Tara Lawrence Dr. White
or: How I Learned to Start Thinking and Love American Minority
Literature
On the first day of our class I asked the question, "Why are
we only studying these three minorities groups and not say, Asian-Americans or
Iranian-Americans?" Instead of a direct answer, you threw it back to the class
and we all sat there quietly pondering for a few moments. I stared at the
projection screen and thought, then, finally, the answer materialized: these
were indigenous people or people brought to America against their will. The
concept of forced participation was borne into my mind and every class since
then I have learned something new about the minority experience, or at least a
new way of looking at a familiar subject. As the beginning is always the best
place to start, I shall start at there and give a full accounting of my
understanding, insights and newfound knowledge regarding African-American
literature.
The Origin Story—before, this always seemed
a straightforward concept. On one level, I suppose it still is; Adam and Eve,
Uranus and Gaia, The Big Bang, all ideas about why man roams the Earth. I have
learned that an origin story is not exclusive to the origins of mankind. It can
describe the origins of a nation or the origins of a group of people that have
landed in a new and foreign place. I understand how the slave narratives become
an origin story to the African-American; an explanation of how and why they are
here and who came before them. The slave narratives are not the surgical
textbook knowledge of the slave trade, but a human chronicle of the slave's
experiences, aspirations, and their forging of a new cultural identity.
The slave narratives also introduced me to
the concepts of objectives one and two in our course objectives. The writings of
Olaudah Equiano, Fredrick Douglass and Harriet Jacobs, as slave narratives,
inherently display "forced participation" and "voicelessness and
choicelessness." To me the real learning occurred in reading the graphic
depictions of what Equiano, Douglas and Jacobs endured and what "forced
participation" and "voiceless and choiceless" really meant. The episode that
particularly illustrated these concepts to me was the brutal time Douglass spent
as a slave with Mr. Covey. Jacobs' writings introduced gender and the idea of
being a "double minority" into the slave narratives. Jacobs torment at the hands
of her master and the added negotiation of unwanted sexual advance by someone
you are powerless against was truly heart-wrenching to read and a clear
illustration of both course objectives one and two.
In our poetry readings and
The Bluest Eye course objectives one
and two fade slightly to the background and course objective three comes into a
clearer focus. "The Dream," though similar to the "American Dream" has a few key
differences—the dream deferred or a longer, generational timeline by which to
measure success, a collective group dynamic and a desire to know the past.
Countee Cullen's poem For a Poet
seems to speak to the idea of a dream deferred:
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a
box of gold;
Where long will cling
the lips of the moth,
I have wrapped my
dreams in a silken cloth; Cullen's dream has
been put away, but not thrown away. It has been carefully wrapped and preserved
for later retrieval. This idea is in line with the longer, generational view of
"The American Dream." In
The Bluest Eye we see examples of
collectivism. Claudia and Frieda are the defenders of poor Pecola Breedlove.
They protect her when the yellow-skinned Maureen Peal is nasty to her and they
decide to give up their hard-earned bicycle money to help Pecola's baby live.
"The Dream" is also present in the slave narratives. Equiano, Douglass and
Jacobs all in their turn hope for a better future for themselves and those who
come after them. Douglass in particular makes a case for all African descendants
in his eloquent refutation of slavery; his refutation of slavery is looking
toward a group goal rather than an individual goal.
American minority literature has opened my eyes to
many new ideas, from the more simple objective of the difference between the
immigrant and the minority to the more complex notion of "The Dream." I have had
the opportunity to engage in the horrors and joys in the lives of Equiano,
Douglass and Jacobs and travel through the evolving minority experience with
Cullen, Morrison, Zora Neale Hurst and Maya Angelou. These subjects are hard to
talk about in our everyday lives but, there is true merit and important
understandings that come out of pushing through our discomfort and having the
discussion. Perhaps the most basic thing we can all learn from studying minority
literature is that though our experiences may be vastly different at the core
our humanity is very much the same.
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