Analysis Of The Article Of Margery Kempe - 1216 Words

The Woman in White: Reduction to Appearance Body in; The Book of Margery Kempe by Margery Kempe For all of time society has been incredibly judgmental of women’s clothing, among every other aspect of their lives. The Medieval time period was restrictive towards women’s clothing and bodies due to widespread beliefs that women must be held to a higher standard. Women were taught to be bashful when it came to their bodies during the Medieval time period, as explained in Representation of Women’s Emotions in Medieval and Early Modern Culture by Lisa Renee Perfetti. Angelic or in mourning, Margery Kemp’s change in attire between white and black impacts her relations with those around her. The Book of Margery Kempe by Margery Kempe portrays the reduction to appearance and body based on Margery’s attire. Reduction to Body, â€Å"the treatment of a person as identified with their body, or body parts† (feminist perspectives on objectification), can be seen throughout Medieval England and Margery Kempe’s autobiography. The female body especially, has undergone immense scrutiny for simply existing, genitelia often referred to as â€Å"shamefuls†(Allen 191). Margery’s disinterest in being sexual is based on the idea that God will love her more if she were to refrain from sex, just as a virgin might. But this may not be her only encouragement because â€Å"there are certain occasions when the women’s shame is strictly social† (Allen 193). Margery may be choosing to live chastely with John for the

Hail for a Chief free essay sample

A schoolgirl’s summer is the shortest season, and for me, an annual introduction to my own autonomy. Since I began my reign as instructor at the Yacht Club Junior Sailing Program, I’ve undergone a gradual and fundamental transformation in the short spurts of July and August, following the footprints of mentors and attempting to shape myself into one. During my first summer of volunteer employment, I had just passed my twelfth birthday; my retainers were brand-new and lisp-inducing; and my hair, chopped for charity in February, had barely grown past my chin. After taking my counselors’ orders for the previous four summers, I was suddenly in charge of giving them, and I was petrified. I thus followed my superiors’ instructions unequivocally, hoping to make the best impression possible and, more importantly, to not mess everything up. Storm clouds were congregating by the smokestacks that hiccupped on the harbor’s edge one August Thursday as I released the last of fourteen small sailboats into the building waves. We will write a custom essay sample on Hail for a Chief or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Within minutes, my fellow counselors and I chose to bring the children off the water early; they were safely shipped to the nearby members’ clubhouse while five of us remained to gather the sails and rudders left behind on the docks. We scooped up as much as possible under a black and bruising sky, then launched ourselves into chase boats and sprinted back to the now-empty classroom. Before we had crossed the gravel parking lot, hail began to fall in half-fist chunks and thunder roared across the harbor. Lightning struck. We’ve never determined if it hit the classroom directly or zapped something nearby; regardless, my companions and I were hurled to the floor, shrieking. I was terrified, but hysterical with laughter, for the strike and all that had preceded it composed the most exhilarating experience of my twelve-year life. With a squall and a scream I had survived nature’s wrath and protected both club equipment and the children under my charge. I was forthwith a real employee, a devoted role model; I could even be, as I am now, an heir to the head counselor throne. As I trekked from classroom to clubhouse, rain and hail continued to pelt my unprotected skin. I couldn’t bring myself to quiet my giggles or cease my skipping, uphill, through the wet gravel; my charges were close at hand, though, and I soon regained my composure. I had tasted the brine of responsibility, leaving the camper world behind, and for the following four summers would never return to sweet, fleeting youth. I was ferried from my childhood by inflatable dinghy that stormy August, and with each passing summer my journey continues, ever seeking the upwind route to maturity. I make my greatest advances in heat and high wind thanks to the demands of the harbor to which I owe my passion and discovery of my young-adult niche: cultivating sailors and people in the beloved saltwater where I, too, had grown up.