The purpose is to work to make sense of what you read based

The purpose is to work to make sense of what you read based on… The purpose is to work to make sense of what you read based on Literary Theory and reflect on questions within the reflection paper instructions. Reflection Paper InstructionsIn this Reflection Paper, carefully consider the section Feminist and Gender Criticism.  Your job in this reflection is to pick one of the stories or poems from this unit and interpret the poem as if you were a Feminist and Gender critic.  PoemMy Lover Is a Woman by Pat Parker I.my lover is a woman& when i hold herfeel her warmth     i feel good     feel safethen—i never think ofmy family’s voicesnever hear my sisters saybulldaggers, queers, funny     come see us, but don’t     bring your friends          it’s ok with us,          but don’t tell mama          it’d break her heartnever feel my fatherturn in his gravenever hear my mother cryLord, what kind of child is this? II.my lover’s hair is blonde& when it rubs across my faceit feels soft     feels like a thousand fingers     touch my skin & hold me          and i feel goodthen—i never think of the little boywho spat & called me niggernever think of the policemenwho kicked my body & said crawlnever think of Black bodieshanging in trees or filledwith bullet holesnever hear my sisters saywhite folks hair stinksdon’t trust any of themnever feel my fatherturn in his gravenever hear my mother talkof her backache after scrubbing floorsnever hear her cryLord, what kind of child is this? III. my lover’s eyes are blue& when she looks at mei float in a warm lake     feel my muscles go weak with want          feel good          feel safethen—i never think of the blueeyes that have glared at memoved three stools away from mein a barnever hear my sisters rageof syphilitic Black men asguinea pigs     rage of sterilized children          watch them just stop in an          intersection to scare the old          white bitchnever feel my father turnin his gravenever remember my motherteaching me the yes sirs & ma’amsto keep me alivenever hear my mother cryLord, what kind of child is this? IV.& when we go to a gay bar& my people shun me because i crossedthe line& her people look to see what’swrong with her     what defect     drove her to me& when we walk the streetsof this city     forget and touch     or hold hands          & the people          stare, glare, frown, & taunt               at those queersi remember     every word taught me     every word said to me     every deed done to me          & then i hatei look at my lover& for an instant     doubtthen—i hold her hand tighter     & i can hear my mother cry.     Lord, what kind of child is this? Arts & Humanities English Literature LIT 2000

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