Personal Narrative: The Feminist Movement

3. Ways to make a woman feel attracted to you and take the initiative to talk to you

We got really, really drunk so I kind of didn’t go home yet. I am sending this message from my phone at ten o'clock here at Fabi’s apartment. When we mentioned we were going to get a taxi together she got all worried saying "Of course I won’t let you all get a taxi right now, it’ll take almost half an hour." we ended

Last summer I wanted to work and earn a little cash and distract myself and not be home all summer. I didn't know where to apply so I applied everywhere I was even open to working in the fields my parents told me that the fields were the last place they ever wanted me to work. My mom and step dad Raul always told me that field work wasn't easy and that it was not for me but I didn't listen.

I have worked for The Advocate, a Baton Rouge award winning newspaper, for more than 23 years. When I first hired on in May of 1992, it was only to be a temporary job until I finished college. Before computers and electronic layout programs simplified this process with the click of a button, people had to cut out and paste the stories, pictures, and advertisements that appeared in the daily newspaper. This was my job: I was a Compositor. I worked evenings so this allowed me the availability to go to school during the day. I have always been a hard worker and taken pride in whatever assignment I was given. This character trait was recognized by others and I was quickly promoted to other jobs. As the computer age and world wide web came to life,

When I walked into the store, I was greeted by the sales associate, Cathy. She came over and asked me how she can help me today. I replied that I was looking for a new mattress and was told by a co-worker that they had a new Sleep Number bed and I was interested in finding out about them. The associate asked me about my current mattress and what I was looking for in a new mattress. After I answered her questions, she led me over to the demonstration mattress and asked me to lie down. She gave me the demonstration and then asked me to come over to the m7 mattress and lie down on that mattress. The associate then demonstrated the adjustable frame of the m7. She then gave me the laminated pricing sheet and explained that there was a current

When I was 5, my hands grew old and weary, tired of construction and calloused from work. Day after day after day, I would fashion new worlds and cultures out of little LEGO blocks. I worked fastidiously- creating tiny planes, guarded forts, and expansive cities that swept from one end of the carpet to the other. (I loved to make castles with booby-trapped moats and false walls and hidden entrances.)

Have you ever been so desperate for something that you modify your motive in its entirety? Throughout my life I’ve found myself placed in this frightening situation multiple times; the most confusing of which would be what I’ve endured this year. People in their 20s have it rough. We’re old enough to feel like we’re supposed to know what we’re doing, yet young enough to roll in the tide aimlessly and clueless and it still be acceptable. Then there’s those of us who believe we’ve got it all figured out only to be proven tremendously wrong. I have learned, however, that being tremendously wrong can lead you right where you need to be.

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

50 minutes had passed since Bailey Madison James whom some called Bai and others called BJ. Though when they called her BJ that just pissed her off to the point of no return. Bailey thought it was funny when she'd explode and the looks on people's faces made her day sometime. She just couldn't get enough of it. "I love you." Bailey typed into her phone sending a text message to Calahan not knowing if he was going to get it or not. Even if they fought a lot she always made sure that he knew she loved him. Even if it was a simple text message before bed, a note on his pillow, a note on his plate when he'd come home late. It was just her little way of trying to make things better between them. She hated the fact that all they did was fight including

I’m surprised and confused, I want to make things right with her desperately, but I’m not sure what I did wrong in the first place. The bell rings and she leaves the room faster than anyone else, leaving me behind to wonder what it is that I’ve done to make her this

The paper was set on the wooden desk and a pen was poised in her hand. She chewed her lip and flicked the pen, contemplating what to write. How could she sum it up? This was the last thing she'd ever write. Explaining it all would take too long. It had to be something short. Something that would tell her family and friends why.

Have you ever been so desperate for something that you redevelop your motive in its entirety? Throughout my life I’ve found myself placed in this frightening situation multiple times; the most confusing of which would be what I’ve endured this year. People in their 20s have it rough anyway. We’re old enough to feel like we’re supposed to know what we’re doing, yet young enough to be clueless and it still be acceptable; then there’s those of us who think we’ve got it all figured out only to be proven tremendously wrong. I have learned, however, that being tremendously wrong can lead you right where you need to be.

someone. One of the hardest responsibilities I've ever had to take on, was when I had to babysit, Brennan, my little brother. I thought I would not do a good job, but I knew it was something I had to learn how to do. Also, when I babysat my brother, I felt that it would help my parents if I knew how to take care of him. Although I was very nervous, I told my parents that I would babysit my little brother. Something that I didn't know, was that I was learning a lot about taking responsibility for things in life. It was a very interesting learning experience for me.

This summer I had the privilege of being accepted to attend an eleven day, women-only, leadership conference taking place in Boston, MA. Women from all around the world gathered to collect knowledge from presentations and lectures hosted in the halls of Harvard and various other prestigious colleges and universities near Boston, eloquently delivered from the likes of Rep. Joseph P. Kennedy III and Councilor Ayanna Pressley. At the end of the conference, each person presents their ‘action plan’ explaining how they are going to make a difference.

This past weekend, my best friend Jalisa drove from Ohio to Washington D.C. to participate in the Women’s March. I was very excited to see her because I had not seen her in five months. We both arrived at the march, but because of the crowds and the weak cell phone reception, I started to become worried. We texted each other back and forth, sending our locations to one another. Every time I attempted to map a route to her on my phone, it would not work. Then my phone rang, it was Jalisa. When I answered, she said, “My phone keeps on dying. I’m on 14th”. I replied, “14th street is a part of the march route, when we get there look for my sign it says ‘Support the Power of Women, Use the Power of Man’”. Our plan was set, but things did not go