'Two or Three Things We Learned for Sure..." (Final Blog Post)

Two or three things we learned for sure, and all of them support one conclusion: by introducing readers to individual people—not groups or populations—the books we read this semester allow readers to hear the stories, rather than overlook them because of fear and prior prejudices.

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Human psychology, despite extensive research, is still only minimally understood.  However, research, and patterns of behavior, have shown that all people use a cognitive technique of categorizing people to maintain order in their own world.  In most cases, this behavior “lends to negative stereotypes” (Cohen, 2011).  A 2005 study published in Science builds upon this idea, citing that “individuals from a racial group other than one’s own are more readily associated with an aversive stimulus than individuals of one’s own race…” (Olsson et. al., 2005). 

What this science shows is something experienced by individuals of many races and genders on a daily basis.  There exists a human tendency to fear what is not understood, and in that fear, to avoid seeking out experiences that would tend to dissipate the subsequent stereotypes and prejudices that develop.  However, this same science also indicates that “this prepared fear response might be reduced by close, positive interracial contact” (Olsson et. al., 2005). Cohen’s article in Psychology Today says it differently; she writes about a concept known as “including the other in the self,” or the idea that it is increasingly difficult for negative stereotypes to persist when an individual has a close friendship that allows for understanding and identification with the other person.  This, in turn, can change the individual’s views of larger groups of people (Cohen, 2011). 

Many modern female authors, from Julia Alvarez and Edwidge Danticat to Eve Ensler and Julie Otsuka, use their writing to start the conversations that break down the social barriers and convey the true sufferings and triumphs of women and girls around the world. This seems to be, above all else, their purpose in writing; by giving individuals a voice—and creating these personal, identifiable relationships—they dispel the fear that creates prejudicial distance between us.

Eve Ensler’s writing provides, perhaps, the most direct example of this goal; in both The Vagina Monologues and I Am an Emotional Creature, she is clearly giving a voice to the women who have been silenced by violence, oppression, and societal perspectives.  One of the most striking demonstrations of Ensler’s prowess as a writer is the way in which she manages to maintain the feeling of personal narrative in each of her monologues.  She writes with the voices of lesbian women, straight women, abused women, transgender women, silenced women—women who are stigmatized or even overlooked.  When she introduces The Vagina Monologues by writing, “Let’s just start with the word ‘vagina.’ It sounds like an infection at best, maybe a medical instrument…” (Ensler, 5), she connects with all women; by putting her female readers at ease by recognizing this shared struggle, she opens the door to open-mindedness, and then introduces her readers to individuals that they can connect with, feel sympathy for, and even celebrate with.

Julia Alvarez, author of In the Time of the Butterflies, takes a different approach; she tells the story of four sisters, four women who dared to stand up to a dictatorial regime.  In the case of Patria, Minerva, Dedé, and Mate Mirabal, silence was never an issue, as these revolutionary sisters made their voices heard.  However, as a writer, Alvarez is chronicling a history that might otherwise be forgotten, or at least overlooked outside of the Dominican Republic.  It is easy to remain detached from the tribulations of nations when reading about them in history books, as lists of names, dates, and facts.  But getting to know these four sisters, their husbands and children, their community members, reveals to readers and allows them to understand the true bravery required in taking a stand.

Ironically, however, in the first story of Edwidge Danticat’s book Krik? Krak!, Children of the Sea, anonymity is used to serve the same purpose.  As I wrote in one of our early blog assignments:

“In each story, Danticat somehow finds the common element of humanity.  By minimizing individualism through the creation of characters, that, even when they have names, could be anybody, she gives a voice to the masses.  Danticat provides an intricate portrayal of humanity and the endless search for a place to anchor our identity—something that is a part of every human experience.

   In Children of the Sea, the two main character—a young man and a young girl—narrate through letters to one another, though neither will ever receive these writings…. The young man…has escaped Haiti on a boat headed for the United States.  Everyone on board is lacking food and quickly becoming ill; Danticat describes the characters’ condition when she says, “…since there are no mirrors, we look at each other’s face to see just how frail and sick we are starting to look” (Danticat, 9).  In this line, she truly minimizes the individualism of each character…” (Conroy, 2011).

In this, however, Danticat conveys human emotion on such a level that, despite their namelessness, readers feel the suffering of—and, ultimately, a connection to—the characters.

Danticat takes another ‘unorthodox’ route in her quest to give voices to the silenced; she writes of a mother singing “Kompe Jako, dome vou? Brother Jacques, are you sleeping?” to her child, reminding readers, myself included, of a common childhood song that is apparently shared across many cultures.

Certainly, too, Julie Otsuka’s When the Emperor Was Divine cannot go unmentioned in this conversation; by making the members of the family nameless yet extremely relatable to, she combines, in a way, Ensler’s and Danticat’s approaches—there is a degree of anonymity that allows the characters to represent almost anyone in their situation, but their American background and inhumane sufferings speak to the readers and reveal the true atrocious nature of the Japanese interment.

Interestingly, all of these racial and ethnic stereotypes are addressed through one lens, one vehicle: women.  Women are not “feared” as members of some racial and ethnic groups unjustly are, but the frame of reference—writing by women, about women, for women—furthers the purpose of creating equality—or at least starting the conversations that will lead to it—and allowing everyone to speak, and everyone to be heard.

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Two or three things we learned for sure, and one of them is that everyone—no matter their gender, sexual orientation, or race—deserves a voice, and these courageous female authors are making strides in allowing this to be a realistic possibility.

Sources:

(1)  Cohen, L.J. PhD. (24 January, 2011) The Psychology of prejudice and Racism. "Psychology Today." www.psychologytoday.com.

(2)  Olsson, A., Ebert, J.P., Banaji, M. R., Phelps, E.A.. (29 July, 2005).  The Role of Social Groups in the Persistence of Learned Fear. Science. Retrieved from JSTOR.