The Last Melon

Alright, you guys. Here it is. The video introduction to my essay, which I shared via Google+. Because of this, Anonymous Gopher, Anonymous Wolf, and Anonymous Pumpkin are now reading "Woman, the Unsuccessful Colonist."

I have learned so much this semester about claims, the research process, and social proof-- all of which have been extremely helpful in learning how to become a better essay-writer. As I reflect back on the progression of my blog posts (which I now realize I was supposed to do on the 15th), it's neat to see the growth-- from absolutely no idea where I was going to go with it (as in "Broken Bangala") to beginning to gain ideas (like in "Displaced Female Colonist Loses Direction"), to sharing my ideas through social networks (in "Taking it to the Old FB"), to getting frustrated, bouncing my ideas off classmates, and finally striking gold with Edward Cutler, an American Literature professor with an incredible knowledge of feminism and colonialism and who also let me borrow four books that helped me out a lot ("How Conversations Spark Ideas"), and then, at last, to the point where I have a finished essay. (For those who would like to read it, here is a link.) This really has been such an awesome class and I have learned so incredibly much. I want to give a big "THANK YOU!!!!" to everyone! You've all been wonderful people to learn from and talk with. It's been a great class!

In Betweens

Question: How is my paper coming?

Answer: Not extremely well.

Why? Because the past two weeks have been an exam-and-essay-filled nightmare.

BUT there is a bright star on the horizon. (No, not one of Keats's "bright stars"-- one a lot less exciting.) I plan on meeting with a professor of Historical American Lit today at three to discuss women and colonialism and I am praaayyyiiinnggg something in our conversation sparks a new idea or angle because, dear friends, I am FRESH OUT.

If anyone has any interesting sources I could explore about women and colonialism, I will give you the greatest high-five the universe has ever known.

How Conversations Spark Ideas

The hardest part of writing a paper-- finding the "so what?" It's not that hard to write a well-researched and somewhat interesting paper, but it can be difficult to find a reason why it would matter to the reader. I was talking with McKay on Friday, discussing the frustrating brick wall we've run against trying to find the implications for our paper, as well as good "enthusiast" sources. As we talked and bounced ideas off of each other, I remembered a very valuable well of information that I had previously overlooked-- teachers! If those people are not enthusiasts, I don't know who are. My paper talks a lot about colonialism and I remembered I had taken American Literary History from Professor Cutler, a super helpful professor who loves talking and helping with papers and is also extremely knowledgable and passionate about my topic. He previously helped me write a rather fantastic essay on early American folk magic. Today, I plan on emailing him to give him a heads up that I will be coming in to visit him during his office hours. I'm sure that he could help me find other enthusiast sources (and just other sources in general) that I hadn't previously considered. For those who haven't read my brief, working essay on my topic, here is a link.

Women are not Conquerers

Women are not conquerors. We have rarely, if ever, been the ones to sail out and explore new lands, claiming and establishing them as our own, spreading our beliefs and practices and… seed. We tend to sit at home, caring for what has been left behind. I say this not to make a statement on gender stereotypes, but rather to make clear the trend for women throughout history.

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When the new world was discovered, women went with their men to seek their fortune in a strange new land. Colonialism and imperialism are implicitly masculine movements—not only colonizing and conquering new lands, but also figuratively conquering women themselves—but how does it play out when women are called upon to be the colonizers? Does feminism play a role in colonialism? In both The Poisonwood Bible and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, women are figured as colonists, though unsuccessful ones. They are not aggressively conquering the new lands they come in contact with, but are rather displaced females who are disoriented and confused by the shift from the values and doctrine of their patriarchal homeland and the things they have learned in the new world. 

The Role of Feminism in Colonialism

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Both The Poisonwood Bible and Alice in Wonderland ask the question: “What role does feminism play in colonialism?” Colonialism and imperialism are typically movements attributed to men—not only colonizing and conquering new lands, but also figuratively conquering women themselves. However, both texts figure women as colonists, though unsuccessful ones. They are not aggressively conquering the new lands they come in contact with, but are rather displaced females who are disoriented and confused by the shift from the values and doctrine of their patriarchal homeland and the things they have learned in the new world. Do these texts make a point that women are not conquerors, but absorbers? Are they saying that women are primarily interested in having empathy for and understanding new people and practices rather than overcoming and replacing them? 

Taking It to the Old FB

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I decided to create a private message  board on Facebook where I could share my working thesis with friends who were English and Humanities majors, as well as a few who are studying film and music. The messages went something like this:

ME: Okay, friends-- so I'm supposed to share one of my theses for a research paper via social network and get my homies to comment on it. I'm so sorry for the imposition, but if you could just give one line (not like "good" or "bad," but a suggestion or source or something it reminds you of- any sort of helpful feedback- I would love you forever. It's also about two very specific books and this is just a working thesis, so I apologize for the weirdness of this task:

FRIEND: Hit me

FRIEND: I'm down.

ME:The Poisonwood Bible and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland both tell the stories of white females from ordered, conservative backgrounds who find themselves adrift in a foreign land and struggle to maintain their previous faith and sense of reality as the customs of the new land disorients and strips them of their basic foundation. Both of these texts feature aspects of post-colonialism and even reverse post-colonialism. Both texts also tell the stories of women who struggle against the didacticism of the patriarchy of their homeland. I would argue that Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, though normally considered to be a Victorian text, has many aspects in common with post-modernist texts in the sense that it fights against didacticism. For those who don't know, The Poisonwood Bible is about a missionary family in the 1950's that go to the Congo to convert all the Africans, but everything goes wrong and it destroys their family.

FRIEND:So what sort of comment do you want from us again? And what's didacticism?

ME:Honestly, not exactly sure, but just whatever you got that goes beyond saying it's good or bad. Like, I'm supposed to share my research paper throughout the process so the feedback I get can help sculpt the paper. Didacticism is like moralizing. Like, Aesop's Fables are didactic because they teach a moral.

FRIEND:Gotcha. Ok well I like how you've introduced your subject in such a way that your argument description fits in really well. A great start for a working thesis but defining a couple of terms and show how you'll describe post modernist writings connecting to a traditional Victorian book. Idk if this helps at all or even makes sense but there ya go

ME:Thank you, that is perfect! Just a couple more peeps and I'll have this assignment in the bag! You guys are the best!!!

Displaced Female Colonist Loses Direction

The Poisonwood Bible and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland both tell the stories of white females from ordered, conservative backgrounds who find themselves adrift in a foreign land and struggle to maintain their previous faith and sense of reality as the customs of the new land disorients and strips them of their basic foundation. Both of these texts feature aspects of post-colonialism and even reverse post-colonialism. Both texts also tell the stories of women who struggle against the didacticism of the patriarchy of their homeland. I would argue that Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, though normally considered to be a Victorian text, has many aspects in common with post-modernist texts in the sense that it fights against didacticism.

I plan on circulating this thesis statement on Facebook.

Confessions of an Extrovert

As of recently there's been this rather random movement for people to understand introverts. Apparently they've been suffering at the hands of extroverts (and other introverts, I would argue) who simply don't "understand" them. 

Please go away, human. I need some alone time.

I guess I wasn't aware that we needed to add introverts to the list of personalities/lifestyles/characteristics that garner extra compassion and tolerance-- but look at the blog posts and articles that have been written to help the rest of the world understand that strange, mythical being that is the introvert! Here, here, and here are some rather funny/interesting/bogus examples.

Personally, I feel like all you really need to do to understand the difference between introverts and extroverts is spend a little time with a cat and a dog. One of them will spend all of its time getting as annoyingly close to you as possible. One of them will spend its time getting away from you. Except when it doesn't.

Broken Bangala

           This book did not inspire me.

            It was not the sort of text that uplifts, nor did it cast any sort of light on or offer deliverance from the human experience. It was dark and broken and made you look too close at things that are painful, inhumane, even nauseating. However, the first time I read The Poisonwood Bible, I fell in love.  Why? Because it validated me.

            The problem with children of the post-modern era (or post-post-modern, depending on how technical you want to get) is that we are always looking for validation without a reason, without a moral, without an all-powerful explanation to simplify everything. Our literature is about social statements, about tearing down walls and upsetting binaries, about pushing the limits and muddying the water and making everything incredibly, incredibly complicated. We are like this because our lives are broken, our families are broken, our white-picket fences and family rooms and tenderly laid-out dinner tables have been steam-rolled by pharmaceuticals, by commercial advertising, by processed foods and corrupt politicians and pointless wars and a god we have repackaged and repurposed so many times as to make him totally unrecognizable. In The Poisonwood Bible, I found validation. It took the ugliness, the flaws, the incompetence, the fears, the doubts all hidden on the inside and brought them out into the sunshine. It didn’t try to heal the reader, but at least it let us look at ourselves without feeling shame.

            The novel takes the form of personal narrative from the point of view of each of the females in the Price family—all have a voice, from the wilting mother, to the baby, Ruth May, to the handicapped Adah, who refuses to be swathed in politically-correct innocence but unabashedly manifests herself to be as twisted on the inside as only someone suffering from that level of neglect could be.

            The only character with which we are forced to rely on the opinions and words of his family is the father of the Prices, the stern and proud Reverend, the holiest character yet the cause of so much anguish to his little family. Growing up in a very post-modern family where the father had taken off shortly after my birth, I found the character of the Reverend fascinating. He was a romantic character—the devout, strong, Christian hero, the missionary, the handsome provider. He was a character that would appeal to women on a variety of levels, yet we resent him even as we love him. I feel I understand this paradox well. Adah writes of her father:

“TATA JESUS IS BANGALA!” declares the Reverend every Sunday at the end of his sermon. More and more, mistrusting his interpreters, he tries to speak in Kikongo. He throws back his head and shouts these words to the sky, while his lambs sit scratching themselves in wonder. Bangala means something precious and dear. But the way he pronounces it, it means the poisonwood tree. Praise the Lord, hallelujah, my friends! For Jesus will make you itch like nobody’s business.” 

Bangala. Perhaps the easy tipping of the word is the point of the book, the point of a post-modernist’s life. Something can be precious and dear, but said wrong, handled wrong, treated wrong and it becomes an affliction. The Poisonwood Bible is about how religion and families and love and strength and faith are all bangala—so much potential for good, so much potential for bad. For me, though this book does dip at times into a modern-day Paradise Lost, it doesn’t try to be the anti-Bible or debunk Christianity as a whole. It just tries to validate the times when things go wrong, when families go wrong, when faith goes wrong. This book did not inspire me or uplift me or even make me feel good. It did, however, let me look at my life, my father, all of my bangala without shame.