Led­er­er with Hemingway’s stat­ue, Havana, 2013

In spring 1980, I had five hun­dred bucks, a Eurail Pass and a back­pack, and two months in which to see as much of Europe as I could. From Paris, fol­low­ing the char­ac­ters from Sun, the train took me as far as Bay­onne and from there it was thumb out. An old man named Jesus picked me up in a white car and drove me up the moun­tain to Pam­plona. As a boy dur­ing the San Fer­min fes­ti­val, he had shak­en Hemingway’s hand. When I got out of the car and he shook my hand, I was con­vinced if not a torch at least a spark had been passed.

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Little Girl

By Matti Linke

“old iron gate” by Core­Force is licensed under CC BY 2.0

The day start­ed with a cold waft from a freez­ing night in the mid­dle of March, as the warm light from the slow­ly ris­ing sun filled the old but well-kept house of Mr. Par­nell with bright­ness. It crawled from the kitchen sink over every cup­board to the emp­ty wood­en din­ing table and the flow­ered arm­chair in the lounge, paved its way to the frayed car­pet in the small hall­way and revealed the out­lines of the main door, an incon­spic­u­ous iron gate, cov­ered with branch­es and tendrils.

Although the house includ­ed a few more rooms, you could nev­er see through the heavy drapes behind the win­dows, falling grave­ly from the cur­tain rods. Nei­ther Mr. Par­nell nor his lit­tle girl ever used the rooms, which were filled with antique fur­ni­ture, old paint­ings, sculp­tures, and var­i­ous col­lec­tables. Every lit­tle piece had its prop­er place, well ordered but in their sheer mul­ti­tude sim­ply unfath­omable. The nar­row base­ment, which was most­ly used as a stor­age room for gro­ceries, had anoth­er tiny win­dow, but it was noth­ing more than a vent and way too small to let any light in or out.

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Loving pro Virginia: A Films’ Powerfully Poignant Depiction of a Family’s Longing for Home

By Hannah Quinque

“I wan­na move ’em back to the country.

I don’t care what they do to us.

I won’t raise my fam­i­ly here.”

The 2016 art­house film Lov­ing, direct­ed by Jeff Nichols, has already run one hour and nine min­utes before Mil­dred Lov­ing express­es her unwill­ing­ness to com­ply with the court sen­tence that for­bids the fam­i­ly to reside in their home state of Vir­ginia. Her deci­sion sets them on a path of no return. The route takes their case all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. Lov­ing v. Vir­ginia will pave the way toward freely mar­ry­ing, liv­ing, and lov­ing for inter­ra­cial cou­ples in the Unit­ed States (for cou­ples, which fit het­ero- and cis­nor­ma­tive stan­dards, that is.) At first glance, the desire to return to Vir­ginia might appear at odds with the vio­lent­ly hate­ful treat­ment Mil­dred and Richard Lov­ing expe­ri­enced at the hands of Vir­gin­ian author­i­ties amidst betray­al by one of their neigh­bors. At sec­ond glance, how­ev­er, the film shows that the Lov­ings’ love for their home and home state is as much a dri­ving force behind the strug­gle for equal rights as is their love for each other.

Mildred’s final deci­sion to return to Vir­ginia fol­lows after their child Don is hit by a car in the busy Wash­ing­ton neigh­bor­hood. One of the most action-dri­ven scenes in the oth­er­wise strik­ing­ly calm and qui­et movie, Don’s acci­dent serves as the final tip­ping point, ini­ti­at­ing the long jour­ney of the Lov­ing v. Vir­ginia court case.

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