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.

2006: A group of smiling faces greeted back at me, like the pretty, welcoming American Girls at New York I dragged my mom to see with me. “Yes!, did you see that? I got sweet, one point for me!” I exclaimed with my tiny fist pumping up and down and my butt wiggling from the excitement I could not contain inside of me. As the condensation from the fresh rain beaded up on the surface of my water, forming lopsided smiles droopy eyes, I blew hard and long; I consumed the biggest puff I could huff and puff, enough to blow down the three little pigs’ brick house. I slashed one tick mark and smiled proudly when there were no tick marks on the other side. The seven-year old me cackled softly as I sneakily slashed one more tick mark. A single sweet

I loathe math. Numbers are extraordinarily dull. They don't have any depth. In high school, math felt irrelevant. When am I going to need logarithms? When am I going to say to myself “I sure am glad that I had to memorize the unit circle, I use that so often”? But as much as I detest numbers, they explain who we are. Numbers can’t lie, so who better to tell us who we are.

The low rumble reverberated through its victims’ ears. Like statues, everyone stayed still; too frightened to deliberate on what may happen if they dared move a muscle. Looks were shared from across the small courtyard, everyone wide eyed and shaken. In between the madness I heard a sparse bellowing sound from close by.

I wonder if other people from here also encountered such a...peculiar thing like I have. She wondered to herself in front of the mirror. Rachel was busy flicking her orange hair to another side of her face away from her eye that was bothering her once she woke up. Her red egg was nested by her in the bathroom. She’d look like she wasn’t paying no mind to it but she couldn’t help but to shoot her eyes at strange egg every so often as she was getting ready for the day. She likes to prepare herself in the morning before dawn even if it wasn’t a school day. Her daily routine consisted of doing school assignments the day she gets it, spending time outside for jogs then coming home looking at prehistoric documentaries (even some that she had already

Some girl I just met - her name is Marie, I think - glares at me through her tears.

I often sit at my desk looking at old snapshots. Some of the pictures are very old. They are brown and white. Some of them feel like they are made of metal. These photos may be around the beginning of the 20th century.

Bryan's announcement, had gotten the attention of Tim from across the aisle. At the age of seventeen, Timothy Williams was the youngest high school seniors in Minister Mike's delegation. He too disapproved of Bryan's cocky attitude.

Still breathing heavily she walked over to the restroom. With her hands pressing on both sides of the sink she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes held shadows under, her face exhausted.

“Come on Em, time for class,” Raina called over my shoulder. I could always depend on her to get me to class on time. We're in a program called BioMedical Studies. We take classes about how to deal with emergencies.

Since I had already took attendance, i grabbed my red pen and put a "X" towards Gia's name on my grading sheet. Afterwards, I sat at my desk, wondering what my next move would be.

The directions instructed each student where to go for their homeroom. Many students in the back couldn’t hear her very clearly due to her low, muffled voice.

hateful grimace on her face. Usually I would ignore the hateful remark and walk away as if I had

When she gets to school, her teacher, Mr. Jones says sarcastically, “There are some people in this class who obviously don’t

“HI!! I am princess Jaline. ARE YOU THE NEW Pupil? She yelled so loud that the whole school turned and looked. This is not how I wanted to start the year.