On Thursday I heard Dr. Vivyan Adair give a talk called "The Missing Story of Ourselves: Women, Poverty and the Politics of Feminist Representation." Dr. Adair opened her presentation by sharing a piece of her own story: waking up in a shelter still wearing blood-stained clothing from her husband's most recent assault and being addressed with "disdain" and "uneasy pity" as she visited the Welfare office with her eight-month-old daughter. Several of her teeth had been knocked out in the assault and she was told that replacing them was not "medically necessary for someone feeding at the public trough." Adair discussed the ways in which poor, single mothers' bodies and actions are read according to already existing tropes, stereotypes and ideologies. Her project, as she explained it, is to "intercede at the level of representation" by telling unexpected stories about women who are, or have been, living with Welfare assistance. In a photo-narrative exhibit on display this month at the downtown branch of the public library, Adair has gathered the stories of Welfare moms who defy the expectations of poor, single mothers so commonly portrayed in our national discourse and culture.
Deloria's project also centers around the inseparability of the representational and political. He asks us to "consider the kinds of frames that have been placed around a shared past" (6). I found the chapter on musical representation especially interesting. First of all, the very notion of "salvage ethnology" binds indigenous music within a strict fence of anachronism. As we saw in earlier readings, many early 20th century folkloric impulses were framed and executed within narratives of progress and nostalgia--to embrace, understand and believe our modernity we had to get in touch with where we come from. But viewing Native American music in particular as a dying art in need of salvage retold the story of vanishing and disappearance already so entrenched in white national narratives, and tied up with assumptions of pacification. Even efforts to understand and communicate Omaha songs and scales, for example, were thwarted by the paradoxes of representation: Indianizing vs. authenticity, universalism vs. (hierarchical) difference and developmentalism, "truly American" vs. exotic, and the reinforcement vs. questioning of racist stereotypes.
I'm intrigued by Deloria's attention to a specific and provocative window of time, and appreciate how he continually reminds us of the temporal relationships between, for example, the performance of the opera Shanewis and Plenty Horses arriving at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. In fact, because the Columbian Exposition is such a touchstone moment in Deloria's book, it made me wonder about contemporary examples of collective, national representation. What stories are we telling about ourselves as a nation right now, and what is the forum for the transmission of those stories? Do we have a forum like an expo that is self-consciously representational (as opposed to political)--a national forum where we gather to show who we are? I remember Expo 88 from my childhood (I didn't go, but I remember hearing about it), but that was in Australia. Has the postmodern sense that there's no way to tell the real story--that in fact everything is created and fractured--rendered World's Fair type expositions obsolete? Just curious ...
- Esme
Sunday, April 12, 2009
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