Amy Shanks

My Colonial-Postcolonial Learning Experience

The close of this semester brought about numerous terms, facts, and concepts to mull over; however, what I have appreciated the most from this course is the opportunities it provided to trace terms and concepts and to observe ways they have evolved and yet simultaneously maintained a platform for intertextuality. This tracking was not limited to coursework. I was able to connect the terms I learned with a research interest from my Women’s Literature course: the works of Willa Cather. Because the crux of literature is characters, reading fiction can often feel like an anthropologic endeavor. This sentiment is enhanced when texts provide insights to unfamiliar cultures and experiences. As my global knowledge expanded since the midterm, I began to see how the concepts I’d learned still existed even within the most divergent texts, but also how they could manifest in slightly different terms.

A culminating concept from my midterm and my second research posting was perceptions of the unfamiliar. For the midterm, I reflected and analyzed the “self” and “other” relationship that served as a natural segue to my second posting’s topic of the transnational migrant. Both concepts often result in the marginalizing and disassociation of people. While my posting was specific to Willa Cather’s depiction of a particular transnational migrant experience (the Czechs in America), this example not only elucidated the meaning of the term, but also provided a connection to another course objective: "issues of American ignorance of larger world and alternative worldviews.”

 One of the most overt examples of contemporary “self” and the “other” perceptions in America is the “native” and “immigrant.” America is often chided for its ignorance, or perhaps willful negligence of global perspective and issues. Before taking this course, I had never heard the term “transnational migrant.” America is a country where immigrant status is not unusual, so it is rather shocking that the term “transnational migrant” is not a part of mainstream vernacular. It is nearly impossible to look at America and say it has perfect global awareness; however, even reflecting on how perceptions have shifted in my lifetime, I can at least acknowledge some of the progress it has made (which I can only hope is foreshadowing for future). When I was growing up, the analogy of America as a melting pot where cultures and races are supposedly dissolved into one was popular, but now the modern perception has evolved into the analogy of a mixed salad, encouraging the preservation of individual culture while simultaneously creating a sense of unified community. This shift in perception fosters a broader consciousness of multicultural awareness and is a movement toward recognition of the transnational migrant experience (despite the lack of widespread acknowledge of the term). The term “migrant” appears to emphasize the dividing “self” and “other” by focusing on an individual’s foreign originals. The term “transnational migrant” focuses on simultaneously linking the foreigner to their native and new residence.  Unfortunately, this change had not yet happened during Cather’s writing career, nor does the acknowledgement of the term guarantee an abolition of the binary oppositions; it is simply a step in the direction of empathy. 

Cather exposed the unawareness of her time by showing the common misinterpretation of Czech immigrants’ transnational migrant mentality as a defiant refusal to assimilation. Because Americans were still thinking of the Czech immigrants in terms of “self” and “other,” they were unable to show empathy toward the conflict the Czechs were experiencing from this dual identity, instead perceiving it as a slight to America. Similar marginalizing perceptions not only continued throughout the course as the “self” and “other” was still primarily connected with the “colonizer” and the “colonized,” but the terms also started to manifest in slightly varied terms such as “traditional” and “modern.” Whatever form these terms took they still had the same conflicting effect.

Riddled with moments of discord, Things Fall Apart exemplified the “self” and “other” in terms of “tradition” and “modernity.” The novel revolves around one man’s efforts to combat the change and progress of his tribe. A proponent of upholding tradition, Okonkwo feels that “worthy men are no more” (141) and that in the past “men were men” (141). Class discussion led to the observation that Okonkwo subscribes to the idea that strength rules – a traditional, misogynistic viewpoint. Okonkwo likes the power and status he is able to maintain through this tradition and feels threatened by the “other” modernization viewpoint because of its potential to usurp his dominance. In her final “Self, Other, and Everyone Else,” Chrisoula Mouliatis observes that, “it is the divide Okonkwo creates within his own family and tribe that causes his ruin.” Okonkwo’s inability to even tolerate change in others causes him much pain and suffering, ultimately leading to the loss of his life.   

Another variation of the “self” and “other” was exemplified in the novel Jasmine. Similar to my research posting, the narrative exposes the marginalization of the misunderstood transnational migrant. This is a slight shift in the dynamics of the previous “self” and “other” as “colonizer” and “colonized” because the “colonized” now resides in a “colonizer” country. The titular protagonist Jasmine is the binary opposite of Okonkwo. His desperate cling to tradition is completely contrasting with Jasmine’s assimilating spirit. Almost immediately upon arrival, Jasmine embraced American culture so rapidly she even adopted the migratory consciousness, repeatedly moving and reinventing herself realizing that “in America, nothing lasts” (181). The course reading guide questions encouraged an evaluation of Jasmine as a transnational migrant; however, her ability to adapt to her surroundings made it surprisingly difficult to give her the label, but there are moments in the narrative where Jasmine exposes the pull she has felt to her native culture and what extremes she has taken to reinvent herself: “There are no harmless, compassionate ways to remake oneself. We murder who we were so we can rebirth ourselves in the images of dreams” (29). Unlike Okonkwo who literally takes his life to resist his “other,” Jasmine attempts to metaphorically kill who she once was so she can easily assimilate without being viewed as the “other.”

A point raised in class discussion was how Du, Jasmine’s pseudo adopted son, provides a closer example of the transnational migrant experience. Jasmine even evinces this with her observation that her own “transformation was genetic; Du’s was hyphenated” (222). Despite having been adopted by Bud, Du realizes that he is still the “other” when he states that Bud “has his own kid coming” (221), suggesting that a biological child has a closer connection to Bud’s indigenous American “self” than Du as a transnational migrant ever could. This marginalization ultimately leads to Du leaving the family to reside with his sister. Jasmine appears to admire Du’s ability to live as a transnational migrant, embracing his own culture along with the new culture, something Okonkwo had disowned his own son for doing. Soon after Du leaves, Jasmine appears to be inspired by his ability to embrace his transnational migrant identity, making a similar change herself.

 Jasmine’s life with Bud makes it even more difficult to perceive her transnational migrant status because he, in an Okonkwo fashion, does not like the idea of change or different ways of life. Rather than recognizing Jasmine’s dual culture, Bud focuses on her assimilative identity to minimize her “other” qualities. Bud has his “smooth planes of history” (214) that he likes to maintain; therefore, Jasmine is willing to suppress her cultural past to assimilate to his way of life. In the end, however, Jasmine leaves Bud for a life where she is free to be a transnational migrant “other.” Bud’s refusal to even hear about Jasmine’s background stifles their ability to truly have intimacy, enabling her to run off with Taylor who “didn’t want to scour and sanitize the foreignness”(185). She implies this lack of connection when she describes her moving away with Taylor as “not leaving Bud” but rather “going somewhere else” (240).

            As observed in my midterm, the “self” and the “other” conflict is a foundational part of the human existence.   Whether the “self” and “other” is depicted in the varied terms of “traditional” and “modern” or “native” and “transnational migrant,” it still creates tension and conflict. Jasmine and Okonkwo could hardly have more divergent characteristics, yet tracing the “self” and “other” relationship provides opportunities for depth of intertextuality that goes beyond observation that two characters are simply opposite. The binary opposition of the “self” and “other” provides insight into comparative analysis of the complex interrelations of characters that ultimately develop plot. As I hopefully transition my graduate studies into a concentrated thesis, I anticipate a continuation in analysis of the “self” and “other.”