What's in a Name?

My name, Amy Grace, is a combination of a family name and a southern tradition. Amy is the name of my late grandmother and my father's mother. She was a wonderful women and I remember her personally a little bit but I really know her through stories and others' memories of her. Amy also means beloved and that's certainly what she was and because she deserved to be revered. I think, therefore, having the name Amy for me has been something to embody, live up to, and a reminder to be someone she would be proud of to share her name. The Grace part of my name actually just comes from the idea of a double name that is really prevalent in my family tree. Grace by itself really doesnt give me much definition, but when it is paired with Amy, it becomes a big part of my indivuality. How many people do you know named Amy Grace? Hopefully very few, because my name has become one of the things that makes me feel unique. 

I believe Anna Quindlen hit right on the money with this statement. I may even take it a step farther to say there are many, many "me's" because there are so many layers to people. However, individual versus how you function in a whole are a very well simplified way to look at it. I see individual dilemmas as both more freeing and likely to come to an incorrect conclusion. The reason for this is that you feel comfortable mulling things over in your mind without being attacked by yourself but, sadly, that also means you don't get that input that you would have had in a group setting. While on the other hand, discussing topics in group can cause more conflict but also courage to step up and say something as well as a variety of ideas. When I am eating dinner at home with my family, I often feel like two people when we talk about controversial topics. Because they are my parents, I am not going to challenge them as much but I will still be thinking about whatever the topic may be the conversation piece. Another layer of that individual dilemma is that sometimes you feel or you know you are right and you need to go tell other people so they know you are right but you need a balance between telling someone because you care vs. fighting for what you think is right. 

(Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23J1SduCE0rhs26-iTV2Th2r6tS288jx8Kj5rSml4eEEwRX4aYiMX0KBuuwmtaWNVFAii8Q5CF6LPY9b2-SuP-BgV9gPEuoB5jzXfT6SthjeGpk9QvGiv5joBqRC6Vl70YC4nPO6tHxs/s1600/naming-your-business.jpg)

Wing Young Huie and Atwood: Othering

This particular photo from Wing Young Huie really caught my eye. This photo, which he has titled Father and Sons, was taken by Huie in 2007 in The Springs, California. At first site, this photo has a lot to take in. The very first thing I noticed was the expression on the men's faces. The men look tired and solemn but each have a slight variation in their expression as the father on the left looks weary, the man in the back looks angry, and the man on the right seems almost hopeful. Furthermore the men are holding picures of family members, which I found out after reading Huie's excerpt about the photograph, are still back in Mexico. The setting of this photo also gives insight into the lives of these men as they are using a folding chair as a bed side table with a single book and lamp without a shade. These men are working to support their families back home and stay afloat. The man on the right is wearing jeans with paint spots on them which also suggests that these men may be working long, difficult hours in manual labor that is notoriously underpaid and overworked. Lastly, I found the most striking feature of this photo to be the picture of Mickey Mouse on the back wall. I was immediately struck with emotion when I discovered the reason they hung it there was because it is the ultimate dream that they will go there someday with their families. This picture gave me such a reality check of how privileged we are here in America, and how I am personally, knowing that my family will always be in one place if we want to be.

The way that Huie and Atwood present othering is very similar in their lack of home. What I mean by this is that both in the way Atwood describes Offred's room in The Handmaid's Tale and the way Huie's photo displays these migrant workers' room is cold, sparse, and lack the sense of home. The others of our world and of the Republic of Gilead are found in the cold, forgotten places where they must live despite never being home. I am sure these men have come to have some sense of security in their residence in California but their pictures of their family members shows that Mexico will always be home because that is where their family is. Similarly, Offred's home will always be in the past  because that is where she finds the ones she once loved so her new life will never provide her with a sense of home even if it was cozy with comfortable and lavish furniture (which it is not at all).

I'd also like to add that the last line of Huie's explanation of his photograph of the men caught my eye saying, "They were still waiting"(Huie). This line immediately connected my thoughts to Offred as she is always found "waiting". Both Huie and Atwood found that the concept of othering means waiting because they are never fulfilled. Those who do not have power must wait. Be it feminists in The Handmaid's Tale or migrant workers in The United States, "the others" must wait for justice and salvation.
Waiting is a most torturous form of protest, is it not? But that is the nature of othering, I suppose. We are all in waiting for something.

Huie, Wing Young. "Father and Sons." From the Archives. N.p., 2007. Web. 18 Sept. 2016.

Welcome!

Hello, my name is Amy Grace. Here is a puppy:

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