Craig White's Literature Courses

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Introduction, LITR MA Thesis by Kristin Hamon on Mexican American literature & culture

Kristin Hamon

Dr. Craig White, Director

Dr. Kevin McNamara, Reader

Border Bridge: Redefining the Mexican American Narrative

[1] The personal narratives of our nation have historically defined its promise of hope and belonging, but the range of such stories is always expanding and changing along with our national and cultural borders. The United States proudly deploys and protects its timeless narratives, from Plymouth Plantation, through the Founding Documents to soldiers’ letters of the Civil War, to the literature of American Romanticism, Realism, and Modernism. Conscientious scholars and teachers of American literature study voices from multiple and diverse perspectives for an increasingly diverse population, but brief selections added to anthologies and curricula from America’s rising minority and immigrant cultures rarely compete for emphasis with narratives representing the dominant culture of European settlement.

[2] A reappraisal of multicultural Literature that shifts the spotlight from racial, social, and ethnic markers to stories rooted in our nation’s past that grow with its future may help a nation built and reshaped by immigrant and minority peoples continue to learn, share, and progress. Such subjects may sow confusion and conflict because of a failure to distinguish between the overlapping but divergent stories of immigrants and minorities. The cultural narratives of immigrants in quest of freedom and the American dream are officially sanctioned; the minority experience—particularly of African and Native Americans—as one of racial inequality and injustice may also be acknowledged, but its definition by the American Dream is less universally appreciated.

[3] This confusion might spur anyone to question literary canonization and curriculum development. Any perception that selection of school texts has been intentional or conspiratorial ignores the local, happenstance nature of many teachers’ understanding of multicultural categories. A fair perception of such nebulous terms and processes may derive from a multiculturalism that relates various groups’ stories to a larger national narrative.

[4] Admittedly an attraction of multicultural reading is the unique voice that may rise from any literary tradition, but an equally striking and elevating appeal is that the story of any individual or group often resounds with the experience of an entire nation or cultural movement. Yet any individual or isolated ethnic narrative might find its eventual and indeterminate identity on the shelves of the “multicultural studies” section of the local bookstore: How can a narrative identified with a single ethnic group be deemed multicultural? In his article, “What Does Culture Want?: Observations on the ‘Nature’ of Diversity,” Kevin McNamara explains this problem as one that is “common to liberal multiculturalists who have a set of values and a set of prescriptions, foremost to respect and preserve the interest of cultures and the desires of individuals, but no method for resolving the conflicts between them” (8). This unresolved struggle may make multicultural literature appear as no more than the sum of its parts, which, beyond embodying current conventions of repression and emergence, represent less a collective truth than a set of familiar social forces with which individuals or their identity groups might identify.

[5] Assuming that a monolithic truth would emerge from an individual cultural narrative is not unusual, considering the expectations of many readers who might wander into the earnest sprawl of multicultural literature. In a pluralistic society, many cultural groups may co-exist without necessarily understanding each other. Under such conditions cultural relativism allows each group to find meaning and value in its own set of conventions and practices. Such particularity accepts the uniqueness of any cultural, familial, or individual narrative but offers no practical guide to understanding and respecting the narratives of other groups that may compete in the multicultural marketplace. On the other hand, a mere amalgamation of all possible “ethnic narratives” to a single canon lumped together in undifferentiated equality suggests that, except for names and origins, each multicultural group or individual produces the same story.

[6] A utopian ideal of limitless plenty for each and all might attract liberal multiculturalists wishing to respect all individuals and cultures, but such yearning diverts attention from the important differences represented in each respective narrative. Binding groups to one massive category in fact betrays the relativism required by cultural pluralism. A study conducted by the Chicago Cultural Group explains this paradoxical effect: a “new postmodern celebration of cultural impurity and interpermeability . . . runs the risk of effacing real difference and losing the subject into a global matrix of symbolic exchange” (538). Thus the individual experience assumed in a narrative becomes erased by desire to see oneself reflected in the personal narrative of anyone and everyone. Why may not differences and similarities exist among multicultural narratives, with each divergence supporting part of a larger national (and occasionally international) narrative, instead of speaking for one entire cultural group?

[7] The stories of Mexican America offer unique insight and examples of possible divergences in the realm of immigrant literature and multicultural narratives. These accounts express characteristics of both the immigrant’s hope and the minority’s repression. Border identity, economic incentive, geographical location, and generational changes are standard narrative elements for both immigrant and multi-generational Mexican American residents. These variable elements may distinguish one family’s or individual’s story from another, but many Mexican American narratives may be characterized by cross-tensions between minority and immigrant identities—or even momentary fusions of the two.

[8] Richard Rodriguez is one prominent Mexican American author who understands the cross-tensions of the multicultural narrative.  In Hunger of Memory, he describes the confusing effects of writing in this genre: “Mistaken, the gullible reader will—in sympathy or in anger—take it that I intend to model my life as the typical Hispanic-American life. But I write of one life only. My own. Here is the life of a middle-class man” (6). Rodriguez recognizes that his own experiences might be misinterpreted by readers who look to him for a resolution of differences between his cultural narrative and their own. Many writers of minority and immigrant narratives are similarly plagued with the task of trying to explain the meaning created by their own story before another individual explains it for them. The Chicago Cultural Group posits that “literary studies in general assume a notion of ‘the text’ as a given or fixed entity, which can then have multiple or contested interpretations . . . yet this [exists as a] highly problematic assumption for anthropology and subaltern studies, where the fixity of the object text is often precisely what is at stake” (539). Through the memoir of his own education as an American, Rodriguez challenges his reader to appreciate the fixed but elusive nature of his experience as that of one man. However, many readers doubtless absorb his narrative to their internal definition of Mexican-American identity when they might rather recollect his and other Mexican American voices in a national narrative that makes the literature of the United States expand and diversify beyond any single textual model.

[9] The sympathetic urge to identify indiscriminately may be redirected by the rational need to order and classify. America is home to distinct multicultural traditions of immigrant and minority, which diverge primarily by their assimilation to or separation from America’s dominant culture. Where an immigrant may assume eventual assimilation and acceptance, the minority narrator must often renounce assimilation as a cultural option. Such limits may threaten to lock minorities in separate, oppositional communities. In contrast, the free choice implicit in immigration and assimilation generates an array of possible relations with the dominant culture—and, in a long-established immigrant tradition, separation from one’s original ethnicity.

[10] Such distinctions remain useful, but Mexican American literature proves that immigrant narratives may be defined too neatly or archetypally—in ways less adventurous and complex than the lives they narrate or the texts themselves. The normative plot of the immigrant places the protagonist in situations where one’s old identity is adapted to a new world by accomplishing certain tasks (e.g., hard work) and the conquest of certain obstacles (a new language or livelihood). But what happens when an immigrant protagonist diverges from these expectations? Compared to the archetypal immigrant journey from the old to new world, many Mexican American narratives defy a path of automatic or total assimilation. The historical base of this difference from other immigrants is the continuous physical border between Mexico and the United States and the mixed identity the border creates. This unique geographical condition distinguishes Mexican American narratives from those of other immigrants, including non-Mexican Hispanics.

[11] The resulting multicultural narrative for Mexican Americans defies a reductive classification to immigrant or minority, instead the narrative operates in a domain of identity whose understanding requires metaphor, which discovers the unknown by comparing it to the known. For many Mexican Americans the metaphorical figure and existential fact of the land bridge between the United States and Mexico represents their culture as one both defined and enlarged by borders, boundaries, or la frontera between Meso-America and El Norte. This vast and shifting conduit permits Mexican American cultural identities to vary from one geographical location to another based on a family’s experience of the borderland—whether crossing, re-crossing, or otherwise being shaped by the pressure of its existence. Knowing its danger as well as its attraction, many recent immigrants interpret the Mexico-US border as a combat zone rife with violence and fear. Yet their assimilating children may see the same crossing as a reconnection to lives they would otherwise forget, as assimilation may require. These multigenerational pathways can also intersect with the minority experience, confusing a standard immigrant tale with overtones of exploitation, subjugation, and even anger. Even the diverse translations of La Frontera may propagate multiple themes, plots, or paths. As Juan Velasco writes in “Automitografias: The Border Paradigm and Chicano/a Biography,” “Frontier is the space that separates the zone of civilization from that which is beyond, while the Spanish word La Frontera conveys the idea of the Borderlands as a zone of contact and interaction” (317). The various ways one might interpret this primordial expanse of connection will determine and define the places different Mexican Americans occupy on the land bridge.

[12] Each Mexican American narrative exposes a fresh and intimate example of the border’s power to define identity. Family dialogues, a narrator’s quiet reflections, or bold exclamations from an author to his or her reader create a crossroads for the reader, who must consider the place each character occupies on the metaphorical land bridge between two oppositional worlds. Once a reader has determined a character’s identity in relation to the bridge, a directional force must still be considered. Identifying movement within an immigrant-minority narrative is not always easy. The reader must discern the direction characters are moving (towards or away from a new land) and also determine if they are moving willingly or by force. If characters are being forced to move, their stories more likely manifest characteristics of the minority narrative, while those who cross willingly more likely continue on a normative immigrant pathway of expected assimilation. Understanding such characters’ ambivalent physical and emotional movements on the land bridge creates a recurrent space in which an otherwise enigmatic existence finds and makes the choices essential to a narrative.

[13] Latino stories in popular anthologies and literary readers are often classified according to characters’ physical or metaphorical movement across the bridge. For example, editors Harold Augenbraum and Ilan Stavans organize the contents of Growing Up Latino with subtitles: “Imagining the Family,” “Gringolandia,” and “Songs of Self-Discovery.” Wesley Brown’s and Amy Ling’s anthology, Imagining America, also groups its wider collection of immigrant stories by stages of the journey: “Arriving,” “Belonging,” “Crossings,” and “Remembering.” Such schematic tables of contents appropriately reinforce the back-story of movement and, applied to Mexican Americans, index character or family identity in relation to the land bridge. From this implicit fluidity it follows that only multiple stories can describe a more-or-less complete journey from one world to another. A single textual narrative that attempted to represent every stage of the journey equally would severely tax the industry of writers and attention of readers. Each narrative offers unique knowledge of la frontera, but each also contributes to a composite picture of a grander cultural journey that continues to transit north and south, between immigrant and minority.

 

 

Provisional Primary bibliography

Anzaldúa, Gloria. Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. 2nd ed. San Francisco: Spinsters/Aunt Lute, 1987.

Candelaria, Nash. “El Patron.” from Imagining America: Stories from the Promised Land. NY: Persea, 1991. 221-228.

Cisneros, Sandra. The House on Mango Street. NY: Vintage, 1984.

Martinez, Rueben. Crossing Over. NY: Picador, 2001.

Paz, Octavio. The Labyrinth of Solitude. NY: Grove, 1985.

Rodriguez, Richard. Hunger of Memory. NY: Bantam, 1982.

Rodriguez, Richard. Brown: The Last Discovery of America. NY: Penguin, 2002.

Villarreal, Jose A. Pocho. NY: Anchor, 1970.

 

Provisional secondary bibliography

Acuna, Rodolfo. Occupied America: A History of Chicanos. 3d ed. NY: Harper Collins, 1988.

Allen, James P. "How Successful Are Recent Immigrants to the United States and Their Children?" APCG Yearbook 68.1 (2006): 9-32. Project Muse. U of Houston, Clear Lake Lib., Houston, TX. 3 July 2009.

Aranda, José F., Jr. When We Arrive: A Literary History of Mexican America. Tucson: U of Arizona P, 2003.

Augenbraum, Harold and Ilan Stavans, eds. Growing Up Latino: Memoirs and Stories. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1993.

Brown, Wesley, and Amy Ling, eds. Imagining America: Stories from the Promised Land. Revised ed. NY: Persea, 2002.

DeParle, Jason. “Struggling to Rise in Suburbs Where Failing Means Fitting In.” New York Times. 1 August 2009.

Fuentes, Carlos and Julio Ortega, eds. The Vintage Book of Latin American Stories. NY: Vintage, 1998.

Gleason, Philip. “Minorities (Almost) All: The Minority Concept in American Social Thought.” American Quarterly 43.3 (1991): 392-424. JSTOR. U of Houston, Clear Lake Lib., Houston, TX. 25 September 2009.

Golash-Boza, Tanya. "Dropping the Hyphen? Becoming Latino(a)-American through Racialized Assimilation." Social Forces 85.1 (2006): 27-55. Project Muse. U of Houston, Clear Lake Lib., Houston, TX. 2 July 2009.

Limón, José Eduardo. American Encounters: Greater Mexico, the United States, and the Erotics of Culture. Boston: Beacon Press, 1998.

Limón, José Eduardo. Dancing with the Devil: Society and Cultural Poetics in Mexican-American South Texas. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1994.

Moya, Paula, M. L."’This is Not Your Country!’: Nation and Belonging in Latina/o Literature." American Literary History 17.1 (2005): 313-338. Project Muse. U of Houston, Clear Lake Lib., Houston, TX. 5 August 2009.

Velasco, Juan. "Automitografias: The Border Paradigm and Chicano/a Biography." Biography 27.2 (2004): 313-338. Project Muse. U of Houston, Clear Lake Lib., Houston, TX. 4 August 2009.