Just as Shakespeare’s The
Tempest is full of political ambiguity (see previous posts), so also may be
the works of history’s victims.
So-called “oppression” studies may be more complicated than
simple-minded legislators think.
The personal narrative convention was well-established in
1768, when Occom wrote his. The
spiritual autobiography, or conversion narrative, was a staple of the New
England Puritans, and the captivity narrative became a popular form during the
Indian Wars of the 17th century (see Feb. 12, 2010, post).
Given the familiarity of the captivity narrative, in which
Indians were represented as savages, the penning of a personal narrative by a
native person could be viewed as an inherent rebuttal of the “barbaric” Indian
stereotype, especially since it begins as a spiritual autobiography, recounting
his upbringing as a “heathen,” his conversion to Christianity, and his
licensing as a missionary to his own people.
As Occom relates his advancement as a teacher and preacher to native
folk, his narrative begins to anticipate the success story, made famous by
Benjamin Franklin (see Mar. 12, 2010, post).
However, Occom turns the conventionally affirmative personal narrative
into a form of protest literature, noting how much less he is paid compared to
his white counterparts.
“So I am ready to
Say, they have used me thus, because I Can’t Influence the Indians so well as
other missionaries; but I can assure them
I have endeavored to teach them as well as I know how;--but I must Say, ‘I believe it is because I am
a poor Indian.” I Can’t help that God has made me So; I did not make my self
so.__” (original caps & spelling)
Note how his indictment of his white employers is
accompanied by an apology for his ethnicity.
Thus, while his narrative might be construed as promoting “resentment”
against white people and as a refutation of the “savage” image of Indians, its
apologetic tone could be read as reinforcement of native peoples’ inferiority
and of white supremacy. Does the
ambiguity make it acceptable to teach under Arizona law or does it expose the
inadequacy and ignorance of that law?
Occom’s sermon conforms to the standard pattern of
text-propositions-application. What is
unusual is that when he gets to the application, he speaks separately to his different
audiences—to “My poor unhappy Brother Moses”; to his white superiors, “reverend
gentlemen and fathers of Israel”; and to his native listeners, “My poor
Kindred.” His sermon thus becomes a
rhetorical case study as he adjusts his message and his style to each audience,
acting as a minister to Moses, calling on him to repent and save his soul; as
humble servant to the white clergy, calling on them to bring the full force of
their authority and power to fight sin and evil; and as temperance reformer to
his native “brethren,” calling on them to give up the sin of drunkenness that
they may be saved.
His deference to his white superiors is noticeable in
comparison to his authoritative tone toward native people. He thereby reinforces white supremacy, and,
no doubt, by perpetuating the stereotype of the “drunken Indian,” promotes
“resentment” toward that race.
One of the effects of oppression is the internalization of
inferiority on the part of the oppressed.
Thus their writings may reinforce their own oppression, even sometimes
in the same text in which they protest it.
Arizona’s short-sighted curriculum law does not even begin
to appreciate the complexities and ambiguities of what they seek to prohibit.
You know, the AZ law is one of few that makes me so angry I struggle with how to work against it.
ReplyDeleteSad, but true.
You and me both. Just glad I don't live there.
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