Tag: identity

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The Melting Pot vs. The Salad Bowl

The Melting Pot is a theory of American culture that grade schools have been teaching for numerous years. Metaphors usually don’t translate as well as they should, but I’ll try my best to work through the ideas. I propose that America is a cultural “Melting Pot.” I do not, however, think that it is a melting pot in a positive sense and it is certainly not one of cultural acceptance and inclusion. The Melting Pot was a welcoming place for those of European descent. They were the broth (or the base) that constituted what everyone else had to conform to. It would be easy for one to distinguish between a broth and a non-broth item. If you wanted to fit in and be a full member of American culture, you hoped to become the broth. This can be seen within the Irish. The Irish were initially big pieces, out of place in this melting pot. As time went on, however, the Irish were faced with an enticing offer. If they chose to align with the Democratic party and assimilate, they would be allowed to melt into the pot fully and be treated as equals and “white.” Their assimilation into this pot would end their oppression in America and allow them to claim a sense of belonging in the society. The blacks, on the other hand, were chunks that could not be melted into this pot at all. They were bones perhaps, something that one did not want in the pot to begin with. They were not meant to fit into society, just to be used as slaves and considered to be property. 

Gulliver from Johnathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels is one example of a character whose travels take him to societies that also conform to the melting pot model. Like the Irish, he chooses to assimilate with the people that he comes across in his travels (or at least attempts to as much as possible.) This can be seen in the adoption of the customs of the foreign land he sets foot on and the rejection of his English identity in the process. In Zion Boucicault’s The Octoroon, however, Zoe refuses to assimilate into the melting pot of the society. Zoe is a peculiar character in the context of the melting pot—she could pass as part of the broth because of her white ancestry, but she feels as though her one-eighth black heritage completely isolates and separates her from them. Zoe refuses to leave behind her black heritage and bloodline, even when offered the opportunity to assimilate into society through marriage. Despite the other character’s insistence that she could assimilate or the idea that she could “pass” as white, Zoe seems to subscribe to the “one-drop rule.” This is an ideology that even a small percentage of black heritage makes one’s identity black, or non-white. Zoe breaks societal norms by adopting this rule, rather than the usual situation of whites using it as a tool for oppression and justification for the separation of the other. In the Melting Pot, Zoe appears as though she could be broth (white), but she sees herself as the bone (black) that does not belong. This complicates the audience’s understanding of the melting pot and race in the play, calling into question the structure of both and their legitimacy.  

When I was in middle school, they also introduced the theory of a cultural “Salad Bowl”, suggesting that it might be a more inclusive and accurate representation of how America’s culture developed. Unlike the Melting Pot, which is homogenous, the Salad Bowl is a heterogeneous mixture. This heterogeneous mixture was something that we were taught to promote diversity, as it allows one to recognize the individual identities that contributed to the whole of American culture. This concept, however, was more optimistic or idealistic than they realized. Perhaps the Melting Pot theory is historically accurate because of how its problematic nature reflects the problematic way in which American culture developed. Upon its analysis, it more accurately and frankly addresses the injustices of the time, instead of sugar coating it in the way that the Salad Bowl attempts.

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Minstrelsy and Ritual

Zoe is a fascinating figure to weave into our tapestry of placeless figures, further nuancing the developing concepts of identity and place. Interestingly, Zoe is the first racially liminal body to be a focal point in our texts.  Douglass and Gulliver, though inbetweens in their own respect, both fit more or less squarely into established racial categories. Zoe further complicates these identities by socially and and physically conflating black and white.  As Brooks points out with more overt forms of minstrelsy, the simultaneous performance of these two, ostensibly very disparate identities, forces the interactions of these identities in a way that minstrelsy’s perpetrators didn’t anticipate.  The Octoroon lands squarely on this narrative, forcing audience members to confront what happens when black and white aren’t distinct and yet still tragically irreconcilable. It is this social Catch-22 that pulls Zoe’s character out of the shadow of pure minstrelsy, embodying instead the transatlantic existence. 

It is interesting to think about the activation of the word liminal in the context of these bodies.  Liminality or the liminal space is used in the context of rites of passage as the time after separation, when the individual goes off on their own to undergo the ritualistic change and before reincorporation or integration into society — it is the time of transition.  In a sense Zoe’s change over the course of the play can be read as a failed rite of passage. Her body tells the story of the generational rape of the back female. As she is forced to share her shameful secret at being “the octoroon,” she begins the process of separation from her known white identity and community.  The ritual of the slave auction is the culmination of this stripping of her identity, attempting to place her instead back within the narrative of black females. However, rather than completing the change and reincorporating into society as another black woman to become a possession, Zoe remains liminal, rejecting the description of either identity and taking her fate instead into her own hands and allowing her identity to be read fluidly rather than concretely. She won’t be defined or confined, but the cycle of violence will end with her.

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When Language Fails, What Are We Left With?

The idea of language failing to effectively communicate one’s feelings and experiences is something that fascinates me. As an English major, the idea that words can fail should seem unfathomable. Yet, being unable to articulate a feeling or traumatic experience is something that is a reality to those such as the Irish, who struggle with how to explain their sense of self. This week, in relation to both the Douglass and McCann pieces, we talked a lot about the referencing of the “other” group when trying to explain one’s own experience. 

Specifically, I want to address the way in which the word “slave” or “slavery” is used in connection to the experiences of both the Blacks and the Irish. The Irish and Blacks are two groups of people being told, “You are this.”  In the quest for liberty from these labels, they must ask, “If I’m not what they have been saying I am, who am I?” In the case of the Irish, as we discussed earlier in the semester, the Irish were referred to as white n******. This connection to the Blacks was ingrained into the ways that they viewed themselves. Perhaps this is where the Irish’s feelings and metaphors of being a “wage” slave or like a slave stems from. 

In Douglass’s My Bondage and My Freedom, he writes about how the Irish’s use of “slave” is an unfair comparison that shouldn’t be drawn (Douglass). McCann’s TransAtlantic, however, is not as outright in his condemnation. One gets the sense that McCann’s Douglass is uneasy with the shared use of the terms, but he is not as confrontational about it as the real Douglass was in his piece. Both the Irish and Blacks underwent awful oppression but their circumstances were far from the same. The Irish are poor and hungry, but they are free and can grow food. The Irish Americans were also not oppressed in the same manner as the Blacks and are given chances to be the oppressor in America. The Blacks, however, were always the oppressed and never the oppressor. 

While perhaps not accurate, I do not think that this adoption or comparison is ill-intentioned. I do not think that the language itself is malicious, but the mindset behind it can become problematic. Phrases such as the “Black O’Connell” take away from Douglass’ own merits and individual identity. He can’t just be Douglass because of his race, even in Ireland. All of this is a very important discussion, as Prof. Kinyon pointed out, remains a very relevant topic even in today’s political sphere, where it unfortunately remains a problem. This raises even further questions: If words fail people, such as the Irish, who just want their experiences and flights to be recognized, what do we do? Do we forgive their missteps in language? What can we do to correct them? Certainly, there are no clear cut answers to these questions, but they are ones that individuals and society must consider as we move forward in history.

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Increments of Gray

“Dawn unlocked the morning with increments of gray”

This week’s piece, Transatlantic, focuses on the in-between state of Douglass in Ireland. Douglass escaped slavery in America and experiences a sense of freedom in Ireland. In Dublin, he is waited upon by a footman, eats fancy meals, and tours the country giving speeches. Yet, he still feels like a captive – he is constantly watched by Webb and paraded around Ireland like a show-horse. McCann writes about Douglass’ self-reflection of this gray area: “He knew now what had brought him here – the chance to explore what it felt like to be free and captive at the same time” (85). This position gave Douglass power and authority in speaking against slavery because he knows what it is like to be both free and captive. He relates what the Irish cannot –  “To be in total bondage to everything,” Douglass says, “even the idea of one’s own peace” (85). But, this in-between state also creates a lack of control for Douglass over his life, and a lack of trust and uncertainty. How can you be truly free if you are wanted for capture? How can you be truly free when your family is still in bondage?

In my American Lit class we are reading The Sound and the Fury. This novel also deals with the deterioration of identity in an in-between state. Specifically, the character of Quinten relates the loss of power while being trapped in gray area. Quinten’s narrative in the story begins to fall apart when he feels a lack of control in his relationship with his sister, Caddy. Quinten narrates, “I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor or gray halflight where all stable things had become shadowy” (170). Douglass and Quinten are examples of the uncertainty and restlessness that come with a half-way state. Quinten, like Douglass, feels a lack of stability in his life and relates it through the use of the color gray. This builds upon one of the central ideas in class of transforming identity and belonging. In transitional states, where can we find a home?

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Belonging and Society

The point that resonated with me most this week was when we discussed Gulliver’s placelessness and how that simultaneously allowed him to be placed in or participate in the Circum-Atlantic.  Gulliver’s Travels makes sense in the Irish context, particularly with the lens of colonialism.  In the past, when analysing this book, my class placed a lot of emphasis on text itself within the narrative and the relevance of language to the Irish, whose cultural identity is largely predicated on the preservation of their language.  What we didn’t consider as fully was Swift’s identity as Anglo-Irish, rather than monolithically Irish. This nuance of his identity, and the way we conceptualized it in class, makes some of the more complicated or seemingly contradictory elements of Gulliver work for the text. Is he truly the colonizer or the colonized, victimized or victim or rather is he some placeless in-between? These questions of identity drive his constant movement within the text and his inability to reconcile whether he is superior or subservient to the peoples he interacts with.  Thinking about our readings last week, I wonder if placelessness isn’t also a facet of Irish-American identity. 

I was also amused by our discussion in class of production and productivity being good for society. I’m equally as uncomfortable as the rest of us seemed to be with the idea of a wholly unproductive society like that of the Houynhmns, sitting in seeming judgement of all others while doing nothing worthwhile themselves — I don’t think idleness leads to bliss, particularly when that idleness isn’t a break from productive tasks.  Our discomfort with an unproductive society, however, demonstrates the lingering power of the ideas Swift was activating and working with. We can’t conceptualize of a different societal structure because our structure and judgement of what is societally good is so formed by the universal progress ideologies of the Enlightenment. For many in that period, the industrial revolution and the changes it brought were threatening to established ways of life, to folk cultures, and to those who didn’t have access to the intellectual elite.  Swift’s concern about burgeoning modernity and the dangers of a society built on progress for the sake of progress are represented in the Houynhmns’ culture and our inherent discomfort at Gulliver’s adherence to it.

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Belonging in Gulliver’s Travels

In our discussion of Gulliver’s Travels this week, we touched on Gulliver and his sense of belonging in the world. I found Gulliver to be a peculiar character, as I cannot tell whether he hates the idea of belonging altogether or only belonging when connected to England and the Yahoos. In support of the former, Gulliver is always traveling and never stays in one place for too long (if he can help it). He is of English birth but has no true home; he transfers his “home” to wherever he is. Gulliver seems like he is the most comfortable when he is in the states of in-between found in his often aimless traveling. To most people, being in between two states is often an uncomfortable position. Gulliver, however, always seeks to set himself out into the unknown, leaving behind all sense of belonging in the process. 

On the other hand, Gulliver seems as though he is always ready to jump into a new culture, as long as it is not English. During his travels, he readily abandons the ways of life that he learned from his English origins in order to conform and belong with the peoples that he encounters. He adopts the customs of both the Lilliputians and the Houyhnhnms, learning their languages and contributing to their societies. Gulliver even sees the Houyhnhnms’ way of life as far superior to any of the peoples he’s seen before, including the English. Gulliver is a product of English society but, as a result of his travels, comes to completely reject his national origin and even his identity as a Yahoo. He does not reject all sense of identity and belonging, however, as he comes to express his wishes to find a place of belonging among the Houyhnhnms. So, is it just England (and the Yahoos that inhabit it) that Gulliver wants to abandon or is it all sense of belonging as well? What does the answer mean for us as the reader?

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First Thoughts

Starting this semester, I have a lot to look forward to and think about in regards to this course. A lot of the themes, and even readings, are things I have touched on before in other courses, but I’ve never had the opportunity to piece them together and think about how they form one, or at least several, cohesive and connected narratives. Our first reading in particular highlighted the areas where diverse areas of study come together in the context of this class — where questions of the realities of race encounter those of culture and identity. Consolidation of identity helped to establish the nations and national structures recognized today, particularly those in Europe, where culture was streamlined and homogenized to create a dominant national narrative, often based on idealized folk culture, for strength and stability. In the creation of these cultural mythos’ however, as Gilroy points out, nuance about the realities of culture are lost and groups who don’t quite fit the national model are cast off. The reality of these cultures is much more broad and connected as a result of intertwined history. To ignore the history of cultural exchange is to misrepresent the truth about the transatlantic cultural experience. Investing in a new and more inclusive, less binary and more culturally diverse narrative has powerful potential to allow us to think about the way we construct our stories and histories — and the ways we represent those stories in the poetics of literature and art. 

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Questioning “Proximity” and Legitimacy in the Atlantic

In Gilroy’s “The Black Atlantic as a Counterculture of Modernity,” he explores Martin Robinson Delany and his views and impacts on the Black community. He starts off by introducing Delany and claims that he is viewed as being more relevant or legitimate as he has a closer “proximity” to Africa than people such as Frederick Douglass. I am not sure, however, whether this added sense of legitimacy is justified, especially when the content of what Delany speaks about is considered. Delany proposes an idea that he and the Black community should ultimately seek to go back to Africa, or what he calls the “fatherland.” Delany’s notions of belonging and returning “home” are troubling, however, as he sees Africa from a viewpoint very similar to that of colonizers. He does not truly see Africa as home and would require multiple things to change before he would find it to be a suitable place to live. He thinks that simply going back to the place of his ancestors is not enough; one must bring that place up to speed with today’s world and craft it in order to make it a better fit. What’s most disturbing about this perspective is that it is similar to those same colonizers that ripped his ancestors from their home. Looking back on Delany’s viewpoints from today’s society, one can easily see how Delany’s ideas are problematic. His condescending views towards the African people and the inherent sexism that he feels the need to detail in his efforts should cause one to question whether he truly deserves to be privileged because of the proximity of his heritage.