Karen Daniel

The Differences We Have in Common

When first taking minority literature as an undergraduate, I was slightly disgruntled at the idea that the class only included three categories of minority.  Until taking this class, I don’t think I fully understood the sometimes thin lines that exist between the definitions and classifications of immigrants and minorities, and the confusing middle ground between the two that spans large numbers of peoples. 

Immigrant literature, at its most basic, are the writings of people who have voluntarily immigrated, and sometimes (hopefully?) assimilated, into the dominant culture of the United States.  While I tend to get my back up somewhat about the negative impression so many immigrants and foreigners seem to have about the United States, I am painfully aware of the sacrifices they are making when coming here and attempting to assimilate.  I can only imagine how difficult it must be to leave behind everything you hold to be your culture and your homeland, and try to fit into a world that is often harsh and unwelcoming. 

Now, as a member of the American dominant culture, I can get defensive about all this, as I said above.   I like the US, and for the most part I understand why people want to come here, and I certainly would never want to move somewhere else on a permanent basis.  I mean, we have it good here right?  The problem is that after reading some of the immigrant stories that we have read so far I wonder how the immigrants can stand to come here, and how is it that I have never before noticed just how horrific their lives can become when stepping foot on American soil.  We are preaching assimilation and then making it all as difficult as possible for what can only be some sort of rationale about proving oneself or weeding out the less than driven immigrant.  Perhaps the strongest case in point is Sui Sin Far’s, In the Land of the Free.  I was shocked and dismayed at this story of a child ripped from the arms of its mother, and the closest thing I can come up with to compare it to is the Nazi’s forcing parents to choose which of their children should die first.  All of this is more disturbing when one realizes that these people are supposed to be examples of America’s model minority, as discussed in objective two’s recurrent themes.  Of course, by the end of the story the child is certainly assimilated in the dominant culture at the expense of his relationship with his parents.   His parents, on the other hand, are living stage 3 as a nightmare. 

In Anzia Yesierska’s, Soap and Water, the author also demonstrates the resistance she encounters from members of the dominant culture, who seem to be against her in every step she takes towards assimilation.  The author’s quest to “find America” is compelling, as are her reasons for attending college:

I came because I longed for the larger life, for the stimulus of intellectual associations. I came because my whole being clamored for more vision, more light. But everywhere I went I saw big fences put up against me, with the brutal signs: “No trespassing. Get off the grass.”

 It is not the immigrant that is resisting, but rather the dominant culture that is doing everything in its power to discourage or prevent the immigrant from true assimilation, and from sharing in the American dream.   Too busy, tired, and worn-out to keep herself clean and in style with her dominant culture peers, the protagonist is disheartened and forced to fight for every gain she makes. 

In both of these stories, the true mark of the immigrant narrative is the ability to choose to come to America, and, for the most part, to choose (at least in our eyes) to stay.  Therein lies the rub though.  What sort of choice are we asking them to make when we take away their children or make college so difficult and unwelcoming that it discourages all but the most determined?  Still, they did want to come to the US, usually in an attempt to better their lives and/or the lives of the rest of their family. 

This is where the line teeters between immigrant literature and minority literature, and where my confusion stemmed from in my prior minority literature experience.  As stated in objective 3, unlike immigrants, minorities did not choose to come here voluntarily, nor did they have much choice about staying.  Either many generations passed before they had the legal right to return, as in the case of African Americans, or they were here to begin with, as in the case of Native Americans, and in the case of some Mexican Americans.  Removing the aspect of choice, by default changes or nullifies the social contract implicit in the immigration relationship.  If immigrants have an obligation to assimilate by making the choice to come here, one could argue that minorities have no such obligation, and in fact, have no obligation at all to the dominant culture.  Still, if they want to succeed they have to find a way of co-existing to some degree.  Having read so much minority literature already, I found myself fascinated by some of the narratives we read in this class as they addressed a different issue, the issue of the irony of guilt felt by some minorities when they do achieve a certain level of assimilation. 

The story that I think most poignantly addresses the issue of guilt is James Baldwin’s No Name in the Street.  In this story, the author agonizes about his separation from “his people,” and seems to be addressing inner turmoil and guilt about having “made it” in the dominant culture.  However, the paradox in the story is the fact that Baldwin has in fact resisted assimilation to a large degree, and his less successful former friend appears to be more assimilated than him.  Baldwin is certainly successful and educated, but the crux of that success lies in his criticism and resistance to the dominant culture and the prejudice he faces from white America.  All of this begs the question, what is it that minorities actually assimilate to, and to what end? 

Another minority story that discusses the paradox of assimilation and resistance is Toni Cade Bambara’s, The Lesson.  In this story, the protagonist, Ms. Moore, is so assimilated that she no longer fits in with the people in her neighborhood. The locals believe she thinks too highly of herself, and they seem to only allow her access to their children for the free babysitting, although one would like to think that deep down they realize she can have a positive impact.  I admit to finding certain aspects of this story disturbing, mainly the blanket stereotyping Ms. Moore presents about whites.  I think the more important lesson of social equality gets quickly lost in the drawing of racial lines.  However, Ms. Moore is taking an immigrant point of view in encouraging the children of the neighborhood to assimilate in the way that she has, that is, to pursue an education that would at least allow for the possibility of participating in the American Dream of the dominant culture. 

By far the most fascinating group we have read so far is the large and diverse group that falls somewhere in between the immigrant and the minority.  New World immigrants are unique in that they are immigrants that tend to be perceived by the dominant culture as minorities rather than immigrants, apparently due to their skin color and resemblance to traditionally minority cultures in this country.  Richard Rodriguez’s Hunger of Memory was remarkable in its topic of surrendering language as a means of assimilation.  Even though Rodriguez is an immigrant, and even though he makes the choice to assimilate by becoming so Americanized that he completely loses his first language, he aligns himself with minority cultures, like Baldwin, when he discusses his guilt (and his family’s shame) at his lack of retention of Spanish culture.  Immigrants are traditionally proud of their language acquisition and would rarely be ashamed of proficiency in English.  They would consider it a major stepping stone towards the American Dream, and although Rodriguez essentially feels this way, there is an ambivalence that is more prominently seen in the minority narrative. 

The author that I believe most exemplifies the ambivalence that exists in this “in between” group is June Jordan in her narrative Report from the Bahamas.  I want to like this author, but honestly, her anger and her stereotyping of all white people as rich and mercenary, is a turn-off that is hard for me to get past.  Jordan is assimilation at its core.  She is a university professor and is widely respected.  However, although she realizes that she is assimilated, seen in her knowledge that she is no longer on the same level as “Olive the maid,” she is full of resistance towards the dominant culture.  Once again, I think Jordan is so focused on racial issues that she almost, but not quite, misses the larger social issues she is faced with, namely issues of socioeconomic status and domestic violence.  I think she gets it at the end when she asserts, “now I must make the connection real between me and these strangers everywhere before those other clouds unify this ragged bunch of us, too late” (315).  Jordan realizes the connection she must make is with others, not against others (i.e.…the white dominant culture).  Still, Jordan’s resistance, and her anger, more closely resemble that of the minority culture, rather than the immigrant culture, and even extend to include the people of the Bahamas.  Like Baldwin, she has assimilated and made a place for herself in dominant culture, yet that success is laden with ambivalence for having “abandoned” her people. 

Personally, I find the new world immigrant to be fascinating.  Due to the color code that exists in our society, they are prone to prejudice that other immigrants may not face on a regular basis, at least not to the same degree, or for the same length of time.  However, as immigrants they are normally strongly motivated to succeed in our dominant culture environment.  They are still making a personal choice by being here and as thus are perhaps more motivated to succeed.  Additionally, they tend to have long viewed America as a land of opportunity rather than despair, further strengthening their association with traditional immigrant values and expectations.  

Finally, I am finding this class somewhat difficult, not for the material we are reading, which I enjoy, but for the classroom discussions.  I never realized just how difficult it could be to discuss such sensitive issues with a diverse group of people, and how different people’s perceptions could be about this type of reading.  I had wondered if it was just our class, but upon reading past essays, and talking to others who have taken this class, I have to wonder just why it is so hard to find common ground in our readings.  From my point of view, like Jordan’s, this is a serious issue as our perspectives seem to stem from our differences rather than from our commonalities.  If it is possible for Americans to talk systematically and constructively about race and ethnicity, it will only be after we learn to look for common bonds rather than differences, and after we learn to celebrate diversity as something we share rather than as something that separates us.