Walled Women

After today's carousel activity, I'm finding myself resisting the urge to relate to the texts we're reading. This whole conversation about empathy shook me up a little because I feel like the best way I learn is by trying to relate the texts to my own life. I try to find connections that I can make to others because too much theory can overwhelm me.

I still don't really know if I agree with Sommer's idea that we shouldn't try to look at things in a more universalist lense. I understand what she's saying and agree with her to some extent, but I don't know if I'm willing to change the way I learn and think about things because it's problematic (in her eyes). I feel like in my last post for this class where I was making a connection (or empathizing as Sommer would probably say), I wasn't necessarily trying to relate to my experiences of hardship to Rigoberta or the Quiché. Or maybe I was. I don't know. I was trying to connect my experiences to my mom, who could probably relate more to Rigoberta's stories or horror and hardship than I ever could. I suppose my mom's life story (or any story told by a refugee escaping genocide) would be more worthy of relating to Rigoberta's. I think when I posted that I was just too homesick and missed my mom... I'm so ready for Fall Break.

"I resent people who say writers write from experience. Writers don't write from experience, though many are hesitant to admit that they don't. I want to be clear about this. If you wrote from experience, you'd get maybe one book, maybe three poems. Writers write from empathy."

-Nikki Giovanni

I removed a number of readings I had initially thought (ha ha) that we could get in this week; although I took them off the syllabus "proper," I include links to them here, in case anyone's interested in exploring further the idea of "silence in music":

Jonathan Foer. Seven Attempted Escapes from Silence (libretto).

Karim Haddad. First Attempted Escape From Silence: Tunnels.

Firstly, I have to say that a lot of things happened this week and this reading is really out of anticipation in many ways.  Our reflections and readings make me think of a lot of questions which I don’t have answers right now.

To check the validity of the accusations Sommer claimed on Rigoberta Menchu, who is the writer of the book that moved me deeply last week, I Googled Rigoberta. Surprisingly, her Nobel Peace Prize was nearly revoked by Nobel Committee due to the David Horowitz’s campaign attacked her using David’s Stoll book. David Stoll carried out an investigation of Menchu’s story and found many evidences that proved that she changed many elements of her life in order to meet publicity needs for some political purpose.

I guess this explains some of confusions I had reading  the book, disconnected timelines, contradicting stories and mixed orientations of narratives and my feelings was cheated partially to fulfill some political causes. I am pretty sure this is not the first case of falsification in the literature history. In the end, the controversies about her testimony and potential of losing the prize were settled because Menchu’s contributions of bringing attention to the genocide happened at Guantemala and to advocate peace. Still, such a drama was not expected when I read such emotional piece.

“I’m still keeping secrets what I think no-one should know. Not even anthropologist or intellectuals, no matter how many books they have, can find our secrets”

I'm beginning to feel all written out – and we're not even halfway through the semester. I suppose, mostly, it's because I feel like my voice has been overused of late. When I'm not speaking, my blog posts are speaking for me. When I'm staying silent in class, I'm still, somehow, making a statement. I feel as though I'm never truly silent. Sommer talks a lot about silence as a way "ethnic" writers draw a line and mark where they need to be respected. Rigoberta says, "I'm still keeping secret what I think no-one should know," and reminds us who really has the power in her novel. But I feel we're not doing enough of that in our classroom. Last week, HSBurke said she thought it was ironic that in a class about silence we were "ALL SO LOUD." I agree. As I work on becoming a better listener, I want to also work on being a better person of silence. During our lunch meeting on Friday, when icouldntthinkofanoriginalname mentioned that she felt we shouldn't feel pressured to speak about personal topics, but that there is value in sharing, I wondered the opposite. Isn't there also value in not sharing?

I'd like to follow the lead of Jesusa Palancares, quoted in Sommer's introduction, "Advertencia/Warning" and simply say, "Fuck off, now. Go away and let me sleep."

but I think this might still be coping out.  Our assigned reading for tuesday directly plays into the paper I'm writing for Jody's class and I'd like to have the two of them "play together" here.  Unfortauntely, that means I won't be able to turn this in on time.  I'll share my paper online and then respond to it with the lens of the "Advetencia/Warning" reading.

Promisies.  Promisies.

Doris Sommer’s reading was not the most accessible text. It was quite difficult for me to understand the implications that arise when secrets are used in texts to distance the reader and to understand her thinking around why authors, like Rigoberta, would choose to withhold information. But I will admit that, similar to thoughts I shared in class, my dislike for the focus of this reading dominated my thoughts and ultimately distracted me from what the author was trying to prove. So,  as I read,  I kept thinking, “Okay, so she used secrets in the book, why does her reasoning for doing that matter? What satisfaction will the reader and Sommer get by knowing? Who cares if we don’t know if her story is completely factual, why should that take away from the genocide? Hello! Remember the genocide?” Even as I write this post, I can see how my thoughts were  a bit close-minded.  Although I am reluctant to acknowledge that there is some value in knowing the answers to the questions raised about Riogberta’s book, I now feel—I can’t fully articulate it—why the urge to know is so strong.

I couldn't remember if we were supposed to post about "I, Rigoberta Menchu" or this Tuesday's readings so I'll just stick with posting about Rigoberta because we haven't had a full discussion about her story yet. As I looked through my notes, I came across a quote that I guess I thought was significant enough to write down. In Chapter 4, Rigoberta describes the horrid conditions of the lorry and how terribly the Quiché were treated. While my experiences will never ever compare to hers, I felt like I could relate to her when she said, "The children, who are hot and hungry, are always asking their parents for treats and it makes parents sad to see their children asking for things they can't give" (26).