The American identity

This monster of a land, this mightiest of nations, this spawn of the future, turns out to be the macrocosm of microcosm me. If an Englishman or a Frenchman or an Italian should travel my route, see what I saw, hear what I heard, their stored pictures would be no only different from mine but equally different from one another. If other Americans reading this account should feel it is true, that agreement would only mean we are alike in our Americanness.

From start to finish I found no strangers. If I had, I might be able to report them more objectively. But these are my people and this my country. If I found matters to criticize and to deplore, they were tendencies equally present in myself. If I were to prepare one immaculately inspected generality it would be this: For all of our enormous geographic range, for all of our sectionalism, for all of our interwoven breeds drawn from every part of the ethnic world, we are a nation, a new breed. Americans are much more American than they are Northerners, Southerners, Westerners, or Easterners. And descendants of English, Irish, Italian, Jewish, German, Polish are essentially American. This is not patriotic whoop-de-do; it is carefully observed fact. California Chinese, Boston Irish, Wisconsin German, yes, and Alabama Negroes, have more in common than they have apart. And this is the more remarkable because it has happened so quickly. It is a fact that Americans from all sections and of all racial extractions are more alike than the Welsh are like the English, the Lancashireman Scot like the Highlander. It is astonishing that this has happened in less than two hundred years and most of it in the last fifty. The American identity is an exact and provable thing.

John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley, pp. 207-208

Black Like Me

Identity is a funny thing. Almost as long as humans have been humans, we have derived our individual identities from the collective identities around us. We differentiated ourselves as individuals and tribes through our linguistic, ethnic, religious, and sexual groups. This is still, largely, the case in traditional cultures today. If one is born in a small, rural village in the center of Africa, one derives one’s identity from the tribal structure, the language of his people, their religious and cultural traditions, etc.

The modern world, though, has forced a reevaluation of our means of deriving identity. Witness, for example, the current conflicts raging in the Middle East. Iraqis, as one example, have traditionally derived their identity from their locality, their tribe, their religion (especially sub-groups within their religion), and, to a lesser extent, their language. When the nation of Iraq was artificially created following the end of foreign rule of Arab lands, one of the greatest challenges the new government faced (and is still facing) was the inability to get Iraqis to think of themselves as Iraqis, rather than as Sunnis or Shi’as or Assyrians or any number of other, more parochial, identities.

The United States presents a particularly fascinating example of the confusion regarding identity in the modern world. Americans are almost all immigrants or the descendants of immigrants from other nations, beginning with Europe and Africa and now including immigrants from every continent and nearly every nation on earth. As these various immigrant groups came together, identity became an instant problem. What did it mean to be American? Could one still be, for example, Irish and American? Italian and American? African and American?

The problem reached a particular pique at the dawn of the 20th century with a massive influx of immigrants from nations which hitherto had very little representation in the United States. The changing religious and ethnic demographics prompted a great deal of soul-searching. There were those who asserted that American identity was contingent upon Anglo-Saxon ethnicity. There were others who argued for a broader definition. The conclusion was a kind of stalemate in which each immigrant group lost nearly all aspects of its traditional national identity, including its language and most of its cultural traditions, in favor of becoming American. Religion maintained itself as a holdout and largely does still today, though this is changing as well.

This inconclusive settlement blocked those of any and all European ancestries together under the umbrella term “white,” a conglomerate which necessarily derived its content meaning from its contrast with a similarly concocted idea of “blackness.” This status quo persisted in large part throughout the 20th century, but has proven itself unfit at the dawn of the 21st.

Witness, for example, the case of Rachel Dolezal, an African-American studies professor and NAACP leader recently “outed” as “white” by her own European-descended parents. Apparently, Ms. Dolezal has been passing herself off as a black, or at least biracial, woman for some time. She was, for a few years, married to a black man. Her “son” (apparently, actually her adopted brother) is African-American. She claims that her very curly current hairdo is “natural.” She participates in African and African-American heritage events. She champions social justice causes on behalf of the African-American community. Yet she seems to have had no ancestors from Africa at all.

Dolezal’s case is not the first of its kind in the fraught world of identity in America, however. Numerous examples could be brought to the fore as interesting case studies in racial identity. The story of James Weldon Johnson as he presents in his 1912 Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man presents one interesting example. Johnson, the son of a light-skinned black woman and a white man, did not realize that he was anything other than “white” like most of his classmates at a non-segregated school in Connecticut until a teacher accidentally “outed” him in elementary school. He records running home crying to ask his mother if he was indeed a “nigger.” Johnson spent much of his life confused about his racial identity, passing himself off at times as a black man and at others as a white man. Eventually, he became the first “black” president of the NAACP.

One might also cite the example of John Howard Griffin. For his 1961 book Black Like Me, Griffin, a white man, used heat lamps and chemicals to darken his skin. He was able to pass himself off as a black man in the segregated South in order to write his book about segregation from the perspective of an “insider.” For that matter, Homer Plessy of Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) fame was only 1/8th black and had to inform the authorities on the segregated train that he was African-American so that they would forcibly remove him from the whites-only train car.

An even more modern and interesting example is that of President Obama. Obama, the son of a white American woman and a black man from Kenya, does not share in the historical experience and culture of African-Americans. None of his ancestors were slaves in the American South. None of them were sharecroppers. None of them were part of the Great Migration. None of the unique characteristics of African-American culture are part of his inheritance from either of his parents, including the African-American vernacular language and the black churches. Obama has, however, largely adopted the African-American community as his own and they, in turn, have adopted him as one of their own.

But how is President Obama’s case different from that of Ms. Dolezal? Certainly, Obama looks more like the common African-American, yet he no more shares in the cultural heritage and history of that group than does Ms. Dolezal. And what about Johnson and Plessy, who were so fair-skinned that they appeared white to most people who saw them?

As I said, identity is a funny thing. And it is particularly a funny thing in the United States, where most of us have lost all of the means by which we might have traditionally derived an identity. Perhaps it is the United States, once the locus of racial conflict in the world, that will prove the concept of racial identity, a fairly modern idea compared to other traditional means by which identity has been derived, to be an absurdity.

Book Review: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

There are a number of important and interesting themes that run throughout Steinbeck’s classic work. While each deserves a great deal of attention, I will, in this review, provide just a few meditations upon one element which stood out to me as predominant.

This element is the theme of the desire to establish existence through procuring a permanent identity. Curly’s wife, for example, is consistently referred to merely as “Curly’s wife” rather than by her actual name, thereby denying her an existent independent of Curly through an individual identity. Her dreams of establishing such an identity, making a name for herself so to speak, through becoming a movie star, are dashed by her marriage to Curly. The result is that she is a figure of the devil. She has become one without existence properly speaking who seeks to lure others into the realm of non-existence.

The same theme is present in the association between the dog, who will leave no legacy, and the various men, each of whom will leave behind nothing of lasting significance in this world. The only one who does, who has a letter published in a magazine, does not himself appear in the novel and may be altogether unaware of his lasting significance, thereby himself being denied the ability to establish a permanent identity.

The pairing of George and Lennie, of course, is the example of inability to establish identity par excellence. Their ultimate desire is to own a piece of land, to have a piece of the earth which is theirs, a permanent establishment through which to derive selfhood. Lennie, however, may be the exception to the rule in his driving desire for passing pleasures which lead inevitably to the destruction of each thing from which he derives pleasure.

As I said, this, as well as many other themes in this short novel, deserve a great deal more attention. I share my thoughts because I desire them to act as an impetus to others who have not yet read this classic novel to take it up for themselves and enjoy it as much as I have.