Stereotypes: A Short Story

The danger of a single story is that they let the powerful downgrade the weaker because they create stereotypes, they can hurt the people, and no one gets represented from the culture.

With the roadblocks in Callie's adoption it's been a long couple of months, but she was finally getting adopted tomorrow. The whole family couldn't wait for her to officially be a Adams-Foster.

RaStereotyping is a way of thinking about groups of people. It ignores the differences of the group, while emphasizing its similarity. One belief, that is a stereotype, is that red-haired people are hot tempered. Another belief is that Scottish people are stingy. Such thinking ignores many even-tempered redheads and generous Scottish people. Stereotyping emphasizes many differences between groups while ignoring their similarities to other people. It ignores that many blond and brown-haired people also lose their tempers. Stereotyping overlooks the fact that many American, Brazilians and French people are stingy.

Lux stands there motionless. Mallory and Anastasia run over embracing her. Walking her over to the couch to sit down.

Lexie nodded before she turned her head with sound of an opening door. “Mom. They need you. She’s seizing.” Brooklyn stated quickly causing the three doctors in the room to dash into the room. They quickly got the seizure under control and Sarah groggily came to soon

“This woman could’ve lived. Instead, she chose to commit suicide rather than face life alone. Rather than face an eternity in some dungeon.” Kat took a deep breath and spoke loudly and firmly, “This is what your maxims do to people.”

It was a hot, Texas summer afternoon. All of the family was sitting together, enjoying each others company. We were watching TV. We joked and laughed with each other. When my grandpa arrives from work, he rushes upstairs to get ready for guitar classes, and says he will be back for dinner. For us, it was a normal Wednesday. Afterward, my grandpa comes down, and sits at the table. He was dressed casually, and is ready to eat. He gets settled and tells me he has something exciting to tell me. We are eating at the table, each of us are enjoying the meal. While we are eating, I notice my grandpa getting in a position as if he were going to say something. He looks at me, along with my mother. He says,"Karmin, would you like to go to guitar classes?"

Kat’s eyes blinked open and she winced as the light hit her eyes. Ouch. That’s bright. She sat up and looked around. She was in the white room Shannon had showed her to yesterday. A pair of jeans and a t-shirt lay on a chair near the bed. Kat swung her legs over the edge of the bed and dressed. When she was clothed, she opened a door near the end of the bed. It opened into a bathroom and Kat groaned when she saw her messy hair. She brushed her hair, wincing every time it caught. When all the black hair was in place, she wet the brush and brushed the red streak. For some reason it never wanted to cooperate. Only water could tame it.

She was curious and asked John a few questions. "Yes I can see you just fine, now tell me what's the issue, you are a ghost correct?"

what she’s talking about? Yeah why.” She then whispered in an almost eager tone, “Yes but she’s not entirely insane, she gave me

As a little child, your parents annoyed you, ordering you to do this and not that, having to act like this and not like that. Everyday, you just had to stuff the words of your parents nagging and bothersome orders and commands into your head. In addition, television, games, internet, and social media convinced people like you in a quite simple way, by imprinting their idea of what you are supposed to look like, talk like, and how important or useless you were to our society. This captures and defines the form of stereotype.

“Yes,” she crisply replied and straightened her back. “Just had a very irritating thought about something.” She paused for a

As I walked out of my nine-story apartment complex, I saw an interesting array of faces. Mixed genders, some male, some female, all very different deep down inside. I study their faces, wondering what it'd be like to walk a day in their shoes. Some people are like open books, you can look at their facial expression and instantly guess what their emotions are, yet others are like locked diaries. You can't tell what they're thinking and you'll probably never know. I shake the thought out of my head as I rummage through my pathetic excuse of a handbag, pulling out my most recent bank statement. Thirty-two cents to my name. How do I live like this? My train of thought is lost as my mind ponders elsewhere. Do you think people can tell I'm a broke

“Sure,” Jennifer said hesitantly. She felt this strange aura roaming around the house, something dark and mysterious. Yet, she ignored it. This decision would

“I looked into it and no one has seen any unnatural work coming from the kids, they must not have found out about their powers yet,”