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November 13, 2006 at 11:53 am | In Uncategorized | 2 CommentsA Recounting/Response to one of the papers in Rhetoric and Ethnicity and a (brief) bibliography with annotation to Royster’s essay in Cross-Talk for your enjoyment:
Gale, Xin Liu . “Community, Personal Experience, and Rhetoric of Commitment.” Rhetoric and Ethnicity. Eds. Keith Gilyard and Vorris Nunley. Portsmouth, New Hampshire: Heinemann, 2004. 103-110.
Xin Liu Gale expresses her hesitance in accepting ideas of community and “-isms”…
(Game playing time! Fill in the blanks:
femin__, multicultural__, Marx__, social construction__, political activ__; Or discourse _____, interpretive _____, home _____, school _____, classroom _____).
…since she emigrated to America’s composition and rhetoric field via China: “At the beginning, the ubiquity of ‘isms’ and ‘community’ was indeed a culture shock” and, thought she quickly adapted to fit in, “the puzzlement was not resolved as to why a country founded on individual expression and freedom for its people to pursue personal happiness and fulfillment appears to be so devoted to social ‘isms’ and community” (103).
Her Chinese upbringing bred misgivings of such concepts, just as the invitation to speak on rhetoric and ethnicity bred misgivings about who she was, what she had to say. Gale queries herself: “What community do I belong to? What ethnic community do I belong to?” (104). She had left China behind in her life as well as her scholarship; She lamented the loss of any roots in her quest to be “American.”
These ruminations, however, resulted in revelation: “…a clean break with politics, communities, and the past is not only necessary but inevitable for the [Chinese] writer” (106). Why? A community wherein “human attachments… made most of us cowards and confined us to a silent existence that in turn forced silence on others” inspired a particular need for “unlimited and unbridled independence” (106-107). In China, “everything is interpreted in terms of political intentions, class struggle, and social good, [and] the most innocent story could be construed as a vicious attack on something” (108). Writers occupy a troubled position in a country that “neither loves its intellectuals nor wants their thinking, if their thinking is independent and different from the ideology of the party and the ‘Chinese community’” (108).
Xin Liu Gale concludes her piece by wishing for a time when everyone, everywhere, can “have the freedom to write and be encouraged to write about their personal experience of encountering and living with others” because “only through writing can the tragedy, the comedy, and the beauty of encountering others be captured and become a source of transformation for self and for the culture at large” (110).
Some thoughts…
-I should note that my play with the color red reflects my association of it with the Chinese belief that it represents luck; it is not a commentary on the connections between the color and communism – I leave such things to others.
-I wondered if Xin Liu Gale noted the irony in her ruminations “What community do I belong to? What ethnic community do I belong to?”, so common for m/any “true Americans” (much like the students Linda Cullum writes of in “Lessons from the Turtle Grandparents,” who self-describe as “just a bunch of average White kids.” A reminder, perhaps, that at times “White” can mean the absence of color, the leeching away of connections and cultural understanding that necessitates a rebuilding, the connections that a composition teacher like Cullum or Gale can facilitate in their classrooms [143]).
-The dangers of community and -ism belief: Gale prompts the reader to recall why communal notions can be harmful or dangerous, why we must embark in supporting/sustaining them with great care and knowledge.
-I was likewise interested in Gale’s encouragement at the close of her piece for students to “write about their personal experience of encountering and living with others,” since we see once again a weighting of the personal in writing (110, emphasis mine). The connection makes sense in terms of Gale’s support for individuality to foster writing, based on the lessons China taught her about the needs of writers for total freedom, something Americans often take for granted. After all, it is easy to support “-isms” and “communities” when they are a choice to indulge in rather than a requirement to bind the voices of a people.
Royster, Jacqueline Jones. “When The First Voice You Hear Is Not Your Own.” College Composition and Communication 47.1 (February 1996): 29 – 40. Rpt. in Cross–Talk in Comp Theory: A Reader. Ed. Victor Villanueva, Jr. 2nd ed. Urbana, IL: NCTE, 2003. 611 – 622.
Jacqueline Jones Royster stresses the importance of subjectivity using personal experiences as a guide. She discusses the ways in which race is treated carelessly among discourse communities in our nation. Her purpose is to remind people to be aware of subject position and to treat others as they would wish to be treated in order to avoid violation. The ultimate emphasis is on the need for training in order to respect the point of view of others, singularly or in cultural groups, and the ability to engage others as hybrids. In one sense we must remember that people are hybrids – composed of many parts, all “authentic”, and in another, that all great learning, etc., comes from the hybridization of cross-boundary discourse. To effectively exchange perspectives, however, we must collectively be taught to listen.
“Theme-ing:”
Personal experiences…
Training…
People as hybrids (the complication of subject position/s)
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You provide a thoughtful read of Gale’s essay. I was interested in the struggle in Gale’s essay, too. The struggle to identify and disidentify with a community, a people, and a political system that silenced so many, including Gale.
It’s interesting to compare/contrast Gale’s essay with Royster’s. Both call for honesty and for truth. Royster’s essay, though, is firmly situated in the African American community, and her essay, since it was the Chair’s address, has a quality of directly speaking to the reader/listener. There are many moments when I feel Royster is speaking dead-on to us: telling difficult truths about how her voice–and those of African Americans– have been misrecognized, misheard, silenced, run over the top of. I hear “rhetorical listening” all over the place, and I hear her comments about the “home training”–not walking all over somebody’s house and community as if it is one’s own. This is a question for us to consider in our discussion of ethnic rhetorics. Where is our home in relation to ethnic rhetorics? How do we enter into and engage the discourses and communities of our colleagues, our students, our neighbors? How do we heed Royster’s advice to “talk across boundaries WITH others instead of FOR, about, and around them? ” (620).
Royster’s essay gets me every time, brings me up, turns me around.
Comment by Eileen E. Schell — November 13, 2006 #
I’m not sure what you mean by the irony of Gale’s question about what community she belongs to. Could you explain that further?
I think for Gale the irony is that, as she says (and as you quoted above), although she put so much energy into “becoming an American that [she] lost touch with [her] Chinese roots” (104), when other people look at her, it’s not as a ‘complete’ American:
I may be reading too much into this, but it makes me think of a flip side to Royster’s “when the first voice you hear is not your own”–it’s when you are expected (required? assumed?) to speak for (as
arepresentative of) a particular group because of your ethnic/cultural background(s).There’s an interesting, but to me rather complicated, point that Krista Ratcliffe makes in Rhetorical Listening about listening metonymically, where we take others as being associated with, but not necessarily representative of, their ethnic or cultural group(s). I haven’t quite worked out in my head what that actually means in practice, but if we place that idea next to Gale’s and Royster’s essays, maybe there’s some way that the discipline can discuss ethnicity and rhetoric in a way that doesn’t get wrapped up in stereotypes or labelling.
拋磚引玉 (pao zhuan yin yu–I’m just throwing a brick into the conversation to attract jade.)
Comment by Jon Benda — November 21, 2006 #