Category: 2015 Blog Post

This chant is a classic—the classic, really, when it comes to LGBTQ rights. It came to mind as I’ve been grappling with Sedgwick’s assertion that “there are important senses in which ‘queer can signify only when attached to the first person’” (9). Upon first read I was dubious: after all, don’t we as community members strive to “queer” spaces all the time? Spaces cannot self-identify and thus rely on us as third parties to prescribe them identities (already, an important use of queer that does not use the first person.) Another issue: wouldn’t queer individuals want to be recognized and described as queer by others, who would then not be using queer in the third person? It felt to me as though the ability to call oneself queer was simply a use, and that to even begin to construct a hierarchy of queer’s best uses was to undermine and trivialize the word.

Then, I started to really reflect on the significance of the self-identification in this chant. Although not exactly in the first person, the singular of “we” is “I” in the same way that the singular for “they” might be “he” or “she.” So if a singular queer person was to hold up a sign in protest, ze might shout “I’m here, I’m queer.” This is the two-fold assertion that yes, I am actually physically standing here and yes, I am different from you. For a queer person to say this is for zem is reject the systemic erasure that commonly refuses zem name or recognition. Another person, on the other hand, cannot bestow the title of “queer” upon someone else. To call someone “queer” before that individual has first called zirself queer is dangerous “because of the violently different connotative evaluations that seem to cluster around the category” (9). The word “queer” is so rooted in strangeness and violence and hate that it is always an act of reclamation in the first person and always a potential thread in any other tense. I now feel much more amenable to the idea that “anyone’s use of ‘queer’ about themselves means differently from their use of it about someone else,” and that the use of the first person is significant (9). I ultimately contest Sedgwick because I think there are other worthwhile uses of the word, some of which I mention above. I just now see the “important sense” embedded in the first person, and it is amazing for someone who identifies as queer to understand the power in my language.

 

When talking about non-normative identities there is often a fear and/or curiosity about the unknown. What society makes invisible is generally where the dissonant culture is. For Otoh this curiosity manifests as a desire to see Mala and her garden, to know her story, and to hear his father tell him about it. When he finally does get into her garden he misses Mala completely and finds a tree full of beautiful, expensive birds. “Otoh was astonished that in his own neighborhood, unknown to catchers and gamblers, there existed a tree laden with hundreds of peekoplats. He suddenly felt himself a trespasser, an awkward voyeur” (Mootoo, 155). When Otoh finally sees this wish fulfilled it doesn’t bring him a sense of joy or accomplishment, instead he feels “awkward”, like a “trespasser” (155). He learns that this bountiful tree exists, and that knowledge would be useful to others- “catchers and gamblers”. And he feels like a voyeur, like he’s getting pleasure from seeing something private, usually not seen. Perhaps this is the moment when he begins seeing Mala as more of a person and less of a story character. Because all this time he’s wanted to see into Mala’s life, to know what she doesn’t let others know. However when he does, the enjoyment of that knowledge is mixed with awkwardness, with the added knowledge that he must also protect this secret. As well as the realization that what he demanded from her was personal, was her life not something ‘exciting’ in the adventure story way.

I also think this is interesting for its intersections of capitalism and colonialism. The tree is full of, metaphorically, money. Otoh recognizes the danger of that fact. Just like how his island was taken over and used for its profitability, the birds (and perhaps metaphorically Mala as well) would claimed if people knew about them. Not only does Otoh seem to realize the depth of what he wanted from Mala, but he also sees the complicated and potentially hazardous nature of her existence. Instead of a feeling a deep connection with Mala, Otoh becomes more aware of structures and divides in society.

In literature, the notion of “womanhood” can be very dynamic.  Oftentimes, a girl becomes a woman through a series of life-changing events, the common ones being getting her period for the first time and another losing her virginity.  For Mala, this process and notion were thrown out of sorts when her mother left and her father began abusing her and Asha.  Mala and her sister lacked a maternal figure, so Mala was obliged to become that figure, in more ways than one.  Women, by a societal definition, perform certain roles and tasks, such as cleaning the house and pleasing the husband.  Mala becomes a sort of perverted version of this where she is compelled to do household chores and answer her father’s calls.  While Mala’s body is forced to perform the role of a woman, Mala is still a girl in her heart and mind.

“For the first time in her life Mala felt like a woman, a feeling both thrilling and frightening. She lifted her shoulders upright and her small breasts quietly announced themselves” (Mootoo, 196).

Mala feeling like a woman could have several implications; given that she references her breasts, it could mean that she is starting to feel comfortable with sexual attention when it is from someone she likes.  In addition, this could mean that she feels comfortable starting to defy her father, as he does not want Mala to form connections with anyone in town.  In this way, being a woman would also mean being independent, as opposed to being obliged to work around the house and obey her father.  Ambrose’s return symbolizes Mala being able to transition into the role of a woman on her own terms instead of being compelled to perform this role.  Consequentially, Mala’s version of a “woman” is different from the stereotypical notion of a woman, which is essentially a housewife, as Mala seems to equate womanhood with independence and comfort in her sexuality.

“Once upon a time Elsie had been enraptured by the silken petals that fell from Ambrose’s Wetlandish-affected lips. Now she wished that he would either shut up or talk simply and plainly with her again” (108).

 

In this passage, strain is shown in the marriage between Elsie and Ambrose. Not unlike the other examples of marriage in Cereus Blooms at Night, both Elsie and Ambrose have grown apart and find each other as merely existing in the same space (for this marriage specifically only once a month). These two sentences accentuate the tension in the marriage. With words and strings of words like “Once upon a time,” “enraptured,” “silken petals that fell from Ambrose’s…lips” a soft legato tone is set. It reflects Elsie’s genuine intrigue in Ambrose’s lexicon in the start of their relationship. The tone immediately changes in the next sentence. The tone shifts to blunt, reflecting the end of Elsie’s patience with Ambrose’s way of speaking. This shift is indicated in the words (i.e. shut up) but is strengthened by a shift in syllables. Standing alone the second sentence would seem simple, not frustrated, for it only holds words that have 1 or 2 syllables. In the first sentence, the legato tone is set with the variation of syllables (the mapping out of the syllables is 1 2 1 1 2 1 1 3 1 1 2 2 1 1 1 3 3-3 2). The first sentence has words with 3 syllables sprinkled in. The sudden removal of these more “complex” words creates the tenser tone. This syllable shift sets the foundation for the tension of Elsie and Ambrose’s marriage that is expressed in the formation of the two sentences above.

On a recent episode of Grey’s Anatomy, one of the doctors, Warren, was out in the woods burying his father when his brother suddenly passed out. Once they got to the hospital they saw that his brother’s spleen was badly ruined and they did not know why. Later in the episode it was discovered that Warren’s brother was transitioning from a man to a woman and the excess amounts of estrogen caused the severe liver damage. In this episode telling his brother that he was a transgender woman was him confessing his true identity.

In the article The History of Sexuality by Michel Foucault, he states that “One confesses–or is forced to confess”(59). Thinking about the act of confessing this is often true. A person either confesses on their own time because they feel like they are ready to share that part of their lives with other people, or they are forced to confess because of situations that are out of their control. Much like Warren’s brother where he was forced to confess his identity to his brother because of his hospitalization, not because he was ready to express that part of himself.

When talking about the impact of confessions, Foucault also said “torture has accompanied it like a shadow”(59). Warren’s brother had to walk around everyday of his life for 6 years, pretending to be someone who he knew deep down inside he actually was not. Having to live your life in a manner that is not genuine and authentic to yourself is simply torture. By keeping the confession inside, Warren’s brother was placing the shadow over his true identity.

The act of Warren’s brother confessing his true identity shows that confessions are used as a way for a person to relieve themselves of secret and tensions that they hold onto internally. Once the brother confessed his true identity to Warren, there was a feeling of relief and genuine happiness with who he was. He no longer had to be tortured by the shadow this secret had over his life.

Confession
Lin Dinh

Perhaps I’m a cruel artist. I always depict
In great details, lovingly, all the defects
On the faces and bodies of my models.
I use my eyes and brushes to thread
The jagged gaps of their stiff smiles. I pamper
Each pimple, hump, massage each incrustation.

I cajole my models into poses that are awkward,
Dangerous, unhygienic, sometimes mortifying.
I don’t care to paint smooth, poreless skin but collect
All manners of rashes and eruptions. Inspired,
I’ve forced a hundred bodies—impossibly old,
Extremely young—onto appalling heaps,

Democratically naked, viscous with sweat, spit and etc.,
Just so I could render the human condition
Most accurately and movingly.

Lin Dinh’s poem “Confession” can be understood as a celebration of the inherent queerness as well as shame of humanity. Theorist Michael Warner suggests that a central struggle of society is the attempt to ‘dignify’ sex; I expand this tenet by suggesting that Dinh praises the inherent shame of the entire human experience. By “depict[ing]…lovingly, all the defects” of his models, Dinh rejects the common practice of pinning shame on the marginalized (Warner, p.32) and instead embraces it in an effort to empower his ‘subjects’. In “test[ing] the limits of shame” (Warner, p.34), Dinh’s exposure of the “jagged gaps” and “stiff smiles” (5) of humanity challenges the obligation to be “tidy, normal, [or] uniform” and create what one could characterize as a queer space, that does not need to be “authorized by the government” (Warner, p.35). Indeed this very rejection of the repression of shame can be regarded as a force that “cuts against every form of hierarchy you could bring into the room” (Warner, p.35). In this sense, Dinh’s appreciation of the extreme (“impossibly old/Extremely young” (11-12), is in fact a creation of a queer space that lives outside the realm of heteronormative institutions and hierarchies. Acceptance of shame then, can be said to reverse the entire of meaning of shame in the first place – if it is no longer silenced, then it is no longer ‘shameful’.
In addition, I suggest that this piece represents an example of the Foucault-coined ‘confession’. Like the theory behind the notion of ‘confession’ suggests, Dinh’s poem expresses a particular queerness in a liberating form, although it is the very oppressors and institutions themselves that perpetuate the confession in the first place (Foucault, p.60). In other words, the queerness of the piece, the attention to “incrustation” (6) and “sweat” and “spit” (13) is only a confession because of the foundational silencing of these seemingly ‘disgusting’ human aspects. To consolidate the idea that this poem is a production of power and of institutional pressure to confess deviance, with the concept of the piece as a creation of queer space, it can be claimed that it is confession itself that opens up the possibility of queer space. Indeed, a queer space in which shame cannot exist (because there is no silencing) and paradoxically, neither does confession.

In celebrating what has been framed as the ‘abject’ by heteronormative oppressors, Dinh transcends disgust and shame entirely. Without a shame with which to silence, confession becomes irrelevant – it is no longer necessary to struggle endlessly to capture ambiguity in identity in the limited language we have. Indeed, the queer space that I have begun conceptualizing is one in which “my girlfriend” does not need to be preempted with “by the way, I’m gay”. If ‘passing’ as straight results in an erasure of identity – assumption, then, ensues the minimalization of multiplicity, and of possibility. Refusing to confess a facet of identity challenges the integral, historical silencing of abnormality and deviance. In terms of solutions, I suggest that as Dinh does, we encourage artistic expressions whether visual or literal of queer. These representations and narratives not only provide life through the creation of voice, but in fact produce alcoves of queer space, where safety is

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Po4mSUU15O4

In The History of Sexuality, Foucault attempts to complicate the idea that confession is a way to achieve freedom or liberation, claiming that we only see it this way because we have internalized the “obligation to confess” so much that “we no longer perceive it as the effect of a power that constrains us” (Foucault 60). According to him, confession is always attached to a power dynamic, where the person who speaks (or does the confessing) is in a subordinate position while the person who listens (or does the exonerating) is in a dominant position. It is within this power dynamic, he argues, that sex is turned into discourse.

After thinking further about our class discussion and the What’s Underneath Project video, I was reminded of this video, which was released by the Ad Council at the beginning of March and almost immediately went viral. The premise is simple—two or three individuals kiss behind an X-ray screen, appearing merely as amorphous skeletons to an audience, and then literally “come out” and reveal their “true identities” to the audience before them. As they stand before the crowd, phrases such as “love has no gender” and “love has no race” come up on screen.

Although we might not immediately define these “reveals” as confessions, we can think about how they function similarly to Foucault’s conceptualization of confession. In class, we discussed how confession is fraught in terms of liberation and repression. As Foucault says, “confession frees, but power reduces one to silence” (60). The form the performance in this video takes is a perfect example of this, because the audience’s and participants’ feelings of joy and liberation that come with their “confessions” rely on the fact that the participants are initially hidden. When the first two “skeletons” who kiss behind the screen walk out and the audience gasps in delight, it is because they recognize that something supposedly “transgressive” has come to the surface. This becomes the pattern of the entire performance.

Additionally, it is clear that the audience (in this case in the seeing position rather than the listening position) holds the “agency of domination” (Foucault 62). The success of the whole project—and the success of the confessions themselves—depends on the audience’s positive reaction, their acceptance of the “truth” they see coming to the surface. One can imagine that the meanings constructed around gender, sexuality, race, and disability, would be vastly different if the audience had reacted with anger, or had walked away, instead of smiling and clapping. But the audience does respond positively, which seems to be wrapped up in an implicit argument about how progressive and accepting mainstream America has become. Meanwhile, much like the critique many have made about the need for queer-identified folks to “come out,” we can look at this performance as yet another illusive way of disciplining the normative by making a spectacle out of the relationships still viewed by many as “other.”

 

n Cereus Blooms at Night, there is a big emphasis on familial structure and importance of the different roles that each member plays. On page 133, we see Mala pegging for God to go back and time and let her leave with her Momma and Aunt Lavinia. Everyone in her life that she cared about; mom, aunt, sister, left her and left her with her abusive father more importantly. But she does not have anger towards them. It leads me to think if she is just selfless in this situation because she knows the abuse that her father is and was capable of so at least the ones she loves are away from his abuse or if it is an envious plea rather than an upset one. But, then, if wishing for things why not just wish her father to stop, change, be different, or go away himself?

I think it is interesting the different factors that play a role in love and forgiveness. In my own life I have faced similar abuse with my cousin and brother. Both when I was very young, and both of sexual nature. But, as these memories became unrepressed, I was and am unable to forgive my cousin whom I was not very close with, ever, and very easy to forgive my brother who was my best friend. The difference? I see the difference being the quality and amount of love I have for one over the other. I think that is why Pohpoh could forgive her mother and sister; she loved them so much. Unrelated, I have to wonder if her mom and aunt ever found out about her father’s actions as the town seemed to notice abuse, not necessarily of sexual nature, by the girl’s appearance and actions.

“At first I felt horribly silly, like a man who had put on women’s clothing for sheer sport and had forgotten to remove the outfit after the allotted period of fun. I felt flat-footed and clumsy. Not a man and not ever able to be a woman, suspended nameless in the limbo state between existence and nonexistence” (Mootoo 77).

At this point in the novel, Cereus Blooms at Night, Tyler tries on a nurse’s dress that Mala stole for him. Unable to explicitly articulate their gender identity, Tyler reflects on how wearing the dress makes them feel. In describing these feelings, Tyler states that they feel “silly,” “flat-footed,” “clumsy” and “suspended” while wearing the dress, suggesting a sense of discomfort and uneasiness. Combined with the phrase, “not a man and not ever able to be a woman,” it becomes apparent that the perceived femininity of the dress makes Tyler feel as though their gender does not properly align with the gender binary of man/woman. According to the societal “rules” of gender, Tyler’s thin, flat-chested body seems to not fill the dress in the “proper” ways. Due to this discordance between biological anatomy and gender perception, Tyler feels that they cannot wear the dress in accordance with prescribed concepts of feminine womanhood.

In the introduction to The Queer Art o Failure, Judith Halberstam outlines how failure can be interpreted as a positive aspect of queer life as it “allows us to escape the punishing norms that discipline behavior and manage human development…” (3). Within the passage of Cereus Blooms at Night, Tyler’s language of discomfort and nonexistence suggest that they have “failed” at navigating the “rules” of gender, and particularly femininity. Interestingly, Halberstam notes that “Where feminine success is always measured by male standards, and gender failure often means being relieve of the pressure to measure up to patriarchal ideals, not succeeding at womanhood can offer unexpected pleasures” (4). Although this idea may resonate with cisgender women, it does not seem to align with Tyler’s experiences. When Tyler fails at measuring up to feminine success, they do not feel pleasure or relief. Through Tyler’s experiences, it is evident that although gender failure may be liberating alternative for some, transgender or nonbinary people often have to live gender failure, creating a feeling of discomfort and isolation in a society that delegitimizes their existence.

“I don’t have to go far to see everything. I does see how your father does watch you. His eyes just like my father’s own. … You do for yourself better than me!” (p 184)

These words from Mala are the culmination of her madness and her sanity, embodying her paradoxical dissociation from her past and showing several of the book’s themes at once. When she says she can see everything Mala is referring to her memory of the events that have so shaped her life that she has been living out again in her mind, but this time from a different perspective. The key to understanding Mala’s madness is the realization here that she knows she has changed but not that the world has as well. To her, Pohpoh’s father is still alive and Ambrose still the young man that she mistook Otoh for, and Pohpoh still the young girl whose father watches her in the worst ways. But Mala is just sane enough to know that she is not a young girl anymore, so therefore she must be Mala instead, and she chooses to try to fix the wounds of the past by protecting Pohpoh the way no one protected her in her childhood.

Despite the misery and madness prevalent through the earlier books, it is the promise of beauty and healing with which the book ends, and it happens because of what Mala does here. She finally lets go of Pohpoh, sending the girl off to the skies of Paradise (pun intended) to do and be better. She allows her world to finally change instead of retreating further into her memories and living entirely in an unaltered world of her youth. It is because of this that she can finally begin healing, and hopefully awaiting a letter from Asha.