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    Looking at King Lear on a surface level, ideas of expulsion, liquidity, and swapping are very present.  Referencing the Merriam Webster definitions of these words, gives further insight into how they can be connected to the play. However, as one reads closer and uncovers the hidden themes within the play, these terms are even more prevalent. Acts of physical expulsion such as Lear’s expulsion from the kingdom and emotional expulsion are present throughout the entire play. When pondering a question regarding the words interaction with each other, it seems it can be answered by looking at the relationship between Lear and his daughters, and the ripple effect of events that occur after that initial conflict. Tied to that, various other characters aside from Lear and his daughters, have unstable and ever-changing relationships throughout the play, which adds to the fire of the ever-increasing conflict. The idea of swapping regarding it’s meaning of taking part of an exchange of liability between two borrowers, is a term related to many themes within King Lear as it seems nothing in the play can be given without something being desired in return. Liquid is defined as consisting of ready conversion to cash, or flowing freely like water. Much of the familial turmoil we see is in fact like flowing water; a dangerous river that leads into a 20 foot waterfall. Liquid is also noted as being an investment easily turned into cash, which in the case of King Lear, this definition of liquid and swapping overlap greatly. King Lear is a play filled with ideas and relationships related to the concept of expulsion as we are presented with characters and circumstances that do anything but promote a strong familial foundation built on trust and an equal share of respect and power.

    The first act of expulsion that is presented to readers and viewers is Lear’s expulsion of Cordelia from the original plan of land division, when she does not proclaim a love for him that he was expecting. “Here I disclaim all my paternal care, propinquity, and property of blood, and as a stranger to my heart and me hold thee from this forever” (1.1, 15). Expulsion, in all its meanings, seems to be presented here. In terms of expulsion meaning “the action of depriving someone from an organization” it is related to Cordelia being deprived of being a part of the “organization” that is the royal family after this scene unfolds. In terms of expulsion meaning “the process of expelling someone from a place, especially a country” this is also evident in this scene, as Lear is quick to make arrangements with France and Burgundy in relation to where Cordelia will be sent, since her presence with him is such a disgrace. She marries the king of France and begins to create an army with him that she wants to use to defeat the wrath her sisters are creating. 

With expulsion’s final meaning “the process of forcing something out of the body” it can be seen as relating to this scene as well. Lear is demonstrating expulsion as he releases feelings of anger and disrespect as a response to Cordelia’s lack of words of affirmation toward him to the degree, he had originally thought she would express her feelings. Edgar and his role in the play is also related to the term expulsion on varying degrees, as he is forced to leave due to Edmund’s evil and manipulative nature. This is more of an intentional act of expulsion than Lear’s expulsion of Cordelia as it wasn’t part of his original plan to strip her of any land he had originally planned on giving her. This then may evoke feelings of injustice within readers even more so than the previous expulsion presented. It also brings awareness to another term that Edmund is partaking in; fraud. Edmund’s ability to deceive those around him as a means of benefiting himself through the creation of a false perception would back this claim. This isn’t to say that Edmund didn’t have a valid reason for doing so, to him what he was doing was validated. When looking at many of these terms through the lens of literature, seeing things from all perspectives is a necessity as it is in most cases to understand each character’s plight. Edmund was illegitimate, and thus did not get the same treatment that his legitimate brother Edgar was receiving. This unfair power dynamic struck within him anger and rage that was the foundation for his desire to take this route to acquire success and the treatment he felt he deserved. Regan and Goneril, although portrayed as mostly evil, can also be seen as having legitimate reasons behind their actions. Although what they do to their father is, on the surface, quite terrible, the line “He hath but slenderly known himself” (1.1, Page 13) may give readers insight into the reasons behind the expulsion of their father. To slenderly know oneself means to also slenderly know the reason behind your actions and desires. Was Cordelia’s lack of loving words deserving of her father’s rage? Obviously not, but that just goes to show that Lear’s “slender” knowledge of himself affected various parts of his life, as well as others, thinking he was swapping his land for what he thought he felt it was equivalent to.

Liquidity and swapping are correlated with many of the ways that expulsion is presented in King Lear. In the case of this play, liquidity is not cash but rather things the characters deem of great value that they hope to trade something for, such as land, a title or even love.It was within Lear’s original plan to swap words of affection for land. However, as seen in the play quite early on, that original plan is foiled and the conflicts in the play begin to unfold. The swapping of identities also makes itself a very present theme within the play, with Edgar dressed as poor Tom for a good portion of the play as an example. “I will preserve myself and am bethought to take the basest and most poorest shape that ever penury in contempt of man brought near beast. My face I’ll grime with filth” (2.3, Page 95). Edmund wished to swap out his life in which he carried the heavy title of “illegitimate,” for one where he overcomes that, yet he can’t achieve it in the way he desires. That seems to be a common theme for the characters in Lear; they want to swap something they already have for something they deem better. However, that “better option” never turns out the way they want it to. This then leaves readers with the question: why not? Is it because their intentions for wanting to change that original circumstance weren’t in good nature? It seems to be one of those questions without a straight answer, as are many questions surrounding expulsion and the terms attached to it. Many of the terms related to expulsion like liquid and swap seem to have a very selfish nature tied to them, with some even deeming them to be a corrupt nature. Usually related to exchange or finances of some sort, it seems that none of these terms have a fully positive connotation, as something is always expected in return whenever they are used. 

Edgar and Albany are the ones that are left to rule at the end of the play, which may be very telling of the message that Shakespeare was trying to get across. They seemed to be the only characters in the play that didn’t maliciously expel anyone or anything. Edgar and Albany also didn’t take part in exchanges or swapping to try and receive something better than what they already had. They didn’t invest in something expecting it to convert into something else of greater wealth down the line, and this may play into why their own personal stories don’t end in tragedy as the others did. Expulsion, liquidity, and swapping all seemed to be interlaced throughout the storyline of King Lear, highlighting the selfish nature of characters who always desire more than what they already possess. 

The thought of attending Suny Geneseo, and even when registering for this course, I had difficulty facing my own self doubt and skepticism. Dr. McCoy has always challenged me, even when I didn’t want the push. I took an English course (Reader & Text: Interdisciplinary) with her my freshman year, in similar, those uncomfortable feelings stirred up on the first day of this class. Pondering what to write for this paper, I looked back at prior work from her class. I came across my final reflective essay (from freshman year) emphasizing that, When I sat down in Professor McCoy’s class back in late August, I wanted to run. I immediately felt intimidated and surrounded by many white faces. The confidence that I built throughout the summer slowly faded as I took that seat. Four years later, I questioned if those feelings lingered. I didn’t want to remain in the same place as freshman year. I knew that I made significant progress as a learner, but was it enough? As a first-semester college student, I noticed that I disassociated from the content I learned in my experience with Dr. McCoy’s Reader &Text class. I excluded myself from peer conversations. I remained silent during class discussions Dr. McCoy facilitated. For months, I just sat there and observed. Truthfully, I wanted someone to see my pain. I was one of the few people of color in my class learning about my own history. In my prior educational experiences before Geneseo, I can only remember learning about basic black history like civil rights. I always knew my teachers weren’t telling me everything. Even though I was frustrated with my classes in my adolescent education and it’s lack of, I still felt uncomfortable because I didn’t feel connected with my own history. Dissociation seemed easier then acceptance. 

Prior to my college career, my classrooms were filled with students who looked like me. I felt uneasy discovering those untaught truths at a predominantly white institution. In angst, I was not comfortable with unpacking the learning material with my peers because I assumed they couldn’t understand. I failed to notice that my presence in class could possibly help my peers become more conscious of material. I failed to notice how much my opinion mattered. Throughout this semester, I began to realize that my fears and doubts were blinding my ability to see clearly: the skill of noticing. For so long, I have normalized the feeling of being uncomfortable, it has failed me to see when I’ve actually grown. I have come to the conclusion that I was self-conscious (my freshman year) about my black identity; my black experience in our society. Had you asked me, “What is the black experience”? I can’t give you an answer because of the assumptions I previously generated. I am grateful though that the reading material in this class has helped me identify with the black experience on a deeper level. 

While glancing at the syllabus on the first day, I didn’t notice the course epigraph. I can be very oblivious at times, instead of focusing on the big picture. I didn’t pay attention, simply because I let my eyes glaze over and didn’t care to figure out what it meant. As usual, I was more focused on the books I needed to purchase, the grading rubric, and the assignment due dates. Little did I know, the course epigraph, “My job is to notice…and to notice that you can notice”, would be my greatest take-away from this semester. While shifting through the material we read in this course, each novel carried its own connotation of the black experience. Whether the novel was fiction or nonfiction, each story embodied a different layer. As I began to familiarize myself with the black experience through the books, what emerged for me was a history of struggle. It was the story of people who had been stripped of their rights and their humanity by a structural system of racism. It was the story of a people who, in spite of oppression, never gave up nor did they lose their sense of self.

When reading Percival’s Everett’s Zulus, Everett explores the black experience through the critical lens of a post-apocalyptic world. The characters in Zulus are mostly women, deal with a devastated post-apocalyptic world doomed to no return. People are undeniably scarred by an environmental catastrophe making all women unable to bear children. All except for one: Alice Achitophel. In her attempt to grapple with reality, she must decipher what’s real from what’s not. Readers, like myself are submerged into the life of Alice, an obese government clerk, rejected by society, and the only fertile woman in her world. Alice is both insider and outsider in a world where state violence transforms life into a dystopia. On this dying planet, Alice must cope with being grotesquely obese, impregnated, alone, and afraid. Similar to Alice, many African-Americans feel isolated, alone, and unable to be understood by society. At the end, readers see how Alice realizes that she is the fate of the planet and her resilience and struggle is clearly noted. African-Americans throughout time did not yield (like Alice) in time of strife, they fought through. Everett’s work becomes apparent in his take on the black experience, urging that his readers notice this. 

In the eyes of Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans by Harriet A. Washington, my fourth blog post touches base on the maltreatment of African-American inmates in the medical field. Why were prisoners universally desirable subjects for medical research? African-Americans have always been dramatically over-represented in jails and prisons. During this era, prisoners were powerless, uneducated, poor, feared/hated by their communities, and expendable. According to Washington, “Prisoners had been commonly used as research subjects, and after the Civil War, the United States was the only nation in the world continuing to legally use prisoners in clinical trials. Federal, pharmaceutical, and cosmetic companies’ money catalyzed a thirty-year boom in research with prisoners” (p. 249). Inmates were only seen as steady influx of profit. Unfortunately, this is another take on the black experience. They were treated like property. Alas, reading Medical Apartheid uncovered another layer of what it meant to be black in America.

The most insidious and dangerous experiments included injections, flash burns from heat radiation, drugs that would cause hallucinations, and skin tests that produced painful rashes. Edward Anthony, a black Holmesburg inmate during the mid 1960’s attests to his experience and stated that, “Some drugs caused temporary paralysis or helplessness, or even placed [me] into a catatonic state, from which [I] could neither communicate nor react to [my] surroundings. Others caused prolonged nausea… and provoked long-term violent behavior” (p. 251). Despite the history and evidence of using black bodies as caged subjects, jailed African-American research subjects “remained largely invisible in the medical and popular literature until the 1960s” (Washington, 254). The same exclusion of black history exists in our educational system. I can conclude that this is another layer of the black experience. African-Americans can be so resilient, but still face immense amount of oppression. The black experience is ambiguous, yet complex. There are many layers to the experience that I’m even still learning to grasp. To be black in America is an enigma in and of itself.

Looking back at this course, I have learned so much about my history and the many layers of the black experience. What it means to be African-American is an ever-changing definition that encompasses so much of my life. I’m still learning just like my peers. Dr. McCoy’s classes have taught me valuable lessons about growth, strength, and courage to unpack the layers of the uncomfortable.

Signing up for this class was not something I particularly had in mind. As a freshman, I was just looking for an English class because English was one of my best subjects in high school that I also happened to enjoy the most. Little did I know this would be one of the most interesting English classes I have ever taken. Sure, I am only a freshman in my first semester. However, none of my English classes or any classes for that case in high school made me think like this class has. This class has changed the way I think and notice things. Never before had I thought about racism, medicine, and literature’s connections. Looking at those three words, I never would have made a connection between them before this class.

Part of this class that was really brought to my attention was the connections between literature, medicine, and racism. When I signed up for this class, I assumed it was three different topics. I thought maybe the semester was going to be split up into three different sections. One for literature, one for medicine, and one for racism. Before coming to class my first day I did think maybe these three topics were connected but I honestly could not think of how any of these could connect. At first, I just assumed they didn’t connect and there was really no reason for me to try and connect them.  I soon realized in this class that literature informed us and taught us about all of these things in the world of medicine. We read many books such as Medical Apartheid, Fortune’s Bones, Home, Seed to Harvest, Zone One, and many articles as well. For me, literature kind of ties all three together because literature is the source that taught me about the connections between medicine and racism. Racism was all over the medical world and even today there is still racism and discrimination in the medical world. Literature taught us about racism in the medical world and I think that is a super important connection to make. 

In one of my first posts I did make a connection between Zulus and our world and the people in it. In my blog post called Mutato Nomine I said “To me Alice represents all of us sitting here letting the earth go to waste. At some point it’s going to be too late to fix it and all we are going to be able to do is sit and watch it happen just as Alice is. I think the author is showing us this as a warning before it is too late.” While I was making connections, I was not making the right connections. In my mind I was mostly thinking about the pollution and other things that are ruining the earth and then I tried to make a sort of meaningless connection to medicine. I think in a lot of my blog posts I made connections to worldly things and then I could not come up with a real meaningful connection to racism and medicine through the different books. 

In my lowest scoring blog post called The Unknown, Professor McCoy commented on it and said, “You have the evidence, Olivia—why aren’t you using it?” and another thing she said was “I can make room for the personal in the writing, but the writing can’t be limited to the personal. I can’t grade manifestos, political positions, or personal beliefs, no matter how much I might agree and/or disagree with them, share and/or not share them.” This definitely made me think. It made me think about what exactly it was that I was thinking about and what I was noticing. Up to this post and even a little bit in my posts after this one, I was mostly just writing about my opinions. I was talking about my feelings about how people were treated and how wrong certain things were. In my blog post, The Unknown, I wrote “For me, reading and learning about all these secretive things that have happened in the medical world make me not trust doctors. How am I supposed to trust doctors when they have such a bad reputation? How can anyone trust these people? How can I trust anyone? It is really hard to figure out how to live your life in peace and trusting people when there is such a horrible reputation of people not respecting our bodies.” And I continued in this post talking about how I felt instead of noticing the meaningful connections between the books having to do with medicine and racism.

In my most recent blog post, Value, which I received the highest grade out of all my blog posts, I realized what I was finally doing right. I couldn’t just talk about my opinions I had to have a thought and find evidence to support my thoughts. In this blog post I talked about valuing human beings and I found evidence to support this from two of the books we read and then from an article that I found on my own as well. I was finally making the right connections throughout the books and I had the evidence to support my claims.

In Medical Apartheid, Harriet A. Washington says, “We must acknowledge the past in order to regain trust and to seize the future”(page 386). To me this is super important because a lot of literature is about the past or is based off of things that have happened in the past. So, to me reading literature is a way to inform people such as myself about things like racism in the medical world. People need to be aware of things like this so it will not continue to happen in the future. This class has taught me to notice and make solid connections. Never before was I able to make these kinds of connections and I never thought I would make connections such as the connection between literature, medicine, and racism. And I think it’s really important that others can learn to make these connections too.

In high school you are not taught to actually think about things and notice. You are taught to sit down and remember the information. Or you are given a topic and you are supposed to relate your ideas to this topic. But the type of thinking and noticing that I have done in this class is far different from any of that. In my first blog post I wrote “the stuff I am learning in this class is real world stuff. This is the kind of knowledge I would like to have as I grow into an adult. An adult would look more into something like this and dig deeper to widen their understanding of the topic and get as much information as possible so that they can form their own opinion of the topic.” Even in my first blog post I was noticing that this class was going to change my way of thinking. Just in the first couple weeks of this class I was already being affected. 

One of the books we read that significantly affected me was Medical Apartheid by Harriet A. Washington. Each chapter of this book had a different case, a different story. This made me realize the concrete connections between racism and medicine. As I talked about in one of my blog posts, Discrimination in the Medical World, discrimination towards race was not something that only happened in the 1900’s. Reading Medical Apartheid first made me think about all the racism in the world of medicine way back in the day. This was something that was never taught to me or probably even talked about. I hardly had any knowledge of this topic before reading this book. But then I also noticed that this is still happening in the world today. I knew that there was still racism and discrimination in the world. Never would I have thought there was still discrimination in the medical world even today. This was never something I would have known before taking this class. The things I learned in this class are things that I assume not a lot of people in our world know about because there is never anything on the news about this and it isn’t taught to us while we are growing up. The information I learned in this class is information I think everyone should be informed of. People should know about these things because everyone has medical needs and should know if they are going to have any risks such as discrimination. I think people other than just us in this class would benefit if they could somehow make these connections throughout real world problems.

Growing is something that everyone continually does throughout their entire lives and it is an extremely important part of every persons’ life. However, the way everyone grows is different depending on what you are exposed to throughout life. I was exposed to this certain class and I grew as a writer and thinker. I also grew in how I notice. Things are connected and I should always be looking for connections and so should other people. The things I took away from this class and the way I learned to think is something I think everyone would benefit from and I would recommend this class to anyone so others could grow in their own thinking just like I did. Our world could grow together if more people knew how to notice. My whole thinking process has changed and the worlds thinking process needs to change too.

My whole life I have been fascinated with science and medicine. For every free-choice project assigned to me from elementary to high school, I would base on anatomy or biology if I could. I may have not yet determined exactly how I would like to be a part of the medical field, but I know I am meant to participate in the world of healthcare for my career. Therefore, it was an easy decision whether or not this course would fit my interests. The title alone, “Literature, Medicine and Racism”, made me want to enroll immediately; it was a combination of words I myself have never yet put together. I was intrigued, and now that this course is nearing the end, I am beyond grateful that I have taken it. Upon looking back at how this course has shaped my growth, I have noticed that it has thoroughly opened my eyes to a vast world of medical history and literature I didn’t know existed prior. In turn, it has altered my previous, completely positive view of the medical field. I am now aware of many, but not all, of the horrors that people have endured in our history at the hands of scientists and doctors that have led to today’s medical and scientific knowledge. I once thought that the scientific progress I have learned about was built on ethical, positive events- a sharp contrast to the truth this course has taught me. I still view the medical field as something I am passionate about, but I no longer believe that it is built upon decades of positive advancements and events. The class text Medical Apartheid by Harriet A. Washington enabled me to learn many of these historical endeavors, and its factual content was highlighted by a fictional course text, Home, by Toni Morrison.

Upon my initial reading of Medical Apartheid, my jaw dropped and my heart sank, leaving me mortified and embarrassed to have wanted to be a health professional. The book revealed a plethora of unethical and inhumane experiments conducted on minority groups that were done to aid scientists in acquiring more medical knowledge. I wondered how I could have been so blind to all that lay beneath the research progressions and medical advancements of today. For example, the passage about how scientists went about studying the effects of radioactivity on the human body described in Medical Apartheid left me in shock. Washington explains one portion of the radioactive experiments as, “…the Fernald School in Waltham, Massachusetts, added radioactive oatmeal to the menus of thirty orphans…” (Washington, 233). When these orphans died, their bodies were autopsied to study the amount of radioactivity present and to see the damage that had been caused by it. Another portion of this text that shows an example of the medical field’s horrific past is the description of the Tuskegee Syphilis Study. At first, it appeared that the U.S. Public Health Service was trying to study and treat African American males with syphilis back in 1932 through this experiment. However, the truth behind the study is showed in Medical Apartheid as Washington quotes a PHS physician Dr. Murrell: “’Those that are treated are only half cured…. Perhaps here, in conjunction with tuberculosis, will be the end of the negro problem’” (Washington, 160). It can be seen that the study was not an act of aid, but an act of manipulation and unethical treatment rooted in racism. The core classes I have taken as a science major have turned a blind eye to its field’s negative background, such as these examples I have mentioned, and it has taken an English course to show me the truth behind the science material I learn.

When looking at the medical field at surface level, it appears to be overall successful and honest, saving people’s lives and curing many illnesses. When analyzing the overall mortality rate from all causes of death from the 1900s versus 2010, it has dropped by a staggering 54% (Tippett, 2014). Back in the 1900s, death caused by infectious diseases such as pneumonia and the flu were twelve times as likely compared to deaths reported in 2010 (Tippett, 2014). This shows great progression, but now that this course has shaped me into noticing more, I wonder, at what cost did this “success” come at? The phrase “behind every great success is a battle that has been fought” now means something entirely different to me than it did before this course. I realize now that the battle is no longer just the hard work those who experience the success go through; it may also entail the expense at which people’s lives were damaged, victimized, or manipulated to get them there.

This may seem like a purely dismal shift in perception about my once prized career goals, but in reality, the growth I have experienced has also taught me some positive things. Throughout my life and its experiences, I continuously told myself that you cannot have the good without the bad. Personally, I believe that they give meaning to one another. In this case, the horrific stories and events I have read about have shown me the gruesome side of the medical field, but they have also enlightened me to question aspects of my life I have previously taken at face value. It has shown me to dig deeper, and I am not completely discouraged from working in the medical field, but I must do my part now to prevent this terrible history from repeating. I am now aware of the many struggles and sufferings those in the past have endured to enable scientists to achieve the data they believed they needed. The scientific knowledge available today may be helpful, but as this course has shown me, a majority of it came from the exploitation of innocent patients in history.

As Washington states in Medical Apartheid, even some of the scientists themselves realized their faults eventually: “The radiation experiments capture the moment when an important group of physician-scientists ceased to view themselves as healers and benefactors first, with disastrous results for their victims and for American medicine” (Washington, 241). She goes on to state, “For African Americans, the full costs in lost health and lost trust are still being reckoned” (Washington, 241). This demonstrates that the doctors conducting these horrific experiments initially believed they were playing a positive role in people’s healthcare, and that they may have finally realized the truth of what their actions had caused. Not only was the medical world itself tainted with horrific means of experimentation, African Americans specifically were targeted and exploited through the healthcare system and as Washington stated, there are still consequences from that today.

In the text Home by Toni Morrison, one of the characters, Cee, finds herself at the hands of a doctor similar to those described in Medical Apartheid that performed serious damage to their patients. Cee worked for a man named Dr. Beau, and was led to believe that the experiments he performed on her would benefit his patients in the future. She becomes very ill due to complications from the procedures and examinations performed by him. Cee is eventually returned back home by her brother, and just in time, as she was on the verge of death. Once home, Cee recalls her experience with Dr. Beau when explaining to the women who heal her what had happened: “…how passionate he was about the value of the examinations; how she believed the blood and pain that followed was a menstrual problem- nothing made them change their minds about the medical industry” (Morrison, 122). This shows that not only did the women who helped her fear doctors, now Cee did too. She had almost lost her life due to a doctor being convinced that the procedures he performed on her would provide him with the knowledge he needed to help others. Not only did Cee almost die, she could no longer have children of her own, and this was something Cee struggled with greatly. Although these negative experiences and consequences Cee faced may be presented in a fictional text, they still highlight the reality of the medical world’s history. This fictional representation of the damages people faced at the hands of doctors they once trusted evoked just as much anger in me as the historical events presented in Medical Apartheid.

Not often do I stumble upon eye opening experiences such as this course. I find myself and the classes I take being very literal, which can push me into a more surface-level type of analysis. This course, in contrast, has helped mold me into being more thorough and to be skeptical of the information presented to me. I know ask “why?” and “how?” of all that I learn and read. This enables me to discover the underlying truths behind many of the facts presented to me that I would have never uncovered prior. Reflecting back on my growth I see that I now stray from my literal, face value ways. Although my once highly positive view of the medical field has dwindled, it is now an evidence based perspective. This shift from an evidence-lacking view on the medical field to a factually supported one has been shaped by the ideas this course has shown me. This class taught me the importance of evidence and justification. In this course, we referred to the text Reflective Writing by Kate Williams, Mary Wooliams, and Jane Spiro, when starting to form our final essays. It is stated in Reflective Writing that evidence needs to be provided in order to justify claims that one makes. Before reading this text, I hadn’t considered just how vital evidence is for all information presented, whether it is my own ideas or one I read in a science textbook. Not only has this class shown me directly that there is a vast, dark history behind the science advancements I learn about, it made me aware that I should be seeking the evidence behind these facts as it may help uncovering more of this history as well. As I look further into how an advancement in science or the medical field came about, I could discover on my own the root of the progress and whether or not it is a part of the dark history this course has shown me. This course has taught me how to actively uncover more of the history presented to me in texts like Medical Apartheid and Home on my own, and this has become the core of my growth as a student.

Throughout my studies, I could have been performing deeper analyses all along. A part of me is upset by this, knowing that the majority of my schooling has been presented to me in a sugar-coated way, speaking of only the great advances in science without the negative backstory ever surfacing. Although I may be angered, I cannot rewind the clock, so I will strive to do better in the future. I hope to take this eye-opening experience and practice it onward, noticing the truth behind the facts and read between the lines of my science textbooks. If I enter the medical field or teach of it in the future, I aspire to “practice what I preach”, and be honest about the history that precedes the medical and scientific knowledge we have today. This semester, and specifically this course, has helped shape me as a person and as a student with how I approach the scientific material I learn about.

As a takeaway from this course, and in deep analysis of the literature, I am left with one vital reflection point that I will carry with me even as this course comes to its conclusion: How essential of a role should the different lenses of consent play in my own decision-making process for myself and others? 

Throughout the course of the semester I have gradually built upon and reflected on my already existing thoughts of this courses central theme of consent. In studying works such as Percival Everett’s “Zulus”, Octavia Butler’s “Clay’s Ark”, and Colson Whitehead’s “Zone One”, I was able to react to each of the authors takes on consent, communicated through the adversities faced by their main characters. Although the stories and each character might have been infinitely different at first glance, looking deeper, the works thematically shared the intention to inspire deep reflection on our society by carrying us through extreme scenarios of violation of consent in fabricated dystopian futures. Through the authors perspectives on consent within our society, they successfully created a plane of self-reflection and shock to their readers. In this plane, I was left questioning my own decision-process, and how each choice has consequences reaching far beyond myself. Thus, through their characters, the authors demanded a new level of self-awareness and change from their audiences, as to prevent any timeline similar to their own visions of a dystopian atrocity.

In analysis of each literary work, it became clear to me that the concept of consent should be an essential part of any decision-making process. In my eighth and ninth blog posts, both titled “The Power of a Decision: What motivates your choices?”, I was able to successfully unpack each of the authors’ goals in expression of their characters strife. Most notably in “Zulus” when Alice Achitophel and Kevin Peters decide just the two of them, to end all human life on earth. What gave them the right as only two people to make a decision for an entire planet? This question was applied again in “Clay’s Ark”, when Blake decided to escape the farm community, and as a consequence spread the “organism” thus threatening a world epidemic. In studying these drastic decisions, it invoked a conversation as to whether or not these acts where consensual or not. In my opinion, each of these decisions were an intense violation of consent as the characters failed to inform others or even consider other individual’s opinions on the matters at hand. Rather, in their positions of power, they made decisions that would affect numerous individuals without consulting any of them. Although these dystopian stories may seem entirely intangible, the ideas that they express are not entirely foreign to our own society. Whether in a position of power as a doctor, politician, professor, etc., these same ideologies that these authors share still apply. Consent by one for a decision that involves the lives of many is wrong. In conclusion, it is essential that when making decisions, we consider all perspectives and individuals involved, because if we don’t it is a violation of their consent. 

Bouncing off of the idea that we must consider the perspectives of all, we come across the chronic issue of viewing other opinions as more important than others. Racism, prejudice, and discrimination are atrocious elements that have plagued our society throughout history. Tapping into this pain and violation of individuals, the authors of each of these literary works expressed that the dehumanization of those who are perceived as different is an intense violation of that individuals or groups consent. Through characters such as Alice Achitophel, and Whitehead’s take on the “skels” as told through his character Mark Spitz, the reader is able to visualize this prejudice in a new light. For example, Alice Achitophel is consistently criticized based on her weight, and outcasted from society. As a consequence of this alienation, Alice fails to be sterilized like all other women, and as a result becomes pregnant. Following Alice through her journey to escape the city and reach a “rebel-base”, we are continuously exposed to the crude and inhumane treatment that Alice receives due to these differences. Whether being ridiculed and aggressively assessed by doctors, or having her entire body be put on display in a glass case, Alice is non-consensually violated throughout the course of the novel. Analyzing Everett’s purpose for Alice Achitophel, it became clear to me that she was a representation of how we treat those who are perceived as different in society. In this reflection, Everett’s message comes at a shock that makes you rethink how you view consent both physically and socially. Alice is both physically and socially abused by her peers. With this malice you are left asking: What gave them the right? And what decisions led up to Alice being treated the way she was? I began to explore these questions in my final blog post titled “The Concept of Consent Analyzed through the Female Character Alice Achitophel”. In questioning the novel, it became apparent that the real-life applications of Everett’s warnings are both tangible and shocking.

These applications are exceptionally evident in the medical field. In Harriet Washington’s “Medical Apartheid” she exposes multiple doctors who abused their power and status as physicians to non-consensually experiment on individuals who they viewed as less than. Whether African American prisoners, women, or etc., the nefarious actions of these doctors remained centralized on one excuse, they failed to acknowledge medical subjects as people worthy of receiving consent, or basic human rights in some drastic cases.  In my eighth blog post, I analyze the horrific studies of Dr. Albert M. Kligman, who performed experiments on the African American prisoners of Holmesburg prison as to gain better knowledge in the field of dermatology. Zoning in specifically on Dr. Kligman, it became clear that often individuals put in positions of power, abuse this power, using others to better themselves no matter what cost to those individuals being used. In this case it was Kligman’s patients and experimental subjects who were being used. In the end, what does this say about our society? Reflecting on the literature, it becomes even clearer that we need to change this pattern of oppressive and selfish behavior in all regards and walks of life.

Delving into another real-life application, we can look closely at the NYC African Burial Grounds, and how they most likely inspired Colson Whitehead in his process of writing “Zone One”. The setting of Whitehead’s novel takes place in a post-apocalyptic setting of lower-Manhattan, ironically also where the burial grounds are located. The novel is based around a zombie-apocalypse, the characters referring to the dead as “skels”. However, unique to all the other characters, Mark Spitz is able to personify the dead, giving them stories and identities. Rather than just viewing them as less than human, Spitz views the skels as worthy of respect and a story. As a reader you are left questioning how can we possibly connect this to a palpable real-life scenario? Rather than focusing on the fact that the skels are quite literally zombies, if you look at the perspective of the skels just being individuals who have been dehumanized, the bigger picture becomes much more apparent. Thus, Whitehead’s purpose for his work becomes clearer. In my sixth blog post, “The Injustice of Dehumanization of Those Who are Different – Told through the Lense of Colson Whitehead’s Zone One”, I came to the conclusion that Whitehead’s goal was to make us question our own perceptions of individuals. In this contemplation, I was able to come to the fact that all are worthy of identity and rights in both life and death; thus, this historical pattern of disregarding human-lives needs to come to an end. 

Circling back to decision-making, I was able to channel each of these authors works in order to improve my own thought process and reflect on the weight that consent should have on this process. Studying “Zulus” it became clear to me that we should all be more socially aware of our actions, as to prevent characters such as Alice Achitophel’s fate. In my tenth blog post, I state: “What gives someone the right to tell you that how you look and who you are is not okay?”. This question is carried from “Zulus” into “Zone One” as we reflect on Whitehead’s purpose to personify the skels, making a statement about how in history we have repeatedly given individuals no rights in death. This history is portrayed in the African Burial grounds of lower Manhattan, where the bodies of numerous African Americans were found completely unidentified with unmarked graves; thus, given no voice in life or death. A nonconsensual act that reaches far beyond just communication. This type of violation is again portrayed in “Clay’s Ark” when Blake shows zero regard for the consequences of his own actions, allowing the spread of a deadly alien organism worldwide, just so he could do what he desired as a single individual. All of these actions began with a decision. A decision that lacked inclusion of different perspectives, or regard for the lives of others. Whether deciding to end all human life as only two people (Alice Achitophel and Kevin Peters), potentially spreading a deadly organism (Blake), or viewing those who are dead as less than human (characters of “Zone One”), the violation remains the same: those who were not included in a decision but are deeply affected by it are robbed of consent at all angles.  

So, in final reflection, for myself, and for the readers, I ask: How will you change your decision-making process after studying the messages of Everett, Whitehead, and Butler? And how can we improve our society by establishing that all are worthy of a voice and value in decisions that affect them?

The course epigraph is as follows, “My job is to notice…and to notice that you can notice,” a quote by Dionne Brand. As someone who grew up in an area that by some would be considered “ghetto”, a place that is a lot less fortunate then some, I’m always aware. I notice small things more than the big picture. I notice when someone cuts their hair a few inches or a difference in attitude and body language. Though, in this class, I lacked my noticing skills, and genuinely struggled on noticing things. Not only with noticing, I struggled with creating ideas of my own and being descriptive and thorough.

Going back to when I first visited Geneseo, I was oddly skeptical. The environment just felt different to me as I was completely unaware of my surroundings again, on this 3-college visits in a 2-day trip. When I stepped into Doty Hall and was greeted by the tour group leaders, and a few other secretaries, etc., it felt …right. I was nervous to come here, that’s for sure. I am a first-generation college student and was scared for what my future held for me. The atmosphere at Geneseo is overwhelmingly positive and offers a variety of opportunities and access to what I may need to succeed. Looking back at my first semester I would say that college is just …hard. Though hard is a simple word that to me carries a significant meaning. I can recall times in the past semester where I had almost given up and frequently said, “This class is too hard,” and “I don’t get this, it’s too hard”. I did struggle here, that I will admit. 3 months seems like a short amount of time but, there has been exceptional growth for me. Not only as a writer, but also as a person. This English 101, “Literature, Medicine, and Racism” course Dr McCoy teaches has exposed me to a world I have never seen. I have learned the different struggles and battles different kinds of people have had to go through for succession.  

In a few short sentences the book Clay’s Ark is about a disease, a deadly parasite to be exact. It is trying to occupy and take over the population. Eli, the first one infected by the parasite, is being compelled to infect others when he returns from his space travel. Blake and his two daughters, Rane and Keira are all eventually infected and try to escape. A moment that stands out to me is, “It occurred to her as she headed for the steep incline that she could be killed. The thought did not slow her. Either way, the stick people would not tie her down again.” (pg. 539) I interpret this as not being afraid. Not being afraid to die, or in my case fail, because she would not allow the stick people to tie her down, and for me to now allow my thoughts to bring me down either. I am a person who often will beat themselves down with words. As I’ve learned, there’s a lot more meaning, and that is why I’m affected by them so much. Words are special and can make someone happy, sad, or even angry. I learned the power behind them in a discussion we had in class regarding Fortune’s Bones. In class, we discussed the African Burial Ground, and those who were buried are left nameless as their bodies are too far gone to be identified. For obvious ethical reasons, this affected me emotionally. Their name is their identity. Their name is what defines them. To not have that, leaves them almost as nothing though they are still people. I often wondered, how did this even begin? Had they consented?

Consent is a broad topic that has encased our class. We have spoken countless times about consent and the different areas that surround it. Prior to this class, I was unaware of the different meanings behind it, and how influential that word is. Looking back at another book we have read, Medical Apartheid, there are times in history, that are often never taught, were African Americans are treated horrendously and are not given the chance to consent. The Tuskegee Syphilis Study had promised, “free medical care to about six hundred sick, desperately poor sharecroppers…” (pg. 157) Though, that never happened. Rather than being treated, all the men were studied, “found a pool of infected black men, [held] treatment from them, and then charting the progression of symptoms and disorders” (Pg. 157). This study left me astonished as I had never heard about it prior to reading Medical Apartheid. Unfortunately, I feel schools lack in exposure to topics that may be hard to listen to and understand. But, it is all important and valuable knowledge to those it effects, and those it doesn’t.

As I end this class, I notice how I’ve grown. I notice how more efficiently I try and understand concepts and ideas about others’ through means of communication. I’m more aware. More aware of the impact my words have on others. I am powerful, in thought, in speech, and in my script.

                                                              According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, to “notice” means to become aware of something; to “learn” means to “gain knowledge or understanding of or skill in by study, instruction, or experience”. In order to gain knowledge or understanding, one needs to learn new information or look at information in a new way. In other words, one needs to become aware of something new. Our course epigraph, “my job is to notice…and to notice that you can notice” is therefore fundamentally related to learning. The speaker’s job is to learn, and to learn that other people can learn. There is a clear relation between the course epigraph and what we’ve been hearing about in some classes at SUNY Geneseo about the growth mindset, which asserts that we can learn and develop ourselves, that we are not immutable stone. The literature we’ve read in class, particularly Medical Apartheid, has been useful for my own noticing (or: learning) as I was almost wholly unaware of the lengthy abuse of blacks by the medical system—it was also something I had never considered or come close to thinking about, beyond many of the United States’ Founding Fathers owning slaves. Likewise, Dr. McCoy’s conscientiousness about the use of the language has encouraged me to pay more attention to my and other people’s use of speech and the subtle unintentional meanings that might hide within that speech. One example that has stood out in my mind was the distinction made between “slave” and “enslaved person”—“slave” sounding more like an ontological claim that the essence of the person who is a slave is that of a slave, rather than it being an action being done to them. Curiously, in spite of my absolute agreement with “enslaved person” being preferable to “slave”, I feel a little disgust at the notion of changing one’s usage of “slave” to “enslaved person”. Why this is, and why I can’t see myself using the terminology I agree more with, I cannot say, but it’s been on my mind for a while now. (Incidentally, I feel the same disgust whenever I see someone tell someone else that they should say something like “African American” instead of “black”, or “Caucasian” instead of “white”).

                                                               The structure of the class itself has also taught me much—I had much difficulty and frustration being required to write ten essays with the almost sole guideline being that they relate to the course themes, which are so broad that the blog posts gave what feltlike an overwhelming amount of possibilities of things to say, to such a  degree that I couldn’t say anything at all. There is much to be said about racism, medicine, and racism and medicine, but clear guidance on more focused writing topics might have been something that I could have engaged with more. The daily mention of “you can get a blog post out of that” or “there are about 50 blogposts in what you’ve all just said” has been a recurring source of frustration writing even one blog post was so difficult. Another source of frustration was the occasional encouragement to not worry about grades in a class that still requires grades and ultimately results in either a passing or a failing grade. While I completely agree with the spirit of Dr. McCoy’s emphasis on learning (or: noticing) rather than working for the sake of a grade without learning and understanding something new, it seems unfair to encourage laxity towards something essential to the progression of college students. While I strongly believe that none of these things, the openness in the course (in the sense of being given so much freedom in writing about what interests you, so long that it relates to the course), the encouragement that we (the students) have been openly discussing things which can be expanded upon (or “unpacked”), and the encouragement to not worry much about grades are by no means bad in themselves; rather, it seems that many, if not most other students have profited much from this style of class, judging by the excitement that many people have brought to the discussions involving the entire class and the seemingly high levels of engagement with material outside of the course (that is, things found on their own initiative that relate to the course, e.g. reading articles about zombies and medical history and so on). It just didn’t seem to work for me, at least not yet.

                                                              Another thing I’d like to add is about the group discussions. The discussions in which the whole class participated, and everyone is free to agree, disagree, or add whatever they’d like, often seemed to be very useful, while the smaller group discussions of 3-5 people seemed to be qualitatively far worse, with nothing insightful being shared, and the creation of little islands in the classroom seemed to encourage people to not sincerely engage with the material or each other at all; and then when the time comes to share what has been discussed, someone very graciously volunteers to spew off half-baked thoughts for a minute until everyone is satisfied. Maybe my view of the group discussions is overly cynical, but my experience in other classes seems to support it: the smaller groups accomplished very little while the whole class discussions encouraged everybody to think critically about the matter at hand, and gave everybody equal opportunity to interject where they see fit.

                                                               Lastly, I’ve learned, or rather noticed again, that it’s extremely difficult and unsatisfying to engage with any kind of schoolwork when you are very concerned and gloomy about something completely different, when all interest in these things disappears and there remains a need to pass the course so as to move on, and not to have spent in vain time of which there is never enough of. This is obviously not a fault of the course, but just a general observation from someone reflecting on things.

                                                              Throughout the semester I was frequently comparing this class to another class I was taking, African Lit. Criticism. In that class, there were extended readings on some fictional literature, particularly the novel Second Class Citizen by Buchi Emecheta, and weekly readings of non-fictional, theoretical pieces that provided a new dimension to the text by re-contextualizing what had been read, and by providing another means to understand what would be read later in the novel. For example, in one week we would read short theoretical pieces by someone like W.E.B. Du Bois, whose concept of double-consciousness could help us better understand the actions and views of some of the characters in the story; how the maltreatment they receive at the hands of other (whiter) folk makes it necessary for them to be ever-aware of their blackness. In another week we would read pieces about African Feminism, again challenging our past and present and future readings of the text. After each reading we would write a short essay drawing connections between the theoretical works and the fictional works, applying theory to fiction, and deepening our understanding of the literature. Through the more rigid structure (writing about a book and its relations to the recently read short theoretical pieces), I was able to develop a deeper understanding of the works and draw connections between them. The more closed nature of the course, where what is expected of you is more clearly defined, seemed to have worked better for me, and was at least far less frustrating. It was interesting to observe throughout the semester that two courses that are very much in conversation with each other can differ in their approach to the material so much, and still seem to yield very positive results among students.

                                                              The course for me, therefore, has been a great noticing experience. It’s taught me much about my own learning style, has exposed me to something brand new in the poor treatment of blacks within the medical system, and has made me more conscientious about language in general. Regardless of my many frustrations, I’m still very glad to have had the opportunity to take part and to notice something new, which is always an upbuilding experience.