bro·ken
/ˈbrōkən/
adjective
- 1.having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order.
Alexander, M. (1993). Fault lines: A memoir (2nd ed.) [Kindle Fire version]. New York: The Feminist Press of the City University of New York.
I can't imagine living my life thinking of myself as "other." Meena Alexander addresses the events/after effects of September 11th in her memoir and how she is seen as an "other" American (Chapter 21). As I stated in my previous post, she already views herself broken from all of her life experiences as a child--moving back and forth from India, Sudan and England among other things.
After reading Alexander's memoir, I've learned that you must gain your self-identity separate from your surroundings. Even though our upbringing and sense of self are almost fully determined from our geographic location throughout life, we must think more independently and logically about things. This makes me question a great deal of things. One question I've had for a while now is that what if I was born in an entirely different part of the globe? Wouldn't I be raised to believe differently? I would hope that no matter where I am, that I would come to the conclusion to use empathy and an open mind to determine my actions, thoughts and feelings.
As stated in Chapter 12, Americans participate in a sort of confessional lifestyle where you have to give reason or "explain yourself, constantly." In regards to labeling and the constant struggle of identity and self-creation, Alexander says it best.
"...I am a poet writing in America. But American poet? What sort? ...An Asian-American poet then? ...Everything that comes to me is hyphenated. A woman poet, a women poet of color, a South Indian woman poet who makes up lines in English, a postcolonial language, as she waits for the red lights to change on Broadway."
Her writing is so powerful to me. She unearths feelings that you don't necessarily want to surface. I never thought of identity that way (I know that sounds silly and perhaps immature/underdeveloped). But, I never thought of people thinking of themselves as hyphenated labels. When it comes to race and nationality, it can be a hard issue to address and challenge. It's up to us to educate ourselves and create an environment welcoming of all people. Who knows if we'll ever live in a world with no labels or hyphens, but it's how we carry ourselves and maintain empathy and understanding in our hearts. I want to end my 4-part blog series with a poem from one of Alexander's mentors/influencers, Adrienne Rich, called "Stepping Backward"...
As stated in Chapter 12, Americans participate in a sort of confessional lifestyle where you have to give reason or "explain yourself, constantly." In regards to labeling and the constant struggle of identity and self-creation, Alexander says it best.
"...I am a poet writing in America. But American poet? What sort? ...An Asian-American poet then? ...Everything that comes to me is hyphenated. A woman poet, a women poet of color, a South Indian woman poet who makes up lines in English, a postcolonial language, as she waits for the red lights to change on Broadway."
Her writing is so powerful to me. She unearths feelings that you don't necessarily want to surface. I never thought of identity that way (I know that sounds silly and perhaps immature/underdeveloped). But, I never thought of people thinking of themselves as hyphenated labels. When it comes to race and nationality, it can be a hard issue to address and challenge. It's up to us to educate ourselves and create an environment welcoming of all people. Who knows if we'll ever live in a world with no labels or hyphens, but it's how we carry ourselves and maintain empathy and understanding in our hearts. I want to end my 4-part blog series with a poem from one of Alexander's mentors/influencers, Adrienne Rich, called "Stepping Backward"...
"...So I come back to saying this good-by,
A sort of ceremony of my own,
This stepping backward for another glance.
Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony,
Because we know each other, crack and flaw,
Like two irregular stones that fit together.
Yet still good-by, because we live by inches
And only sometimes see the full dimension.
Your stature's one I want to memorize--
Your whole level of being, to impose
On any other comers, man or woman.
I'd ask them that they carry what they are
With your particular bearing, as you wear
The flaws that make you both yourself and human."
Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony,
Because we know each other, crack and flaw,
Like two irregular stones that fit together.
Yet still good-by, because we live by inches
And only sometimes see the full dimension.
Your stature's one I want to memorize--
Your whole level of being, to impose
On any other comers, man or woman.
I'd ask them that they carry what they are
With your particular bearing, as you wear
The flaws that make you both yourself and human."
