Select 1 poem from Week 3 and post a brief reflective response here. Consider focusing on one (unobvious) aspect of borders as it is represented in the theme and/or form of the poem.
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Response to “America” by Allen Ginsberg
This poem struck me because it is ripe with abstruse references and contradictions. And in this sense it captures an insiders paradoxical loneliness within American culture. The narrator grapples with doubt and emptiness, as in the opening line – “America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing,” and endless narcissism, like when he wonders when he will be able to “go into a supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks.” These contradictions seem to express the loneliness of the spectator sport that is keeping up with American culture. The narrator admits he has a history with marxism and that he smokes marijuana constantly, and yet he sees his Catholicism as his biggest obstacle in his path to the oval office. The narrator frequently begins lines with “America”, then follows with a casual request for some major cultural or policy change. This motif relates back to the narcissism/ hopelessness paradox. While the speaker believes his opinions should change the country, the reader understands the hopelessness and futility of his pleas.
Professor Cassarino
Joe Levitan
Lit Borders
In the poem “What Kind of Times Are These”, Adrienne Rich explores the uncertainty she has about herself and of the times she’s living in. The speaker uses language such as “shadows” and “disappeared” to convey the unsureness they are experiencing. The speaker is talking about this unknown place that neither they or anyone else can get to. This place is “between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill” and is in the shadows. Rich poses a question with the title of the poem yet immediately starts talking about this unknown location and not answering the question. This helps describe how strange and unknown the time that we live in really is.
In “Questions of Travel,” Elizabeth Bishop challenges the paradigm of the 9 to 5 life and encourages readers to travel in order to find fulfillment. The speaker describes the existence of “too many waterfalls,” “crowded streams,” and “the pressure of so many clouds,” and in doing so, uses nature as a metaphor to explain the overcrowdedness and pressure of everyday contemporary life. The speaker continues to address how this “pressure” leads to an overflow of “waterfalls under our very eyes,” representing how the burden of modern life can lead to pain, suffering, and unfulfillment, and points to the regret that one might feel if they do not explore the world around them. Later, the speaker challenges the reader, “Or could Pascal have been not entirely right / about just sitting quietly in one’s room?” In this, Bishop refers to a famous quote by physicist Blaise Pascal in which he states, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Furthermore, the speaker’s awed tone when describing her sights in other countries contribute to her encouragement of travel.
However, Bishop also raises contradictory arguments contending that travelling can be unnecessary and unrealistic. Developing a sarcastic and critical tone, the speaker calls the need to see every small novelty in the world “childishness” and questions, “Is it lack of imagination that makes us come / to imagine places, not just stay at home?” Furthermore, the speaker claims that travelling ruins one’s ideal image of home. The use of a metaphor describing “streams and clouds” finding their old home in the mountains to be “slime-hung and barnacled” details of the destruction of one’s appreciation for their home after seeing other parts of the world. She also states, “Think of the long trip home,” claiming that one may not have the energy or inclination to return home after travelling for so long.
The core of “a song in the front yard,” by Gwendolyn Brooks is a yearning to be a part of community outside of the high class standard. The speaker processes their desire to be a part of “the other” through contrasting descriptions throughout the poem and a littering of literary tools that suggest a favoring of the stereotypically bad over the good. For example, the rhyme of the poem only falls into the framework of stanzas where the speaker observes the “charity children,” and the tendencies that the speaker wants to adopt from them. This pattern of rhyme starts in the first stanza that reads, “Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows. / A girl gets sick of a rose.” This contrast of roughened vegetation to that of a girl and a stereotypically feminine flower marks the beginning of the speaker’s desire to adopt the habits of those in “the back.”
Further, the speaker introduces another rhyme in the third stanza saying, “My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine / How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine.” The definition of “fine” in this rhyme also touches on the significance of diction, as the use of “fine” ties the “charity children” to the finer things or even the more refined things in life as opposed to the habits imposed on the speaker through their sneering mother. Additionally, the use of rhyme to exemplify the speaker’s yearning for inclusion makes the case for their views on the similarities between themselves (the speaker) and the charity kids. By coupling rhyming lines of comparison and observation, the speaker directly aligns themselves with the other by making the two complimentary through the pleasure of the lyrical tool of rhyme.
In “alternate names for black boys”, Danez Smith delves into the space between human and nonhuman, and creates a borderlands that centers the subject of the poem. Smith argues there is a disparity between people of color and white-centric America to a level of dehumanization; a person of color is seen as inhuman. Smith argues an American mindset of black boys viewed as inferior to construct the shape and content the poem.
Smith intentionally does not use articles throughout the poem to display how black boys are seen as inferior and undeserving. As articles are important in describing and giving value to the subject, and by virtue of excluding articles from the poem, the speaker emphasizes how society does not hold respect for black youth. Smith continues the stress how youth of color are not respected in society through the absence of capital letters. As the lines are not full sentences they parallel and further Smith’s argument of black boys perceived as not fully human in society – simply phrases and incomplete ideas.
Smith brings attention to the intersectionality in the identity of a black boy living in the United States. Black boys are constantly misjudged and presented in the media as less than human. Systematically, black boys have been oppressed by Anglo-America and viewed as dangerous, aggressive, and more closely related to animals than to humans. Smith carries this subject through the poem in a raw and truthful that reflects the ways society perceives and dehumanizes youth of color. Line five, “guilty until proven dead”, and line seven, “monster until proven ghost”, echo one another as they highlight the mal-societal mindset of black boys soley existing without adequate human rights. The lines speak to the implicit bias against boys of color, and only when “dead” or a “ghost” will they fit the narrative desired of them in society. By virtue of speaking to normalized ideas in society, the poem is a vessel for social awareness.
“(I thought to leave this black but who am I to name us nothing?)” (line 15-16), illuminates the oppressive power held over people of color. The word “us” informs the reader that the speaker is part of the collective voice, and the speaker exposes the paradox of how only others have the power to name and/or not name black boys – not even black boys themselves. It perpetuates the idea that the American society has written the narrative for blacks without their voice being heard, and further has dehumanized blacks, leaving them unable to even choose to not be a part of the narrative.
Gwendolyn Brooks’ “a song in the front yard” is a testament to white America’s undeserved fixation with lower-class culture. The front yard, the speaker’s homeground, represents suburbia. It is here that the speaker, her family, and her friends reside. The front yard is comfortable, safe, unassuming, boring. “A girl sets sick of a rose,”(4) the speaker states. The backyard, the land for the “charity children,”(7) represents poor, urban areas. Contrary to reality, the speaker imagines the backyard as the place for “wonderful fun”(9). From a child’s perspective, this belief comes from a lack of understanding of socio-economic backgrounds. On a deeper level, the speaker represents a large proportion of young, affluent society that idealizes “the hood”. The common era is filled with imagery that glorifies gang life, drug culture, gun violence, et cetera, commonly found on city streets. In reality, this style of life can be hellish. White America completely glosses over this fact, falling captive to the stereotypes easily identifiable in pop culture.
In the poem “If you are over staying woke” by Morgan Parker, the theme of living life “checked out” (i.e, trying to cross a border into oblivious bliss) is explored. The poem’s form creates this “checked out” sensation, as each line is never more than six syllables, never more than five words. The lines are simple, often just short instructions, meant to reduce a person’s world to simplicity. Also, many of these instructions are repeated throughout the piece, such as “drink water”, “take pills”, “don’t see the news”, and “skip funerals”. The repetition of these commands not only reveals the monotonous life of someone who is“checked out”; the repetition is important for another reason as well. If one does not remember to do these things, the real world might come creeping back in and drag someone back across the border, away from the beautiful oblivious universe that has been created. “Don’t think”, “Don’t smile”, “Don’t wilt”, the poem commands, desperately. However, at the end of this poem, the word “funeral” is printed twice, implying it’s nearly impossible to escape the real world completely. It always grabs you somehow.
But why is the speaker of the poem so desperate to “check out”? It’s implied that speaker of the poem is a person of color, a person struggling to avoid seeing the news, trying to “remember what the world is like for white people”. The speaker reminds themself that they must live life as an upper class white person should and be happy and naive: for example, they must use the “crockpot”, “juicer”, and “smoothie maker” (all traditionally kitchen devices of upper class white people). The speaker must whitewash everything in their life, they must “white the hydrangeas”, and “drink the white”, immersing themselves in it, forgetting the people of color suffering and that they too are suffering with them. They must act like white people, who get to live in a country where they never have to experience racial injustice, where they can just turn off the TV and get on with their lives. But once again, not matter how hard they try, the speaker can’t escape racism. Counting down from four syllables, getting simpler and simpler, the poem ends: “Keep a song mind” (four), “Don’t smile” (three) Don’t wilt (two), and “funeral/funeral”. Despite all her best efforts, she is dragged against her will across that border, back into the real world.
Augie Schultz
Prof. Cassarino
2/25/19
Max Ritvo’s “Poem to My Litter” is an autobiographical poem about the perils of battling cancer and the emotional relationships he develops with mice–mice involved in an experimental medical procedure in which tumors identical to Max’s are treated within the mice’s bodies. The border Max is faced within the poem is a border every human being is forced to confront at one point in his life: the border that separates life and death. However, Max’s predicament is especially disconcerting because of how much time he has to ponder his rapidly approaching mortality. By the end of “Poem to My Litter,” Max hasn’t crossed the border from living to deceased, but he has crossed the border from fearing death to coming to peace with his impermanence. In the first few lines of the poem he writes “I wish it was perfect, but sometimes the death we see / doesn’t happen when we try it again in my body.” The “death” in this case being a cure, denoting both that he wishes to be cancer-free, but also, because of his use of death instead of cure, that his hope is fleeting and isn’t is fearing his impending death. After the body of the poem where Max develops a strong emotional connection to the mice being treated with his tumors, a section where the mice become his children, Max’s consciousness evolves. He ends the poem at peace with the idea of dying. In advice to his children, Max writes “And if a whole lot / of nothing happens to you, Maxes, that’s peace. Which is what we want. Trust me.” These powerful words conclude the poem ethereally and prove, finally, that Max’s imminent death is not something to shy away from: it’s what he wants, it’s peace.
Augie Schultz
Prof. Cassarino
2/25/19
*Edited, disregard the first version*
Max Ritvo’s “Poem to My Litter” is an autobiographical poem about the perils of battling cancer and the emotional relationships he develops with mice–mice involved in an experimental medical procedure in which tumors identical to Max’s are treated within the mice’s bodies. The border Max is faced within the poem is a border every human being is forced to confront at one point in his life: the border that separates life and death. However, Max’s predicament is especially disconcerting because of how much time he has to ponder his rapidly approaching mortality. By the end of “Poem to My Litter,” Max hasn’t crossed the border from living to deceased, but he has crossed the border from fearing death to coming to peace with his impermanence. In the first few lines of the poem he writes “I wish it was perfect, but sometimes the death we see / doesn’t happen when we try it again in my body.” The “death” in this case being a cure, denoting both that he wishes to be cancer-free, but also, because of his use of death instead of cure, that his hope is fleeting and is fearing his impending death. After the body of the poem where Max develops a strong emotional connection to the mice being treated with his tumors, a section where the mice become his children, Max’s consciousness evolves. He ends the poem at peace with the idea of dying. In advice to his children, Max writes “And if a whole lot / of nothing happens to you, Maxes, that’s peace. Which is what we want. Trust me.” These powerful words conclude the poem ethereally and prove, finally, that Max’s imminent death is not something to shy away from: it’s what he wants, it’s peace.
What Kind of Times are These
Adrienne Rich
In What Kind of Times are These, the speaker fights an uphill battle against the discovery of her sacred place. Although the first two stanzas focus on the description of this clear-cut, bright area between two thickets of trees, the second two reiterate that the reader can’t know where this place exists, exactly. Why is this place so special? Rich describes an “old revolutionary road…near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted.” While the exact history remains unclear, the “persecuted” are outcasts that the speaker considers herself to be a part of. There have been battles here before, as made clear by the “revolutionary road,” but the place has been forgotten by most. Now, the “dark mesh of the woods” only lets certain people through, sieving for the worthy. The fear, however, of the unworthy finding this place is clear. Someone want to “buy it, sell it, make it disappear.”
Cecilia Needham
February 25, 2019
Response to “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds”
From Victims to Survivors
Although he immigrated to the United States at age two after living in a refugee camp in the Philippines with his relatives, Vuong was born on a rice farm in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam (Wikipedia). A place as such as this was a backdrop to the Vietnam War, and his “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds” is simultaneously a tragic ode to this landscape and its people as well as a powerful reclaiming of their identity: a figurative border crossing from victims to survivors. Throughout the poem, the Vietnamese people are portrayed as victims of the horrible atrocities committed by the United States during the Vietnam War, but come the last few lines of the poem, these survivors are able to claim their country and identity through the speaker, concepts stolen from them by identity and loss.
The title of “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds” defines the words to come in the poem. The many acts against humanity suffered to the speaker and his people in the poem such as “another // brown gook crumbles under John Wayne’s M16” are the exit wounds contracted. These cruelties do not necessarily define the Vietnamese people, but the wounds they incur paint a “self-portrait”, further proving how the poem is a reclaiming of the Vietnamese narrative as one filled with survivors, not simply victims. This line also exemplifies Vuong’s careful word choice and usage of American and Vietnamese symbols such as John Wayne, M16’s, and “Bà Ngoại’s / last candle” as metaphors for the people and cultures they are a part of. For instance, at the time, John Wayne was a prominent Western actor who stood for all things American, visited the troops in Vietnam, and is now known to be a proponent of racism. The use of these references furthers the disparities between the cultures they stand in for and paint a more vivid, and often gruesome, picture in the reader’s head.
Besides the fact that all of “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds” is one sentence, Vuong additionally organizes his poem as a series of two line stanzas which feature phrases that continue between line and stanza breaks. This not only makes for a powerful tone, it serves to symbolize the continuous list of suffering, one thing after another, each one more awful and tragic than the one before. This is exemplified when Vuong writes, “splash the kapok bark / through rot & iron of a city trying to forget // the bones beneath its sidewalks”. This set of lines illustrates how Vuong constructs his stanzas to be able to stand alone but how they gain much more meaning when read continually. The poem is also written as a command to a bullet traveling through the wreckage of Vietnam during and following the Vietnam War, starting the poem with and often repeating, “let it”, it being the bullet.
This continuous and “let it” form is broken when, towards the end of the poem, Vuong repeats the word live three times, employs two em dashes, and introduces himself into the poem. This all can be seen in the lines, “to relearn the word live, live, live — but if // for nothing else, let me weave this deathbeam”. Firstly, the word “live” being repeated three times in italics symbolizes that to live in Vietnam where death seems to be much more common is so foreign that it needs to be italicized and repeated like a child preparing for a spelling bee. Secondly, the em dash serves to physically break up the poem by use of enjambment, indicating a change in tone. Finally, the use of “let me” shows the speaker is taking power of the narrative, it is no longer the bullet telling the story but rather him, controlling his own destiny. These combined techniques create a sudden change, signifying the people of Vietnam crossing their identity border, recognizing themselves as strong survivors capable of living and creating their own futures.
Cecilia Needham
February 25, 2019
Response to “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds”
(Reposted with enters between paragraph breaks)
From Victims to Survivors
Although he immigrated to the United States at age two after living in a refugee camp in the Philippines with his relatives, Vuong was born on a rice farm in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam (Wikipedia). A place as such as this was a backdrop to the Vietnam War, and his “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds” is simultaneously a tragic ode to this landscape and its people as well as a powerful reclaiming of their identity: a figurative border crossing from victims to survivors. Throughout the poem, the Vietnamese people are portrayed as victims of the horrible atrocities committed by the United States during the Vietnam War, but come the last few lines of the poem, these survivors are able to claim their country and identity through the speaker, concepts stolen from them by identity and loss.
The title of “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds” defines the words to come in the poem. The many acts against humanity suffered to the speaker and his people in the poem such as “another // brown gook crumbles under John Wayne’s M16” are the exit wounds contracted. These cruelties do not necessarily define the Vietnamese people, but the wounds they incur paint a “self-portrait”, further proving how the poem is a reclaiming of the Vietnamese narrative as one filled with survivors, not simply victims. This line also exemplifies Vuong’s careful word choice and usage of American and Vietnamese symbols such as John Wayne, M16’s, and “Bà Ngoại’s / last candle” as metaphors for the people and cultures they are a part of. For instance, at the time, John Wayne was a prominent Western actor who stood for all things American, visited the troops in Vietnam, and is now known to be a proponent of racism. The use of these references furthers the disparities between the cultures they stand in for and paint a more vivid, and often gruesome, picture in the reader’s head.
Besides the fact that all of “Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds” is one sentence, Vuong additionally organizes his poem as a series of two line stanzas which feature phrases that continue between line and stanza breaks. This not only makes for a powerful tone, it serves to symbolize the continuous list of suffering, one thing after another, each one more awful and tragic than the one before. This is exemplified when Vuong writes, “splash the kapok bark / through rot & iron of a city trying to forget // the bones beneath its sidewalks”. This set of lines illustrates how Vuong constructs his stanzas to be able to stand alone but how they gain much more meaning when read continually. The poem is also written as a command to a bullet traveling through the wreckage of Vietnam during and following the Vietnam War, starting the poem with and often repeating, “let it”, it being the bullet.
This continuous and “let it” form is broken when, towards the end of the poem, Vuong repeats the word live three times, employs two em dashes, and introduces himself into the poem. This all can be seen in the lines, “to relearn the word live, live, live — but if // for nothing else, let me weave this deathbeam”. Firstly, the word “live” being repeated three times in italics symbolizes that to live in Vietnam where death seems to be much more common is so foreign that it needs to be italicized and repeated like a child preparing for a spelling bee. Secondly, the em dash serves to physically break up the poem by use of enjambment, indicating a change in tone. Finally, the use of “let me” shows the speaker is taking power of the narrative, it is no longer the bullet telling the story but rather him, controlling his own destiny. These combined techniques create a sudden change, signifying the people of Vietnam crossing their identity border, recognizing themselves as strong survivors capable of living and creating their own futures.
Response to “In the Waiting Room”
In her poem “In the Waiting Room”, Elizabeth Bishop takes the dentist’s office, environment many of us are familiar with, and uses it as the battlefield for her struggle between childhood and adulthood. The dentist’s office can often be a terrifying environment for young children, as many of our first painful experiences occur there. The choice of the dentist’s office as the environment for the poem therefore becomes more and more deliberate as the poem continues, as the speaker undergoes terrifying revelations which are can be painful for oneself.
The dichotomy between childhood and adulthood is both blurred and highlighted all at once in “In the Waiting Room”, as the speaker remembers the fateful events of going to the dentist’s office with her Aunt. Everything we as the readers see is through the perspective of a 6-year-old child. This is reinforced through Bishop’s diction – describing adults as ‘grown-up people’ instead helps to separate the speaker from the rest of the adults in the room.
It is explicitly stated that at the time of the poem, the speaker (whom we can guess to be Bishop herself) was ‘3 days away’ from being seven years old. This is mentioned in order to further emphasize how young she is, and to highlight the struggle of travelling along the border between childhood and adulthood.
In the second stanza, the speaker experiences what could only be described as her first identity crisis; the sensation of ‘falling off the round, turning world’ could be interpreted as her struggling to find her place – a tough pill to swallow for a 6 year-old, and something that many of us may not think about at the age of 6, yet our childhood curiosity may end up leading us to question our very existence. Moreover, while the first stanza is almost a page long, the second and third stanzas are distinctly split and almost half the length of the first. This symbolizes the speaker’s awareness of oneself, as if previously she was in the long train of thought that we are all familiar with. Once she catches herself in a state of crisis, she hesitates to allow herself to think so freely, in the fear that her curiosity will tempt her to experience something so life-changing “I knew that nothing stranger had ever happened, that nothing stranger could ever happen”. Upon drawing attention to herself, she observes her surroundings in the fourth stanza “The waiting room was bright and too hot”. The “big black wave” she describes could mean many things, however I interpreted it as symbolism for death; death is a popular topic under question among children, and the revelations surrounding it can be terrifying for the young mind to comprehend.
The same curiosity leads the speaker to continue looking at the graphic issue of National Geographic “I read it right straight through / I was too shy to stop”. Despite the audacity of the issue the magazine may be trying to cover, it has gone beyond the head of the speaker, yet the image is engraved in her head, as we see her coming back to it again in the third stanza. Pondering and being overwhelmed by her own head, the speaker questions her thoughts “Why should I be my aunt, or me, or anyone?”
When we are young, our parents and loved ones often try to protect us from the harsh dangers of the real world. However, our curiosity manages to search every nook and cranny for a question to which the adults may not have a ‘safe’ answer for. The truth can be overwhelming and hard to swallow, and our tiny minds may not be able to comprehend many of the more serious things we are taught. In “In the Waiting Room”, Elizabeth Bishop conveys this by sharing one of her own formative moments, during which she traversed along the border between childhood and adulthood.
America by Claude McKay
There exists a frequent argument over the perspective of immigrants entering the United States. Why are they coming here? Why do they continue to remedy their issues by bringing them to us? And although no ruling class ‘natives’ would ever to admit asking this question, why are none of them white? The simple conclusion extrapolated is one of profoundly misdirected ethnocentrism. America is the greatest country in the world, immigrants know this, America is their dream, their Mecca, they want to be American. And while it is safe to say that America is a relatively safe, progressive, hospitable place, this belief ignores a plethora of expressed underlying motives for immigration. In the poem “America”, Claude McKay makes it very clear that America, to those enticed by or forced into its domain, is just as horrible as it is great, as promising as it is demeaning. The poem walks the line between admiration and disdain, every complement representing equal exaltation and disgust. It is through this consistent contradiction in the poem that we, as the readers, are able to understand the bittersweet image that a minority member of society envisions when they think of the ‘greatest country in the world’.
McKay, throughout the poem, makes it clear that the speaker is at ends over their true opinion of the United States. With frequent reference to America as a living being, we can see the admiration that the speaker has. McKay writes “Her vigor flows like tides into my blood” (5), “her might and granite wonders” (12). The description which the speaker provides of America is clearly of admiration, but the actions which ‘she’ takes against the speaker are clearly unhealthy, as though America takes something from the speaker. Like in a toxic relationship, the speaker hates the things that America does to them, but cannot seem to stay away:
“Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth” (1-4)
In these lines, the love-hate relationship is very clear. As a person in America, the opportunities are great, the society rich in activity, “cultured”. But as a minority this culture may not be so readily accessible, creating only a “cultured hell”. By utilizing this oxymoron, the reader can understand that from the perspective of a minority member of our society, America is no flawless city in the sky. America is a means to an end, the end being safety and promise, but certainly not salvation or satisfaction.
It is evident in the poem that the speaker feels unwelcome in the society that they appear to adore so greatly. And the speaker’s relationship with America animates this very clearly, at one point describing their own confrontation with the nation “as a rebel fronts a king in state” (8). Describing the United States as the king, and themselves as the rebel, McKay expresses the way in which the speaker feels themselves almost as a parasite to a host. It should also be noted that never, at any point in the poem, does the speaker decidedly consider themselves as this “rebel”, never is there an obvious decision made to oppose the ‘king’. And this authorial choice serves to illustrate the belief that the complicated relationship between America and her minorities is natural, a circumstance rather than a decision.
McKay’s work has been described as “transcending bitterness”, aware that it does exist, McKay is able to overlook it in a near-objective manner. In the poem “America”, the social commentary is present, but there is never any hate. The reader can identify the struggle being had, but there is no doubt that the speaker admires the United States. The minority perspective based on the poem “America” is clearly one of confusion, with a clear understanding of the beauty of the United States, and a depressing certainty that that beauty may never be theirs to discover.
“America” by Claude McKay
I chose to analyze the poem “America” by Claude McKay. This relatively short poem explores the complex feelings of love and resentment for the United States, both for what it is, and for what it could be. The speaker of the poem refers to “America” as “she,” and this personification of America as a maternal figure makes the speaker’s relationship with his much more intimate. Family is a bond that transcends many faults, and many people are willing to look past the flaws of their family members because they love them. This is reflected in this poem as the speaker discusses both loving America and hating it at the same time. This can be looked at as a border in of itself, walking the line between loving one’s country and hating its flaws. However, this border is important because for a nation to truly make progress, the people who endeavor to change it for the better, have to love it for what it has the potential to be, and also recognize, and point out how it has yet to attain that.
The speaker’s discussion of America throughout the poem is bipolar in nature, the diction is often contradictory and expresses both love and hate in the same lines, “I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.” The speaker expresses love for a land he refers to as a hell that tests him. This language is not typically seen together, and as such is uncomfortable for the reader to digest. However, it captures the feeling of being trapped in the border between love and hate of one’s nation, and trying to grapple with feeling both extremes at the same time. And by placing this contradictory language together the reader is able to emphasize more easily with that feeling and thus establish a deeper understanding of the poem. In the next line the speaker says that America’s “vigor flows like tides into my blood, / giving me strength erect against her hate.” This line is particularly illustrative of the complex relationship between love and hate of a nation. Considering the intense racism present in the United States, particularly in the 1920s when this poem was written, the hate that is mentioned is violently oppressive. Yet the speaker, presumably a person of color like Claude McKay, claims that it is the country’s vigor that gives him the strength to endure this constant hate and oppression. Again, the idea of a nation’s vigor giving an individual strength, and a person enduring violent hate from an entire society are in drastic opposition. Yet, this contradiction reflects the internal conflict felt by the speaker. This internal conflict is the result of being trapped on the line between love and hate, and although uncomfortable, this line is where people who make change exist. Wanting to see their nation become the best it can but not blinded by a naive love of one’s home. This perspective allows the reader to look through the eyes of someone who has experienced this complicated relationship with his/her home.
Madison Middleton
February 25, 2019
Blog Response: “America” by Claude McKay
GLOSS:
“Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,”
Although she does not nourish me,
“And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,”
Although she chokes me,
“Stealing my breath of life, I will confess”
Strangling and killing me, I have to say
“I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!”
I love her no matter what!
“Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,”
She enthuses and inspires me,
“Giving me strength erect her hate.”
Allowing me to fight against her hatred.
DICTION: The noun “vigor” has several meanings: physical strength, good health, effort, energy, and enthusiasm. In Claude McKay’s “America,” it appears in line five (“Her vigor flows like tides into my blood…”). This word is integral to the identity of McKay’s poem. All in one, it encapsulates the “her” subject — a vital and powerful entity — and the speaker, who must summon the effort, energy, and enthusiasm to survive in the former’s grasp. The original ancestor of “vigor” came from the Latin “vigere” meaning to thrive or be lively. It continued to evolve throughout Old French and Middle English, appearing in its current spelling early on. The speaker evokes liveliness in many senses throughout the piece. The draining of his life force is juxtaposed with his perpetrator, who is vital. He musters energy in order to coexist with his aggressor and jailor. The word “vigor” encompasses both and all sides of this battle.
IMAGERY: “I stand within her walls with not a shred / Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.” The speaker often alludes to living within a kingdom that houses his torment. However, he tells us that in his suffering, he feels not a “shred of terror,” because these attacks give him more will to live and step up to the challenge. In fact, he relishes the attacks, perhaps because he feels most alive when he could die at any moment. This quote encompasses the idea of living within in a sovereignty (or cage?) without a desire to escape.
SYNTAX: “Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state, / I stand within her walls with not a shred / Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.” Within this poem, the word “state” is the only one to go without a rhyming partner, causing it to stand out. It is a new thought and declaration. By not rhyming it, readers listen more closely. Then the speaker promises, despite his torment, that he will stand tall and even admire his perpetrator. By declaring that he has no malice for “her,” he shifts the thesis of the poem entirely. Also, by splitting up the line to list “terror, malice, not a word of jeer” separately, it allows those words to have a greater impact.
TITLE: If Claude McKay had not titled his poem “America,” the subject of this piece would be entirely unclear. This also allows him the freedom to be straightforward about his intent while not explicitly alluding to or referencing the country anymore than he desires.
SYNESTHESIA: Like the “priceless treasures sinking in the sand,” this piece is coloured gold. It speaks of things grand and regal but also dangerously addictive like the mineral gold itself. Underneath the text is a deep bass drum, a sound of war, declaration, and soul. It is the pulse of life that is devoured and bestowed by “America.”
CONTENT/FORM RELATIONSHIP: “America” is a classic sonnet with exactly fourteen lines, an integral shift in tone at its core, and a double-line rhyme scheme. McKay might have utilized this form in order to harken traditionally on the themes of love (both requited and not) and perhaps also to allude to Shakespearean archetypes like a “rebel” fronting “a king of state.”
CONTEXT: When McKay’s “America” was published, the country was in the midst of the literary “American Renaissance,” consisting of widespread revolutions like Imagism, Dadaism, and the Harlem Renaissance. The last saw rise to many black writers, McKay becoming a major voice of this era. Born and raised in Jamaica, he possessed a strong understanding and admiration for his African culture and heritage. One of his great loves from early childhood, though, was English poetry. As a result, he sought out English mentors with whom he studied the British classics. This influence is clear in the poem “America” as it is shaped as a sonnet, a classic English literary form. McKay did not limit himself to these forms however and is known prominently for his writings in Jamaican dialects. Since he grew up in a predominately black community, when he eventually moved to United States mainland, he encountered overt racism for the first time. This confrontation sparked new inspiration for him, and he dedicated much of his work to revealing the crevices and contradictions of American racism.
QUESTION: Is it more important to be inside the kingdom itself than to be treated well within its walls?
Response to Brooks’ “a song in the front yard”
Gwendolyn Brooks’ “a song in the front yard” portrays a yearning for liberation; a desire to break free from a monotonous lifestyle and seek existence beyond the constraints of social conventions. In order to effectively examine this dichotomy, the author employs opposing concepts and contrasting metaphors to capture their in-between mentality. Adopting a reflective tone, that is, narrating their own thoughts and feelings, the speaker compares their regimented on-display life, the ‘front yard’, with an idealized ‘rough and untended’ ‘back yard’ way of life. This metaphor is the starting point to the poem’s evaluation of the borders between what one lives and what one wants. Moreover, drawing initially from an analogy based on a physical border, that of suburban houses and their gardens, the author is able to critique expectations of gender and class governing women in the 1960s.
The relevance of the ‘yards’ metaphor is multifold. Understood from a real-estate point of view, the yard is one of the features that most awards land value to a property. A presentable and beautiful front yard can set apart remarkable houses from average ones, reinforcing the notion of the garden as representational of wealth and prestige. Contrarily, the back yard was often abandoned, as it was a more private and served more practical functions. Instead of introducing the value of the front garden in itself, the speaker establishes its value by negation; the front yard is what the back yard is not. The speaker establishes that her life was not ‘rough and untended’ as the back yard, but rather filled with pleasantries, ‘roses’, which ultimately bored them. In introducing these two concepts in opposition, the author establishes the front yard as an embodiment of a lifestyle regimented by properness and often serving only decorative purposes. Then, the back yard becomes a depiction of a carefree, rebellious approach to her life.
Further exploring contrasting imageries to assert her desire to be free of convention, the speaker alludes to poor children who lived in her neighborhood, children who did not have to ascribe to the rules she must. She correlates them not having ‘to go at quarter to nine’, with them being happy and having ‘wonderful fun’, and makes these realities objects of her desire. The speaker underscores this longing tone by using and repeating assertive syntax and diction, such as ‘I want’ and ‘I’d like’. Building on this, the speaker reports a conversation in which her idealizing of the poor people’s life is disdained by her mother. Writing in reported speech, the author constructs this dialogue so to arouse conflict and expose the prejudices held against these children, such that they will be ‘bad women’ or ‘go to Jail’. Ultimately, this reinforces the contrast between the ‘front yard’, herein represented by the mom, and the ‘back yard’, which the speaker defends by dismissing the mother’s arguments saying ‘it’s fine’.
Finally, there is an important point to be made about the use of the garden metaphor as a critique of gender expectations. First alluded to in the first stanza, the speaker puts at odds distinct notions of femininity: one founded in the delicate passiveness of a ‘rose’ and one portrayed as a willful ‘hungry weed’. This idea develops into the dichotomous ‘bad/good woman’. The speaker ambitions to wear make-up or dress up in stockings, even if that would be reprimanded and not displayed on her mother’s ‘front yard’. In this way, the ‘yards’ metaphor transcends mere physicality and becomes a framework to understand a broader social border, that imposed by codes which ‘regulate’ women. Encouraging an ideal of irreverence and self-assertion, the poem invites the reader to refute these conventions and critique normative expectations of gender.
In “Blood” by Naomi Shihab Nye, the narrator battles with with race and ethnicity and questions what it means to be an Arab and a Palestinian-American in the United States. Nye writes this poem in reaction to the 9/11 attacks, which incited a large anti-muslim sentiment scorching throughout the United States. In this poem, Nye reflects on her love for her culture and traditions, but also combats with her perception of Arabs in lou of the terrorist attacks on the twin towers.
To begin this poem, Nye uses childhood lessons taught by her father as a modem to portray the beauty of Arab culture and her upbringing. Nye establishes her father as a mentor as she illustrates him catching “‘a fly in his hands’” or teaching her that “watermelon could heal fifty ways”. Nye uses this idea of a “True Arab” to describe someone that holds tradition and culture close to their heart. Her father is portrayed as passing on this concept of a “True Arab” down to her daughter as a way to demonstrate their close relationship and pride for their Arab culture. Similarly, Nye creates a dialogue between herself and father upon which she asks, “When we die, we give it back?”, to which her father responds, “That’s what a true Arab would say”. These lines not only solidify the importance of culture in Nye’s family, but it more importantly alludes to the idea of giving everything back to Allah when you die. The pronoun “it” in this context refers to their family name “Shihab”. Furthermore, this image of giving everything back to God parallels the principles of radical terrorists. The attackers on 9/11 sacrificed their lives for Allah and the strengthening of the Islamic state. This dichotomy created by what Nye thinks it means to be a “true Arab” and what terrorist groups like Al-Qaeda envision is haunting. This contrast fuels Nye’s internal turmoil. Her understanding of Islam and being Arab is one of tradition, culture, and happiness, and this image is destroyed by the terror inflicted upon the U.S., the nation she has called home for the majority of her life.
In continuation of the poem, Nye reverts away from build up and writes masterfully on her reaction at the time of the attack. She begins with a blunt statement: “Today the headlines clot my blood”, evoking strong feeling of dread and remorse. She continues on with the stark image of “a little Palestinian” dangling “a truck on the front page”. She hears this news from across the globe, from “a little Palestinian”. This news is a huge culture shock for Nye because of her American and Palestinian identities. Though she is not Afghani, she is Arab and she fears for the safety of her American friends back home and her Arab friends, who fear the wrath of American racism and stereotyping. Nye describes her father as extremely overwhelmed and that the events are “too much for him, neither of his languages can reach it”. The fact that “neither of his languages”, Arabic and English, can find words to describe his emotions, demonstrates his equally conflicting identities. He too feels pain for both his American and Arab counterparts. Nye ends this poem in a simple yet incredibly impactful fashion asking herself and perhaps the reader: “What does a true Arab due now?” This ending serves to demonstrate her misguided belief that she new what it meant to be a true Arab. Similarly, it serves to invoke a similar thought into the mind of the reader, and force them to question whether or not they have seen both sides of the story.