Eileen Burnett April 13, 2019 Passages of Pain: Struggle and
the Immigrant Voice Throughout the course of this class, various themes
surrounding the literature of American Immigrants have surfaced, opening up my
understanding as to just how dynamic this genre of literature truly is. What was
once a misconception of ignorance, mainly the idea that literature written by
immigrants and minorities was no different than any other forms, was a gross
underestimation of the talent, diversity, and intricacies associated with this
vein of the literary arts. Within the stories of both the immigrants and
minorities of America is a very clear and present struggle over cultures lost, a
pain that runs deeply throughout the works themselves, carving out gorges in the
stories whose meanings echo in the hearts of all who consider themselves a part
of this great nation. Whether willingly or otherwise, minorities and immigrants
had to choose to leave behind quite possibly the most significant part of
themselves in order to create a better life for themselves and their family,
inadvertently creating dissonance within their lives. This break in identity,
therefore, is directly linked to the common theme of ambivalence in regards to
the varying levels of acculturation evident in the works of American immigrants. Traveling to a new place is often a frightening ordeal
for many who find themselves in such a position. As a result, a sense of
insecurity is often created within the immigrant in regards to their cultural
identity, such as in cases when the dominant culture displaces their own. Such
uncertainty has a pronounced effect on the person or group, evident and at the
forefront of most of the passages read this semester. The uncertainty resonates
within Le Ly Hayslip’s story, “Child of War, Woman of Peace”, as Le Ly struggles
to navigate a life in which her entire cultural identity is discounted by the
dominant culture. At every instance of an attempted assimilation, a common
tactic of immigrants to this country, Le Ly is met with ridicule and disdain. “I
was assumed to be incapable of anything except pouring tea, looking pretty, and
caring for my children” (112) she mused sadly, as she attempted to bridge the
cultural gap that only widened as time moved on. This level of indifference to
her efforts to assimilate expressed at the hands of those she wished to emulate
is only just one example of how an immigrant group suffers such a fracturing of
identity. The story resonates the strain of an outsider’s efforts to feel whole
and accepted, to live a life that feels as though it is worth living. It is this very dilemma, in fact, that Linda Martin
Alcoff discusses in her journal article entitled
Visible Identities: Race, Gender, and the Self.
Alcoff argues that it is the master gaze (of the dominant culture) that
determines an immigrant’s identity, in relation to the other race (Chapter 10,
Latinos and the Categories of Race,
pp 227-246). A binary is then formed within the psyche of the immigrant (or
minority) in response to this feeling of otherness created by the gaze, creating
an anxiety countering personal security, making it that much harder to be fully
present and engaged in the new culture. One part of the immigrant perceives
their old culture with a longing, and the other views it with shame, creating a
standstill that is oftentimes difficult to see from the outside. It is this
master gaze that causes Le Ly’s schism, a gaze that shows her entire identity to
be wrong, further adding to the ever-widening disparity between the cultures. But what happens when
it is the children of the immigrant (or minority group) that threatens the break
in familiarity of culture? In Nash Candelaria’s
El Patron, the story of Lola
Martinez’s relationship with her very Hispanic father, Senor Martinez,
exemplifies how such an ambivalence creates a rift that separates families at
their core. Rather than pushing forward, the immigrant chooses to revert to the
old ways and customs and rejecting this new way of life upon the next
generation, often at a great expense. Unlike Hayslip, who did not give up in
trying to make a place for herself, Senor Martinez imposes his antiquatedly
“macho, chauvinist” (221) attitude onto a woman who was raised in a culture of
progressive thought. The clash of wills that soon followed her remark reflects
the dark side of immigrant literature: that in the face of ambivalence, it is
easier to completely reject the master gaze, even if it means rejecting one’s
children. Senor Martinez’s comment “Why don’t you go to the kitchen with the
other women” (222) reveals this mindset, as he dismisses his daughter’s right to
engage with him, reinforcing the pain that the cultural aperture has caused.
There is hope,
however, in healing the wounds that immigrants across the country echo in their
written works. An attitude of acceptance that embraces all that the individual
has to offer, without negating the suffering experienced along the way to
achieve the freedom they so desperately sought. Jose Medina, in “The
Epistemology of Resistance”, calls this mindset a “kaleidoscopic consciousness”
(200), where the life experiences form an intersectional perspective that allows
peoples of different backgrounds to come together on an even playing field, so
to speak, allowing for a full and open discourse, healing the rifts gouged by
ignorance. This utopia of existence may yet be a far way off, however, and so it
is up to classes like this to bring about an awareness of the immigrant’s pain
of transition to the American people, so that one day we might all be able to be
truly free.
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