Critical Response #3

            While reading Loving in the War Years, I especially resonated with the section titled "Traitor Begets Traitor," on page 90. "Chicanas begin to turn our backs on each other either to gain male approval or to avoid being sexually stigmatized by men..." While this seems, on the surface, to be specific to Chicana women, and more specifically, non-heterosexual Chicana women, what woman doesn't this apply to??? Women learn early, as girls, to turn our backs on each other to gain male approval. We push away friends, become people we don't recognize, do whatever we have to do to gain the approval of a man. Does this occur for women pursuing other women, as well, or is this something we do just for men? I tend to think it is probably an occurrence across the spectrum. To give up a piece of oneself, in giving up our friends, the women who are our allies, for this piece of ass.

           In this way that we give up a piece of ourselves, are we losing part of our voice? I do not know what it is to be a part of a culture who has had their language taken from them. But can this be compared to women, or really anyone who has ever been a victim of any kind of abuse or neglect, and the piece of you that you lose to someone who chose to take it? Does this voice of your people before you compare to the voice you yourself once had but have lost? Can that voice you lost as a victim of some kind of abuse be compared to the voice lost as someone who has moved to another country, done everything they felt they needed to do to assimilate (including give up her language), only to become an old woman, dependent on men who treat you as though you no longer matter? Who decides which of these scenarios counts the most?

       As I read these pieces, I couldn't help but think about what voices I have lost over the years. I say voices deliberately, as opposed to voice, because I believe we all have multiple voices, which grow and shrink and sometimes disappear altogether as others become more prominent as our days go by. I have, of course, lost the voice I had as a child. The voice which allows you to ask silly questions, to say silly things, and not be looked down upon. As we "grow up," that voice disappears. What about the voice I had before the rape? Who was I then? Did I sound different? Did my vowels and consonants roll off the same? I don't know. I don't remember that person. Now, the voice of a mother with two kids, a wife, whose voice is this I hear? Have I completely lost the voice of the woman I was before, when I got to care only of myself? Will that voice come back one day?

     Where did those voices go? Did the person who took it from me become the owner of that voice? Will they give it to someone else, or let it die? Do they realize that they have that voice now? Do their words ever feel funny on their tongue, but they don't know why?

Critical Response #3

As a white, heterosexual male I am incredibly aware of those that are disadvantaged (or worse) as a result of the privilege I have. I am stricken with guilt and I attempt to be ever cautious of others and the way I impact their life. Though I may never properly empathize with these peoples, I can battle my ignorance through knowledge of their cultures and connecting with their struggles.

While reading through the essays I couldn't help but internalize the plight of the Native American, feeling ever sad for what people from my home-land had done. Through eugenics, genocide and settler colonialism my ancestors have wiped out not one, but many nations. Then, they have the audacity to define, dictate, and declare these peoples extinct.

In media today the plight of the cultured is often forgotten. Through the linearization of community and global societal norms peoples are coerced to disregard their heritage, and are taught that success is found through a level of ‘whiteness’. Growing in an impoverished area with many folk that were not of white descent and lack a proper education I was taught to speak in slang with a drawl. However, I quickly learned that if I assimilated to a modern, linearized culture, I was praised. Soon, my ‘whiteness’ had gotten me several jobs, scholarships and opportunities.

Assimilating to societal norms also severely affects my sexuality. Though I identify as a heterosexual male, I believe that my sexuality cannot be defined and is much more fluid than this. Defining your sexuality limits you as a person, but is constructive to societal groups and promotes success within a modern culture. As with sexuality, attraction is much more fluid than identified; as men we are often too scared by social exile to recognize this and disguise our emotions through cold shoulders and “no homo”s. Though puritans attempt to find god through ‘cleanliness’ it is this same ‘cleanliness’ that strips us of the spirituality that is within us all, keeping us from discovering our bodies, our personalities, and the strength within.

The high, the low, and the intersectional

Through their discussion of theory, silences, and voice Virgie Tovar, hooks, Morales, and James Thomas Stevens all remind us that we must push against the constructed identities placed on QPOC by colonialism, and white supremacy. Tovar points out that this is particularly the case within academia when she states, “academia is a game of whiteness… you’ve got to figure out how to survive.” For her surviving has consisted of bridging high theory (frequently white academia) with low theory (pop culture/life experiences).  Bridging both worlds is crucial for buy in, for enlightened consciousness, for continued growth, and for liberation and healing. At the center for Tovar is knowledge for the common good. This is very similar to what hooks calls feminist researchers and activists to do in Teaching to Transgress. Melding high and low theory can be very powerful, especially if one is strategic. Take Tovar’s work for example. While she has been working on various issues around Fatphobia for years, she was very intentional about what particular subject she chooses to push into the public discourse. This has led to success for herself as well as to push the conversations forward on this important subject.

There is a connection often between those who call for us to bridge the high and the low, the academic and the lived, those who call for an intersectional framework, and those who want to connect and collaborate with others with similar mindsets. This is all interrelated, and often almost oppositional to the “white academy” where people steal ideas, where competition is bred, where knowledge is produced for the sake of knowledge but not for transformative change, where essentialism runs rampant. Why is this, and how can we change it?

I think Tovar gives a little insight to at least one part of the piece of the puzzle. She reminds QPOC that our stories and our theories are of value. That we must demand that they been seen as valuable. Morales works to illuminate voices, which have been held in silence, because they are important, because they are worth paying attention to. Similarly hooks has worked for years to bridge theory and praxis within her work, but is often regarded as not academic enough to be credible. Experiences of silencing and dismissing are not uncommon to marginalized voices. Yet, Tovar shows us that we must be fierce, that we must protect ourselves, and to do that me must demand that our voices be heard, we must demand that our time be acknowledged, we must demand to be seen as legitimate, and we must demand that our work be seen as valuable – we must demand to be paid for the work that we do, and not feel bad about it. I think this is a point that frequently gets ignored, and quite frankly makes many of us uncomfortable. But it is true that if we put a price to our work then it does have value, and people begin to see it as something of value. 

Critical Response #3

Critical Response #3: King & Justice et all

            Reading media such as Sexuality, Nationality, and Idigeneity is always fun for me because different authors and values and beliefs can be represented in one volume of a work. These articles were interesting to me, because it made it clear to me how little I ever hear about Native Americans. Before this class I hadn’t really realized how little Native people of color ever get represented in the media, I just hadn’t ever noticed it, and I suppose this is how the media wants it. For people to not notice the lack of representation that exists for certain portions of our “equal” nation. But I definitely feel as though I’ve seen more representation for African American people that I have with Native Americans. It was also odd hearing about the queer movement being compared to that of the Native Americans, but I suppose that it does make some sense since both of the movements seem to be minimalized and attempted to be ignored.

            A common topic of discussion in the articles was that of settler colonialism, and how this relates to queer theory. Settler colonialism involved the murder or control of native peoples when new colonies came to settle into their land. This was common practice against the indigenous Native Americans back in the colonial times, and isn’t really spoken of much now. This compares to how even now the LGBTQ movement is attempting to be quieted even now. While there are finally more frequent mentions of the queer community in the media, there still isn’t nearly as much attention as there should be. There is even less attention paid to the Native Americans, obvious in the fact that I live Oregon which has more of a Native population than a lot of places, and I still don’t have a lot of knowledge about the tribes and reservations that lie around me.

           

            The interview with Virgie Tovar was interesting; I did enjoy her term ‘bohedonist.’ I also liked that she brought to light all the different forms of art that exist. When most people think of art, mostly what comes to mind is paintings and drawings, maybe poems and music. But to me art is really anything that allows for self expression. Artwork can be a very powerful form of political statement, and Tovar tackles some serious issues with her art such as gender politics and fatphobia. A point she makes in the interview, that “education is the key to ascendency” struck me the most though I think. Because that’s basically how I’ve felt from high school on, and my father was always a big believer in me and my sister going to college so that we could have better than he had. So I’ve definitely lived with that sort of mantra for most of my life. And like Tovar says, that attitude has helped me a lot with a lot of things, and has helped me gain a lot of skill sets.

intersectionality and using voice

The GLQ journal Sexuality, Nationality, Indigeneity gathers several articles that focus on indigenous queer perspectives and forms of resistance to settler colonialism.  The introduction sets the tone for the collection and sends a great message.  While the original cover art was rejected due to being unsuitable for the publication, the editors expressed their resistance to this decision in the introduction.  By doing this, they not only gave an example of resistance, they also raised the point of what is deemed acceptable to those in positions of power.

Much can be said about each piece in this collection.  However, one thing that was apparent throughout was the writing styles of each of the authors.  The voice chosen to write in and the personalization of the subject matter was consistent across the articles.  One standout example of this is in “Puo’winu’l Pryers”:

“Basically, our oppression is about being punished on a daily basis for not being able to conform to colonial/christian expectations of gender and sexuality.  We are pushed out of our families, ceremonies, languages, histories.  Maybe the thinking goes that if we are ignored and made fun of that we’ll just go away, or at the very least we’ll hate our true selves into non-exisitsnce.  Well, we didn’t and we can’t.  And though we are often scared, we are also fierce in refusing to go anywhere except back to the Earth we came from.  We continue to make love, transition our genders, create new ceremonies with remembered ones.  We create.  We love” (Cruz 2010).

This passage speaks to several points, yet uses a voice that can reach people beyond those in academia.  As with several other articles, the words have feeling and a life of their own.  By writing in this style, the authors breathe life into the theories they present.  These are not merely just words and a way to explain a point, they are words to tell a story and create a pathway to resisting not only academic writing styles, but also resisting the indigenous story to be told from the lens of the colonizer. 

Another component that stands out so much in Cruz’s words is that of being left out of stories.  This is another theme that emerged in other articles.  Andrea Smith (2010) discusses this in her article “Queer Theory and Native Studies”.  She argues how having a single scope leaves out much of the story, and by how looking beyond this single scope is a way to disrupt settler colonialism.  This opposition is further explored in “Doubleweaving Two-Spirit Critiques” by Qwo-Li Driskill (2010).  Through this article Driskill describes colonization as an ongoing occurrence indigenous people are actively resisting.  They further explain that when Native and queer studies come together, they create an interwoven connection of concepts that are much more complex than simply an intersectionality.  They exist separately, yet within each other. 

Sharon Holland (2010) describes how queer studies can change the direction of Native studies in the afterword.  The joining of the two is a way to create a stronger resistance to colonial power as well as challenge heteronormativity and “homonationalism”.  By doing this, the authors of the articles are showing that these subjects have a place in academia and a voice in the critiques.  

  

Critical Response 3

What does it mean to be queer? Native American? Or a women that has never felt feminine? These are the questions that has constantly been a part of my personal narrative all my life. While reading the essays within GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies; Sexuality, Nationality, Indigeneity, I could really identify with the colonization of Native cultures and how that plays into the notion of repression or the invisibility of queerness/Two-spiritness in Native communities and culture to the heteronormative of the western culture.

Growing up I never knew it was okay to be queer. In fact I never knew that there where people in my Native family or community that Identified as queer. I remember being told at a very young age how I was a girl and thus I needed to be more clam, gentle, not as active, I was told to dress a certain way that my clothes were only to be found in the “girl” section of the store. That pink and purple where great colors on me and that wearing dresses made me beautiful. This was always hard for me because I never wanted to be beautiful and I have never felt more uncomfortable then when I was in a dress. It wasn’t until I was an adult, a wife and mother and expanded my relationships outside of just my Native family and community that I met other queer people. People like me who did not fit the heteronormative narrative that was forced on me my whole life; same gender loving folks, people who didn’t fit what society said there gender presentation had to be. Reading VISIBLE SEXUALITIES OR INVISIBLE NATIONS: Forced to Choose in Big Eden, Johnny Greyeyes, and The Business of Fancydancing, put a lot of the struggle I have had with the intersectionality of my Native upbringing and always knowing from a very young age that I was a queer girl, even if I didn’t have the vocabulary.

 In my Native community the main focus is on family and cultural activities and in a lot of spaces the roles of men and women. Thus even now when I am back home I sometimes struggle with how I fit in. I am a women that is not feminine in the traditional sense, I date girls and don’t plan on getting married again anytime in the near future. In cultural dances I don’t want to wear a dress, which is the only option of women. So in a lot of ways when I go back home I feel like I am being asked to leave a lot of me behind, just like explained in The Business of Fancydancing.

But then thinking even harder about the role that colonization plays in structuring my Native community is what stood out to me in the rest of the essays. The hetero-normative “man” and “female” life styles wasn’t the cultural structure of my ancestors. But why was the acceptance of queerness becoming more okay in the dominate culture but still in my Native community the bondage of the oppression imposed is so strong, that I can be myself and more excepted outside of my community and then have to almost completely change who I am in order to reenter it. Thus, using Queer theory parallel to Native studies to explain the colonization of Native people to uncover and analyze the reasons of settler colonialism as effects of all areas of Native life; was something I have been thinking about but not really being able to explain while working on my bio-power map and how I my intersecting identities held different levels of power in different situations in my life.

Political Bodies

Critical Response #3

As I began to think about how I wanted to tie together the readings from GLQ to the Virgie Tovar interview, I must admit I at first felt a little perplexed. Why would a woman of color tackling fatphobia, among many other systems of oppression, be assigned alongside articles deeply analyzing the relationship between queer theories and native studies? I knew there had to be a connection because the readings in weeks prior were so carefully orchestrated to illuminate a particular theme. Now, I try not to look at the themes outlined in our syllabus, because then it inherently directs my writing both consciously and subconsciously.  I prefer my critical responses come from a raw place; a place that is actively processing and weaving that knowledge into what I’ve already stored inside myself. It is through this process that I usually instinctually arrive at a variation of the theme in the syllabus that is unique my own.  As I was sitting here sipping my, at this point cold, chai tea, something Tovar said came pulsing through my memory.  Now I am paraphrasing, but she said her work was inherently political because of the body she inhabits. When people engage with her work they are also engaging with her body as a political entity. Her work is not political merely because she is writing about sex or about liking breasts a whole a lot, it is deeply political because she is a fat woman talking about sex and liking breasts a whole lot (which I would just like to say is pretty badass).  In our culture, specific bodies are politicized in very violent ways as Foucault says, “power is situated and exercised at the level of life, the species, the race, and the large-scale phenomena of the population,” (1990, pp. 137). The body we inhabit determines what we are allowed to say, and what spaces both political and geographical that we are allowed to occupy. By not putting two-spirit and queer of color critiques at the forefront of queer theories and discourse, by silencing and forgetting the most untold narratives we risk perpetuating this very same system. As Adrea Smith illuminates, “U.S. exceptionalism, in which a white queer subject reinscribes heteronormativity by positioning himself/herself in an imperialist relationship to those ethnic subjects deemed unable to transgress,” (2010). Therefore perhaps white queers are not the best people to move the LGBTQ+ movement forward, as our critiques often fail to queer the entire system enough.  The foundation and history of systems that oppress white LGBTQ persons are lost when the sole focus is on sexual identities, or marriage equality, which in one vein just assimilates queers into already existing idea of the nuclear family.  We must never forget it is this family structure is inherently interwoven with heteropatriarchy that has been historoically an enormous source of violence as, “when colonists first came to the Americas, they saw the necessity of instilling patriarchy in Native communities because they realized that indigenous peoples would not accept colonial determination if their own indigenous societies were not structured on the basis of social hierarchy. Patriarchy in turn, rests on a gender-binary system; hence it is not a coincidence that colonizers also targeted indigenous peoples who did not fit within this binary model,” (Smith, 2010). When we make space for bodies of color, for fat bodies, for indigenous bodies to not only enter the space of queer discourse, but lead, it intersectionalities illuminate in ways that were previously not possible. But Two-Spirit discourse does not stop at just this illumination, they move, “beyond a concept of intersectional politics.  Though intersections do take place in doubleweaving, the weaving process also creates something else: a story much more complex and durable than its original and isolated splints, a story both unique and rooted in ancient and during form,” (Driskill, 2010). As a movement we need these highly politicized bodies to constantly critique and reveal origins and connections between history, institutions, and the present day agenda. 

Fatphobia

Nia King’s interview with Virgie Tovar touched on many topics that I feel tie into many of the readings we have had in class. Tovar talked a lot about fatphobia which I thought was a very interesting topic to discuss since so many people in America are fatphobic and do not even realize it. Many American’s are racist and do not know this, which would tie into the painting of Heaven and Earth from the GLQ article. This article stated that the painting challenged “racial hierarchy” in the sense that the Indian was on top of the white man. There was debate over whether or not this painting showed two lovers, or two men fighting? This picture also had homoerotic subtext which was really not an issue to those who were viewing the painting as having more symbolism than just a penis in the air. I felt like the painting was very complex and it really made me think about what was happening. Why was there a buffalo in the background when so much was already happening with the two men in the picture? So much to think about! I do not think that this picture is scandalous in any way, and that is why it is annoying to hear that a school as prestigious as Duke cannot print a picture like this for fear that they are going to upset people.  

One thing that Tovar said that I thought was very meaningful was that fatphobia is a system that has a lot of different elements within it. Not only is this true when it deals with fat phobia, but it is true for the painting in the GLQ article. The painting stood for much more than just the white penis that was showing, yet this is what caused the controversy. Same goes with Tovar and the treatment that she went through at grad school with the other student stealing her thesis. It was not just the fact that she had her thesis stolen from her and it was not acknowledged, Tovar took this lack of action on the universities part as a bit sexist and racist. As a woman of color, and queer for that matter, she felt as though she has grown up knowing how to defend herself because nobody else was going to stand up for her. This made her a stronger person, but she still has to fight her own battles in many different areas of her life, academia included. 

Tovar spoke about how she got her first book deal through a flirting work shop and before she made out with the book publisher she told him that she would pick the book deal over a relationship. This comment made me admire how direct and determined she was to get her beliefs out for the public to read. I really enjoyed how Tovar identified as a “fat latina femme” who is also a writer, because she sees that as a part of her identity. She said that she does not write in a literary way and that she just writes what “feels right and real” to her. Tovar just seems like she has lived a very interesting life, with the radio show and the multiple books that she has produced. It is just really nice to hear about a fat, queer, latina who is making her way through the world without taking shit from anyone. I think it is important that she is fat and talks about fatphobia because she can speak personally about it and the ways that she has received judgement from being fat. I feel like she would have a lot of insight on the many different categories that she identifies with, but I feel like fat would be the most important one. Since many American’s are overweight, I think the issue of fatphobia should be addressed more than it is, because people do get judged for their weight. Tovar made me realize that not enough people talk about weight and how there is loads of judgement on others for thier personal appearance. I think many people are so tied up with the things that we cannot see with our eyes, like sexual orientation and ethnicity, that we choose not to deal with what is right in front of us.

Interview With Virgie Tovar by Nia King

While I highly value all of the readings by Justice et al., I am most drawn to writing about the interview of Virgie Tovar by Nia King.  I felt that a lot of the points about storytelling were very important and resonated with the readings we had by Moraga, Anzalua, and hooks.  I am only aware of fat positive activism in a very limited way, so I was glad to hear more about it and to come across some new resources for it. 

Virgie Tovar, who self-identifies as a fat Latina femme, a writer, radical, political, bohedonist (combination of bohemian and hedonist), describes herself as a public intellectual, someone who generates knowledge for the public good.  She is academically trained but describes herself as loyal to the culture at large and especially the people who are marginalized within it rather than to a university.  

It was nice to hear some of the ways that Tovar articulated her role as a storyteller. Her description of needing to “grow up” and respect the stories she had sought out and publish them in their complexity really demonstrated the honoring of story and the responsibilities that go along with people sharing their stories with you. Her description of her decision-making process: “I can either edit out the complexity of this story, or I can tell the story and honor the person who’s hearing the story enough and honor the persons who’s telling the story enough that they will be able to work it out. And I decided to go with that”, to me exemplified a deep respect for the power of story and a strong sense of the empowerment that goes along with sharing ones story in an authentic way. Because these stories were shared in a vulnerable way, sometimes for the first time, through her book, Tovar made sure to be authentic and included the storytellers in the process.

Her articulation of the interconnectedness of systems of oppression was excellent:“I sort of see fatphobia as something that is hugely nuanced and complex, and it is part of the same matrix of patriarchy, heteropatriarchy, racism, classism, sexism. They’re all a deeply intricate part of fat phobia. So when I talk to people about fatphobia and why they should care about it, I put it in the context of even the seeming beneficiaries of fatphobia are actually victims as well. And this is true of any system of oppression.” I thought that this was a great point and it speaks to the importance of acting together with people working against all kinds of oppression because they are connected on some level, instead of opting out of acting against systems that “aren’t your issue” (because they all are!).

The power of storytelling, the interconnectedness of systems of oppression, the personal as political, the bridging of academic theory into meaningful real-life work, and the involvement and inclusion and valuing of stories that aren’t often told or included were some of the themes that connected to the previous weeks readings.  

I found Virgie Tovar’s passion and determination inspiring and I look forward to reading more of her work. 

http://www.artactivistnia.com/4/post/2013/03/fierceness-is-armor-an-interview-with-virgie-tovar.htmlKoyama

http://www.virgietovar.com/blog.html

http://www.scribd.com/doc/152485506/We-Want-the-Airwaves-1-Virgie-Tovar

Anzaldúa, Gloria. "To(o) Queer the Writer—Loca, escritora y chicana."

hooks, bell. "Theory as Liberatory Practice."

Justice, Daniel Health. Mark Rifkin and Bethany Schneider. Eds. Sexuality, Nationality, Idigeneity. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies. Volume 16: 1-2. 2010.

Moraga, Cherríe. Loving in the War Years: Lo Que Nunca Paso por Sus Labios. (South End Classics Edition). Cambridge, MA: South End, 2000.

Queer Intersectionality

    Of the many articles in “Sexuality, Nationality, and Indigenety,” the ones that spoke to me the most were those that touched on the subject of intersectionality. Namely, “Extermination of the Joyas: Gendercide in Spanish California,” by Deborah Miranda, “Visible Sexualities or Invisible Nations: Forced to Choose in Big Eden, Johnny Greyeyes, and The Business of Fancydancing,” by Lisa Tatonetti, and “Queer Theory and Native Studies: The Heteronormativity of Settler Colonialism,” by Andrea Smith. In “Extermination of Joyas,” a California tribe-recognized gender was actively slaughtered by Spanish colonialists. What I found most appalling about this was that this was the first instance I had ever heard about it, even though I grew up in California. It highlighted the fact that not only has history of marginalized people been “forgotten,” it has been actively destroyed and covered up. I am incredibly glad though, that there has been a resurgence of Two-Spirit Indigenous people who have shown resilience through gendercide.   In “Visible Sexualities or Invisible Nations,” what mainly caught my attention was the analysis of how intersectionality is handled. Within the heteronormative gaze prevalent in media, there is no room for being both queer and Indigenous. One argument I’ve heard against intersectionality in the media is that it is “statistically uncommon” to have a character in a film who is, in this example, both queer and Native American. What’s statistically uncommon is to be both white and male, as less than 30% of the United State’s population falls under both those categories, yet the vast majority of protagonists in today’s mainstream media is about them. In this regard, racism and heteronormativity are closely tied and one can hardly discuss one without the other. And finally, in “Queer Theory and Native Studies,” being queer was described as a “free-floating” definition, which I think is a very accurate way of phrasing it. Queerness is a quality that will float its way into anybody’s life, regardless of race, religion, nationality, etc. Because of this, intersectionality becomes doubly important, due to the fact that queerness is not hindered by race and other societal structures. Another interesting point raised was that even works by queer people of color sometimes don’t fully encompass all the colonialist attitudes and attributes that play into the power structures of North America.
    Intersectionality is also a strong feature in “Fierceness is Armor,” by Virgie Tower. In her interview, she delves into the myriad of subtleties that make up fat-phobia and its subsequent consequences. There is a huge dearth of intersectional studies and movements, and their creation will only help those who feel that there is no true “spot” for them. Movements, for example, mainstream feminism, must create spaces within their own power structure for queer and trans*women, women of color, and women whose lives have been impacted by colonialism, in order to be fully inclusive and reach all corners of the group they claim to encompass.

Critical Response #3

            As with every weekly set of readings, I find myself both amazed at everything I am learning and astonished by all of the things I have failed to notice around me. Perhaps tiredness and hunger at this hour may be a contributing factor, but I am so frustrated with myself for my lack of accountability when it comes to knowledge of social issues. I regrettably announce that the last social science class I took was in high school 3 years ago, and up until now I have been taking purely engineering courses. I take responsibility for letting “my degrees” dictate which courses I take, rather than taking an initiative to explore important social disciplines.

            As mentioned in the GLQ journal, there comes a time where we all must “suspicion” and critically analyze how our experiences and background may influence our ability to see clearly. I admit that my cultural lens may be rather thick, but as mentioned previously by Morales, it is just as important to realize where knowledge is lacking than to know where it is present.

            Throughout reading this collection of essays, I could not help but notice that I had a difficult time identifying with the underlying message of the writing: that there should be a pairing of queer and Native studies. As a white heterosexual female, I found it difficult to align myself with many experiences the authors were writing about.  As mentioned in the Poetry and Sexuality essay by James Stevens in GLQ, it is proclaimed: “ I have not suffered the oppression that my forefathers and foremothers, or my queer historical brothers and sisters, suffered. I can give voice to history and speak to what has happened, but I cannot speak as though it has happened to me.” Although I cannot relate to certain oppressions or identities spoken of in class, I realize it is my duty to learn and go forth into society and promote this type of history by engaging in constructive conversations. I do not wish to be put in positions of oppression or racial discouragement, but there is simply no way for me to truly understand how others feel without experiencing them for myself. I am frustrated that I am not able to relate, and I am also frustrated that I know so little about topics in this course.  

            By taking this class, I also realize how little I know about myself beyond my hobbies, dislikes, strengths, and weaknesses. I am amazed in class how students are so in touch with their feelings, values, and realization of personal oppressions. As mentioned in the My Father, Cynthia Conroy essay, the daughter believes the dad has much more clarity about his/her own inner life and psychic needs than she does about her own. As a cross dressing male, he is constantly faced with social hurdles and personal struggles. Even though I am privileged in many areas, it is still my responsibility as a woman to remain proud and powerful; taking note of ways I am oppressed and paying tribute to the past that has shaped my opportunities. This brings up a point also mentioned throughout the essays; the idea of knowing who your land belonged to and their corresponding stories.

            The interview with Virgie was a refreshing way to conclude the set of readings, and I especially enjoyed the part where she mentioned the idea of the body as a political entity. Our body is our own, and we can do with it what we it. This reinforces the idea I discussed earlier where we each have the ability to go into the world and act as vehicles for the histories that go untold.