Kristin Hamon

Preparation Time: 25 minutes

Writing Time: 70 minutes

Learning to Listen to the Stories of Others

Immigrant literature seemed like a rebellious choice, so I selfishly signed up for this class. I am a part of a family that typifies the dominant culture. I shocked my mom, a minister’s wife, by getting tattoos on my feet, stunned my conservative in-laws when I represented Barack Obama at the senate district convention, and worried multiple family members when I left a conservative white politician’s office to work with Hispanic students in the East End of Houston. So, when I told my family I was taking a class on the immigrant narrative, their surprise was minimal. I thought taking this class would help define me. This class, instead, exploded my concepts of what it means to be an immigrant and defined the struggle of assimilation. I entered this class thinking it would be “good for me” so that I could learn more, become more educated about many of my students, and ultimately, and unknowingly, push myself further into an unavoidable dominant culture. I was being selfish. This class was not about me at all. Immigrant literature is, for me, about learning to be open to other people’s stories, and sharing what I have learned with students so they can define themselves.

The terms “minority culture” and “immigrant culture” are not interchangeable. This is one of the first epiphanies Dr. White created for me during this summer session. I teach an entire unit on “cultural identity,” and cannot count how many times I must have ignorantly lumped narratives together that were dissimilar. Objective 2 helped me understand the immigrant narrative by explaining that “no single text tells the whole story of immigration, but the larger narrative is always implicit.” After learning the multiple stages of the immigrant narrative, I started to see a connection between the immigrant narrative and the way my Hispanic students often behaved in my classroom. For me, the excerpt from Hunger of Memory exemplified the last stage of my students’ immigrant narrative. Rodriguez states that  the use of “family language in school” will prohibit students from feeling “so alienated,” and it will also help students retain “a sense of their individuality – their ethnic heritage and cultural ties” (Rodriguez 233). I realized that students who speak Spanish socially are fighting to retain part of their heritage that they feel might be slipping away. This realization assisted me in learning why the chasm might exist between students of an immigrant culture and those of a minority culture.

My first research posting attempted to satisfy my curiosity regarding the rift that exists between minority and immigrant students. I was originally interested in why my Black and Hispanic students often did not date. My students’ honesty stunned me as they described, without any graduate coursework in immigrant literature, how their dating practices were ruled by the “color-code” and every student seemed aware of the chasm between Black and Hispanic families. This research posting occurred simultaneously with our study of Objective 3. I learned from this objective that since many members of minority cultures did not “freely choose the American Dream” they seem to be given more freedom in exposing the exploitation of the American Dream. For the first time in my teaching career, I understood the conversations between my students. A few of my Black students have spoken out about race and often openly bemoan any ill treatment they have faced due to their ethnicity. When my Hispanic students started the same conversations, fights erupted.

Studying the minority narrative exposed a world with which I was not utterly familiar. James Baldwin introduced me to the identity struggle that exists for many African-Americans. Seeking to become successful (in terms of the dominant culture) is problematic since assimilation is the only system that America seems to have in place. For a people that were brutally captured and brought to the U.S. for slave work, assimilation is obviously not a well-respected option. Baldwin exposed this resistance to identify with America’s dominant culture by depicting a fight between two old friends. His narrator clearly delineates his identity when he states, “I told him [his friend] that Americans had no business at all in Vietnam; and that black people certainly had no business there” (Baldwin 289). The narrator chooses to separate himself entirely from the dominant culture in an attempt to create his own identity (Objective 3). This open resistance has become slowly accepted by America’s dominant culture and has proved successful in creating new opportunities for education and equality between the dominant and minority cultures. The immigrant narrative, unfortunately, has not reached the same level of understanding or respect in our nation.

Immigrants are expected to be thankful. Objective 3 further clarifies by explaining that since they “voluntarily” chose to immigrate, “they are expected to conform to the American Dream story of freedom and opportunity.” Unfortunately, for immigrants that are not members of America’s model minority, assimilating quickly, and becoming immediately thankful to America is unlikely. Comparing the narratives of Jewish, Pakistani, Indian, and Asian immigrants helped me understand that my Mexican-American students’ narrative may be riddled with obstacles due to the power of the “color-code.” A chilling image in “Silver Pavements, Golden Roofs” stands as a beautiful metaphor for the hurtful process of assimilation. Jayanti notices her hands covered in snow and allows them to slowly turn white. She explains that “now it makes sense that the beauty and the pain should be a part of each other” (Divakaruni 83). My students must understand this same wounding experience. I know how aggravated they become when mistaken as members of the wrong Spanish-speaking country. Judith Ortiz Cofer describes her father’s frustration when he tells a man he is Puerto Rican and the man responds, “Same shit,” as he slams the door on a very confused and angry immigrant. Fighting an endless battle with the “color-code” makes it difficult for immigrants to be thankful. As a member of the dominant culture, I had never fully entertained this notion before.

Studying the expectation of satisfaction, mixed with the presence of the “color-code,” led me to my second research posting. I knew most of my Mexican-American students were second-generation, but did not see that the “color-code” and their parents were forcing them into a second flight of migration. After my research, I became more sensitive to the plight of those immigrants living between a minority and immigrant identity. In fact, I even questioned many students about the separatism that seems to exist between first and second-generation students. Many students helped me understand that the second-generation students do not feel thankful and might possibly identify more with a minority culture, if their parents would ever permit it.

Studying the Afro-Caribbean immigrant narrative produced a new option of comparison for my future students. The” color-code” has seemed to stop many Mexican-Americans from identifying with anyone who looks Black. However, their ignorance may be hindering an excellent relationship of understanding. Junot Diaz is an author I plan to share with my students next year to assist with their understanding. In “How to Date a Brown Girl,” he describes how he is stuck between being identified as an immigrant and a minority. He is not African-American and does not share their collective narrative. My students could relate to the constant cases of mistaken identity he is forced to face. He, unlike much of the African-American separatist culture, understands and desires the power of lighter skin. He makes the reader uncomfortable when he candidly tells the reader to “Tell her [your date] that you love her hair, that you love her skin, her lips because, in truth, you love them more than you love your own” (Diaz 278). My students could probably relate to this uncomfortable dual identity.

The last epiphany, that was also the most difficult for me, was uncovering and discussing the dominant culture. I honestly did not expect the exposure of a large mass of people to ever make me so uncomfortable with my own heritage. I will not expound too much of my findings, since I have detailed them in my second essay for the final assignment. However, I can explain a bit of the frustration that ensued. After comparing the story of the Puritans to the Israelites, I was embarrassed. I felt this same awkwardness overwhelm me as I did when my students asked if I “was rich.” What could I say? I am a member of the dominant culture and have been provided more opportunities and straight paths to success that I ever care to expose. As uncomfortable as learning about the dominant culture made me, I learned that my struggle is minuscule compared to that of my students. I am allowed to walk away from awkward conversations and continue a life of privilege, while my students continue to fight their way into a place in the dominant culture. The dominant culture’s ignorance seems epic. I teach with a woman who explains that “everyone is some shade of brown.” In this way, she tries to encourage equality within her classroom. However, her strategy does not make sense if you are an immigrant. She is white and no matter how brown her skin may turn, she will never understand what it feels like to be a member of a group that is constantly struggling to gain respect from the dominant culture. Discussing the dominant culture has not only humbled me, but altered my way of thinking by turning me into a better listener, and hopefully, better teacher.

Trying to describe all the emotions and new lessons learned seems as impossible as writing one collective narrative that would speak for all immigrants. I entered this class wanting more knowledge. I felt that since I had no “marked culture” of my own, perhaps the knowledge of the immigrant narrative would give me a reprieve amidst my southern white surroundings. I was foolish and would encourage anyone, especially members of the dominant culture, to take this course. This upcoming school year will be entirely different in the manner that my curriculum is organized and presented. I hope to introduce the differences and nuances between the minority and immigrant narratives in order to empower my students. They need to understand that full straight-line assimilation is not their only option. I want them to see that there are multiple stories from cultures all over the world that are waiting for readers. Perhaps exposing my students to the knowledge with which I have been privy can help them be more involved in writing their own narratives and encourage them to seek understanding while studying the narratives of other cultures.

Works Cited

Rodriguez, Richard. “from Hunger of Memory.” Visions of America Handout: 344-356. Immigrant Literature - UHCL. Summer 2008.

Baldwin, James. “No Name in the Street.” Visions of America Handout: 344-356. Immigrant Literature - UHCL. Summer 2008.

Cofer, Judith Ortiz. “Silent Dancing.” Visions of America Handout: 344-356. Immigrant Literature - UHCL. Summer 2008.

Divakaruni, Chitra. “Silver Pavements, Golden Roofs.” from Imagining America: Stories from the Promised Land. New York: Persea Books, 2002.

Diaz, Junot . “How to Date a Brown Girl.” from Imagining America: Stories from the Promised Land. New York: Persea Books, 2002.