Excerpt from “The Bluest Eye” by Toni Morrison: The other dolls, which were supposed to bring me great pleasure, succeeded in doing quite the opposite. When I took it to bed, its hard unyielding limbs resisted my flesh—the tapered fingertips on those dimpled hands scratched. If, in sleep, I turned, the bone-cold head collided with my own. It was a most uncomfortable, patently aggressive sleeping companion. To hold it was no more rewarding. The starched gauze or lace on the cotton dress irritated any embrace. I had only one desire: to dismember it. To see of what it was made, to discover the dearness, to find the beauty, the desirability that had escaped me, but apparently only me. Adults, older girls, shops, magazines, newspapers, window signs—all the world had agreed that a blueeyed, yellow-haired, pink-skinned doll was what every girl child treasured. “Here,” they said, “this is beautiful, and if you are on this day ‘worthy’ you may have it.” I fingered the face, wondering at the single-stroke eyebrows; picked at the pearly teeth stuck like two piano keys between red bowline lips. Traced the turned-up nose, poked the glassy blue eyeballs, twisted the yellow hair. I could not love it. But I could examine it to see what it was that all the world said was lovable. Break off the tiny fingers, bend the flat feet, loosen the hair, twist the head around, and the thing made one sound—a sound they said was the sweet and plaintive cry “Mama,” but which sounded to me like the bleat of a dying lamb, or, more precisely, our icebox door opening on rusty hinges in July. Remove the cold and stupid eyeball, it would bleat still, “Ahhhhhh,” take off the head, shake out the sawdust, crack the back against the brass bed rail, it would bleat still. The gauze back would split, and I could see the disk with six holes, the secret of the sound. A mere metal roundness In The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison presents a young African-American girl reflecting on a doll given to her for Christmas in order to demonstrate the resentment of dominated white representation as a young black girl, despite the worldwide acceptance of white features, ultimately advocating the larger meaning that hate and racism toward young black people teaches them to hold resentment and be hateful back. In the excerpt, Morrison utilizes envious and lonely diction to display Pecola’s bewilderment behind what the doll provides that society didn’t see in her and what she feels as only her. Toward the beginning of the young girl’s introduction to the doll, she explains “I had only one desire: to dismember it. To see of what it was made, to discover the dearness, to find the beauty, the desirability-”. By using words like discover and find, the story better shows the main character’s genuine confusion and longing to find the answer behind her different treatment in society. She also describes her want to dismember the doll, displaying a sense of resentment toward its features and all of its parts. This shows the heightened hatred and hostility that the young girl has toward the dominant white representation around her and how it deviates from her characteristics. These words display her belief that there genuinely is an answer to racial discrimination, and they are something that she can pick apart and locate by dismembering the doll before her. Later on, the girl continues by explaining “-the desirability that had escaped me, but apparently only me”. By using the word only, the story better portrays the main character’s feeling of isolation and sense of division between her and the representation that surrounded her. Additionally, the use of apparently in the sentence shows Pecola’s lack of understanding of what makes her different and less desirable in her society. By using envious and lonely diction in the excerpt, Morrison further displays the division felt between the character and the world around her as well as the resentment held between the young girl and the racist society held over her. Moreover, Morrison uses vivid imagery of the doll and its features to show Pecola's analyzation and confused feelings. She is described as “picking at the pearly teeth stuck like two piano keys between red bowline lips”. Pecola picks at the teeth, showing a lack of understanding of the doll and its features. Picking insinuates that she was looking for something, slowly picking away at it- she was looking for the features that made the dole more accepted than her. Additionally, she describes the teeth as stuck like two piano keys between red bowline lips, demonstrating Pecola’s understanding that she and the doll do not share features, as African-American people have darker lips and sometimes gaps in their teeth. While Pecola is struggling with desirability to fit societal beauty standards, she also describes the doll's teeth and lips with a sense of unfamiliarity and mere disgust, displaying the hatred she pushes back onto the white features and the hatred that they had given her. Toward the end of the paragraph, the young girl says “I could not love it. But I could examine it to see what it was that all the world said was lovable”. These sentences further display Pecola’s resentment toward the doll and its features as well as her desire to understand the general acceptance of white features over black features. While she herself could not manage to love, or really forgive the doll, she could pick away and dismember the doll with passion and resentment to figure out why other people can love it. By using imagery of the doll and its differing qualities between it and Pecola, the story can display not only which qualities trouble the girl most, but also her aggression and hatred for the doll because of them. In conclusion, Toni Morrison uses the young girl’s interaction with the doll to explore the destructive effects of societal racism on a young African-American girl. Pecola’s feelings of confusion and resentment toward the doll illustrate her deeper frustration with being excluded from the beauty standards that dominate her world. Through the use of envious diction and vivid imagery, Morrison shows how the girl’s inability to find love for herself stems from her internalized rejection of the features that make her uniquely black. By dissecting the doll, Pecola tries to make sense of a world that values whiteness, ultimately highlighting the emotional toll that hate and racial discrimination take on black children. The doll, as an object of desire and unattainable beauty, serves as a reflection of the broader societal divide that leaves Pecola disconnected from her own identity.

The trajectory of a telescope is simple: there is a clear direction forward, with one way looking through, and a singular image on the other end. This is how it was explained to me by my father, as my naked eyes studied the night sky, with an innumerable amount of stars looking back at me. My dad lifted the telescope from the ground and inched it toward me, signaling me to use it. There was something comforting about magnifying each star, looking through a tunnel, and seeing one isolated piece of an overwhelmingly complex reality. Until my life had changed, I saw the direct trajectory of my life before me. I carried the misunderstanding that I knew everything and that life was a telescope, with a singular direction, pointing forward. Three months into my freshman year of high school, my father suffered a massive stroke that left him nonverbal and with limited bodily functions. He was confined to a hospital bed, with an immovable wedge driven between him and the life he had built. I watched as the lens of my life’s telescope had shattered, with the once predictable outcome now presenting as fragmented and splintered. The telescope was dark and the star was dead. In the months following my dad’s death, I looked at my life, estranged from the image I had previously seen. I thought back to those nights, admiring the stars with my dad, evaluating each orb of light individually. As a kid, I found the telescope to be secure, as I managed to sequester the city of stars. While I obsessively focused on the security of one secluded star, I failed to recognize the beauty of the stars that coated the sky around it. The telescope offered a linear direction with a solitary figure. However, reality is much scarier: life is not linear. Today, I look at life through the wide scope of reality. Before me, I saw a community of people come together with stories of my father; I read how he touched hundreds of lives through the life-long connections he made and his devotion to helping the people he loved. I began to understand that the traits that were no longer his were still alive in me. I discovered a true passion for working with and helping people in and outside of my life. I am proud to be involved in my school’s leadership program, where I am a member of the Philanthropy committee and have been able to exercise my desire to help the people around me. I have put together outreach events for young students, teachers, and even retirees. I see this as a stepping stone for my future, as I plan to pursue education in light of my passion for leadership and philanthropy. Being involved in public service connected me closer to my dad, as I take each step in life knowing that I do it all to carry the proud life that he lost and I found. By extending the scope in which I looked at life, I now know myself for who I truly am– not only am I a hard worker, but I am a leader. Perpetually, I push myself and my peers, striving to be the best version of myself and contributing to the best version of my community. I thank my father– while his absence bruised the philosophy that I held close to my heart, it redirected me to see life in all of its actuality. When my telescope shattered, I expanded my scope. I opened my eyes. I now see all the stars, beaming simultaneously.