Both Harris and Gates discuss the invisible line that is meant
to be challenged by a tantrum against imposed limitations. The invisible line
in Harris’s criticism is that which sets off the security alarm that holds The Color Purple on a pedestal, deemed
untouchable by popular media. Popularity seems to make a work impermeable to
criticism. In support of this idea, Harris states, “We [black women,] were all
faced with the idea that to criticize a novel that had been so universally
complimented was somehow a desertion of the race and the black woman writer”
(155). In my opinion, if a novel deserves praise, it also deserves criticism and
challenges to delve into its issues; to silence certain issues is to deny the
existence of controversial truths. There is such pressure in being so specific
as to say “the black woman writer.” If the “black woman” identity of authorship
is erased, and Walker is just considered “writer,” I wonder if the novel would
still receive reluctance from black women to present their opinion openly. Harris
describes the double edged sword of popularity also falls on Walker when she
states that “Walker is put in the peculiar position of crying out against her
own popularity or watching the onslaught of distortion continue” (159). The
Author function begs consideration when discussing criticism for The Color Purple.
One of the multiple viewpoints in Gates’s criticism suggests
that the publisher is to be held accountable for the circulating controversial
material. I find it surprising that there are different lengths in the answers.
Some responses to Du Bois’s questions are one word answers, like that of Sandra
E. Drake. What stands out to me is Werner Sollors’s response which alludes to
William Melvin Kelley’s comparative observation of the white man and the Negro
man on the subway. This reminds me of the idea that “just because you or someone
else is holding an umbrella over your head does not mean it isn’t raining all
around you.” This metaphor suggests that the reality of power structures, which
has been woven into history since colonization, still affects present day. If
someone feels that he/she is not affected by power structures (like that of race,
for example), he/she is ignorant, by choice or by privilege, to the rain
(predetermined categories) that is still an issue. As an Asian American in a
predominantly white school who started noticing this rain freshman year and
only knew the words to explain it junior year, I'm still struggling with this idea.
Supplemental Stuff:
The discussion of race in
Gates’s criticism reminded me of the following article I had read last year, when I first
started to understand how to predetermined categories.
Allan G. Johnson’s essay, “Privilege as Paradox” presents
how perceptions are shaped by social arrangements, or “reference groups”. The
reference to Viola in Shakespeare in
Love, a woman who aspires to act on stage, despite the fact that acting was
a privilege reserved for men, supports Johnson’s argument. She achieves her
goal by “successfully presenting herself as [a man]” (118). The reference
communicates that in order to achieve objectives that are deemed more suitable
for the more privileged group, “successfully presenting” oneself as belonging
or able to take on the role that is reserved for the privileged group can prove
effective. This example, along with the succinctly put statement, “what matters
[when it comes to privilege,] is who other people think we are, not who we really are” signifies that being perceived to belong to certain
categories can be the key to accessing, or being denied of, privileges.
Johnson encourages the consideration of both individual as
well as communal experiences with privilege and discrimination. On page 119,
Johnson references a reflection he sometimes hears a woman say: “I’ve never
been oppressed as a woman.” In response to this, Johnson presents a diction
thread in the same paragraph to analyze how one woman’s subjective experience
could allow for such a reflection. The diction thread in “avoided,” “overcome,”
“denial,” “unaware,” and “internalized” communicate the ways someone may deal
with or experience social realities. “It’s like living in a rainy climate and
somehow avoiding being rained our yourself. It’s still a rainy place to be”
(120). The metaphor captures the idea that there are individual experiences and
then there are larger social realities, both of which are shaped by predetermined
categories.
From the standpoint of being Asian, I have recognized both
privilege and the lack of it. When I studied abroad, I went on a four day trek
through the jungles of Chiang Mai, Thailand with 39 other Loyola students. On
the last night of the trek, we stayed with the Lahu tribe. During dinner, the
trek guide invited me to eat, drink, and relax in the kitchen with the other
trek guides, the cook, and a few other people who live at the village. “You get
VIP access,” the trek guide said, smiling. “It’s because we should look out for
each other. Your people and my people, same same,” he said. I considered it to
be a great privilege to have been able to have had experienced that warm, sense
of belonging, with good company, drinking and listening to Lahu songs with a fire in the
middle room and a full moon above.
On the other side of the spectrum, at Loyola, I don’t quite
get the “VIP access” I had when I was abroad. Like the woman’s reflection in
Johnson’s essay who states, “I’ve never been oppressed as a woman,” I’m
wondering if I can say, “I’ve never been oppressed as an Asian.” I’m still
trying to put my finger on it. I wonder which method among Johnson’s presented
diction thread of dealing-with-things I’m doing, if any (the aforementioned
diction thread being “avoided,” “overcome,” “denial,” “unaware,” and
“internalized”). To be honest, coming from a racially/culturally diverse high
school, and having been raised in the Philippines, and living in a racially/culturally
diverse neighborhood, attending a predominantly white college took me out of my
comfort zone. Loyola talks about studying abroad to “get out of your comfort
zone,” but for me, studying abroad nestled me back into it. I think it is the
privilege of the warm sense of belonging that I feel I’m denied here perhaps
because of me being Asian, or maybe there’s just something wrong with me that
hinders me from experiencing that sense of belonging here. I’m still trying to
figure that out, because before Loyola, I’ve always felt an ease navigating
socially. *shrugs* I don’t know; I’m struggling with this. Does Johnson suggest
that I present myself as white to feel a sense of belonging?
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