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Modern Day Slavery
Transcript of Modern Day Slavery
A world so beautiful,
With many creations.
A world so pitiful,
With many invasions.
Here, just here.
Not everywhere in the world.
Some people loose, Some people loose,
Always searching for a spark. The Slavery Rescue Team! La Fresca; Diary Entries
March 16, 2003
I have a sore body. It hurts more, I feel paralyzed down. It was worth it. I get to eat and buy new necessities like jackets. He doesn't like it when I wear jackets. He says it covers too much and that I should respect his wishes. The last time I didn't do so, he found my brother and beat him.
March 26, 2013
There's a new girl, she's actually pretty. I showed her the rooms she is staying in and she told me to F*** off. I don't blame her, I wouldn't want a prostitute to tell me things, better yet to even all to me. Oops.. Too late to go back now.
Anywho it's my turn tomorrow... Whoop dee doo.
March 27, 2003
The word spreads like wildfire over here. The new girl ran away and he killed her. We must all move now. He told me that, well not just me,(all of the other girls), never try to pull that off, we will beg for forgiveness but won’t get it. Poor girl, I actually wanted to be her friend. Crossword Puzzle The Hardships Modern Slavery Still Desperately Here Emma's Work Samantha's Work Elise's Work Dear Readers,
How would you feel if you were forced to do something everyday that ruined your dreams? Millions of people do this and have no choice. They are threatened into work to support their families who would die without them.
We decided to make this zine to bring awareness to a subject than many people do not believe exists. Sadly, slavery is still within our world, and many people suffer from it, we put our feelings about modern day slavery in our writing pieces.
There are nine writing pieces in our zine, and here we will each discuss our favorite one that we wrote.
Emma: My favorite writing piece is a poem titled Locked In. This poem shows two different perspectives of the world. On the left side is a person who has a wonderful life, on the right a person who does not and is trapped in slavery. This poem is short and sweet, and shows the different perspectives of life.
Samantha: My favorite writing piece is my diary. These diary entries are made from the perspective of a young girl forced to be a sex slave. This is my favorite piece because it makes you feel as if you are in her situation. Although at times it can be hard to think of things these young teenage girls/boys go through, because I haven’t gone through the same things. This requires me to go through my creativity and just in general research.
Elise: My favorite piece is my short story. This account shows the hard life of a person who is a slave, describing the hardships in relate able ways . It was very hard for me to write this piece from the characters perspective. I had to become another person, and change my personality. However, I am very proud of myself, and glad I completed my short story.
We hope that you enjoy our zine and share your new knowledge with many others.
Emma Mayers, Samantha Rico, and Elise Foradory Editor's Letter Found Poem Political Cartoon At Its Finest
Stolen from my mind and from my life, a robot as if, I have this sense of controlling and demolition. It's eating me through, I can't take it any more. I don't belong here. I don't deserve to be here. Escaping is out of the question. I work until I bleed. I bleed until I work. Suffer forever. Will they let me go? Never. Breathe. And that's about all I can do for myself. Cry and I will be forgotten, for it's a lie, telling yourself that you'll actually make it out alive. I will actually survive in this hell hole of wonders and density. Surpassing all that succeed, but not even coming close to those who are immaculately perfect,. and I sit there everyday, doing the same things as I did before, forgetting the old crisp memories of the time I was free and not once over looked. And now downing the thought of myself getting up to do something for myself for once.
But now, now I’ll be the one in a million that's in the same place. The place is tortuous and manipulating. So blurry and hazy from your tears of luck, bad luck. While I feel stuck here, the unwanted follower that can do nothing but wait, until the time comes for myself to be released by death. Because that is the escape that everyone can take, that I can take. Instead I try so hard to work through this unbreakable curse. For I've longed for my choice of thought, for my rules are altered by the master of despair.
And then I awake from my slumber of idiotic ways, I think, I've slept for too long. Sitting up to touch my hands to feel the smooth parts and the rough scales that outline the broken heart that was still caressed by needed flesh, and then I look up trying to push away the fear of today's future. I finally arise to meet my destiny for the day, and it might not make you very happy to show you what I've found, but go through with it willingly, because that is what you do. I work for almost nothing. I see nothing but bold letters and I wonder what they actually are. I stare at them, because I’ve never seen such beauty in the writing of format, so elegantly traced by curious fingers. Something I’ll never be able to experience. I’m just a drone scared out of my mind, right? Right.
How wrong of them to think that I was actually a no one? No, they don't care for me, I’m the least of their innocent ways of concern, in fact I’m tucked away in the back of their mind. Differently enough they are chewing on the fact of what I can do for them. And as my beady, young eyes look at the equipment of slavery, I know it's wrong, but I do nothing to stop it. I can't do anything. I make things for other people; practically give it to them, for a life, my life. People are paying for their lives now? No, they're working for their lives only to show their loyal ness, only to show that I’ll do anything to stay alive, when they keep pushing me as far as I can go. My limit is none the less, but here and I can’t do anything to stop, for I have tolerated enough. Haven’t I? Sure have, but what is a scrawny little thing going to do, what do I have to even offer? Suffering this negligence has gone for far too long, and yet, there isn’t anything I can do about it, because I seem to be just speck of nothing in the web off lies they have to offer me. They own you. Modern day slavery.
In poor, urban communities
Warehoused in these colossal cement, striped of their rights.
America has no discretion,
just like a slave plantation.
and the prison knows that once they get you in, we can predict.
For they have "zero tolerance".
Black men suffered for far too long, and their shackles must be freed.
This is not America
we sing to proudly about before the football games.
This is not the land of the free nor the home of the brave.
This is no proof through the night that our flag was still there.
This war was failed and it was failed miserably.