I Want to Talk to You About My Mom,Essar Meal Project
WebJan 11, · As a global organisation, Essar strives to conduct all its activities in a socially responsible and sustainable way. Take a look at how the Essar Foundation is making Web51 minutes ago · Ginger Gearhart, 13, an eighth grader from Prairie Heights Middle School, placed first in the state for her essay themed "My Pledge to our Veterans.”. “This year’s Web15 hours ago · A word essay on the Kentucky Derby? It will tell you how it is known for "its extravagant hats, mint juleps, and fast-paced action," and that it is part of the Triple WebFeb 7, · This is a story about my mother, my family, and the past year. In June , I had just flown back to Florida from the French Open. I made the quarterfinals in singles WebFeb 5, · When she boldly declares, “Nobody can judge me but me. I was born free,” she is reminding Black women that our bodily autonomy is God-given; no one can say or ... read more
You might have missed this because the tantrum was contained largely within those enclaves. If you missed the provocation that triggered the response, the treasurer penned a 6,word essay for the Monthly during his summer break. The Chalmers thesis was capital could be harnessed both for private profit and public good. He also posited wait for it readers that better informed markets make better decisions. Even though these ideas are entirely orthodox in , hysteria descended for at least 72 hours from a chorus that appeared to have renounced reading and monitoring external events shortly after finishing Atlas Shrugged at university in I would never presume to speak for Keating because that would be both presumptuous and dangerous.
Fresh thinking tends to collide with rote. Coal: a victim of cancel culture. Wash, rinse, repeat — preferably loudly enough to discourage any more summer think pieces from treasurers who might hope to do something more meaningful than gripping and grinning at an AFR summit. The mainly ridiculous reaction to the Monthly essay will have reminded the Albanese government — which has enjoyed a wellbeing fillip associated with a six-month political honeymoon — that there is no loyal cheer squad waiting to fawn and flatter. If you want to make change, there is no easy ride. Australia — like every democracy everywhere — is divided between people who want to change the things that are fundamentally wrong with the systems and institutions that shape our lives, and people who want to change nothing at all.
This is an enduring cultural cleave. We saw it this week as mourners farewelled the late Catholic Cardinal George Pell. In camp conservative, the deceased was a saint for his times, but for the sexual abuse survivors the Catholic church shamed and silenced, Pell was something else entirely. ARI writing level Gunning Fog writing level Kincaid writing level. Flesch writing level Character count Word count Page count. Sentence count Words per sentence Characters per word. Jumpstart your brainstorming with over , free essay examples. Our powerful search will help you find what you're looking. Find excellent free essay examples published by students from around the world.
Our library is organized by category and topic for easy browsing. Find Free Essays You have come to the right place if you are looking for free term papers and free essays. English Composition Essay Topics Argumentative Essays Persuasive Essays Compare and Contrast Essays Narrative Essays Expository Essays Common App Essays Cause and Effect Essays Descriptive Essays. Synthesis Essays Reflective Essays Informative Essays Definition Essays Personal Essays 5-Paragraph Essays Scholarship Essays Classification Essays. She is shining light on a truth that, for centuries, society has tried to prevent Black women from embracing, especially in places such as church, school, the workplace, the media, and even our own homes.
White and Native American enslavers sold, brutalized, raped, and impregnated Black women. By subjecting Black women to physical abuse, enslavers hoped to control not just our bodies, but also our minds. Their goal was to keep Black women in bondage by making us—and the rest of the world—believe that Black women did not have the right to make decisions about our own bodies. For instance, in the United States specifically, the Black Church was established by free and enslaved Africans who sought refuge in the midst of indescribable suffering. Enslaved Africans congregated to sing, shout, and pray—their cries reaching the heavens and their hearts set on the belief that God would free them from bondage. It was in these moments that my ancestors experienced spiritual liberation.
The Black Church also served as a catalyst for physical liberation. Even though white people used Christianity as a tool of oppression, enslaved Africans such as Harriet Tubman , Sojourner Truth , and Nat Turner developed their own relationships with God and were inspired by the gospel to organize revolts and fight for their freedom. Later on, during the Civil Rights movement, African Americans convened at churches to organize marches, sit-ins, and other protests. However, an institution that was initially a place of refuge also became a place of subjugation for many, especially for Black women. We were told what to wear, when to have sex, who to have sex with, and how to use our bodies.
They were trying to caution me, as if one wrong move could taint or impurify me. If my body is a temple and it is , then there is no better way to glorify God than by basking in the freedom that was always meant to be mine. They have passed down so many sacred things to me such as hymns and spirituals, soul food recipes, holiday traditions, words of wisdom, and more. However, when I think about the generational traumas that I want to let go of, purity culture is near the top of the list. This trauma—this lie—was never our burden to carry.
It all started in Australia after the incident with Damar Hamlin. I texted my husband, Taylor, that the situation with my mom was weighing on me. When can we start talking about it? Everyone just keeps asking me. I really need to get it off my chest. This is a story about my mother, my family, and the past year. In June , I had just flown back to Florida from the French Open. I made the quarterfinals in singles and the finals in doubles. It was an amazing two weeks full of a lot of positives, including cracking the Top 10 in the world. Something was wrong with our mom, and she was headed to the hospital in an ambulance. My mom was asleep when my dad woke up to her going into cardiac arrest and she was unresponsive for quite a while.
My sister gave her CPR until the ambulance arrived. She saved her life. Now, rewind to about three months before that. Kelly called me one day and said she was going to get her CPR certification as a requirement for a job she wanted. Now if we have a heart attack you can revive us. So here we are in the hospital. They figured out what was wrong, they fixed it, but the big question was how she would be when she woke up. Our concern had now moved from the cardiac arrest to a brain injury. Not to mention all the other issues that come with both of those events. Breathing, swallowing, preventing infections, there are so many things that can go wrong.
The most frustrating thing about these types of injuries is that the outcome is unknown. Experts base it on how long the brain was without oxygen, and how one responds to commands at the earliest stages, but it is very difficult. It was a waiting game. We lived in that hospital for basically two weeks. We took shifts, we brought each other food, we knew all the nurses and doctors, we even knew their schedules. He would go sit in his car to get away or come to my house. When they say one day in the hospital equals a week to recover, that is no joke. We were all mentally and physically exhausted. Around the second week I decided to try and practice a little. It was more just to get away from the hospital and focus my mind somewhere else.
I had already decided I was missing most of the grass season, but I still wanted to play Wimbledon if I knew my mom was O. So, if the timeline worked out, I was going to play. Luckily, she made small improvements, she moved out of the ICU after about a week, and into an in-patient care facility. She was aware, talking a little, but a long way from her normal self. After a long two weeks, she was in a good set-up to start her recovery which we knew would take a very, very long time. Three of my best friends are doctors and after the situation calmed down, they told me that it was a miracle she was even on her way to recovery, as did every other doctor who worked with her.
I went and played Wimbledon and won my first two rounds. I was sick with a nasty sinus infection, probably from the stress of what had happened and living in and out of a hospital for two weeks. I had to deal with a lot of speculation and questions surrounding her health, even shutting down rumors that she had died. I had a few good wins, and I was proud that I was able to go out and compete considering the situation. Today, my mom is still in recovery and although it is the same answer every time someone asks me, it is true, she is improving every day. She is dealing with significant expressive aphasia and significant memory issues.
She can read, write, and understand pretty well, but she has trouble finding the words to respond. It is hard to deal with and it takes a lot of patience to communicate with her, but I thank God every day that we can still communicate with her at all. The doctors continue to be blown away by her recovery, considering where she started, and her determination is the driving force of that. My mom is the president and owner of both the Buffalo Sabres and Buffalo Bills. She loved to work. She did everything and our family constantly told her how she needs to slow down and take time for herself.
She jumped into this journey with him and learned many lessons along the way, breaking a lot of barriers. She was the shift in culture, positivity, and the heartbeat of many of the employees. She gave everyone so much of her time and effort. She lived it and loved it, and it was felt by everyone she met. Now we come to the realization that all of that is most likely gone. My mom always wanted me to be involved, she wanted me to learn and eventually do what she was doing. She always told me to wait until after tennis was done. I would always press her to give me more responsibility, to let me be more involved, because I wanted to help. So now here I am, with my family, trapped in discussions about her care, caretakers, doctors, therapy and that which seemed like the least important, my tennis career.
Our family is involved in a lot — the sports teams, businesses, investments, and my mom liked to be very hands on with it all. Of course, what came first was that it was a family tragedy. Now add on top of that all her responsibilities and it became extremely overwhelming for everyone involved. We try to be a private family, and it is hard going through something so horrible that seemed so public. My dad had to take on a lot of her responsibilities, which was hard for him, especially because the outcome of her health was still unknown. It felt like a massive void in the organizations, and obviously in our family.
Then we come to the harsh reality of everyone else involved. Employees, fans, responsibilities, and many other details that needed to be dealt with. People acting like they should be privy to all our information. Even people we knew. I wanted to tell them all that you have no right knowing what happened, but at the same time people wanted to know because they were scared. In November , I was able to win my first WTA title in Guadalajara, Mexico. Before the finals, I was uncontrollably crying in the locker room.
I am not a big crier, but I cried. In my acceptance speech I dedicated it to my mom. I wanted her to know that even after a terrible six months, I still fought every day because of her. If she could fight through what she was going through, I could too. She cried during my speech and trophy ceremony. I have wanted this career since I was seven years old, before the sports teams, businesses, money, etc. My parents have helped me achieve this dream I am living. My mom deserved to see me lift a trophy after what she had been through. Then in January we came to some bizarre, messed-up, full circle moment. Buffalo Bills player Damar Hamlin suffered a cardiac arrest on the field during the Monday night game against the Cincinnati Bengals.
My stomach sunk because it felt like the exact same thing all over again. I was sitting on the bench for a tennis event in Sydney, Australia. I wanted to throw up. I knew how important time was. I just kept thinking time, time, time, time. I hope they got him back and quick enough. The medical staff and trainers who assisted that night really saved his life and were tremendous in his recovery. I ended up going on for mixed doubles and we won. Going into the Australian Open, I decided to wear the number 3 patch to honor Damar Hamlin. Ironically, yes, I was ranked No. To see the attention it garnered in Australia, across the world, in a different country, just reminded me why I love sports and the beauty of coming together.
I guess one thing I learned from the past year is it can be a great year, and a bad year, both can be true. My mom is working hard in her recovery, she is improving, but where she ends up is still unknown. Luckily, we have some amazing people around us who have been crucial in helping her and without them I am not sure where our family would be. As people have gotten to know me more on court, and through interviews, they always tell me how calm, cool, and collected I am for most part haha. I definitely get that from my mom sorry, Dad. I like to think that our similarities helped prime me to deal with the obstacles of the past year.
I have been writing this throughout the Australian Open as a sort of therapy whenever I feel some anxiety or just the need to vent.
Fury over Chalmers’ essay is a reminder to Labor: change won’t get an easy ride,Most viewed
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