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Stamped is a nonfiction book about racism and its history, and how we came to the place we are at in terms of racism.

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Just Mercy tells the story of a black man wrongfully accused of murder and sentenced to die and his lawyer, Bryan Stevenson, as they face the highly prejudiced criminal justice and prison systems, seeking justice for innocent lives.

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Who Put This Song On?  is about being different and being the odd one out. It details a young woman's journey to accepting her identity as a Black woman while dealing with racism and depression.

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The link below is an article about racism and how it's not actually scientifically based.
https://newsela.com/read/lib-race-made-up-label/id/2001014786/?collection_id=340&search_id=18d87684-0024-4a03-a881-aab817bed9b1

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Some lyrics from a song called Freedom by Kendrick Lamar and Beyonce (it's about racism):
"Open our mind as we cast away oppression/ Open the streets and watch our beliefs/ And when they carve my name in the concrete I hope it forever reads/ Freedom, freedom, I can't move/ Freedom, freedom, cut me loose/ Freedom, freedom where are you/ 'Cause I need freedom too"
The link to this song is below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FWF9375hUA

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Police Brutality tells of fighting with the oppressed for justice, not only for the recent innocent lives that were taken but for all who have experienced oppression.
Ethnicity is not a crime.

Gathering together for justice isn’t either.

What they did was wrong, it was sickening, it was cold blooded murder.

The four thinking they were protected from justice because they hid behind the shield.

Well those four are behind are behind bars now, caged like the animal they are surrounded by steel.

Rotting away in a cell because of what they have done.

George Floyd was not the only one.

Policeman who bring harm to the unarmed shall be punished.

It is people like them that racism still exist.

They are not your skin color.

They do not dress like you, they do not talk like you because they are not privileged like you.

You think it is okay to treat others like that.

You think you are above them all.

Together we will hold hands, marching the streets uniting us all.

To show you we are not alone and together we will stand tall.

Marching for justice not only for George Floyd but for all.
[by Phantomwriter23]

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Racial Identity is a Ted Talk by a teenage girl who shares her personal experience with racism,  the need to fit in, and how it affected the way she saw herself.

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Racial Identity | Joanne Nchimbi | TEDxYouth@EAB

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This picture is of an African-American woman at a protest against police brutality, kneeling in front of a line of armed police officers.

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Get Out
Get out is a horror movie about a black man, who upon meeting his white girlfriend's family, learns that they have a dark , brutal, racially biased hobby.

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The entirety of the song and the music video for the song “This is America” outline the racial prejudice and danger that the black community in America live through every day. One example of these lyrics is: This is America/Don’t catch you slippin now/ Look how I’m livin now/ Police be tripping now/ Yeah this is America/ Guns in my area
The music video is also has a very large amount of symbolism in it. For example, the singer of the song, Donald Glover, has a circle of dancers around him as he moves around killing people, as they are supposed to represent the mainstream media that the black community puts out, distracting the country from the issues and struggles that they face on a daily basis.
Here is the music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYOjWnS4cMY&ab_channel=ChildishGambinoVEVO

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This is an image of protestors (probably peaceful as 93% of protests for BLM were peaceful), being forced to the ground by police officers in full riot gear, something that is not necessary.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=64&v=2KlmvmuxzYE&feature=emb_title
This is a simple video about systemic racism, and why only the groups who are experiencing said prejudice notice and protest against it. This video explains the problem with a model of a classroom, and students in different seats.

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I,Too by Langston Hughes is a short poem about how he too is part of the country and should be treated as such.

I,too, sing America

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.

Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am,
And be ashamed—

I,too, am America

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Fruitvale Station is an eye-opening film based on the true story of the events occurring around the incident of a black man, Oscar Grant, and his encounter with a police officer that ended in tragedy.

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I Can't Breathe by H.E.R. was released in June of 2020 amidst the Black Lives Matter protests. The song is a protest to police brutality towards black people and systemic racism. Lyrics that highlights this in the song are: "How do we cope when we don't love each other?/ Where is the hope and the empathy?/ How do we judge off the color?/ The structure was made to make us the enemy/ Prayin' for change 'cause the pain makes you tender/ All of the names you refuse to remember/ Was somebody's brother, friend/ Or a son to a mother that's crying"
Video link: H.E.R. - I Can't Breathe (Official Video) - YouTube

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Here are a few original pieces that each of us wrote about  race/identity from a personal perspective:

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Here are a few original pieces that each of us wrote about  race/identity from a personal perspective:

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This poem expresses the pain that comes with finding an identity, and the struggle of accepting yourself regardless of what others think.

Two Faces

Part of me smiles,

Part of me frowns.

One tells me to take a step north

But the other pulls me south

Like a rubber band,

I am stretched and twisted and strained.

Is satisfying everyone

Worth hurting myself?

My limit is near

I am tired of living in division.

Like an overworked rubber band,

I snap.

I no longer ask who I am

Or where I belong.

Finding acceptance

Is not worth losing yourself.

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This article explains how race has become a significant factor in professional team sports, and how it impacts a team's identity as a whole. The article summarizes that people want to maintain a certain image of their nation, which causes them to resent particular races that could change their idea of a "perfect" team.

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Letter from Europe

PARIS - What do bananas have to do with national identity?

A lot, if you consider the bananas hurled at black soccer players in different parts of Europe, igniting outrage among international players and feeble calls for tolerance by coaches.

When racist behavior is exhibited by individuals, it can be written off - not excused - as random, individual acts of hooliganism. In northern Italy this past week, the Milan soccer team walked off the field after fans of the opposing team yelled abuse at black teammates. But when the verbal equivalent appears in a manifesto published by a powerful fan club, the crude clash between "them" and "us" falls squarely in the middle of a recurring debate about national identity that makes Europe feel like a continent under siege.

In fact, it came as no surprise when Landscrona, the biggest fan club of the Zenit soccer team in St. Petersburg, recently published an open letter saying it would not accept dark-skinned players being "all but forced down Zenit's throat." St. Petersburg fans have long been accused of preventing club managers from signing up black players, a fact that the letter confirmed in writing: "For us, the absence of black Zenit players is an important tradition that underlines the team's identity and nothing more," it said.

There it is, "identity," a word that gets flashed like a red card as people struggle to determine what it means to be French, Belgian, British or Russian in an era of large-scale immigration, and economic globalization.

The problem is that this debate typically turns defensive, with identity defined in narrow, exclusive terms. The issue may be a reflection of a popular uneasiness over waves of new arrivals from abroad, but the terms of the discussion are rarely about integration, or tolerance.

In France, then-President Nicolas Sarkozy started a febrile - and largely futile - debate on the state of the nation's identity in 2009. It was a flop right from the start as critics questioned the usefulness of any discussion set in motion by a presidential decree.

Soon afterward, and not coincidentally, the government started another national debate, this one about the role of Islam in France. The main result was a law banning face coverings - including Muslim veils like the niqab and the burqa - in public places. Whatever the merits of the law, it was hardly a rallying call for the country's largely Muslim immigrant population, which was ostensibly the target of the double-barreled exercise.

Similar attempts to define and affirm the Russian national identity have slid either toward irrelevance, or toward a dangerous kind of ethnic-center nationalism, with slogans like "Russia for Russians. "

In 2005, Russia resurrected an old holiday on Nov. 4, called Day of National Unity, which falls on the anniversary of the expulsion of the Poles from Moscow in 1612. The day is marked by a hodgepodge of demonstrations, brandishing a variety of symbols from Orthodox icons to the Soviet hammer and sickle.

It is hard to see how these demonstrations speak to a country made up of more than 100 ethnic groups, including Muslim Tatars and Chechens, as well as Buddhist Buryats.

Both the French debate and the Russian holiday make no attempt to appeal to recent immigrants who need help in identifying with their adopted nation. The instinct to hit history's "replay" button - revisiting the glories of Alexander Nevsky, or Napoleon - may help educate the new arrivals about the past, but it doesn't give them the tools they need to become modern citizens.

Immigration has changed the face of many European countries over the past half-century. In France, the new arrivals - mostly from former colonies - have put a strain on the old model of integration that worked so well with immigrants from Italy, Spain and Eastern Europe. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, Russia, too, has seen waves of workers coming from Central Asia, whose presence, legal and illegal, has stirred latent strains of xenophobia.

These tensions give a backdrop to the racist screed of soccer fans in St. Petersburg. It is all the more jarring in a city that was founded as Russia's "window on Europe," where leaders of the French Enlightenment were invited to the court of Catherine the Great and that was home to Russia's most beloved national poet, Alexander Pushkin, whose great-grandfather was a black man from Africa.

Landscrona fans don't seem to care about passports, just race. Of the two dark-skinned players whose arrival seems to have incited the manifesto, one, Axel Witsel, is Belgian with a French father who comes from the Caribbean island of Martinique.

Their demands are weirdly specific, directly contradicting the explicit denial of racism. "We only want players from other brotherly Slav nations such as Ukraine and Belarus, as well as from the Baltic states and Scandinavia," the manifesto read, which blithely ignored the origins of Dick Advocaat, the Dutchman who coached the team to victory in Russian championships in 2007, and Luciano Spalletti, an Italian who is now the Zenit coach.

In his response to the fans, published on the team's Web site, Spalletti ignored the implicit insult. "Being tolerant means that you fight against any kind of stupidity," he wrote.

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A Struggle With Identity and Racism (Published 2013)

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Letter from Europe PARIS - What do bananas have to do with national identity? A lot, if you consider the bananas hurled at black soccer players in different parts of Europe, igniting outrage among international players and feeble calls for tolerance by coaches.

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American Skin (41 Shots)
By Bruce Springsteen

This song brings attention to America's struggles with racism and the unfortunate dangers of simply being a different race in our country.

Several compelling lyrics:

41 shots, Lena gets her son ready for school
She says, "On these streets, Charles
You've got to understand the rules
If an officer stops you, promise me you'll always be polite
And that you'll never ever run away
Promise Mama you'll keep your hands in sight"

Is it a gun (is it a gun), is it a knife (is it a knife)
Is it a wallet (is it a wallet), this is your life (this is your life)
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
No secret my friend
You can get killed just for living in your American skin

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Bruce Springsteen - American Skin (41 Shots) (Lyrics)

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This is a vignette focused on the feeling of identity, and finding it for myself.

I thought it would be like shooting stars. Like fireworks bursting across my skin, and me standing still, unafraid, because I’d know who I am. Who I can be. And it would leave me invulnerable, untouched. I thought it would be like—light streaking behind my eyelids in mockeries of motion, exhilaratingly bright and that would be okay. More than okay. I’d be alive, grounded, with light pouring off my skin and sparks pounding in my blood, and it would be carrying the sense of belonging. Knowing.

But maybe that’s not quite how it works. Maybe identity (the fickle word and sense that it is) slips up behind us like a weight in our shadows. You create it when you stand tall in the light, and when you look back, there it is. Steady, reassuring. Maybe it’s less shooting stars, fireworks, and more a candle with wax dripping until it burns your hand. It’s the pain of discovery but not wanting to let go. It’s the light, flickering and guttering and unsteady, but there, so close you can almost taste it. It’s more gentle than starbursts, and so it aches, in itself.

Maybe identity is sitting at the kitchen table, with a chipped mug of lemon tea, and letting your surroundings wash over you because you know where you are. Maybe identity is letting your feet slap against the pavement, feeling the freezing air curl through your limbs and lungs, the world whittling out around you because you know who, what, matters to you. Maybe it’s blocking that phone number, or pulling grandma’s recipe out of the oven, or pouring coffee (black, no sugar) into the same cup, again and again. Maybe identity is everything we are already doing—but pounded into a rhythm, stretched to the utmost, leading us onwards.

And maybe my identity is me, washing my hair in too-hot water because it leaves my skin red and scalded and alive. It’s me, breaking pencils and graphite-clay leads because my thoughts jumble over each other, pressing slipshod into smooth paper. It’s laughing, letting the sound escape high into the air and paint dizziness across my temples. These are no shooting stars. But I look back, and I know, and I feel the weight.

This, I think now, is identity. This is what it is like.

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"Immigrant Blues" by Li-Young Lee explores the complexity of immigration through multiple generations.

People have been trying to kill me since I was born,

a man tells his son, trying to explain

the wisdom of learning a second tongue.

It’s an old story from the previous century

about my father and me.

The same old story from yesterday morning

about me and my son.

It’s called “Survival Strategies

and the Melancholy of Racial Assimilation.”

It’s called “Psychological Paradigms of Displaced Persons,”

called “The Child Who’d Rather Play than Study.”

Practice until you feel

the language inside you, says the man.

But what does he know about inside and outside,

my father who was spared nothing

in spite of the languages he used?

And me, confused about the flesh and the soul,

who asked once into a telephone,

Am I inside you?

You’re always inside me, a woman answered,

at peace with the body’s finitude,

at peace with the soul’s disregard

of space and time.

Am I inside you? I asked once

lying between her legs, confused

about the body and the heart.

If you don’t believe you’re inside me, you’re not,

she answered, at peace with the body’s greed,

at peace with the heart’s bewilderment.

It’s an ancient story from yesterday evening

called “Patterns of Love in Peoples of Diaspora,”

called “Loss of the Homeplace

and the Defilement of the Beloved,”

called “I want to Sing but I Don’t Know Any Songs.”

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This is a vignette I wrote about my experience with identity and fitting in.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/10G50ocM5I_XDbHs94DFtxWvDMvM7cq7uNeruTbLAXnM/edit

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Brown Girl Dreaming is a memoir by Jacqueline Woodson. It follows her childhood as discriminated as person of color in America in the 1960s during the Civil Rights Movement.

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"Read All About It, Pt III" by Emeli Sandé was first performed in the 2012 Summer Olympics Closing ceremony. A continuation of the hit song "Read All About It" by Professor Green, Pt III was Sandé's personal interpretation and carries a message of speaking up for oneself.

Some notable verses include:

You've got the words to change a nation
But you're biting your tongue
You've spent a life time stuck in silence
Afraid you'll say something wrong
If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?
...
You've got a heart as loud as lions
So why let your voice be tamed?
Maybe we're a little different
There's no need to be ashamed
You've got the light to fight the shadows
So stop hiding it away
...
At night we're waking up the neighbors
While we sing away the blues
Making sure that we're remembered, yeah
'Cause we all matter too
If the truth has been forbidden
Then we're breaking all the rules
...
I wanna sing, I wanna shout
I wanna scream 'til the words dry out
So put it in all of the papers
I'm not afraid
They can read all about it
Read all about it, oh

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Emeli Sandé - Read All About It Pt. III (Live from Aberdeen)

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The Fire Next Time is a collection of two essays by James Baldwin, detailing the ties between race and religion, as well as its role in American history. Published in 1963, the book is widely regarded as one of the most influential books about race relations of its time.

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This story highlights the author's struggles with identity.

The girl that stares back at me from the mirror smiles, stretching her mouth into a grin that lights her face up. I'm pretty happy today. It's a warm night, I've finished my dinner, somehow finishing all of my homework before then. It's been a long day, but I've learned lots of fun things at school and I've had a great time with my friends. I wash my mouth, brush my teeth, put on my nightclothes, and clamber into bed. I'm drifting toward sleep, feeling as though I'm a planet in a vast galaxy twinkling with stars. I'm spinning slowly, twirling elegantly through the star systems, always dancing.
And then it happens.
"Stupid girl! I told you not to put it over there!" "What will you do in life? Be homeless? You've no brains at all!"
I'm gasping for breath, trapped under the dark wave of angry memories from the entire day, words branded upon my mind, trying to ride out the onslaught of fear and self-hate that is taking hold of the darkest corners of my mind - my doubts, my regrets, my insecurities - and pulling them to the forefront. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I wipe it away quickly. I can't be weak; I can't cry. But I've failed in so many other ways; does it even matter? I've done almost nothing my mom asked me to do, I've flouted all of the house rules, heck, I've pissed off my teacher too. I can't get any worse. Well, actually, you did help wash the dishes like Mom told you, and you made sure to rinse your plate, and the teacher even said she was only nitpicking and you'd done a good job otherwise, a part of me says. SHUT UP! I yell at it. I don't deserve any of the coddling that part of me is giving.
I turn my mind to more important things. How do I fix this? I try to think of ways, but come up with almost none; the only other conclusion I can find is that, mostly, I've been good today and pleased everyone around me. But I refuse to believe it. How could I have been good when my memories showed me all those horrible things I'd done wrong?? It leads me to consider, Who am I? Am I the good girl part of me thinks I am, or am I the sloppy, lazy, brainless girl I've been told I am? I wish I could be that obedient girl I sometimes see in myself, but I just know I'm not. How is it even possible for me to be that girl? No matter how hard I try I end up failing. Sure, some parts of some things I do end up being okay, but as far as I see, those don't really matter. Am I just a hopeless case?

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This article explains systemic racism and how it affects minority groups.
Newsela | Analysis: Definition of systemic racism in sociology

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This is a TED talk by America Ferrera, who tells her story about her resistance against racist stereotypes in the entertainment industry and her identity.
My identity is a superpower -- not an obstacle | America Ferrera - YouTube

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I just wrote a paragraph about my experience with personal identity.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DL2uljpbeBdkm7fS-fPtT4lhS6KLn02A-gyRH3jtk8c/edit