Do You See Me?

Powerful reading and watching for the week for this last week's lesson.

I chose do you see me because of Powell's piece titled "Listening to Ghosts"......for example when you read a history piece....do you see the real events in history...or do you see the undercurrents of what might have really happened?

Also as a little girl I was conflicted with who I was and who I thought I should be. While most of my female family members that were my age were blond hair and blue eyed.... I got the indian genes.....my great grandmother would catch me looking in the mirror and looking at my cousins and see my uncheerful and sad expression and ask me what was wrong? I told her I was not pretty like the other girls in our family....

That was when my great grandmother took me into her lap (I was 5) and told me the story of the night my mother was born...our family heritage...and the nickname she gave my mother the night she was born and the same one she gave me when I was born as well. Papoose....that was the nickname for my mother and I by our mema....that was her nickname as a baby as well......only a few of us out a 30 grandchildren were born with the dark coloring and eyes. I listened with pride of the stories of our ancestors that resided in Oklahoma.... that came to Texas in the late 1800's..... trail of tears and other things.

In my early years do you see me had another meaning due to my heritage. In my teenage years and the rest of my life it grew to take on another meaning. Being queer, being of Native American heritage, and growing up the way I did as a preachers daughter.....I grew up in a world filled with fire and brimstone if I didnt tow the line.

So now when someone says they know me well, and they know my orientation....I ask them the question "yes, but do you really see me?"

So i can identify with Riggs and his piece of showing who he was, within his culture, within his culture with our LGBT experience.....we all come together from different angles with our approaches to life, our questions as to why and what happened ....we formulate our own theories.

Per Duncan......Per Moraga.......Duncan internalized her mothers illness to the point that it became her own...her mother's oppresion being brought to the united states as a war bride, raising two little girls within the Western Culture when she wanted them to have a piece of herself........Duncan is feeling it seems as if torn between two worlds...that of her beloved mother and her patriarchial father.

As far as Moraga? Her mother took her frustrations out on her children to the point that they suffered from her frustrations with the father......that is all their is to say about that.

So when I met "her" a year ago.........and I first felt "her" in my direct gaze...I got to know her months later....I asked her the other week for the first time....."do you see me...the real me?"

And to my surprise she said yes back to me........

wendi

This week provided a lot of really interesting material related to queer theories and its development.

Patti Duncan and the “history of disease” provided me with a look into Duncan’s world as the child of a Korean woman struggling to live with oppression and illness in a white dominant male culture. Duncan struggles herself with the false stories she recycles through her mind to maintain her sanity while playing the role of caregiver to her mother. She goes on to explain in her writings how, “The sickness is no longer her mother’s. It belongs to her” (Duncan, p.160). The expectations by this dominant culture, assumedly appear to be that Korean women are obedient, speak little if any English, are to remain silent unless spoken to and able to tolerate a great deal of pain.

Malea Powell and “Listening to Ghosts” offered a native perspective that I could relate to in many ways, just as I did with Duncan. Powell (2002) makes an interesting statement, “When I enter a classroom, in my student’s eyes I enter as a teacher who is “also” an Indian.” This struck me. Last week, I had a presentation on cultural competence in career counseling for one of my doctoral classes. I had planned to lead with , just that, acknowledging my own identity and sharing a bit of my story. The class environment, however, made it seem unsafe for me to do so. Powell talks about getting her first tattoo the summer she wrote her master’s thesis. I too got my first (only) tattoo, nearing the end of my master’s, after completing a ritual on the Paiute reservation. Powell talks about tattoos, “Leaving a space to mark the presence of absence…Ghosts.” I could not agree more.

Cherrie Moraga and “Loving in the War Years” is a collection of so many wonderful and painful expressions of life and living. Moraga shares so much of herself in her writing. Something that was insightful to me that I took from the readings and did not share on blackboard with the rest of the group was when Moraga discussed the death of Marsha Gomez. She provided a perspective saying that, “I still want to believe that at some point Marsha made a decision toward life, that she offered up her body to save her son from himself…” (p.208). A surrogate family raised me with six brothers because my biological mother was killed when I was nine. Two years ago my youngest brother killed my surrogate parents. It’s a pleasant thought to think Nay (tagalog for mom) saved my brother Eyward from himself or from hurting others that night and gave her life instead.

Marlon Riggs and his film “Tongues Untied” was a powerful and artistic piece to view. While I understand that I am different from Riggs in our identities, there were so many ways that I related to him. Things he expressed that touched me, “I try to appear strong and silent.” Riggs also talks about not fitting in anywhere and the idea of being, “cornered by identities I never wanted to claim.” These statements seem to be key to the development of Riggs’ theory. Silence also seems to be a theoretical concept of Riggs. He repeatedly states that silence is his “shield”, “cloak”, and “sword” and that “your silence will cost you”. Silence seemed to be a general theme with all of the theorists this week. It is understandable why.

Week 3

This week I really got involved with the similarities between these people and their stories. In my church service this week we spoke about the importance of remembering that everyone has a journey and that these journeys are equally difficult. I think that what I took home from this week the most is the reminder that each person is fighting their own battle, and that our jobs as fellow humans is to help this battle. Each of the stories reminded us that there is no differentiation of "hard". That whatever your battle, whether trying to speak for the ghosts of your ancestors, or being seen as more than the stereotypes of your race, is an equally difficult situation. Duncan says, "There are many sides to the story, many stories within the stories"(165). I think the reading showed that no matter who told the story that it was important because it was real. It was speaking a truth of the hardships of life, hardships that each and everyone of us will at some point experience. Empathy is something that is not taught in schools, and often not in homes. However, seeing how others struggle, and feeling there pain as your own, is something that could change the landscape of a society. If we all invested into each others stories, like they were our own, we would have the insight to understand their pain, and be invested in their futures. I know that a lot of what I think about is idealistic. But idealism can look unattainable on the large scale, however, on the small, personal encounter scale, it is feasible. And if each person invested in themselves and had morals built around empathy we would be able to my a social change in attitude that focused more on group health and less on individual struggle.

Critical Response 3

Critical Response 3

“For this nation was built upon the belief that one could and should forget the past and invent a future. By contrast she spoke of the future as something finite; and indeed it is, because history in all its limitlessness determines the future.” (Moraga, 168) By unscrambling this history that we know is just certain versions of the story, the versions that somebody took upon themselves to determine were more important than the other stories and do not represent the whole truth, we can look for the truth and for the places to find the ghosts that are hidden behind as well as within the whole story. We can look at the stories that have never been told, or maybe they have been told but nobody was there to listen, or to believe in what they thought was invisible and nonexistent. These hidden pieces of history are what the lessons this week are all about. Powell referred to the parts of history left untold, ghost stories, which is exactly what they seem to be. “Ghost stories are both the stories of material colonization and the webs of wisps of narrative that are woven around, under, beneath, behind, inside, and against the dominant narratives of “scholarly discourse.”” So much of the history that hinders our future is kept within these ghost stories. “I must believe that I am not, and will never be the only one who suffers.”  (Moraga, 68) If the stories told by these “ghosts” or “others” were listened to, learned from, and taught, we could determine the full truth and be closer to the end of suffrage and discrimination and to the beginning of acceptance of everyone and a more queer world. Duncan as well as Riggs told significant and insignificant stories of their lives and the lives of those around them to tell these ghost stories that we typically would overlook because they are not always accepted or taught, therefore allowing us to learn what we missed, and apply it to our own lives. What stories were you apart of but not included in the telling of them? What roll did you play? What would the story have been if you weren’t there? Would there be a story at all?

more on Moraga

The personal is political, Moraga quotes. "[P]olitical oppression is always experienced personally by someone." The formal legal equality Spade was so dismissive of will protect me—if I ever come out of the gender identity closet—because it does exist in this state and I'm white and middle-class and never been in trouble with the law. But that's a pretty big if in the middle there. Bad enough that the simple request "Ze, not she, please and thank you" gets the response (and somebody did say exactly this to me; in June, per the timestamp) "ze? I zee now that I am zadly ignorant of zour zpecial line of argument." followed by an argument on why words that aren't in the dictionary aren't words and it's okay to misgender someone of nonbinary gender.

"In this country," Moraga says, "lesbianism is a poverty—as is being brown, as is being a woman, as is being just plain poor." And there shouldn't be any ranking of which oppression is worse than what; playing Oppression Olympics doesn't end oppression, it just pits oppressed peoples against one another. "Within the women's movement," Moraga goes on, "the connections among women of different backgrounds and sexual orientations have been fragile, at best." Because we're so busy playing Oppression Olympics to deal with the real problem—or to acknowledge that we are, very nearly all, oppressors ourselves.

"Without governmental support for the arts," Moraga says, "community-based theaters"—and really any other form of art with a high barrier to entry; short stories are much cheaper to get from art creator mind to art consumer mind than television series—striving to create an art of integrity and beauty are forced into dependent relationships with whiteuppermiddleclassamerica." That may be one reason I mostly write short stories. I have no limits except typing speed, and I have somewhat of an audience who—however whiteuppermiddleclassamerica they may or may not be; on the Internet, nobody knows—love to read about queer genderqueer people of color.

Critical Response 3

This has proven to be the most influential week of material for me. I was literally moved by these authors, and brought to tears by Riggs. There is something about relating to others who recognize and own their “separateness” what touches me deeply. In theory, I understand that everyone, everywhere can be considered separate for one reason or another, and everyone has hurt deep down at one point or another, but when people dedicate their lives to expressing this reality instead of stuffing it or playing victim, I must applaud. Riggs made the deepest impact for me personally. Not only did he express his truth, but did so in such a profound and effective way. All of the writers bring queer histories to the table, and each from a separate background. Korean, Black, Mexican, Native American. Everyone fighting for their voice. Everyone fighting for their place in this world. The one true inspiration for me was the way in which all four artists did so, and were not overcome with strife. We often do what we need to to get by, to survive, to not shrivel under the weight of our misunderstood identities. Rarely do we thrive. I say we, because I am included in this mirage of separateness. I too have been under the thumb of oppression, either socially, personally, or globally. But every once in a long while we manage to see the truth. We are all one, and in seeing so, we can take these experiences we’ve been so blessed to hold as our own and spring forward, blossoming.

The one commonality I saw between all four writers was their deep desire for love, for passion, and for connectedness. This of course seems like a basic human condition, but in the eyes of someone who has suffered grave identity excommunication they can be the tallest of goals. Whether it’s Duncan catering to her mother and always walking a straight line, or Moraga who takes her love by force and realistic confrontation, or Powell who gracefully adds his input and considerations to any topic, or Riggs who uses his whole being to create space for change, all four of these artists recognize what is important to them and aim to shuffle through strife to attain it. I am truly inspired by them all.

Critical Response 3

My thoughts on this weeks readings and the video Tongues Untied are as follows. BB is down, so my discussion posts are weaved into this blog post as well.

This idea that “ghost stories are both the stories of material colonization and the webs and wisps of narrative that are woven around, under, beneath, behind, inside, and against the dominant narratives of ‘scholarly discourse’” is an interesting one.  Ghosts are invisible or translucent, sometimes seemingly all there, yet not. Ghosts are ignored by most because of the belief that “they don’t exist,” or that they’re a “myth” and this is also how we can look at different perspectives on history and peoples experiences. “History” is primarily written by the elite who think they’re the only ones who are right, that what they write is the truth, ignoring the experiences and the stories of those who aren’t considered as important or accurate, making other experiences into “ghost stories.” How a select few became the writers of history, I don’t know. It makes me wonder about the documented histories of other cultures. Is the history of India the same way? With ghost stories that aren’t quite tangible? What about the documented history in Egypt or Sudan or Thailand or Peru or Brazil? Do other cultures have the “elite” who write their own versions of history, ignoring the perspectives of those they deem not worthy of a documented history? Or is this primarily a “white-guy-academic discourse” kind of thing? As for my own work, do I have ghosts or is my story a “ghost story” because I’m already “other” within this system?

I love Powell’s definition of “survivance” - to remain other within the system – maintaining difference in the very space that the occupier was already organizing.

Each author has their own unique way of telling stories, personal stories, political stories; they are similar yet also miles apart. Each story full of “ghosts” creatively weaving a tale of truth. Each one practices “survivance,” remaining other within the system, rebelling by the very act of maintaining difference, and sharing their stories in multiple modes of communication; poetry, story-telling, autobiographical, spoken word, creative documentary, movement.

I like how Moraga bounces around with commentary and poetry between stories. One part that stood out for me in her writing was when her brother said that he didn’t experience being “culturally deprived” and her sister pointed out that he was “male in a man’s world and light skinned in a white world.” I’ve had similar conversations with some of the men in my life where they don’t feel “deprived” either, but the very fact that they are “male in a man’s world” and have light or white skin is a kind of buffer for them and they don’t start noticing things until the playing field is leveled and they “loose” some of the privileges they’re used to.

Each story is full of feeling “other” even within the home, where one should feel safe and secure, but as we all know, this is often not the case. I grew up feeling torn and other within my home because of my sexuality and gender identity, feeling other in school because of those two things combined with poverty and cultural differences, I can’t imagine what it’s like to also have the issue of ethnicity and race thrown into the mix. To grow up with a father saying that he had “saved” his wife when in reality she was a war bride, and to have him try to snuff out her culture and assimilate to that of the white world. To grow up black and gay in a white heterosexual world, especially in the era when both are hated. This last line in Tongues Untied really hit home for me; “I was mute/tongue tied/burdened by shadows and silence/now I speak and my burden lightened/lifted/free.” Powell, Moraga, Riggs, and Duncan all experienced shadows and silence and are now speaking as a way of lightening their burdens.

This all puts my own experiences into perspective and helps me realize just how “other” I am, but also shows me the privilege that I have.

I’m white in a white world, I’m able bodied in an able bodied world, English is my first and only language, but I significantly lack most of the qualities we consider beautiful, I’m queer, I’m genderqueer, I grew up in severe poverty, I grew up in counter culture raised by hardcore hippies, I don’t have an American sounding name yet I look American, education is coming to me late in life and I’m paying for it myself, and I refuse to “conform” to what society views as the “norm.” (This is starting to sound like bio-power.) I have stories to tell and I’m in the process of writing them down, but I’m sure they will be more whispers in the grand scheme of things, ghost stories, touching only a few.