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.