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BICULTURALISM, SELF IDENTITY AND SOCIETAL TRANSFORMATION

RESEARCH IN RACE AND ETHNIC RELATIONS Series Editor: Rutledge M. Dennis Volume 10:

The Black Intellectuals – Edited by Rutledge M. Dennis

Volume 11:

The Sociology of Oliver C. Cox – Edited by Herbert Hunter

Volume 12:

Marginality, Power and Social Structure – Edited by Rutledge M. Dennis

Volume 13:

The Racial Politics of Booker T. Washington – Edited by Donald Cunnigen, Rutledge M. Dennis and Myrtle Gonza Glascoe

Volume 14:

The New Black: Alternative Paradigms and Strategies for the 21st Century – Edited by Rodney D. Coates and Rutledge M. Dennis

RESEARCH IN RACE AND ETHNIC RELATIONS VOLUME 15

BICULTURALISM, SELF IDENTITY AND SOCIETAL TRANSFORMATION EDITED BY

RUTLEDGE M. DENNIS George Mason University, USA

United Kingdom – North America – Japan India – Malaysia – China

JAI Press is an imprint of Emerald Group Publishing Limited Howard House, Wagon Lane, Bingley BD16 1WA, UK First edition 2008 Copyright r 2008 Emerald Group Publishing Limited Reprints and permission service Contact: [email protected] No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without either the prior written permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying issued in the UK by The Copyright Licensing Agency and in the USA by The Copyright Clearance Center. No responsibility is accepted for the accuracy of information contained in the text, illustrations or advertisements. The opinions expressed in these chapters are not necessarily those of the Editor or the publisher. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978-0-7623-1409-6 ISSN: 0195-7449 (Series)

Awarded in recognition of Emerald’s production department’s adherence to quality systems and processes when preparing scholarly journals for print

CONTENTS LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

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INTRODUCTION: THE BICULTURAL SELF Rutledge M. Dennis

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PART I: THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVE TOWARDS A THEORY OF BICULTURALISM Rutledge M. Dennis

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BICULTURALISM AND THE DIALECTICS OF IDENTITY Rutledge M. Dennis

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PART II: BICULTURALISM AND THE IMMIGRANT EXPERIENCE JUGGLING WITH TWO CULTURES: TRANSNATIONALISM AND HYBRIDITY AS CULTURAL OUTCOMES OF IMMIGRATION FOR HAITIANS IN THE UNITED STATES Flore Ze´phir

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GERMAN AND JAPANESE TRANSNATIONAL MIGRANTS IN AMERICA: BICULTURALISM IN COMPARATIVE PERSPECTIVE Masayo Nishida

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PART III: BICULTURALISM AND THE FEMALE EXPERIENCE FANNIE BARRIER WILLIAMS, BICULTURALISM, AND THE AFRICAN AMERICAN EXPERIENCE, 1887–1926 Mary Jo Deegan

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PART IV: BICULTURALISM IN INSTITUTIONAL SETTINGS TRIPPING THE WHITE FANTASTIC: NAVIGATING THE POLITICS OF DISLOCATION AND BICULTURAL AUTHENTICITY IN ACADEME Matthew W. Hughey

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SPANISH LANGUAGE AND LATINO ETHNICITY IN CHILDREN’S TELEVISION PROGRAMS Erynn Masi de Casanova

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PART V: BICULTURALISM AND IDENTITY FORMATION INTEGRATION AND THE FORMATION OF ETHNIC IDENTITY AMONG SOUTH ASIAN IMMIGRANTS IN NORWAY Navid Ghani

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Contents

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STATUS MAXIMIZATION, HYPODESCENT THEORY, OR SOCIAL IDENTITY THEORY? A THEORETICAL APPROACH TO UNDERSTANDING THE RACIAL IDENTIFICATION OF MULTIRACIAL ADOLESCENTS Matthew Oware

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AUTOBIOGRAPHIC NOTES ON BECOMING MUSICALLY BICULTURAL Rutledge M. Dennis

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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Erynn Masi de Casanova

Department of Sociology, The Graduate Center, City University of New York, NY, USA

Mary Jo Deegan

Department of Sociology, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, NE, USA

Rutledge M. Dennis

Department of Sociology/Anthropology, George Mason University, Fairfax, VA, USA

Navid Ghani

Department of Liberal Arts, Five Towns College, Dix Hills, NY, USA

Matthew W. Hughey

Department of Sociology, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, VA, USA

Masayo Nishida

Department of Sociology, Boston University, Boston, MA, USA

Matthew Oware

Department of Sociology, DePauw University, Greencastle, IN, USA

Flore Ze´phir

Department of Romance Languages, University of Missouri-Columbia, Columbia, MO, USA

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INTRODUCTION: THE BICULTURAL SELF Rutledge M. Dennis As we survey the contemporary world the striking feature of this world compared to the world we lived in two or three generations ago is the energy and interest devoted to an analysis and critique of biculturalism and multiculturalism. In some ways this transformation, both in the realm of ideas and social realities, reflect shifts in academic and intellectuals interests; it also reflects changes taking place on the ground. That is, on-going rapid political, religious, and economic changes throughout the world have forced major social structural changes within nations and between nations. In the midst of such changes it must not be forgotten that as social institutions and conditions are altered the individual self must likewise undergo incremental or massive changes, depending upon the situations within any specific country. Throughout this volume many contributors have contrasted bicultural and monocultural realities. They have done so because the composition and the centrality of the self will take on different shapes and formats in each type. In contrast to psychologists and psychoanalysts whose concepts of the self are essentially biological, the self in the social sciences is social and cultural. We are indebted to George Herbert Mead and Georg Simmel for their psychological and sociological insights into the self. Neither offers insights linking the self to biculturalism, however, Simmel’s views of the self as containing possibilities for many selves provides such a connection to a bicultural self. If, according to Simmel, we have as many selves as the different roles we have. For Simmel, our many selves and roles Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 1–6 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15001-2

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offer opportunities for greater individuality and personal freedom. But these various selves and roles also open the doors to both greater internal and external conflicts and cooperation. Areas and situations affording opportunities for conflicts and cooperation are discussed under various subthemes in the remainder of this chapter.

THE BICULTURAL SELF AS IDEAS AND THOUGHTS At times the self may be bicultural only in ideas and thought, for the individual lacks the opportunity to actual live biculturally. Very recent immigrants who are barely learning the language of the new country, and have yet to fully understand social cues and the deeper nuances of the language and social customs of the new country would fall into this category. Indeed, the chapter on becoming musically bicultural is an example of the bicultural self as ideas and thoughts, and we could extend Simmel’s analogy to include, in this case, living musically in one world while socially restricted by segregation from living in some of the situations which provided the creative fuel for the world from which one is excluded. It is in this same sense that millions of teenagers in Europe, Asia, Africa, and Latin America may experience Black American musical culture hip-hop and rap, and attempt to sing, dress, and act as if they are in an environment similar to the ones they have seen in American movies and videos. Their bicultural selves are rooted in images and are fed by their youthful imagination, but the social structural background where theses, at least some of them, middle class youth, play out the drama of rap and hip-hop reside in the bicultural self as idea and thought. In a Kantian mode, also may be Schopenhauerian, it might be suggested that the idea and thought always precede the actual doing or living. Many recent immigrants have come to the United States because of relatives who relocated here, or because they believe greater opportunities exist here for themselves and family members. But ideas and images of the U.S. preceded the actual journey, and for some time after their arrival, they will attempt to meld ideas and thoughts of the America in their mind with the American reality they now experience. One can liken the experience of recent immigrants to the experiences of blacks in the South during the initial years of racial integration in the South. A similar experience was made by blacks from the South who migrated to the North. These examples are cited to make the case that social laws and customs may force the bicultural self to life in the world of ideas and participate in social settings as a ‘‘native

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stranger’’ the citizen born into the society but given stranger status; Simmel’s stranger was one who joins the society by coming in as an outsider, a stranger. As such, the ‘‘native stranger’’ knows and understands the cultural accouterments even if prohibited from exercising them. As revealed in the chapter on becoming musically bicultural, my friends and I had lived and understood the other world musically, and socially, though we were forced to play a role as ‘‘Negro’’ when we engaged the other in their world. Unlike Du Bois’s schema where blacks were the other, in our teen years we thought of the white as ‘‘the other.’’ It might be a safe guess that those of us who were musically bicultural in idea and thought, were more prepared, and were in a better position to engage whites when the walls of segregation fell, and we were able to move from idea and thought to actual social interaction devoid of racial barriers. While young, my musical images fed my sociological imagination, and I was aware of the connection between living in music without the outer societal connections, and what then became possible when the racial barriers fell.

THE BICULTURAL SELF: ACTING AND REACTING IN SOCIAL SETTINGS As many chapters in this volume illustrate, we are all monoculturalists before we become biculturalists. Even if parents and grandparents are in inter-ethnic, inter-racial, or inter-religious relationships, the reality is that children are seldom given an equal socialization into both cultures. Because at an early age children in bicultural situations will inevitably learn and know more about one part of their cultural heritage than another part, for them to become bicultural they must be introduced to the other side of their culture and begin the process of internalizing the values and assumptions of that culture. Overtime, as teenagers one cultural perspective may be preferred over another, and depending on a host of factors individuals may feel more grounded in one culture than the other. Understandably, the culture of birth tends to be the culture in which one feels more grounded and rooted. This is so because one’s network of family and friends are formed early in life, and this network becomes a major reference group and the source of one’s identity. I have met French Canadians who are very proficient in English, and English Canadians who are very proficient in French. As much as each enjoys living in two worlds, when I asked which is the home language for each, it was the language taught at birth and the

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language which was central to their lives while growing up in their families, their communities, and with their friends. Each had to learn another language and become absorbed into the life and culture of another group. Though each is at home in the language after all they both had been speaking their second language since their teen years and beyond. Some biculturalists approach an involvement in two cultures as an educational and enlightening process; they take to the process as easily as ducks take to water. They relish the idea and the opportunity to absorb two worlds and see this dual absorption as an enrichment and an expansion of the self. Others in biculturalist situations are much more conflictive and tire of the movement between two worlds and perceive themselves to be halfheartedly accepted in both cultural worlds. Chapters in this volume cite situations supporting both positions. The nimble biculturalists who enjoy both worlds have learned to adapt and adjust to the cues, subtleties, and nuances of both worlds. That said, there are cases where bicultural individuals are in work and play situations in which others in the dominant culture may not be sufficiently bicultural to understand the sensitivities of others in the cultural setting. As cited in another chapter in this volume members of dominant groups resist learning the culture of less dominant groups. It would be an excellent path to understand how other segments of the society live. But dominant groups see no need to do this. Sizable members of less dominant groups, however, must be bicultural to survive in an economy created and dominated by majority groups. Being bicultural affords an opportunity to spread one’s cultural and intellectual wings, if one desires to do so. The bicultural self may decide to move swiftly or slowly away from the birth culture and affiliate more with an adopted culture; or do the reverse have limited contacted with the adopted culture, and dig more deeply into the birth culture. In any case, the biculturalist has options closed to the monoculturalist. I have seen the biculturalist self in the person of those in inter-faith, inter-ethnic, and interracial relations, and I have witnessed varying degrees of struggle in each situation. I have seen biculturalist selves moving smoothly and dialectically between two cultures when both sides have accepted the bicultural involvement of daughter and sons, nieces and nephews, and fathers and mothers. Then I have seen bicultural selves battered by the blows thrown from both cultures, and uneasiness from one side while love and acceptance from the other side. So, the bicultural self in a society in which biculturalism may not be universally accepted may face rejection. This may be particularly true in situations where there is a history of racial and ethnic exclusion and oppression. Members of oppressed group may be highly suspicious of

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members of their group who visibly take on some of the cultural attributes of the group which has at one time been deemed ‘‘the enemy.’’ They may in fact view the bicultural activity of their group’s members and their movements into another group sphere as totally negative, but in doing so they may exaggerate what they actually see. They may read cultural desertion into the actions of the biculturalist, whereas the biculturalist sees new experiences and explorations as simply new cultural experiences grafted on to the older cultural experiences. The biculturalist self may house its cultural emotional in its birth culture, yet enjoy and participate fully in certain cultural features of the non-birth culture.

THE BICULTURAL SELF: ACCULTURATION WITHOUT ASSIMILATION The writer Isaac Bashevis Singer often made the claim that every creative artist must have a ‘‘place’’ from whence the artist’s creative juices flow that it is good to understand the international, but one’s ‘‘place’’ is important as a generator of ideas, in as much as memories are attached to places. This is why the bicultural Ralph Ellison wrote from the same ‘‘place’’ and about the same ‘‘place’’ in virtually all his stories. The matter of ‘‘place’’ was emphasis by Ellison when he commented that the once bicultural Richard Wright appeared to have lost his ‘‘place’’ as a writer and novelist when he moved permanently to France. According to Ellison, Wright lost his ‘‘feel’’ for blacks and the American situation when he relocated. That makes sense, for the bicultural self must resist assimilation and absorption in one of the two cultures, though it is clear that Ellison was much more attached to black culture than to the ‘‘white’’ or the European side, and this comes across very clearly in his book, Shadow and Act. In fact, similar to the chapter on becoming musically bicultural we can trace the process by which Ellison becomes bicultural. In that process we witness how Ellison was well grounded in black culture, then we see how amoeba-like he begins to reach out to ‘‘white’’ and European ideas, themes, and cultural works. But Ellison is also an example made by me when I mentioned the bilingual and bicultural French Canadians. One may be bicultural, but there is a ‘‘home.’’ The ‘‘home’’ for Ellison was black cultural values, sentiments, and feelings. The point is that being bicultural means theoretically not being assimilated into either, though as we have just made the point, before one is bicultural, one is monocultural, and that monoculture may be one’s cultural ‘‘home,’’

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though one may adopt the new and learned culture as one’s home culture. Total assimilation into any one of the two cultures would nullify the concept of biculturalism. In this sense biculturalism requires, almost by definition alone, having one’s foot in both cultural worlds and navigating through the valleys and hills of each. Many of the chapters in this volume refer to the challenges and the creativity which is created by this, as one of our author proclaims, ‘‘cultural juggling.’’ Whereas many may see the negative side of biculturalism the idea, in theory and fact, speaks to one of the greatest strengths of American democracy: the right to be different, to share one’s cultural attributes, and march to a different drummer and still participate fully in the body politics. The true bicultural thrust recognizes and provides legitimacy to the often neglected and less recognized side of the bicultural dichotomy. In fact, true biculturality stands for a type of Ellisonian unity without conformity and the process of blending, shaping, and re-shaping of cultural motifs. The chapters in this volume were selected because they represent the variety and diversity of the bicultural experience. There is a balance between the qualitative and the quantitative, and the articles provide us with insights regarding how different navigate the bicultural journey, whether Haitians, Germans, the Japanese, Latinos, African Americans, European Americans, or South Asians. Then too, there are chapters on the unique ways in women are affected by, and respond, to the bicultural experience. There are also two chapters which are autobiographical accounts of bicultural experiences in academe and in music. These chapters illustrate the reality of what is yet to come: with the global economic and political community creating new possibilities in the economic, cultural, educational, and political spheres, and given the existing shifts in population demographics, we should expect more biculturalism in the future, even as we witness more group and social assimilation. The challenge must be presented to Western and non-Western nations regarding whether they can build the type of society which not only tolerates, but respects and honors those who come to the societal table with different and unique experiences.

PART I THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVE

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TOWARDS A THEORY OF BICULTURALISM Rutledge M. Dennis INTRODUCTION The idea of biculturalism or multiculturalism has come into sharper focus due to changing intra-national and international demographic shifts, expanding global economic markets, and persistent ethnic and religious warfare across many continents. These global political, cultural, and economic dynamics have forced us to deal with two intensely reverberating, and conflicting, cultural themes and tradition that threaten to unravel many social and political units deemed heretofore strong and unbreakable. One tradition supports and justifies a monocultural view of the world. This perspective asserts that a nation-state functions best when it is defined and controlled by one dominate cultural framework. The logic and justification for such a view is mirrored in the history and philosophy of societies and nation states which have waged relentless wars of conquest; in such wars, victors have attained and often maintained both political power and cultural hegemony over the defeated. Whether the initial causes of warfare were grounded in disputes over religious differences, land disputes, control of the seas, or overseas colonies, the reality is the victory of one nation or society over another would result in the submergence and subservience of one culture over another, as reflected in the victor’s religion, language, political system, etc. The laws and rules of conquest and defeat reverberate

Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 9–29 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15002-4

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throughout human history and whether in Africa, Asia, Europe, or North and South America and are deeply rooted in human, tribal, and clan differences. The various religions have historically justified the conquest by their zealots over non-believers, but it is only in recent history that a new and devastating logic was proffered to justify the domination of one group over another. The combination of European colonialism and imperialism, aided by the scientism of Social Darwinism and the nationalistic ideas of Manifest Destiny gave support to the ideals of White supremacy. Despite subtle political and religious differences between Western nations what they held in common was the belief that they represented the destiny of world civilization, and thus had an obligation to conquer the ‘‘uncivilized’’ world in order to save and perpetuate Western values and ideals. Thus, the growth and evolution of European and American social, political, economic and religious history and thought was not one in which conquering countries and groups sought to ‘‘understand’’ the conquered, nor would it be predicated on any cultural equality, or cultural equivalency between the victors and the vanquished. For example, in the United States the colonial government and the young republic fought Native Americans, the French, Spain (twice), the British (twice), then Mexico, for cultural, political, economic, and social hegemony over what is currently the landmass of the United States. As a result of military conquest European cultural outposts were established throughout the world. To take a particular case: European colonialism and imperialism in Africa was cemented at the Berlin Conference in 1885. At this conference Europeans agreed to divide Africa among themselves, and forthrightly established English Africa, French Africa, Spanish Africa, Portuguese Africa, German Africa, and Belgian Africa. Though not completely the same, the dominant European linguistic, cultural, and political groups had established in Europe centuries ago, monocultural, political, and economic hegemony over smaller, diverse groups within their own nations. For example, in the United Kingdom, Welsh and Scottish cultures and dialects were discouraged, minimized, and rendered subservient to English culture which claimed and exerted hegemonic rights and privileges; in France, French prevailed over Breton and Basque; in Spain, Castilian prevailed over Catalan and Basque, and in Germany, German culture prevailed over the Slavic languages and cultures. A part of the hegemony may be explained by the fact that the dominant hegemonic languages constituted the largest language group in the nations just mentioned. But central to the domination was an accompanying ethnic and cultural chauvinism which, while highlighting the dominant culture signified

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not only that the dominant language was superior, but additionally, that the people and their culture were also superior with almost a divine right to rule and dominate. Thus, the countries just mentioned are bi and multicultural countries parading as monocultural countries, and they do so because of custom, tradition, and political dominance. In contrast to the monocultural hegemony of the above-mentioned nations and societies, some nations, problematic cultural divides within nations may be due to the particularities of their origins, especially the decision of their colonial rulers to import workers from other colonies to perform specific jobs in another colony with an already existing population which is different culturally, religiously, and linguistically. Or take the case of Canada where French and English explorers and colonials settled in different parts of what became Canada. Along with Canada the bicultural nations of Guyana, Ireland, Belgium, Trinidad and Tobago, Fuji, and Cyprus represent societies where different racial, ethnic, cultural, and religious groups occupied the same geopolitical territory. Canada and Belgium represent a federated biculturalism with strict linguistic and legal guidelines for English, French, Flemish and Walloons. The lack of such a federated structure has resulted in a series of racial and ethnic crisis with contemporary political consequences in Guyana, Trinidad and Tobago, Fuji, and Cyprus. In addition, we are witnessing cultural warfare being played out over a variety of issues in the Sudan, Kenya, Nigeria, Serbia, and its province Kosovo. In subsequent segments of this chapter I will outline the responses of individuals and groups in complex types of monocultural and bicultural societies.

THE MONOCULTURALIST IN A MONOCULTURAL SOCIETY Countries such as Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Japan are culturally, ethnically, and linguistically very homogeneous. Though there are small percentages of ethnic minority groups in each country, their numbers are very small, and one is reluctant to place the United Kingdom in the same category as the countries just mentioned. But on one level, though Scotland and Wales constitute two-thirds of the United Kingdom, it is England, the largest and most populated of the three entities which has traditionally defined and shaped the culture of the United Kingdom. The same has been true of Canada, for excluding the newly created territory of Nunavut, Quebec is the largest territory in the Canadian Confederation, and has the

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second largest population. This fact, however, has not prevented Canada from being viewed, internally as well as internationally, as an English nation. This is probably due to Canada’s position and role as a member of the British-led Commonwealth of Nations. To English Canadians, Canada can and should be defined culturally as English, though legally Canada is officially a bicultural nation. The complexities of Canadian culture will be discussed more fully in the bicultural section of the chapter. Thus religious, cultural, linguistic, and ethnic hegemony may prompt one to view a multicultural or bicultural society as monocultural, in as much as the dominant culture and group has the internal and international power and prestige to force others to accept its dominance. Monocultural homogenous societies may, as one author (Christopher, 1983) described Japan, be more accurately defined as comprising a ‘‘tribe.’’ It is this that promotes this sense of unity, cohesiveness, and national oneness. Since there are no powerful countervailing groups or values, a certain consistency is maintained. In the United States, Whites have collectively viewed themselves as a tribe despite their ethnic and religious differences. Because of this Blacks and Hispanics, and Native Americans when they have chosen to do so, must adapt themselves to the monocultural minds and values of the dominant group if they are to engage in the economics and politics of the society. Thus, America, despite the presence of diverse ethnic and linguistic groups, acts as if it is monocultural simply because the dominant White ethnic group, and here we include those of Irish, Italian, German, and Jewish heritage, together comprise what is called White America, behave as if groups of color, while difficult to ignore, do not, and cannot, define America, or what it is to be an American. These groups have been largely marginalized and have become and remain cultural outsiders. Though cultural outsiders, however, these outsiders and their culture, music, dance, and art, have greatly enriched the insider and dominant culture. This is just as true when one looks at the historic cultural borrowings of England from both Scotland and Wales, and one could also include Ireland, and the absorption of these borrowings into mainstream English culture, thus converting them to core English culture and values. A discussion of monoculturalism might prompt a review of Isaiah Berlin’s (1978) insightful differentiation between hedgehogs and foxes, and the assertion that ‘‘hedgehogs know one big thing.’’ We might say that the one thing cultural monists know are their unique societal values and ways of life. In such cultures there may be less social and normative doubt or secondguessing on expected behavior and social values. In such societies individuals are socialized from birth to view life and the world from

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particular group, religious, moral, and cultural perspectives, one deeply grounded in the collective history of the people. Because those in culturally monistic societies have had no need to consider ‘‘the other’’ or others, they had no desire or need to accommodate to others when they encounter the other, and they could relate to the other from the position that they need not adjust or adapt to the views and way of life of others since their values are superior. Thus, America is technically a multicultural society parading as a monocultural society. When one re-visits the Black Power Era and examines some of the issues which stood at the center of Black–White conflicts, they resided in concepts, definitions, and interpretations of the theory and practice of fairness, justice, and equity. Historically, they have challenged the assumptions of this cultural establishment over segregation in education, private and public establishments, and a host of issues in housing and employment. The central question in all of these matters concern the right of the majority culture to define its role as the only interpreter of democracy and liberty and its accompanying societal codes, manners, and mores. Returning to Berlin just as the hedgehog has no desire to know more than ‘‘one big thing,’’ the monoculturalist often lacks incentives to know or understand the culture and way of life of the other, since their presence may be negligible, and they are not present in large numbers. But even when they are present in large numbers, as is the case of large minorities in the United States, the tendency has been to ignore, marginalize, exclude, and denigrate, terrorize, and punish, if necessary. This was the pattern in South Africa before the fall of apartheid, and until more recent times, the way of life of the dominant group towards non-dominant groups in the United States. A militant, aggressive, and dogmatic monoculturalism takes a particularly pernicious direction when the monoculturalists are racially and ethnically different from other groups which may occupy the same territory. One might note the slaughter in Darfur where the Arab-controlled government in the Sudan has historically sought to impose an Arab cultural and religious hegemony over Sudanese from the South and West. This is intended to impose a monolithic Arab culture over non-Arab Southerners, and Muslim, but non-Arab Darfurians. A similar attempt to sustain its cultural hegemony over Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Macedonia was made by Serbia, which under Marshall Tito governed the political and geographical areas cobbled together and once known as Yugoslavia, which no longer exists. In the past two decades we have also seen this monocultural domination, when threatened, result in massive bloodshed as Hutus sought to dislodge the cultural and political hegemony of Tutsi in both Rwanda and Burundi. In both countries, Tutsi, the dominant group

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only comprised 15 percent of the population, whereas the Hutus comprised 85 percent. Currently, we are witnessing the dispute over presidential election results in Kenyans, in which the long dominant group, the Kikuyu, and the president-elect from this group, are under attack by another ethnic group, the Luo. What is apparent about the groups mentioned in this paragraph is the desire of one group to establish or continue its monoculturalist power in a highly diverse society. What is also true is that over time, when circumstances are advantageous to them, groups rebel against their historical status and attempt to destroy monoculturalism and fight for the right to establish a form of biculturalism, if not multiculturalism. The monoculturalist has no need to accommodate to the cultural needs, tastes, and preferences of others. There is no ‘‘ying and yang,’’ no dialectical wave, or variations on a theme. The national discourse tends towards a cultural unanimity, though as previously mentioned, class issue may intervene to cut away at some of the cultural unanimity.

RACIAL MINORITIES IN MONOCULTURAL SOCIETIES The monoculturalist in a monocultural society is attached to one place in time, and generally has one central self and group identity. For this reason the individual has a greater degree of certainty about life and the surrounding societal values. Then too, because single cultural perspectives provide individuals with clear lines of good and bad and right and wrong, the individual’s self assurance may be greatly enhanced. It is in this sense that those living in monocultural societies may be the proverbial ‘‘insiders,’’ though here no allowances are being made for major or minor distinctions of class or caste which are also prevalent in single culture societies. It is, however, often a perilous passage for minorities in such societies. If we simply use the United States as an example, our history is rife with the structural constraints which have inhibited entrance into the larger core society. There is no need to elaborate on these constraints in this chapter, for they are well known and researched. But the most poignant feature of the constraints and obstacles to advancements by minority groups has not been the constraints themselves, though they have exacted a toll on all racial and ethnic groups. Rather, the real story is the depth of the struggle advanced by these groups to alter their plight. If the monocultural citizen, usually the dominant racial, ethnic, religious, or linguistic group in a monocultural society has a degree of assurance and a strong sense of self grounded in early

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and continued patterns of socialization. This feeling is accompanied by a strong sense of ownership and possessiveness with respect to the culture (the material and the spiritual), and the land which composes the nation-state. In other words, this is their country, their values, and they are entitled to give the tidbits to others when, and if, they so desire. In general, many Black Americans grow up in a world that has already been created and decided for them. Class affiliations, type of education, neighborhood structure, and family cohesiveness all play important roles in determining whether individuals believe the opportunity structure is open or close. So it is from segregated enclaves that Blacks will encounter Whites from their own segregated enclaves each having been socialized on a version of Americanism, from their own group ethnic perspectives. The difference is that the White segregated enclave perspective represents the White norm which generally rejects the norms of the segregated Black ethnic enclave. The reality is that Black and White cultural perspectives are variations on a theme, but for Blacks adaptation to the White norms are necessary in the areas of education and employment. Whites, representing the majority, need not, nor do they have any desire to, adapt or adjust to the non-dominant group. This is the dilemma. The adaptation will always be one-sided, and hence, unequal and in many ways, unjust. So as Blacks encounter Whites within majority White organizations, many find that they must begin to create a new persona if they are to survive. So much is calibrated in predominately White organization that may be unfamiliar to Blacks and other minorities: the fixed smiles, the volume of voice when disagreeing, who would or should be one’s mentor, and who are trustworthy colleagues and those who one should avoid. Though some of these concerns might also affect members of the majority, they are much more likely to hamper the ability of minorities to work and play effectively in predominately White organizations. In many ways Blacks are more likely to feel the impact of the cultural encounters with the majority Whites within organization more so that Asians and Jews, given the class structure of both groups. Both groups are predominately middle class and are for this reason are in a greater degree of concordance with White middle class life and culture. This will be true unless specific Jews adhere to religious orthodoxy which entails a degree of separation from mainstream cultural values and behavior. The bicultural divide for Blacks and Whites born in the United States is predicated on the fact that they’ve long been a part of, and have drawn and molded and re-shaped themselves from similar cultural pools: the urban and the rural; lower, middle, and upper classes; the educated, semi-educated, and the welleducated; Democrats and Republicans; liberals, conservatives, radicals, and

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libertarians; men and women; Blacks, Whites, Asians, Hispanics, and Native Americans, and Protestant, Catholics, Jews, and Muslims. Aspirations and determinations may be similar or near similar, but moods, definitions, interpretations, and projections may differ. If the White–Black or Black–White theme is played out its because both groups are in a dialectical cultural dance, and whereas at times each might want to disengage, it is virtually impossible to do so, since each draws a part of its life from the other, and is somewhat dependent on the other. This may be seen more obviously in the idea of Black dependency on Whites, and may not be seen to clearly in the White dependency on Blacks. It is almost as if each group is saying, ‘‘we are they and they are we,’’ since each group has drawn much from the social and cultural pool of the other. But the issue of minorities in predominately monocultural societies transcend race and covers minority religions and languages, as well. Coptic Christians in Egypt are, at certain times, under great duress, especially if they are accused of proselytizing Moslems in order to convert them to Christianity. We also know of the policy of Saddam Hussein against the minority Kurd population and against the majority Shi ‘a population to maintain Sunni religious, political, economic, and cultural hegemony.

THE BICULTURALIST AS INSIDER–INSIDER There are individuals who live in two cultural worlds and believe themselves to be culturally and socially enriched by the differing institutions, customs, and social networks made available by this opportunity. Biculturalism among individuals may emerge due to marriage, birth, adoption, migration, because individuals simply choose to move from one cultural group to another, or because two groups live in close proximity and engage in trade and socio-cultural activities. Over time a degree of cultural exchange may occur, and a subordinate group may be forced to adopt some of the cultural attributes of a more dominant group from sheer individual and group survival. In the process of doing so, a degree of biculturalism emerges. Theoretically, the biculturalist as insider–insider can deftly move from culture milieu to another with varying degrees of difficulty. As a young Zairo-American (Wamba, 1998, pp. 162–64) describes his insider–insider biculturalism: To me, the gatherings on each side of my family felt the same; they had a warm sense of family and inclusion, though the sounds, smells, and sights of each environment were

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quite different. But I also knew that the two worlds were separate; when we immersed ourselves in one, it was as if the other did not exist y My nuclear family, a fusion of at least two cultures, bounced between them without really unifying them y we slipped from one to the other depending on the context, and keeping our dual heritage neatly divided.

Another individual (Ganesan, 1998) relates to biculturalism with the metaphor: ‘‘Its like owning two sets of silverware, wearing two kinds of coats y’’. The insider–insider has apparently made peace with a bicultural existence, and since as in the case cited earlier, life within each culture may be ‘‘neatly divided,’’ understanding and agreeing to obey the minimal rules necessary to navigate within each culture may make moving in and between two worlds less problematic. The desire of the participant to engage in each world is key to the insider–insider category, especially if there are tangible or intangible rewards, privileges, and rights associated with dual membership in both groups. But such a dual membership is often more difficult to experience if the cultural divide is accompanied by a color divide. For example, the example cited earlier which represented the ease with which Wamba moves within and between two worlds represented the African and African American worlds, and the contradictions between the two worlds were irreconcilable; he did not attempt to reconcile the irreconcilable: he simply approached each world as it presented itself to him and refrained from any attempt to merge the two. Vincent Parrillo (2005) writes of growing up as an American whose lineage was both Italian and Irish, and the degree of consciousness he felt towards the two divergent cultures, both of which gave him a sense of belonging, though neither was instrumental in igniting deep levels of ethnic consciousness. In reality one seldom encounters those who believe themselves to be insiders in both cultures, especially during youth, for it is during these years that biculturalism may be viewed more as ‘‘oppositional and contradictory.’’ Many bicultural individuals seem to arrive at a state of cultural peace, as one individual (Majaj, 1994) stated it, when they cease to view their bicultural status as a ‘‘clash of cultures,’’ but instead see it as ‘‘the dialectic of cultural relationism and cultural interactionism.’’ Reaching this stage, they are more likely to see themselves as having the right to ‘‘lay full claim to both identities.’’ It is important to note here that being at ease in both cultures does not mean or suggest that one is assured of having been accepted in both cultures. It simply means that the person is familiar with the cultural nuances and subtleties of both cultures and is unafraid of moving within and between the cultures, and less intimidated by the possibilities of rejection. When one studies the Black response to exclusion

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in this country, especially the response of the Black middle class that viewed its class and ethnic equality, and in some cases, class identity, though with some modifications, with the larger White middle class. Thus, the rejection of social egalitarianism based on ethnicity and race only highlighted the degree to which there were often similarities between Blacks and Whites along class lines; exclusion based on race only served to skew and diminish some of the commonalities. Ralph Ellison may be the classic ‘‘insider–insider.’’ He has always advanced a cultural duality which affirms, in equal measures, both Black and White cultural frameworks. He has argued, with great consistency, for the recognition of the co-joining of cultural motifs emanating from both the Black folk tradition and the Euro-American tradition. Indeed, he advances the argument that historically each culture has fed on the other in such a manner that it is virtually impossible to extract one from the other. And he is model insider–insider because he is at home in both, understands both, and rejects the ultra nationalists and cultural purists in both camps who wish to present and justify and force culture and life into a one-dimensional format. Ellison makes the case that though politics and economics are crucial, the lifeblood of a society is its cultural apparatus and the symbols, meanings, understandings, and values we create, re-create and refine over time. In America, according to Ellison (Graham & Singh, 1995), the cultural apparatus is of necessity, given the legacy of the country’s racial and ethnic history, dual. Citizens may respond to and engage in aspects of this cultural duality even when they are denied access to certain political and economic rights. Here he seems to be making the case for a modified version of cultural determinism. For Ellison as insider–insider it must be noted that the initial cultural grounding emanates from a Black sub-structural cultural base. The Euro-American attributes were affixed later as super structural cultural entities. Be that as it may, the exchanges and permutations between them enriches the American cultural landscape.

THE BICULTURALIST AS OUTSIDER–OUTSIDER The biculturalist may reject, and be rejected by the cultures to which some identification may logically be attached. As is true of all concepts, terms, and ideas, it is important to remember that except in rare cases, one’s biculturalism is seldom equally distributed between the two cultural worlds, and is not rare for the biculturalist to be more firmly rooted in the cultural world of the parent or grandparent who has the primary socializing responsibility. Thus,

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the biculturalist, though at ease with biculturalism, may tilt or feel much at home in one of the two cultural worlds. Yet particular circumstances may exist in the biculturalist may become an outsider in both cultural worlds. But this is not a simple one-way rejection; nor is it a two-fold rejection. Rather, it is a four-fold rejection: A person rejects and is rejected by a birth culture or early culture of socialization; A person rejects and is rejected by a non-birth culture into which he or she once lived or within which the individual lived in a degree of harmony. Du Bois’s chapter, ‘‘On the Coming of John,’’ in the Souls of Black Folk (1903) might be an appropriate example to illustrate this double outsiderness. John, a Black youth, is sent to a Northern university by Blacks and Whites in a small rural Southern community. Upon his return he is expected to direct and coordinate education in the Black schools. Before his departure he is an insider–insider in that he was born in the local Black community, and members of that community were proud of the local boy going away to learn the skills to assist him upon his return to the community; he also has the confidence of the local White community which also assisted him with funds. Upon his return he becomes the outsider–outsider, estranged from both communities, from Blacks because education made him a radical and local Blacks were not prepared to confront an angry White community with demands and the types of changes John wanted; from Whites because they wanted him to acquire an education, return to the small community, and continue to play the racial role to which he had been assigned. He rejected the insider role he had enjoyed in both communities; the two communities, in turn, rejected him. One of the key points here is that the bicultural individual is able to move within two separate cultures and worlds with minimum discomfort because the individual knows the cues and nuances of both worlds and is able to move with some deftness from one to another. Both Hannah Arendt and Isaac Deutscher outlined a scenario of the Jew as an outsider–outsider. For Arendt (1978) the term ‘‘pariah,’’ earlier described by Weber (1968) and Du Bois (1903), depicted a group as an outsider and excluded. Based on her German experience, being labeled a pariah does not necessarily induce greater group cohesiveness, especially among those who earlier gave up their ethnic/religious affiliations as a price for acceptance into the larger German or European society. Thus, having given up so much for acceptance in a society which continues to regard them as outsiders and pariahs, and having rejected their religious and ethnic community as restrictive and limiting, many among the pariahs become outsider–outsiders, or as this writer has labeled them, they become ‘‘dual marginals’’(Dennis, 2003). Having given up their Jewish faith did not diminish their Jewishness in the minds of the non-Jewish majority since this

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majority asserted that being Jewish constituted a race, thus converting to Christianity, or renouncing all religions would not detract, according to this logic, from one’s genetic heritage. Some members of pariah groups may, on the other hand, attempt to forge deeper linkers with their group, while others, eager to shed the pariah label quickly disengage from their birth culture and attempt to engage more firmly and concretely with the nonpariah society. Arendt simply makes the case that under certain historical circumstances, as in the case of Hitler, the movement to transcend one’s birth culture, or even to retain that culture and simply add the dominant culture as an appendage, may not work. Yet a rejection of one from a pariah culture being able to successful navigate across cultural realms in itself does not negate the bicultural experience and reality of members of pariah groups which have successfully adopted the ways and manners of a dominant culture. The difference is that in cases like Hitler’s Germany, the segregated South, or parts of the North, bicultural individuals were merely unable to practice certain features of their biculturalism. In this case, knowledge of another culture may not mean actually living unhampered within that culture. Isaac Deutscher’s (1968) concept of the ‘‘Non-Jewish Jew’’ epitomizes a class of thinkers who are Jewish by birth who have later rejected Judaism the religion, but who have retained certain cultural facets of their Jewish upbringing. Hence, they are non-Jews if Judaism is defined religiously, but they remain Jews if Jewishness is defined culturally. On certain levels they reside outside the Jewish community, but are, however, still identified by non-Jews as Jews. Having excluded themselves religiously from the Jewish community some may, like Spinoza, are ex-communicated and become pariahs to their people. They reside within the sphere of the outsider– outsider. Citing Heine, Marx, Spinoza, Freud, Trotsky, and Luxemburg as models, Deutscher defines these thinkers as those who felt constrained by a Judaism which he believes inhibits and narrows their intellectual scope, thus denying them access to a larger international and cosmopolitan world. And in as much as the thinkers mentioned adopted political and intellectual views, programs, and strategies which challenged the prevailing political and religious system, their views placed them not only outside the main currents of Judaism, but also of the larger non-Jewish world. There are other examples of outsider–outsider status, especially those involving inter-racial and inter-faith relations. Problems may be compounded when relations are both inter-racial and inter-faith. Being a dual outsider, inter-faith and racial, has been illustrated in accounts of being Ghanaian American (Danquah, 1998, p. 113) and achieving a final synthesis

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to the cultural dialectic of moving between being Ghanaian and American and feeling unaccepted in both: ‘‘I have lived my life as an alien, an outsider trying to find a way and a place to fit in y [through the experience of becoming an American citizen] y I have come to think of myself not as a citizen of one country or another but, rather, of an entire world.’’ Yet another bicultural mosaic gets played out the Black–Jewish situation. This is often the most problematic for biracial children and adults. Individuals and groups may oppose biracial children and adults because they are biracial and because they are the children of Jews. Given the levels of anti-Semitism it is often difficult to know if the opposition is due to race, religion, or both (Segal, 1997; McKinley, 2002). Also, given anti-Black sentiments among many Jews and anti-Jewish sentiments among Blacks, and given the national acceptance of the one-drop rule by both Whites and Blacks in America, the Jew who is of Black and Jewish ancestry is never completely sure if rejection by Blacks is skepticism due to being Jewish or being of mixed ancestry; likewise, rejection of the individual by Jews of European origins may be part and parcel of the misinformation among many Jews of European origins who incorrectly assume that the only authentic Jews are those of European origins. They therefore view Jews of African American descent as ‘‘inauthentic,’’ and hence, not truly Jewish. But there may also be an element of anti-Black sentiment which factors into a rejection of Jews of Black ancestry. The books by Segal and McKinley highlight and document both sides of this issue. But as some outsider–outsiders might seek to resolve their status by rejecting both sides of the cultural dialectic by becoming ‘‘citizens of the world,’’ others might seek a resolution, and a sense of peace and revitalization, by burrowing deeply into one of the two cultural strands. In doing so, they become insider–outsider, the next category.

THE BICULTURALIST AS INSIDER–OUTSIDER In literary, sociological, and psychological studies, there are probably more examples of insider–outsider status than the previous dichotomous statuses discussed earlier. This is true for several reasons, the first of which is the difficulty and rarity of vast numbers of individuals and groups living in societies as outsider–outsiders or as insider–insiders. The ambivalences, contradictions, and inconsistencies of life, situations, and people militate against such insider–insider harmony; likewise, despite fragmented societies, and in spite of the various cultural, religious, and political divides, no

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society could withstand the deep and constant alienation and marginality which would afflict the society characterized largely by outsider–outsider status. This is especially the case given the on-going contemporary demographic and economic shifts which have, without long or short-term planning, caused groups of differing races, ethnicities, and languages to occupy similar political and social terrains. The insider–outsider context highlights individuals who, due to cultural, racial, ethnic, religious, or linguistic differences, are labeled as outsiders and hence subjugated to a larger powerful group with whom they interact. This interaction occurs in an arena in which social status, privileges, and honors are accrued to insider, privileged, groups. The converse is true for outsider groups they are relegated to an inferior social position and status. However, outsider status need not place groups totally on the periphery of the society: education mobility, economic success and power, and political acuity, and cultural assimilation make it possible for many outsiders to move more intimately and concretely into outsider society. Specifically, the idea of the insider–outsider points to the social inconsistencies and ambivalences rampart in societies with class, race, ethnic, religious, and language differences. For it is possible for some members of outsider groups to become insiders (Biale, Galchinsky, & Heschel, 1998; Goldberg & Krausz, 1993) on certain levels given the magnitude of their presence in key areas of the society. In American society Blacks are closer to being insiders in areas of sports and entertainment, though for years issues of ownership and management have clouded discussions regarding control. However, in America Jews represent a classic example of the insider–outsider; the history of Jews in America has been a history of group ostracism and exclusion due to religious discrimination and early immigrant status. However, because of Jewish cultural traditions and their adeptness in small businesses, crafts, and the trades in Europe, Jews were generally able to become upwardly mobile faster than any other immigrant group, thus ensuring their cultural and economic success in areas and ways superseding Anglo-Americans. For these reasons Jews became insiders in that on all indicants of success, according to the dominant culture’s guidelines, income, education, professional standing, etc., they were at the top of the list. Jews were still, however, different from the dominant group, especially religiously. This difference was also manifested among Jews who had forsaken Judaism and only identified themselves as cultural Jews. For many Jews moving into insider status meant abandoning Judaism, or at least, being less Jewish in organizational affiliations and social networks. For observant and religious Jews the insider–outsider cleavage was sharper because it meant being and

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remaining bicultural and engaging in a number of cultural shifts in a variety of situations involving food, time allocations, etc. Richard Rodriguez (1982) and Ruben Navarrette Jr (1993) present insider–outsider critiques from Mexican American perspectives. As youngsters both rejected Latino culture, especially the Spanish language, and sought swift assimilation into the Anglo core culture. Their language and birth culture made them outsiders, however, their intellect and the ease with which they absorbed facets of the dominant culture, even in both cases, an unwillingness to respond to family members in Spanish, illustrate how deep were their desires to stamp out and erase differences between themselves and their Anglo peers and the reference group to which they aspired by denying the validity of their culture, language, and way of life. In their well-written narratives they both described the psychological and emotional cost of losing the Latino self. In both books there are deeply felt regrets from having losing a past, but not finding a new self that was culturally fulfilling. Navarrette stops his assimilation journey in mid-stream, reassesses the costs and benefits, then makes a hundred degree turn, forsakes the assimilative path, and returns to a Chicano self. His insider–outsider status takes a unique turn as he earlier sought to be an outsider in Chicano culture and become an insider in Anglo society. However, he ends his narrative by redoubling an effort to rejoin the Chicano culture he once rejected, and by rejecting the Anglo culture he once accepted. Rodriguez presents a more nuanced Mexican American self, one which initially begins with what many might view as a cultural handicap his ‘‘willful’’ attempt move away from Spanish and speak only English and the struggles with his immediate family and relatives as refuses to learn Spanish and distances himself from Mexican American culture. Both books analyze questions of culture and identity and the price some may pay for cultural assimilation and whether the price is worth the psychological and sociological distancing. Dennis’s (2007a, 2007b) study of Black intellectuals provides yet another example of the insider–outsider dichotomy. Contemporary Black intellectuals are unique in that they constitute the first generation of Black intellectuals who have been employed as professors in predominately White colleges and universities thus making them nominal ‘‘insiders.’’ Lacking the language obstacle encountered by Latinos, Blacks nonetheless come to the larger core Anglo culture with a unique variation of the core culture shaped by the racial subjection, exclusion, and oppression. They thus approach that culture as outsiders in as much as they have been kept, until recently, outside of the institutional and organizational networks of the larger society.

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Though the study is not yet complete some initial findings suggest that the insider position of formerly outsider Blacks may be less pronounced than formerly believed; the insider position and role are more tenuous than one might assume. According to this study Blacks do not become outsiders in their culture as they move into predominately White institutions. Nor do they become, or define themselves, as insiders. The work obligations and roles often push many Blacks into positions whereas it might be assumed that they have become insiders, but many Blacks employed within these institutions do not view themselves as insiders; if they do, it is only partially so. Additionally, many intellectuals are attached to varying degrees to institutions and organizations within predominately Black communities. If their institutional affiliations are not physically located within Black communities they tend to be national in scope and are focused primarily on vital issues related to Black communities. So it is that even a movement into predominately White communities does not curtail relationships with Black communities, as the vast majority of Blacks continue to attend predominately Black churches located in or near predominately Black communities. There are, however, examples of Blacks (1980–1981) for whom the insider–outsider label has meant the rejection of the Black world and a disaffiliation with Black organizations and groups and affiliations with White groups and organizations. Those who have followed this model may justify this action as appropriate if society is to demolish all the vestiges of segregation and move towards social integration. In a sense those who have accepted this model are using themselves as subjects in an inter-group experiment, whereas, those described in the previous paragraph are not necessarily trying to advance any particular view of the racial world. Rather, they are concerned foremost with using their academic talents and skills in the classroom, and often their organizational affiliations are work-related. There is thus a tentativeness about Blacks in White academies, and some of the tentativeness is related to issues of the newness of Blacks in these institutions, matters of tenure and promotion, job security, and the contemporary shrinking academic marketplace. But there are inherent contradictions for the insider–outsider as this was poignantly stated by Leonard Fein (1988) when he refers to Jewish insider–outsider status and the constant search among Jews to validate how and why they differ from non-Jews in ways which might reflect deeper meanings and the ultimate purpose of Judaism. What Fein (1988, p. 135) asserts is that Jews, and Blacks may be included, often refer to themselves in terms suggestive of a degree of essentialism. However, a thorough critique of essentialism for

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Blacks and Jews might take both groups down an ‘‘identity’’ path both would reject, for ‘‘y it would require of us an assertion of difference we are not prepared to make. It is one thing to ‘feel’ different, special; it is another to give a name to the difference. We want it-why not?-both ways: we want to see ourselves as different, but not to be seen as different; we do not want others to see us as we see ourselves, not at all. For if they did, we fear that we might be marked as outsiders, breachers of the American ethic.’’

POWER, CONFLICT, AND BICULTURALISM Power and conflict are intricately linked to the idea and actual existence of biculturalism. The theory itself simply suggests situations and conditions whereby two cultural frameworks coexist within one political and geographical entity. But as was explicate earlier, where two or more cultures confront each other, whether due to different groups wandering in close proximity on common location, or whether one group has been defeated in warfare, or for a number of political reasons an area has been annexed by a group adhering to a different language, religion, or culture, the relationship between the two entities are, and possibly will continue to be, steeped in power and conflict relations. Thus, power politics provides the tool by which we understand whether or not a formal bicultural state is established, and if not, why. This is why despite the recent political devolution in Scotland and Wales, the United Kingdom will essentially be defined as an English political, cultural, and social entity. Devolution is not likely to erase more than four hundred years of English hegemony. The same can be said of Canada. Despite attempts to assert a degree French-Canadian independence and to force biculturalism on the English-speaking provinces of Canada, the lopsided power enjoyed by English Canadians means that outside of the formal symbolic biculturalism to which they must adhere, there is no force in Canada which propels actual biculturalism to occur. Power and conflict in bicultural Canada can be seen in frustrated attempts by many Frenchspeaking Canadians to opt for separatism and in some cases, terrorism, as a path to greater French-Canadian autonomy and perhaps independence. When Canadians have voted on issues of greater autonomy or independence for French Canada, the measure has gone down in defeat. Power and conflict are even more evident in the Kingdom of Belgium, where currently that nation has just recently voted in a new government after nearly a year due the squabbling by French and Dutch-speaking politicians. Each linguistic group, the Wallons (French), and the Flemish

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(Dutch) zealously and jealously guides its linguistic terrain, trying whenever possible to push its language deeper into the terrain of the other. In some cases it is a street-by-street linguistic guerilla warfare as each group attempts to stamp its cultural stamp on territory formerly held by the other. When we compare which of the bicultural units is more dispose to speak the language of the other one finds stark differences between Canadians and Belgium; whereas English Canada, the more industrial and the better educated unit in bicultural Canada, learns and speaks less French. Flanders, the Flemingspeaking more industrial and better educated segment of Belgium have more citizens who speak and understand French (Wallons). For the Englishspeaking Canadians this may simply be a case of cultural and nationalistic snobbery. The less industrial and less educated Wallons, in contrast, understand and speak less Flemish (Dutch). This may be a case of cultural and linguistic imperialism. For some nations biculturalism may be the next best thing to their risking a loss of a portion of their territory due to the nationalistic zeal of linguistic and cultural units with lingering historical grievances which they believe to have been largely unaddressed, addressed only partially, or completely ignored. In the United States many businesses have begun to print brochures and formatted their telephone answering systems to reflect the growing number of Latinos currently in certain sections of the country. Never before has there been an attempt to quickly establish another language and culture as an addition to, or substitute for, English. However, never before has there been such a massive entry of immigrants of any country until the present wave of immigrant, most of whom are largely illegal, into the country. The question of linguistic biculturalism in the United States can be said to be in flux, especially due to the now accelerated attempts by the government to deport many illegals. It is, therefore, impossible to know whether Spanish bilingualism will take roots. However, even if it does not, Latino culture is taking roots in many parts of the country, and reflect the degrees of assimilation, acculturation, and integration of Latinos to the larger core culture that is taking place. Whether Latino biculturalism takes roots will depend upon the larger English-speaking population, the degree of perceived threat by the immigrants, and their willingness to concede to the formation of public displays of Spanish language documents, exams, voting instructions, job applications, etc. But for the two largest culturally distinct ethnic groups in the United States. – Blacks and Latinos – issues of power and conflict will be paramount as they both encounter the larger White Anglo groups in schools, at work, and their daily encounters in the socio-political world. The gist of the

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bicultural experience on the micro and personal level is the mingling of experiences and the sense of sharing which becomes a part of the experience. Just as nations operate on a dialectical screen with respect to biculturalism, so must individuals. Major and minor groups must be willing to compromise in the common market place of ideas and behavior, and all groups must be willing to learn from each other and understand and empathize with each other. Like biculturalism in Canada and Belgium, biculturalism for groups in institutional and organizational settings will often operate in a climate of tension and conflict, but such conflicts are almost inevitable in such settings and groups must be careful of not blowing issues out of proportion. Biculturalism is quite frankly one of the tests of a nations’ sensitivity and sensibility regarding the care and value of the individual and the group in a civilized society.

CONCLUSION The bicultural experience takes place in a variety of settings and operates differently for majority and minority groups. For this reason, it makes a difference whether one is a member of a majority group and one’s culture is the dominant culture in the bicultural schema. It also matters whether the biculturalism is built into the structure of the society, as it is in Canada, or whether the mere existence of different groups and languages prompt many to define a society as bicultural when there are few, if any, provisions for any bicultural impetus institutionally or organizationally. The United States represents the latter model. Yet, despite the structural biculturalism of Canada the national biculturalism is lopsided in that close to 80 percent of French-Canadians speak both French and English, but fewer than 30 percent of English Canadians speak French. Technically, there is biculturalism in French Canada, not in English Canada. Add to this is the fact that in much of the world Canada is seen primarily as an Englishspeaking nation, and is a long-standing member of the English-led Commonwealth of Nations. Canada may yet serve as a model to demonstrate that a nation may declare itself as structurally bicultural, yet encounter resistance on the part of one member of the bicultural division so as to partially negate national biculturalism. The description of biculturalism through the use of social types speaks not only to the complexity of cultures, especially biculturalism. Thus, one’s behavior and interaction may differ depending on one’s status as an insider– insider, outsider–outsider, or insider–outsider. Each type would suggest a

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different response depending upon one’s status as either an insider or outsider. With each type it is important to remember that, especially for minority groups, it may be rare to become total insiders in majority institutions and organizations, just as it is often rare for members of minority groups to become total outsiders within their own groups. These types simply represent tendencies and variations on themes. They also are intended to be correctives to early twentieth century models and theories of marginality. Just as we could assume degrees of tensions with early theories of marginality, especially the marginality illustrated by individuals denied access to one world yet rejected by the second world. Rather than tensions due exclusion, what we may have today are tensions due to partial acceptance and inclusion after generations of non-acceptance and exclusion. Biculturalism represents an unfreezing of cultures and a recognition of the cultural validity of another group. The difficulty of establishing its legitimacy can be attributed to the cultural hegemony of certain groups and the cultural suppression of others. The reality is that humans are surprisingly culturally plural; that is, humans are perfectly capable of biculturality. Indeed, most of the world exists in bicultural or multicultural spheres, and it is often cultural arrogance and cultural suppression which sustain cultural monism. Human cultural adaptability has been one of the great achievements of virtually every society, and this cultural adaptability will continue to be one of the great hallmarks of societal progress and ingenuity.

REFERENCES Arendt, H. (1978). The Jew as pariah. New York: Grove Press. Berlin, I. (1978). Russian thinkers. New York: Viking Press. Biale, D., Galchinsky, M., & Heschel, S. (Eds). (1998). Insider/outsider. Berkeley: University of California Press. Christopher, R. C. (1983). The Japanese mind. New York: Simon and Schuster. Danquah, M. N.-A. (1998). Life as an Alien. In: C. O’Hearn Claudine (Ed.), Half and half. New York: Pantheon Books. Dennis, R. (2007a). The making of Black intellectuals. Fenwick Fellow lecture, April, George Mason University. Dennis, R. (2007). The intellectual as a representative of the ‘New Black’: Challenges for the 21st century. In: D. Coates & R. Dennis (Eds), The new black: Alternative paradigms and strategies for the 21st century. Amsterdam: Elsevier Press. Dennis, R. M. (2003). Towards a theory of dual marginality: Dual marginality and the dispossessed. In: W. T. Orville (Ed.), IDEAZ (Vol. 2, Issue 1, pp. 21–31). Deutscher, I. (1968). The non-Jewish Jew. In: T. Deutscher (ed.), Non-Jewish Jew and other essays. London: Merlin Press.

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Du Bois, W. E. B. ([1903]1968). The souls of Black folk. New York: Fawcett Publications. Fein, L. (1988). Where are we: The inner life of America’s Jews. New York: Harper and Row. Ganesan, I. (1998). Food and the immigrant. In: C. O’Hearn (Ed.), Half and half. New York: Pantheon Books. Goldberg, D. T., & Krausz, M. (Eds). (1993). Jewish identity. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Graham, M., & Singh, A. (Eds). (1995). Conversations with Ralph Ellison. Jackson: University of Mississippi Press. Majaj, L. S. (1994). Boundaries, borders, Horizons. In: C. Camper (Ed.), Miscegnation blues: Voices of mixed race women. Toronto: Sister Vision Press. McKinley, C. (2002). The book of Sarahs. Washington, DC: Counterpoint. Navarrette, R., Jr. (1993). A darker shade of crimson: Odyssey of a Harvard Chicano. New York: Bantam Books. Parrillo, V. N. (2005). Ethnic separation, marginality, blending, and decline. In: J. Myers (Ed.), Minority voices. Boston: Pearson. Rodriguez, R. (1982). Hunger of memory. New York: Bantam Books. Segal, J. C. (1997). Shades of community and conflict: Biracial adults of African-American and Jewish-American heritages. Wright Institute: Dissertation. Com. Wamba, P. (1998). A middle passage. In: C. O’Hearn (Ed.), Half and half. New York: Pantheon Books. Weber, M. (1968). Economy and society. New York: Bedminster Press.

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BICULTURALISM AND THE DIALECTICS OF IDENTITY Rutledge M. Dennis Societies may be structurally bicultural, but most of us are actually born into a network of family and kinship relationships overwhelmingly monocultural. This means that in most cases we must ‘‘learn’’ to be bicultural, a process made more problematic by even advocates of biculturalism who prefer that those within their group remain emotionally on their own side of the bicultural line, even as they understand and live on the ‘‘other’’ side of the cultural divide the vast. Hence, bicultural societies may exist, but that does not mean that both cultures have equal powers, or that there is high mutual respect for each other. For example, Canada is formally and structurally bicultural, yet more than 80% of French Canadians speak and understand English, but only about 30% of English Canadians understand and speak French; as far as many English Canadians are concerned, Canada is an English-speaking nation, and that’s how they wish it to be. So a nation may very well be biculturally structured yet operate as if it were monocultural. In the United States we have had a similar disfiguration in our discussion of three centres of cultural power: Catholics, Protestants, and Jews. Like Canada’s theoretical biculturalism, our depiction of the theory of three cultural power bases in a manner which suggested great equity between the three was far from the existing reality between the groups. Canada and the U.S. are similar in that they have historically encouraged immigrants to join the ‘‘native’’ population. They are also similar in that both nations began the quest for nation state status Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 31–48 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15003-6

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with a large population that was ethnically different. In the case of Canada it was the French Canadian; in the U.S. it was the African/black population. In Canada issues related to cultural assimilation were stymied by language and cultural differences. There were also latent antagonisms between the French and English over their previous warfare in Canada, as well as English–French historical rivalry in Europe. In the U.S. despite the differences between the various European groups that immigrated here, these difference pale in comparison to the differences between Africans and European, the most important of which was the slave status of the overwhelming majority of Africans. The differences were seen as impossible to bridge, such that citizenship and social equally were not seemed likely. As the slow assimilation of European immigrants began identity crises would surface. Thomas and Znaniecki (1927) document the identity among the polish peasants who immigrated to the U.S. It would be impossible to assume that slavery did not shape the African perspective on their American reality, but the most profound feature of African slavery was not the slavery itself. Rather, it was the fact that slavery, though destructive and inhumane, prompted Africans under numerous name identifications: African Americans, Coloreds, Blacks, and Negroes to wage silent, and not so silent struggles, to steel themselves against committing a collective suicide, but instead to ‘‘will’’ themselves into a mode conducive to first, survival, then adaptation of a ‘‘waiting strategy’’ that would proffer and encourage group creativity in the face of all attempts to demean and destroy them. The collective ‘‘willing’’ and ‘‘waiting’’ must be seen as important strategies used by both Du Bois and Washington, though each had different permutations and time-frames with which to assess these strategies. Though identity issues continue to plague French Canadians the fact that they compose the largest population percentage in Quebec, and have much control in the province, has kept the identity issue within bounds, though for them their identity crisis was, and is, generated around the unequal power distribution between Quebec and the other provinces. One of the earliest sociological and psychological issues attached to identity and identification among blacks is the fact that they constituted a people without a territory. The Irish and the Italians could, if they desired, return to Ireland or Italy, their respective homelands. Blacks, like Jews, but unlike the Irish and Italian, had no homeland, and were seen as unassimilationable, that is, until Jews became white, after which time they ceased to view themselves as a part of the non-white immigrant world; henceforth, they would be seen by the white majority, as a part, albeit a disjointed part, of the white majority.

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The ‘‘Who am I?’’ question posed by Du Bois in conjunction with his concept of double consciousness would be a more profound for blacks than it would be for Jews, because when Du Bois raised the question for blacks, Jews were still either largely anchored to their religion, and for those not so anchored, secularism might have provide a suitable answer. Indeed, the ‘‘Who am I?’’ question, though fraught with deeply philosophical underpinnings, may have had more practical and utilitarian usefulness. From the writings of Du Bois, Washington, and Woodson on through the Harlem Renaissance it was clear that Americans of African origins saw themselves as just that: Americans of African origins. It is also clear that these Americans wanted to see themselves as Americans and engage in the activities which would highlight their Americanness. They were, of course, aware of the extent to which whites were unwilling to concur with this view; indeed they were aware of the steps, formally and informally, they would take to insure that the status of blacks would always remain secondary whites. If we take the ‘‘Who am I?’’ to be one of Du Bois’s concerns, he answers the question in various ways throughout The Souls of Black Folk. He identified himself as both black (Negro-African) and American; as his Negro-Africanness was not the same as that found in Africa or the Caribbean, his Americanness was not similar to the white ethnic Americanness. On both identities he saw black Americans as unique. This is why he answers the question and really does not return to the question in subsequent books, except in minor ways. In the then bicultural world of blacks and whites the question may be directed toward a lack of ‘‘place,’’ as well as the question of ‘‘Where can I go to escape this domination?’’, or ‘‘How can I take care of my loved ones?’’ The reality is that individuals and groups tend not to ask ‘‘Who am I?’’ if they are duly involved in work, religion, family life, and the social networks which sustain individual and community life. This is why the question is a uniquely Du Boisian question, seldom raised by subsequent sociologists and social historians, and when raised, only done in reference to Du Bois’s ideas and works. The links between biculturalism and identity are cogently seen when placed against a background of ethnicity, power, and intergroup and national and international history. Being the target of discrimination, exclusion, and oppression will force groups to develop alternative values and institutions, and eventually a ‘‘culture of the oppressed.’’ The shape and formation of this culture will largely depend on the oppressed group’s religious values and institutions, music, art, etc., and whether it has had, or continue to have, no contact, minimal contact, or unlimited contact and intense interaction with the dominant group. The contact variable is

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important because the degree of contact and the existence and strength of its own cultural framework may determine how strongly a group will identify with its own cultural values or those of the dominant group. But the identity question, ‘‘Who Am I ?’’, would not be a question posed by a majority of the oppressed. Rather, it is one which might be presented by one, such as Du Bois, who is beginning to move, has already moved, or is deeply rooted in a bicultural world or in bicultural situations. For the African American, present and past, the imponderables and paradoxes between social status, racial ideology, and economics represented a chasm not readily closed by laws or by the changing racial attitudes whose changes were less than arithmetic, and not geometric. The question of identity vis-a-vis biculturalism is twofold in that both collective and individual (self) identities must be explicated. However, ultimately the schema is four-fold and dialectical, because in addition to the juxtaposition and interaction of two cultures there is pole on which questions of collective and individual (self) identity must be filtered. Writers such as Ellison, Wright, Hughes, Du Bois, J.W. Johnson, and others, have provided ample autobiographical sketches of their ‘‘coming of age’’ years so as to permit us to understand their self identity formation and their unique rite of passage against the backdrop of the collective community identity. Given the stifling racial segregation of the early twentieth century, the talent and perspicacity of these writers permitted them to seek diverse and creative avenues whereby respective talents might surface. So as one reads the autobiographical sketches one is aware of the tensions and stresses within the individual writers themselves. But there is also the knowledge of the tensions in these writers between who they are and their own individual aspirations and expectations and what their communities might expect of them. Understanding a bicultural world entails an assessment of how groups with different and unique values, norms, customs, habits, and historical and contemporary myths rooted in divergent religious, linguistic, and ethnic differences coexist and interact with varying degrees of tension. The question then arises as to the types of group identifications and individual self identities which are possible in such bicultural settings. With respect to identity the paramount question is how we ‘‘become’’ members of a cultural group, identify with the group, and how our identity is defined and shaped by specific issues, especially if group membership means membership in a group with either positive or negative status. Another question which is secondary up to our late childhood years is the emergence of the self and the rise of individual ego. That we are individuals with distinct selves and egos

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which are stirred and motivated by ideas, values, and sensitivities which are uniquely personal and private is well known. The remainder of the chapter will focus on three themes and questions: (1) What types of collective group identity emerge in a bicultural setting, especially one in which one group is significantly smaller, racially and ethnically different, and has had a history of slavery and, until most recently, a history of collective social and racial exclusion and discrimination? (2) How does ‘‘self identity’’ emerge among those who are members of oppressed groups? (3) What is the process of becoming bicultural?

COLLECTIVE IDENTITY AND THE INNER ‘‘WE’’ GROUP How we become a part of group, identify with the group, and acquire a ‘‘we’’ feeling is both simple and complex. We may absorb groupness either because we were born into the group, or because we have made a decision to choose membership into the group. In this subsection the former will be our focus, and since we have already broached the African American theme we will explain collective identity matters from this perspective. Cultural absorption takes place informally. Informally we take in the world around as infants and children, wherein we see objects and faces and bodies in action. So our informal socialization as infants and children entails an observation of bodies in motion, faces displaying a variety of expressions, and voices of varying pitches, tones, and intensities. These all convey something to infants and children, especially if the voices are loud and angry or quiet and soothing. But children also observe laughter and how those around them laugh, cry, and express joy. They observe our walk, how we dance, how we sing, and how we hold our bodies. Granted, some behavioral patterns are inherited, but can often trace certain individual actions and behaviors to the actions and behavior of individuals in their immediate family and network settings. In Lewinian terms, we would be viewing individual behavior ‘‘in the field.’’ Being born into a group, and being surrounded and engulfed by all the sounds, symbols, images, and smells of the group leads to an identification with all of theses features. More importantly, being held by family members and close kin, and engaging in the games played, and other interaction, long

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before we come into close contact with outsiders, bind us closer to family and kin. This closeness develops familiarity, trust, and provides children with feelings of security. The more we see family and kin the more we are at ease and see ourselves as members of the group. The informal indicants of informal socialization into the collective group are reflective of a collective identity reality even as allowances must be made for class differences within the collectivity. But class differences merely change the nature of the material objects in the surroundings, or the places and individuals observed. Such class differences need not inherently change or alter one’s closeness the collective group identity or to feelings of being a member of the ‘‘we’’ group. For example, whether one is a high-church Episcopalian or a Pentecostal may or may not have significance in the dynamics of a black community, but these internal class differences meant little to those intent on subjugating all blacks to the rigors of rigid racial discrimination irrespective of class affiliations. On a formal level the socialization which allows us to acquire a collective group identity in bicultural societies depend upon group status and power relations between groups, and the degree to which social and cultural values and institutions have been deeply embedded into the group’s sociology and psychology. For example, discussions of collective group identification have centered around questions such as ‘‘What does it mean to be Black?’’, ‘‘What does it mean to be Jewish?’’, or ‘‘What does it mean to be Hispanic?’’ A formal approach to a collective group identification entails a degree of formal knowledge and instructions in those ideas, stories, and assumptions which are believed by the group to express some of the essence of what it means to be a part of the group. Or what should one know or do, and how should one behave if one is to be a part of the group? That is, what attributes should a member have which would permit others to recognize him or her as a member? Such formally taught items such as tales, folklores, games, and front and back-porch stories, when told and re-told, played and re-played, embed themselves in the psyche and are indelible features of one’s memory bank; with each retelling and re-call, and with each play and re-play a degree of group solidarity and communal ties are ignited and re-ignited. This is why one may travel throughout the South and find similar stories, tales, and games. These highlight the identity issue because in bicultural societies, whether the biculturalism is formal or not, groups are separated along many parameters deep enough that divergent views of reality and objectivity will emerge. This is why despite his assertions of the deep comingling of black and white perspectives in the making of American culture, Ralph Ellison is not unmindful of the fact that if black creativity is to

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flourish and influence the larger American culture, black creative artists must continue to well-grounded in black folklore and history. In one sense, the ‘‘Who am I?’’ question related to identity, ethnicity, and culture must transcend a mere association of color, language, or religion with identity. Instead, the ‘‘Who am I?’’ question must probe the meaning of being what one is, what one purports to be, or how others define who one is, and raise the question of ‘‘What does it mean to ask the question ‘Who am I?’ or ‘What am I?’ For many, the question appears to evoke an essentialist view of the person or the group. Such a view engulfs the person or group in an a-historic framework, such that, for example, ones Blackness, Jewishness, or Hispanicne is an unchanging essence of ones being which cannot be altered by internal changes with the group, nor can it be changed by any number of external situations likely to impinge on the group. Ralph Ellison (1993, p. 101) addressed the question of what it means to be black, or said another way, the parts which come together to compose the structure of black identity. Simply put, what makes one black? According to Ellison being black means (1) growing up under certain cultural conditions; (2) being a part of the experiences that shaped the culture; (3)growing up with, and creating a body of folklore; (4) hang a certain sense and perspective on American history; (5) growing up with a certain psychology; (6) having knowledge of and engaging in the experiences around black cuise; and (7) understanding and engaging in the various forms of expressions emanating out of black communities. Ellison had made even more extensive and emphatic comments on becoming and being black earlier in his book, Shadow and Act (Ellison, 1966, pp. 136–137): It is not skin color which makes a Negro American but cultural heritage as shaped by the American experience, the social and political predicament; a sharing of the ‘‘concord of sensibilities’’ which the group expresses through historical circumstances and throughwhich it has come to constitute a subdivision of the larger American culture. Being a Negro American has to do with the memory of slavery and the hope of emancipation and the betrayal bu allies and the revenge and contempt inflicted by our former masters after the Reconsturction, and the myths, both Northern and Southern, which are proprogated in justification of that betrayal. It involves, too, a special attitude towards the waves of immigrants who have come later and passed us by. It has to do with a special perspective on the national ideals and the national conduct, and with a tragicomic attitude toward the universe. It has to do with special emotions evoked by the details of cities and countrysides, with forms of labor and with forms of pleasures;with sex and with love, with food and with drink, with machines and with animals; with climates and with dwellings, with places of worship and places of entertainment; with garments and dreams and idioms of speech; with manners and customs, with religion and art, of predicament and fate which gives direction and

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Ellison’s comments shed light on the cultural milieu of the collective and the body of knowledge and understandings a people will have and engage in about themselves overtime. Such a cultural framework is worked and reworked by adherents of the culture over and over again as new generations extend, reassess, modify, and excise certain cultural attributes. That Ellison had to learn black cultural values and all of its atributes can be read throughout the chapters in Shadow and Act. Since we are concerned wi how one formally acquires the culture a description of Ellison’s cultural rite of page is instructive. Ellison (1966) learned about black life from a variety of sources. He was avid reader and knew of national black cultural life from reading the Pittsburgh Crier and the Chicago Defender. He frequented barber shops where men avidly discuses black sports personalities and musicians, and while a youth his home was close to many of the bars and night clubs where jazz and blues performers appeared, and he would meet a become friends of these performers such as Jimmy Rushing and Count Basie. And though he never experienced it first-hand, Ellison had many high-school friends who, during the fall cotton-picking session, left school for rural Oklahoma to pick cotton. According Ellison, ‘‘y those trips to the cotton patch seemed to me an enviable experience because the kids came back with wonderful stories.’’ These stories would remain a part of the psyche and inform him of those aspects of black life he had not experienced: ‘‘a it wasn’t the hard work which they stressed, but the communion, the playing, the ting, the dancing and the singing. And they brought back jokes, our Negro jokes – not those to about Negroes by whites – and they always returned with Negro folk stories which d never heard before and which couldn’t be found in any books I knew about. This s something to affirm and I felt there was a richness in it.’’ The creation of dual social and cultural systems by formal and informal discrimination has contributed to the creation and the deepening of black

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cultural motifs. Thus Ellison’s description of his own immersion into black socio-cultural life was an inevitable identity-anchor for him and millions of others. My own formal immersion into strands of black cultural life was not unlike Ellison’s. As a youngster I noticed that the style, tones, and words, and gestures delivered in sermons, and heard in spirituals, hymns, and gospels sung by Reformed Episcopalians, Episcopalians, Baptists, Methodists, Seventh Day Adventists, and the various Pentecostal churches reflected in varying degrees the flavor and substance of the local community. If different, the differences merely signified variations on a theme. Throughout elementary and high school teachers supplemented our furnished textbooks as they were racist and reflected the prevailing Southern view of blacks. Because of the supplements and because we attended weekly chapel services, non-religious, where we were exposed to film clips of Marion Anderson, Katherine Dunham, Roland Hayes, Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Lena Horne, Dorothy Manor, and others. In Jack Johnson’s Royal Barber Shop on America Street we youngsters listened intensely as older men sat in the back of the shop playing checkers, while others discussed and argued about Joe Louis, Sugar Ray Robinson, Jessie Owens, Archie Moore, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays, and Roy Campanella. At other times they argued over who was better: Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzsgerald, Sarah Vaughn, or Dinah Washington; at other times they argued over whose blues was better: Bull Moose Jackson, Charles Brown, Big Joe Turner, Amos Milburn, Jimmie Reed, Lonnie Johnson, or Roy Brown. They also discussed the merits and differences in styles and performances between Mahalia Jackson, Sister Rosetta Tharp, and Clara Ward. During these discussions women were seldom in the barber shop; many would drop their sons off, inquire how many were ahead of them, and indicate when they would return. Even if once in awhile a mother waited for her sons, they were silent and never engaged in any discussions and arguments. Barber shop discussions were all-male discussions. Generally, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, or sisters who brought young males to the barber shop either returned home, visited friends or relatives, shopped, or headed to one of the beauty shop Julia’s, Adele’s, or Miss Lottie’s. I always listened to the above discussions, often arguments, as I leafed through editions of The Pittsburgh Courier, Amsterdam News, Chicago Defender, The Afro-American, Sepia, and Ebony. Jack knew I loved to read and would permit me to read the weekly newspapers in the back of the barber shop as long as, after reading them, I folded them neatly and placed them in the front window of the shop. Many youth of my generation were given black socio-cultural education in local barber shops. We were

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schooled in facts and when and how to verify them, and also schooled in the fine art of the put-down, the art of arguing without facts, or with few facts, and graceful losing. Also, in my neighborhood there were other ways in which I acquired formal black cultural knowledge. In our boys scout troop we held weekly meetings and during the summer months hiked out in the areas surrounding Charleston. Though we were all from the neighborhood meeting it was interesting to hear about the family activities of my friends, especially when their cousins would visit them during the summer months. I was intrigued by those whose parents migrated to Northern cities, then I noted their dialects and dispositions, and much they differed from those of us in the Charleston area. On many holiday weekends, and during summer months about seven of us who were close friends spent time at the Robert Gould Shaw Boys Club playing table tennis, shooting billiards, playing touch football, basketball, baseball, or half-rubber ball, dividing ourselves into wrestling teams, or sat on a air-vent bin at the end of a row of public housing building on the corner of South and American streets, or the bin on America Street, in front of Mary Street talking and trying to sing like Billy Eckstein, Nat King Cole, Clyde Mcphatter, Louis Jordan, Harry Belafonte, Johnny Ace, Jackie Wilson, Sam Cook, or the Clovers and the Platters. During one or two weeks during the summer months my siblings and I would travel across the Cooper River to visit Cainhoy, SC, a small rural settlement, in Berkeley County, my mother’s hometown. They had farms where they farmed, planted vegetables and fruits, and raised animals. We also visited my father and god-parents’ hometown of Mount Pleasant, SC. In both places I learned about the importance of folk medicine for rural blacks who lacked both funds and physical access to doctors. Indeed we would often go in search of the herb, Life Everlasting, which was given to us for fevers and colds. At other times when we had bronchial problems we often wore a small bundle around our necks filled with asafetida. The most memorable features of the Cainhoy visits, however, were the stories of past generations, the living and the dead; who was related to whom; who did what to whom; the funny stories; the ghost stories; stories of voodoos, witchcraft, witches, hags, spirits; stories of blacks turning the tables on whites (buckras), and stories of country folks versus city folks. These stories and tales are indelibly imprinted on the scaffolding of my memory bank and are so seemingly fresh it is as if they occurred last week. These experiences of time, persons, and place were instrumental in my view of myself throughout my childhood and youth as a part of an excluded and ostracized black community. It did not matter that I was never spat upon by whites or was never openly called a ‘‘nigger.’’ I knew that no matter how well

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I sang, spoke, recited poetry, knew history, or whatever other talents I had, I was the ‘‘other.’’ But being the other did not traumatize me, because at home, in the church, in school, and in the neighborhood, I felt very secure and safe and identified with the community and viewed myself as a part of the community, and was accepted as a part of the community, though often seen as overly bookish and too serious. These brief autobiographical notes were designed to highlight how, and in what ways individuals are attached to a particular collective cultural motifs, get to understand these particular cultural motifs, and how they learn to engage with others in living and acting out the vestiges of these cultural patterns which reflect their cultural uniqueness. Understanding where they are situated in the cultural collective is important for individuals and groups, especially in restricted societies where some groups are excluded and segregated. Being rejected by the larger society smaller groups must find the wherewithal to create and build their own cultural foundation from which their cultural values and institutions are rooted. In segregated bicultural societies groups must develop comprehensive institutional patterns whereby they are taught, and they in turn, teach, ways of knowing the culture, ways of creating and adding to features of the culture, and ways to insure that individuals and groups within the culture may affirm an identity and an identification.

BECOMING BICULTURAL: MOVING TOWARD THE OUTER ‘‘THEY’’ GROUP The segment above illustrated socialization and internalization patterns of individuals and groups cultural orientation and identification with birth cultures and their importance in identity and identification processes. But how does one cross the cultural threshold, especially in bicultural societies where there are class, caste, and racial and ethnic lines separating groups? In modern industrial the development of national and international media markets newspapers, magazines, the press, radio, and television makes it possible for individuals and groups to understand, critique, and probe the manners, mores, morals, and class attitudes and values of those of other statuses whose way of life they might ordinarily not come in close contact. That is, structured inequality makes it possible to live or understand vicariously the life and worldview of higher classes and statuses. In this sense, one might become bicultural symbolically, or at a distance without ever actually ‘‘living’’ biculturally, and Ellison deftly moves us to his first awakening of the other side of the Ellison persona, a side which

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reaches beyond the confines of his segregated community in Oklahoma City. Writing of his early life Ellison notes that there were two events which moved him beyond the world of segregation. One was his friendship with Hoolie, a white youth, whom he met when Ellison and his mother lived in a white middle class neighborhood. This was one of the two incidents he cites as being crucial in giving him access to the white world beyond his black community. As he stated the second incident (Ellison, 1966, p. 24): The other accident from that period lay in my mother’s bringing home copies of such magazines as Vanity Fair and of opera recordings which had been discarded by a family for whom she worked y These magazines and recordings and the discarded books my mother brought home to my brother and me spoke to me of a life which was broader and more interesting, and although it was not really a part of my own life, I never thought they were not for me simply because I happened to be a Negro. They were things which spoke of a world which I could some day make my own [My emphasis].

Whereas those magazines and recordings whetted the imagination of the young Ellison to reach for a world beyond his ethnic world, it constituted the beginning of his quest to make the white world his own. There is a bravado and the temper and spirit of the conqueror in Ellison’s (Ibid, pp. 25–26) statement, and it reflected his confidence in his ability: ‘‘y I felt no innate sense of inferiority which would keep me from getting those things I desired out of life. There were those who stood in the way but you just had to keep moving toward whatever you wanted y I wanted it because it represented something better, a more exciting and civilized and human way of living; a world which came to me through certain scenes of felicity which I encountered in fiction, in the movies, and which I glimpsed sometimes through the windows of great houses on Sunday afternoons when my mother took my brother and me for walks through the wealthy white sections of the city.’’ Whereas Ellison’s movement toward the white world and biculturalism would be second-handed in that no individual guided him toward his oncoming biculturalism, in Henry Louis Gates, Jr’s case, however, the process was first-hand and personal. Father Smith of St. Phillip’s Episcopal Church provided him with sociological, philosophical, and historical books, sent him to an Episcopal summer camp where he had the opportunity to meet white youth, engage in the ongoing arguments around the Vietnam War, spiritual matters, and other areas of political and philosophical interests. Gates was so inspired by this experience – the people he met, books read and discussed, and ideas debated. It was not surprising that at the end of the church camp Gates would move closer to aspects of biculturalism by leaving the Walden Methodist church and joining Father Smith’s St. Phillip’s congregation. These examples are not being cited to

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criticize Gates. Rather, these examples only serve to highlight the process whereby individuals move from monoculturalism to biculturalism, and to suggest that even in segregated societies members of excluded groups may, under certain circumstances, carve out bicultural lives and realities. Growing up in segregated Charleston, South Carolina, my movement toward biculturalism was somewhat similar to Ellison’s. Just as my readings in the barber shop deepened my knowledge and insights into collective black life, my entry into the world of whites was assisted by an older female second cousin who worked at a large snack bar and newspaper and magazine stand on King Street. She would give me the discarded magazines left behind by customers: Life, Look, Esquire, Readers Digest, and occasionally, copies of the National Geographic. I would not see the inside of the home of a white family, other than delivering groceries, until I was 15 and worked one summer with a young laundry truck driver, who had a wife and two young daughters, on a laundry delivery truck at Swann Laundry Shop located on the corner of Congress and Meeting streets. It would be the first time I would sit at a dinner table with a white family. My biculturalism identity, if it could be so-called, came largely from music [see my chapter on being musically bicultural], magazines, movies, and radio. In the movies in the 1950s there were no black male stars who could be role models for black youth of my generation. I had seen Richard Wright in Native Son, but I could not identify with him, and the only female star who became a sex symbol for my friends and me was Dorothy Dandridge and Eartha Kitt. The movie genre I liked most as an adolescent was the Western, and I belonged to the Lone Ranger Club. Some other activities in which I engaged were not necessarily in the cultural realm though some might include them, in as much as they were not distinctly ‘‘black’’: an art instruction correspondence course from Minnesota, and participation in the Fisher Model Car Building Project headquartered in Detroit. At 16 I joined the Book of the Month Club and began to order historical books, after which time I began to build my personal library collection. My biculturalism was essentially intellectual and academic and at a distant, for unlike Gates, I had no opportunity to engage whites on the important issues of the day in mainly face-to-face encounters: our churches were segregated and we lacked integrated church summer camps. My study of the Making of Black Intellectuals illustrated the similarity of the cultural experiences of many respondents, born in the South, to my own experiences, in that their bicultural experiences were most likely to occur via books and movies, rather than in face-to-face, or group-to-group encounters with white individuals or groups.

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Some individuals appear to be willing to transcend their own culture of birth and are willing to move toward bicultural experiences. This has to be seen as more than attempts by individuals to join the white world or to reject their own cultural framework. Instead the bicultural mode speaks to a desire to experience to engage, at some level, with another culture and another experience, and a willingness to resist the idea of ‘‘staying culturally in one’s place.’’ For Ellison and myself, and may be this is also true of Gates, images of oneself as a ‘‘renaissance man’’ emerge early in one’s life and die very slowly. Embarking on a cultural journey to decode the lives of ‘the other’ is a challenge, especially when during one’s formative years, world of the other wrapped in the gauze of myths, legends, and fantasies. To unravel and capture the essence of one’s own cultural world and yet be able to move freely and unafraid in the crevices of other worlds, is a test of one’s role as an intellectual adventurer. The strength of the biculturalist is an ability to illustrate similarities and dissimilarities in themes, ideas, and values in ways of life which purport to be worlds apart, yet are closer that both parties can ever admit. The biculturalist can hopefully cut through the cant and breath fresh air into the setting and provide models of the new possibilities.

SELF-IDENTITY IN A BICULTURAL SOCIETY In his thought-provoking book, The Protean Self, Robert Jay Lifton (1993) writes of a new concept of the ‘‘self,’’ one especially shaped by the geometric changes taking place in the world during the past two hundred or so years in Western societies. Instead of viewing the individual self in a Freudian manner as fixed, permanent, and highly structured, Lifton adopts a view of the self similar to those presented by Adler, Jung, and Rank which posits the self as fluid and subdivided into subsections of many selves. Logically, if one’s definition of the self suggests one central and impermeable self which has to adapt and adjust to constantly changing situations and circumstances, one sees the complex balancing act such a self must endure. It is this self that is suggested in a part of Du Bois’s double consciousness anguish; this self portrays the anguish as it is presented with seemingly unachievable challenges, and in which no degree of flexibility is possible. The real, and unresolved, problem expressed in Du Bois’s dilemma was not the question of ‘‘can I be both a Negro and an American,’’ for Du Bois was a cogent model for such dialectical resiliency, in as much as he

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proudly proclaimed his ‘‘Negro-ness’’ as well as his ‘‘American-ness.’’ Rather, the actual problem was the status and power inequality between blacks and whites. In truth, Du Bois (1903) identified partially with both white and black worlds, as is clear throughout The Souls of Black Folk: he had a self in the black world and a self in the white world in much the same way Ralph Ellison does, almost with a similar Ellisonian logic: Blacks had played a major role in the making and shaping of America, and whenever you looked at a composite United States the African or black presence is undeniable. The protean view of the self is that a variety of selves will find themselves ready to adjust and conform to a variety of circumstances. Thus in bicultural societies it may be necessary to bifurcate self-identity into Primary and Secondary parts, for even in long-standing bicultural societies individuals and groups may continue to have a greater affinity to their birth culture, for this birth culture may constitute a closer and more intimate network of friends, and work and educational cohort relations. It is from these relationships that one may acquire a Primary Self-Identity. The examples I used to define my own relationships and interactions in my neighborhood and community growing up represent this primary selfidentification. Conversely, my identification with the characters in the books I read, and with those in the movies I saw represent secondary self-identity. Then, too, if deep and intense over time, secondary self-identity may be transformed into primary self-identity. Likewise, primary self-identity may evolve into secondary self-identity. I had an opportunity to speak with two Montreal-born French Canadians at one of our sociology conferences in Montreal. Both were bilingual and moved with great ease between English and French, and both spoke each language without a trace of the other language. Yet one identified himself with other French-Canadians and his primary self-identity was French, and most of his friends and his social networks were predominately French. For the other, a female, her primary self-identity was English, and most of her friends and her social networks were primarily English. Why one individual may choose to move toward one side of the bicultural divide rather than the other side may be determined. A case can be made that the individual concept of the self, the individual self, lurks in the shadow of the collective self-collectivity. This is especially the case, as with black Americans, where collective slavery for more than two hundreds years would appeared to have reduced all black images to the collective, and to have diminished all concepts of the self as a

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sustaining, generating, and liberating force. One has only to read John Blassingame’s book on the slave community to disavow oneself of such an idea. In bicultural societies in which individuals are free to engage in both cultures the selves produced will, no doubt, reflect varying degrees of biculturalism. And the self in one culture may not be the same self interacting in the other culture. We do that now, and Emile Durkheim referred to this in his discussion of organic solidarity: the self acts one way at work and play with colleagues; another self emerges at home, our places of worship, in our private and social clubs, and in our neighborhood communities. Unfortunately, the massive class solidarity of Marxists and socialists has not been realized, as had the promise of inter-racial and interethnic solidarity. Despite the experiences under which blacks lived a strong black ‘‘willed self’’ and ‘‘willed collective’’ represented a self generated from within the individual but attuned to the actions of the surrounding black and white worlds. One has only to read the life and works of generations of wellknown black heroes and millions of unsung heroes to understand how such a willed self gets played out in the socio-politico-cultural realm. If art reflects life, then we can see such a reflective willed self depicted in Ellison’s (1952) Invisible Man, in which the hero forages through the cultural life and symbols of two cultural worlds, which of course reflected Ellison’s own bicultural position. The apparent self-reflectiveness and self-willing of Ellison’s hero marked the first time a hero in a book written by a black author had taken such a stance; it makes the case that one can carve out one’s free space even in an unfree society. The desire to promote group thought is a symptom of smaller less powerful groups living in close proximity with larger groups. But if we use smaller groups such as Jewish Americans and Japanese and Chinese Americans, we find that it is possible for groups to become and remain bicultural yet retain great affinity toward their birth culture. The human mind operates on many levels and the self which is an integral feature of the mind can operate in complex situations. As long as another culture does not attempt to belittle or insult, living biculturally requires that we forthrightly engage culturally with others so that biculturalism exists in deed as well as a theory. Being bicultural merely entails a desire to adjust and live in bicultural situations and to share a part of our own cultural perspectives with others, for that is the essence of biculturalism: two people, two languages, or two religions co-existing and individuals and groups are free to move, if they so desire, in one, or both.

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CONCLUSION All of life reflects change in one way or another, yet there are individuals who view any adaptations to surrounding cultures in their midst as a betrayal of their own. Cultural change and adjustment, however, is a part of global progress, rightly or wrongly, but nation states and citizens must make a choice: make provisions for groups with linguistic, religious, and other differences, or spend valuable resources to insure that monoculturalism will prevail. This is certainly the challenge confronting the world today, as much of global warfare involves majority–minority relations around language, religion, and land. As stated often in this chapter bicultural societies are often fraught with great difficulties, yet with global travel, global economics, global education, and global politics, learning to live in bicultural societies means learning to adjust to others as they learn to adjust to us. There is nothing inherent in the human mind that makes this adjustment impossible. What may be needed is a new concept of the self which frees us from some of the vestiges of the past: religious intolerance, unbridled nationalism, and racial, class, and ethnic bigotry. Issues of identity in bicultural settings have been amply illustrated and analyzed from a variety of perspectives, and scholars, along with politicians, have provided an opening from which we may see how individual and societal identities are formed and altered by both cultural and social structural forces in multiple settings both inter-societal and intra-societal. Above all authors who have studied identity wish to establish both its validity and importance throughout the world. With societies where there are constant shifts in cultural and structural changes the identity problem may be more pronounced for dispossessed groups, or even for homogeneous societies experiencing sudden and massive cultural and structural changes. Erik Erikson (1968, 1974, 1975) and Erikson and Newton (1973) provides an excellent historical, psychological, and philosophical foundation for the emergence and durability of the identity concept. James Weldon Johnson (1990) and J. Sanders Redding (1964) provide insights into their black identity formation; Richard Gambino (1997) gives the reader a glimpse into the identity formation world of Italian-Americans, and Anwar Sadat (1978) takes the reader into the world of the identity struggles of an Egyptian boy, born into poverty and his struggles to shape a new identity for himself, and in the process, lend a hand in the formation of a ‘‘new’’ Egypt. Hollinger (1995), Klapp (1969), Klein (1962), Mendelsohn (1983), Myers (2005), Lifton (1970), Smooha (1978), Stein, Vidich, and Manning White (1960),

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and De Vos and Romanucci-Ross (1975) reflect on the causes and consequences of identity, or lack of, in modern mass society.

REFERENCES De Vos, G., & Romanucci-Ross, L. (1975). Ethnic identity. Palo Alto: Mayfield Press Du Bois, W. E. B. (1903). The souls of black folk. Chicago: McClurg. Ellison, R. (1952). Invisible man. New York: Random House. Ellison, R. (1966). Shadow and act. New York: Randon House. Ellison, R. (1993). Conversations with Ralph Ellison. In: M. Graham & A. Singh (Eds). Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. Erikson, E. (1968). Identity: youth and crisis. New York: W.W. Norton. Erikson, E. (1974). Dimensions of a new identity. New York: W.W. Norton. Erikson, E. (1975). Life history and the historical moment. New York: W.W. Norton. Erikson, E., & Newton, H. (1973). In search of common ground. New York: Norton. Gambino, R. (1997). Blood of my blood. Toronto: Guernica. Hollinger, D. (1995). Postethnic America. New York: Basic Books. Johnson, J. W. (1990). Along this way. New York: Penguin Books. Klapp, O. (1969). Collective search for identity. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Klein, M. (1962). After alienation. Cleveland: Meridian Books. Lifton, R. J. (1970). History and human survival. New York: Random House. Lifton, R. J. (1993). The protean self. New York: Basic Books. Mendelsohn, E. (1983). The Jews of Central Europe. Bloomington: Indiana University. Myers, J. (2005). Minority voices. Boston: Pearson Press. Redding, S. (1964). On being Negro in America. New York: Bantam Books. Sadat, A. (1978). In search of identity. New York: Harper and Row. Smooha, S. (1978). Israel: Pluralism and conflict. Berkeley: University of California Press. Stein, R., Vidich, A., & Manning, D. (1960). Identity and anxiety: Survival of the person in mass society. New York: Free Press Thomas, W. I., & Znaniecki, F. (1927). The Polish Peasant in Poland and America New York: Knopf.

PART II BICULTURALISM AND THE IMMIGRANT EXPERIENCE

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JUGGLING WITH TWO CULTURES: TRANSNATIONALISM AND HYBRIDITY AS CULTURAL OUTCOMES OF IMMIGRATION FOR HAITIANS IN THE UNITED STATES Flore Ze´phir The steady migration of significant numbers of Haitians since the late 1950s – early 1960s, soon after Franc- ois Duvalier (‘‘Papa Doc’’) became president of Haiti, has resulted in the establishment of very visible Haitian communities in several major American cities. It is estimated that the Haitian diaspora currently residing in the United States, which includes both documented and undocumented immigrants, is around 1 million (Ze´phir, 2004). Haitian immigrants constitute one of the largest Caribbean communities to have settled in this country. Indeed they are, after the Jamaicans, the second largest Black immigrant ethnic group in the United States. Their sheer presence has transformed the fabric and character of the metropolitan areas where they have established their niches. In addition, it has brought the issue of ethnicity within Black America to the fore of academic discourse, as many researchers endeavor to analyze how these immigrants and their children are adapting to life on foreign shores, and Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 51–75 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15004-8

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constructing their Haitian/Haitian American selves (Laguerre, 1998; Portes, 1995, 1996; Rumbaut & Portes, 2001; Portes & Rumbaut, 2001; Stepick, 1998; Stepick, Grenier, Castro, & Dunn, 2003; Waters, 1999; Ze´phir, 1996, 2001, 2004; Pierre-Louis, 2006). Haitian Americans comprise all sectors of American society; they belong to all walks of life. They are driven by a common desire to make a better life for themselves and their families. In the process of making it in America, they have had to learn how to navigate in, and between, two cultural worlds: that of the country of origin, and that of the country of resettlement. In their quest for a ‘‘piece of the pie,’’ they have had to learn a new language, the requirements of a new labor market, new employment policies, new settlement patterns, and a completely new cultural framework. Additionally, they have had to face the complex dynamics of race and ethnic relationships in America. Perhaps most important, they had to learn how to interact with the established resident Americans, those whose ancestors came to this country before theirs, and who view themselves as the real Americans as opposed to the immigrant Americans. The outcome of this cultural negotiation may well be called ‘‘hybridity,’’ a concept that includes diverse intercultural mixtures and retains, in the words of Kraidy (2005, p. 1), ‘‘residual meanings related to the three interconnected realms of race, language, and ethnicity.’’ The present chapter looks at the process of negotiation of culture and the various manifestations of hybridity within the Haitian diaspora. My research reveals that this process is not a uniform one, but follows a ‘‘bumpy line’’ or segmented assimilation pattern, as originally proposed by such scholars as Gans (1992), Portes (1995, 1996), Zhou (1997). Like Barkan (1995, p. 46), I argue that there is ‘‘no one pattern, no cycle, no one outcome that uniformly encompasses all ethnic experiences.’’ In the case of the Haitian ethnic experience, the process of negotiation of culture sometimes produces individuals who are well adjusted and highly successful in American society; sometimes marginalized or ghettoized segments emerge. The conditions that lead to both stable biculturalism and segmented assimilation are explored in this work, which argues that the quality and form of negotiation of culture depends upon the relative power of the group and the individual within the receiving community, and upon the ways in which the host society typifies the particular immigrant community in terms of race and nationality. My arguments are placed in the framework offered by the field of the new sociology of immigration that recognizes that modes of incorporation of particular immigrant groups are affected by both ‘‘structural embeddedness’’ which has to do with the limits and possibilities

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offered by the host society, and by ‘‘relational embeddedness’’ which relates to the assistance that the ethnic community itself, offers its members, through its own social networks (Portes, 1995, p. 25).

DEMOGRAPHIC INFORMATION Haitian immigrants have settled primarily in several metropolitan areas of the Northeast region (New York and Boston, followed perhaps by Philadelphia), Southern Florida, and some areas of the Midwest (mainly Chicago). As indicated in a previous work (Ze´phir, 2004, p. 90), New York City has the largest concentration of Haitians in the country as well as the oldest and most diverse established Haitian communities. Estimates of the New York population and its surrounding counties (Nassau, Rockland, and others) range from 200,000 to close to 500,000. This variation depends on whether one only takes into account figures given by the Census Bureau and the Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS), or whether one also factors in the undocumented entrants and accepts estimates provided by Haitian community leaders themselves as being closer to reality. In more recent times, from the mid-1980s to the present, Southern Florida has been receiving the largest numbers of the new arrivals, particularly the cities of Miami, Fort Lauderdale, and West Palm Beach, as well as their vicinities. The US Census Bureau (2000), places the legal Haitian population in the state of Florida at about 270,000; but when one considers the clandestine population that number obviously increases. Let us not forget that Florida is the destination of the most desperate Haitians, those who risk their lives navigating the Florida straits in rickety boats to reach ‘‘the promised land’’ that the United States symbolizes for them. In fact, as recently as March 28, 2007, a boatload of about 100 Haitians reached Hallandale Beach, Florida. These Haitians have been put in detention centers, pending reviews of their cases. The state of Massachusetts follows with a conservative estimate of 75,000 Haitians, of which the majority are Boston residents. The state of New Jersey is home to approximately 40,000 Haitian immigrants, concentrated mostly in the city of Newark. In addition, two other Northeast states, Pennsylvania (Philadelphia, in particular) and Connecticut have sizeable Haitians communities. In the Midwest, another very conservative estimate of 30,000 Haitians have settled in Illinois, over half of them in the city of Chicago. Although the aforementioned states and cities have the most significant numbers of the total Haitian immigrant population, it is important to mention that Haitians have migrated all over the country, from

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Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, Michigan, Wisconsin, Missouri, to California. For example, in the city of St. Louis, there are several wellestablished families who have been in residence there since the 1960s. Indeed, several years ago, I met a couple of physicians who explained that, when they came to the United States to do their medical residencies, few hospitals in the country at the time would accept Black residents. One exception was Omer Philip Hospital, which has long since closed. These first Haitians brought their families with them, who in turn sent for relatives. In time, a solid Haitian community developed and prospered in St. Louis. Moreover, as this chapter was being written in June of 2007, I received a phone call from a Haitian in Kansas City who was telling me about the emergence of a Haitian community there as well, which he estimated at about 2,000 people. This particular individual is the director of a community center that, he said, is called Glory House, affiliated with the Baptist Church. This center has been recently established to help working-class Haitians, by offering them English classes and other social services. Those examples attest to the fact that Haitians are mobile and moving to other areas of the country where they have not traditionally settled, in search of better economic, professional, vocational, and educational opportunities. Haitian immigrants are certainly not a monolithic group. They are very diversified in terms of their abilities, their motivation and desire to remain forever in this country, their skills and job training, level of education, knowledge of English, income, and overall socioeconomic status. Moreover, the context and climate of reception as well complex structural forces (such as government resources and policies towards immigrants) all interact intimately with individual characteristics and community traits to construct identities, negotiate ethnicity, and ultimately build new lives. As Portes and Rumbaut (2006, pp. 101–102) observe in their authoritative portrait of immigrant America, ‘‘these complex structural forces confront immigrants as an objective reality that channels them in different directions.’’ Indeed, the Haitian American community has followed different paths: It is composed of icons such as hip-hop artist Wyclef Jean, mayors and state house representatives, engineers, doctors, nurses, lawyers, actors, entrepreneurs, business-men and women, university professors, community college presidents, writers, and journalists. Yet at the other end of the occupational spectrum, the janitors, maids, factory workers, nursing home attendants, nurses’ aides, and menial workers make up the largest segment of the US Haitian population. All of these people comprise the Haitian diaspora that continues to leave its indelible marks in some of the most densely populated cities of the United States.

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Generally speaking, Haitians in American society tend to be viewed as a source of problems, owing in part to the fact that a significant number of them are indeed at the lowest rungs of the socioeconomic ladder. Portes and Rumbaut (2006, p. 21) in their typology of contemporary immigrants to the United States list Haitians in their categories of ‘‘unauthorized’’ and ‘‘unskilled/semi-skilled laborers,’’ along with the Mexicans, Salvadorans, and Guatemalans. Moreover, when they looked at the educational attainment of ‘‘principal foreign nationalities’’ for the year 2000 (p. 69), they found out that Haitians were below the US average, with only 13.7% of college graduates, along with the Dominicans (9.5%), the Guatemalans (6.1%), the Salvadorans (5.0%), and the Mexicans (4.2%). Haitians did not fare any better in their ‘‘labor force participation and selected professional specialty occupations’’ category (p. 78). Out of a total number of 422,841 Haitians, which presumably includes only the legal population recorded by the Census Bureau, they discovered that, in 2000, 65.1% of them were part of the US labor force; 9.6% were unemployed or looking for work; and 14.6% were in ‘‘professional specialty occupations’’ (p. 78). The same unflattering situation obtains in their ‘‘self employment’’ category where, again out of a total of 422,841 Haitians, 14,756 (or 3.4%) were selfemployed, making them the last group in that category (p. 83). Haitians were fourth to last in the category ‘‘median annual household incomes and poverty rates.’’ The median Haitian household income in the United States, according to Portes and Rumbaut (p. 89) is $39,981, which constitutes a poverty rate of 22.2%. This figure is important since almost 100% of Haitian households comprise at the very least two income earners, and in most cases more than two. These data suggest that the labor market has not been extremely favorable to many Haitian immigrants. One explanation offered by Portes and Rumbaut (2006, p. 94), related to their theory of ‘‘structural embeddedness,’’ is the sociological aspect of labor markets having to do with ‘‘the manner in which particular immigrant groups are typified.’’ Negative typification is imposed on Haitians because of their status as a Black impoverished minority group. When combined with hostile federal immigration policies that are designed to prevent their entry into the United States and to discourage them from staying, this typification creates environments and conditions that are hardly conducive to upward mobility. In their comparison of various ethnic groups and their examination of the climate of reception toward them, Portes and Rumbaut (p. 100) discovered that in the mid-1990s ‘‘an uneducated Haitian woman could expect to earn no more than $560.00 per month, but a Laotian woman in the same situation could receive over $2,100.’’ In the same connection,

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one can bring to bear the preferential treatment reserved for Cubans under the ‘‘wet foot–dry foot policy’’ of 1995 established under the Clinton administration, which automatically grants asylum to any Cuban who manages to disembark onto US shores. According to this agreement, these ‘‘boat Cubans’’ would later qualify for expedited legal permanent status (obtention of a green card), and subsequent citizenship. This policy certainly does not apply to Haitians who, when apprehended by the Coast Guard, are automatically placed in detention centers, such as the Krome Processing Center in Miami, or sent back to Haiti. This hostile climate of reception and negative typification, which places them at a disadvantage from the outset in the labor market, compel Haitian immigrants to forge strategies and coping mechanisms to make it in America. Moreover, it is in the same unfriendly and at times antagonistic environment that they endeavor to ensure that their offspring can perhaps begin to see this land as their land and enjoy the benefits of full participation in all aspects of American life. Only when full participation is achieved can the Haitian diaspora as a collective entity finally say ‘‘We have overcome.’’

ON THE WAY TO OVERCOMING Social scientists, who have closely looked at the formation of ethnicity within various immigrant groups, have argued that ‘‘ethnic resilience has been the rule among immigrants, old and new,’’ (Portes & Rumbaut, 2006, p. 167), and that it constituted a central mechanism of their process of incorporation. Moreover, they have contended that the resilient ethnic identification of many communities was a process of ‘‘reactive formation,’’ a reaction to the climate of reception, and discriminatory practices against those immigrants. Those assertions are certainly true in the case of the Haitian diaspora, whose experiences in the United States have turned their very national origin and race into the core of their ethnic identification. In their ethnic communities, Haitian immigrants have managed to create real ethnic communities that are unmistakably Haitian, as attested by the name of Little Haiti given to a sizeable Haitian enclave in Miami. According to Portes and Stepick (1993, p. 185), from very modest beginnings in the 1970s, the Haitian ethnic economy in Little Haiti grew to about 120 firms in 1985, to nearly 300 by the end of the decade. This number has certainly increased, as new businesses have been created that did not exist a few years ago and that continue to sprawl all over, particularly restaurants and grocery stores. As one Haitian immigrant put it: ‘‘Miami [to be understood as Little Haiti]

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est une ville tentaculaire’’ (Miami is a sprawling town). Although these enterprises are small, they attest to a real Haitian presence. Moreover, the renaming of several public spaces – schools and streets, for example – is another tangible sign of Haitian settlement in the area. Indeed, a public elementary school located in the heart of the Haitian community has been renamed in honor of Haiti’s revolutionary hero Toussaint Louverture; Little Haiti’s NW 54th Street is now called Boulevard Toussaint Louverture; and 2nd Avenue NE is now known as Avenue Morisseau-Leroy in honor of the renowned Haitian poet. In Haitian neighborhoods in Miami, New York, Boston, and Chicago, Haitians establish what Laguerre (1998, p. 112) calls ‘‘diasporic’’ businesses that are important not only for their structural integration into the social landscape, but also for the preservation of their culture. Indeed, these businesses sell mainly Haitian products, maintain strong links to the homeland, and conduct transactions the way they are done in Haiti (Ze´phir, 2001, p. 47). In their diasporic communities, Haitians have to a great extent succeeded in recreating the cultural habits of their homeland and in transplanting key elements of Haitian culture in their new environments, from family structure, religion, and food, to social and recreational activities. Moreover, as Pierre-Louis (2006, p. 133) judiciously observed, Haitians have created ‘‘activist groups, community centers, and political parties to navigate their life in New York City,’’ as well as Miami and Boston. He goes on to add that they established ‘‘hybrid organizations, such as the hometown associations to address their interests in the United States and in Haiti.’’ In addition, the proximity of the United States to Haiti makes it possible for Haitians to travel to the homeland several times a year to visit family and friends, particularly during the summer months and for the Christmas holidays, and to stay abreast of homeland affairs at all times. Indeed, American Airlines, the major carrier to Haiti, has daily non-stop flights from Miami, Fort Lauderdale, and New York to Port-au-Prince; and in the peak traveling season, they have more than one flight a day. Moreover, advances in technology, particularly the invention of the World Wide Web, have made access to news and information from Haiti very easy. Therefore, Haitians, who are never disconnected from the homeland, continuously straddle two borders and live in two homelands. They live transnational lives, and remain stubbornly ‘‘home bound,’’ to borrow the expression from Espiritu (2003) in her description of Filipino Americans’ lives. In fact, as Pierre-Louis, quoted earlier (2006, p. 4) writes about himself in the introduction of his book, Haitians in New York City, ‘‘New York City was not even considered a second home; Haiti and New York City were thought of as first homes y I am the quintessential transnationalist’’

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(emphasis added). Indeed, this statement encapsulates well how many Haitians of the diaspora deal with the concept of home. On the one hand, they recognize that the host society, in spite of being at times inhospitable, is nevertheless the place that allows them to fulfill their educational, professional, and economic aspirations and to make a living for themselves and their families. On the other hand, Haiti is still the land of their ancestors, the place to which they can trace their beginnings, the place where their history was made, the place that is filled with the stories of their people, the place that carries their memories of things past. In their attempt to bridge two worlds, Haitians have unquestionably defied classical models describing the incorporation of immigrants into American life, such as the ‘‘straight line’’ theory of assimilation proposed by Warner and Srole (1945) to account for the assimilation of Northern and Central European immigrants. This theory did not predict the change in immigration patterns that began to emerge in the 1960s with the civil rights protest and the resulting trend toward new liberal democratic politics. Indeed, the passage of the 1965 Immigration Act opened the gates to newer immigrants from Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean (as well as Southern and Eastern Europe) who were fleeing political oppression, economic hardships, and devastating wars. As Barkan warned in 1995 (p. 68), it would certainly be very difficult to predict ‘‘the extent of assimilation in the coming decades, not just because of these extraordinary institutional and legislative changes of the past forty years but also because of the great volume and racial diversity of newcomers admitted to the United States.’’ He goes on to say that ‘‘variations on patterns long present in the American ethnic experience’’ are emerging ‘‘in response to the changing economic, technological, political, and cultural conditions and within the context of particular ‘cultural baggage’ and prior experiences of these newcomers.’’ As a result of the visible change in the type of immigrants who were pouring into the country, nativist sentiments flared. Hostility and racial and ethnic discrimination awaited these new immigrants, who were never fully welcome in the Anglo-Saxon culture that prevailed in the United States. In consequence, many of them did not really undergo ‘‘americanization,’’ and did not melt into the so-called melting pot. Instead they kept their distinct characteristics (language, religion, food, music, among other traits); organized themselves in ethnic enclaves; and created ethnic schools and churches, community centers and associations, all designed to help them withstand the harshness of the surrounding milieu. The straightline assimilation pattern was rapidly vanishing, as the line was getting increasingly bumpier, creating in the process a contour of segmented

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assimilation. In fact, the entire assimilation model had to be reexamined, and new directions formulated (Kivisto, 2005; Kivisto & Rundblad, 2000). In more recent times new models, such as transnationalism and hybridity, began to be proposed as ways to explain the varied paths to incorporation that different immigrant groups have taken. As immigrants who live in two worlds at the same time, Haitian immigrants are both transnational and hybrid. It is to these concepts that I now turn my attention.

A TRANSNATIONAL AND HYBRID PEOPLE Gold (2000, p. 416) defines transnationalism as a ‘‘multi-level process that involves various links between two or more settings rather than a discrete event constituted by a permanent move from one nation to another.’’ He further contends that ‘‘transnationalism reminds us that people often remain intensely involved in the life of their country of origin even though they no longer permanently reside there.’’ In the same connection, Espiritu (2003) considers the transnational world made of ‘‘mobile homes,’’ where ‘‘here’’ and ‘‘there’’ are blurred; it is an unstructured and unbounded space that links the country of origin and the country of resettlement together, either in the physical or geographical sense, or in the symbolic or imaginary sense. Pierre-Louis (2006, p. 13), who reviews the literature on transnationalism, asserts that this concept has become a fundamental element of migration theory ‘‘because it attempts to define the new relationship that new immigrants develop with their homeland.’’ In sum, transnationalism has to do with the processes by which immigrants build social and affective networks that are firmly rooted in both the country that they left behind and the country of relocation. The establishment of all of these social networks relates to the ‘‘relational embeddedness’’ concept proposed by immigration sociologists (Portes, 1995 among others). In the case of the Haitian diaspora, Pierre-Louis (2006) argues that this new transnational relationship with the homeland is filtered through hometown associations created by Haitian immigrants in the United States. In addition, he underscores the dual role that these associations play for Haitian immigrants. One the one hand, they enable them to stay involved with Haitian matters since they provide humanitarian aid to Haiti; on the other, their leaders also use them to maintain their separate Haitian ethnic identity in the United States. As I have argued in a previous work (Ze´phir, 1996, p. 69) it does not take too long for Haitians to realize that as soon as they arrive in the United States, by virtue of being Black immigrants, they are relegated to the bottom

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of the social ladder. They also have been informed that they are minorities and that they will be referred to as simply Blacks. The American system of racial classification has placed Haitians into the lowest, most subordinate ranks of society. In exchange for financial improvement or political shelter, Haitians immigrants have had to learn to cope with this new ascribed place. One coping strategy is the affirmation of their ethnicity, which entails a sense of pride in who they are as a people and where they come from. Haitian immigrants’ notion of ethnicity is shaped by both the values of the homeland and the reality of the American context. As such, this ethnicity is transnational. While Haitians tend to regroup themselves within the safety of their ethnic communities, they nevertheless come in contact with other groups that compose American society, namely African Americans, and other Caribbean groups, many of whom live in adjacent communities and share the same residential and structural space. Therefore, there are ‘‘transethnic’’ exchanges occurring with those groups that, to a certain extent, fashion Haitian diasporic ethnicity. This is not a surprising phenomenon that is unique to Haitians. Indeed, recent research with later generations of immigrant groups – South Asians, in particular – reveals that these generations ‘‘often engage in building bridges with other groups in similar structural locations, creating transethnic identities’’ (Purkayastha, 2005, p. 13). For example, from African Americans, Haitians have gained a heightened sense of Blackness and race distinction, which is a direct result of racism in America. From contact with other Caribbean and Black groups, they have come to recognize to a greater degree the commonalities of a Pan-Caribbean and Pan-African experience, which draws from both West Indians (English Caribbean) and Hispanics (Spanish Caribbean), as well as other Black groups. It is very apparent that Haitian immigrants pick and choose cultural tools that enable them to best negotiate their social positions within their structural circumstances in the host society. Individual and pan-ethnicity come together, and transnational cultural resources become assets for building identities that allow Haitians to withstand some of the nefarious effects of racial and group classification. As Haitians sift through their traditions to construct their ethnic repertoires in the United States, they create similarities and distinctions between themselves and other groups. In so doing, they shape a version of their ethnicity that is also hybrid, as it incorporates other forms and elements resulting from crosscultural contacts. One of the greatest scholars to argue that all cultures indeed integrate ‘‘foreign’’ elements in their make-up is undoubtedly Edward Said (1993). Indeed, in his authoritative work, Culture and Imperialism, he eloquently writes ‘‘that cultural experience or indeed every cultural form, is

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radically, quintessentially hybrid y’’ (p. 58). Following the Saidian perspective, I argue that Haitian diasporic ethnicity is both quintessentially transnational and hybrid, and as such it represents the logical, cultural outcome of the Haitian immigrant experience in the United States. Now, I examine in greater detail the various manifestations of Haitian transnational and hybrid ethnic identity.

HAITIAN DIASPORIC TRANSNATIONAL IDENTITY It is perhaps through their hometown associations and organizations, as well as through their community centers that Haitian transnationalism manifests itself in the most salient ways. These are found in all major areas where Haitians have settled.1 For example, in Miami, one finds such organizations as the Haitian American Community of Dade (HACAD), the Haitian Neighborhood Center, and Fanm Ayisyen Nan Miyami (FANM, Haitian Women of Miami) among many others, that are involved in various issues of community and economic development, social service and health, and political activism. In the same vein, Haitian immigrants in New York have formed several service organizations that are critical to the diffusion of Haitian culture and values. The best known of these is the Haitian Centers Council, Inc. established in 1982 and based in Brooklyn, which maintains under its purview eight centers located throughout the New York metropolitan area. The Haitian American Alliance is also well known for its advocacy, civil and social services; so is Dwa Fanm (Women’s Rights), which focuses on Haitian women’s issues. Another important agency based in New York, which also maintains an office in Port-au-Prince, is the National Coalition for Haitian Rights (NCHR), which deals with matters of immigration, welfare, and legal rights of Haitian immigrants (Ze´phir, 2004). In New York, there is another organization called the Fe´de´ration des Associations Re´gionales Haı¨tiennes a` l’E´tranger (FARHE, or Federation of Haitian Regional Associations Abroad), which brings together other regional associations under one umbrella, sharing a common mission to help their hometowns in Haiti through various projects (Pierre-Louis, 2006). These hometown associations solicit the assistance of local state and city governments in the United States to help sustain projects in various parts of Haiti. Indeed, Pierre-Louis (2006) reports the existence of an advisory group established by former governor of Florida, Jeb Bush, to promote better economic relations between Haiti and the State of Florida. He goes on to say that this advisory committee ‘‘recommended the promotion of Haitian

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hometown associations in Florida and other cities as a vehicle to mobilize the large Haitian-American population in the state and to encourage their participation in the development of individual towns and cities in Haiti’’ (pp. 84–85). In the discussion of hometown associations, it is important to know that in 1991, the Haitian government itself, under President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, sought to include the help of Haitians abroad when it founded the Ministry of the Tenth Department. Since Haiti is composed of nine departments, the tenth department refers to the diaspora. Subsequently this agency was renamed Ministe`re des Haı¨tiens Vivant a` l’E´tranger (MHAVE or Ministry of Haitians Living Abroad); it involves Haitian immigrants in a more systematic way in the political and economic affairs of their homeland. In sum, all these hometown associations and Haitian American organizations engage in transnational activities, as they mobilize the community to raise money for humanitarian deeds and to speak out on political matters and social justice issues that cross both borders. As they live their transnational lives, it is not uncommon for Haitian immigrants to go to Washington and speak with US government officials about Haitian and Haitian American affairs, and the following week to board a plane to Haiti to go and speak ‘‘as a committed nationalist’’ about the development of Haiti (Pierre-Louis, 2006; Laguerre, 1998). In our discussion of transnational Haitians, it is relevant to mention two very noteworthy Haitian Americans, one a successful businessman and the other a hip-pop artist of iconic proportion, who both exemplify how transnational lives are lived. Durmarsais Me´ce`ne Sime´us (or Dumas, as he is known to all) is currently the chairman and chief executive officer of Sime´us Foods International, Inc. (SIF), the largest Black-owned food processing company in the nation.2 He immigrated to the United States in 1961 to pursue higher education. He obtained a Bachelor of Science degree in electrical engineering from Howard University in 1967 and a Master’s degree in business administration from the University of Chicago in 1972. In 1970, he became a US citizen. Sime´us is considered the most successful Haitian American businessman in the United States, one of the handful who broke through the glass ceiling of corporate America. In 1996, he bought Portion-Trol Foods from Flagstar Corporation in Mansfield, Texas, and renamed it Sime´us Foods International; in 1998, he purchased another facility in Forest City, North Carolina. The company manufactures food products for multi-chain restaurants, such as Denny’s, T.G.I. Fridays, and Burger King, among others. It is said that his company now generates $155 million a year. In 2006, SFI was awarded $5 million from Wal-Mart in support of the company’s commitment to quality products and services. Sime´us is the first

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recipient of the Wal-Mart’s Private Equity Funds, established to support women- and minority-owned businesses. For all intents and purposes, Sime´us is a successful American entrepreneur, and the recipient of many prestigious awards, including the Ernst & Young Entrepreneur of the Year Award and the Distinguished Public Service Alumnus Award from the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business. He was also a finalist for the Horatio Alger Award. Sime´us has served as special advisor to several US congressmen for Haitian affairs; and from October 2004 to February 2005, he served on Governor Jeb Bush’s advisory board for Haiti. It is said that he is also a major contributor to the Republican Party. While this accomplished Haitian American has most definitely made it in upper-class American society, he has remained deeply attached to his Haitian roots. In 1999, he founded the Sime´us Foundation, a non-profit organization dedicated to providing medical care, food, clothing, and educational opportunities to the people of the Artibonite Valley in Haiti, where he was born. His foundation runs a medical clinic in the region. In 2004, Sime´us helped launch PromoCapital, Haiti’s first investment bank. He is the co-chairman of the bank; Henri Deschamps of Port-au-Prince is the other co-chair. In addition, he is very involved with Haitian American organizations, such as the NCHR mentioned earlier, and the National Organization for the Advancement of Haitians (NOAH) based in Washington, DC, among many others. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the life of this quintessential transnationalist is his run for the presidency of Haiti in 2005, which made headline news in both Haitian newspapers in Haiti, and Haitian diasporic newspapers, namely The Haitian Times, Haiti Observateur, Haiti Progre`s (published in New York), and the Boston Haitian Reporter (published in Boston). Immediately after he made his announcement to enter the presidential race in August of 2005, his dual nationality became a real challenge. Eventually the matter was taken to the Haitian Supreme Court that ruled, on October 11, 2005, that Sime´us could indeed place his name on the ballot. An article published in Haiti Progre`s (September 27, 2005) reported that US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, during a short visit to Haiti, ‘‘publicly and pointedly called on Haiti’s interim government to hold ‘inclusive’ elections.’’ It is said that Rice strongly urged interim Prime Minister Ge´rard Latortue to press that Sime´us be allowed to run for president. Sime´us lost the election. The fact that a successful Haitian American, who is the owner of a multi-million-dollar business in the United States, would campaign to become president of Haiti is perhaps the most convincing manifestation of how Haitian immigrants live completely immersed in two homelands, comfortable with

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both their Haitian and American identities, without being forced to choose one over the other. Nelust Wyclef Jean (or Clef, as he is known to his fans) is arguably the most recognizable second-generation Haitian immigrant. Many American youth (Black and White) know more about his music than Haitian immigrants themselves, particularly those of the first generation. Multiple websites are devoted to him and his albums; he can be seen on MTV and other major television networks, including CNN; and he has given many radio interviews, including on National Public Radio (NPR). Wyclef was born on October 17, 1969, in the impoverished town of Croix-des-Bouquets outside of Port-au-Prince, in humble circumstances. He came to the United States at the age of nine, and lived in Brooklyn’s Marlborough Project. Subsequently he moved to New Jersey, where he attended high school. Wyclef made his debut with the Fugees – a name that is short for the word ‘‘refugees,’’ chosen at a time when Haitian refugees were stacked up in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. The group’s first album, Blunted on Reality, came out in 1993. Wyclef, along with the other two Fugees members, Lauryn Hill and his cousin Prakazrel ‘‘Pras’’ Michel, rocketed to fame with their second album, The Score, one of the largest selling and most influential hip-hop records in chart history, which earned a 1996 Grammy Award for Best Rap Album. That night, when he came on stage to receive his award, Wyclef Jean wrapped himself in the Haitian flag, showing his pride in his Haitian origin and perhaps hoping to change the perceptions of Haitians in the United States. In 1997, ‘‘the hip-hop Amadeus’’ released his first solo album, The Carnival, instantly becoming an American and perhaps a world icon. For this album, he collaborated with the Neville Brothers, recently deceased salsa icon Celia Cruz, and the New York Philharmonic. Staying true to his Haitian heritage, Wyclef, who calls himself an ‘‘original Haitian,’’ included several Creole numbers in this album: ‘‘Sang Fezi,’’ ‘‘Jaspora,’’ ‘‘Ye´le´,’’ and ‘‘Carnival,’’ in which he cried out against the terrifying political climate of Haiti, and the social injustices that are perpetrated by the ruling class. His other albums include The Ecleftic (2000), The Masquerade (2002), and The Preacher’s Son (2003). Because of his fame, Wyclef transcends all races, nationalities, ethnicities, and social classes. Every teenager in the ‘‘hood’’ knows his music, raps his rap, and joins his Carnival. Yet he is just as well known to the aristocrats and members of camelots. Indeed, no one needs to be reminded that Wyclef Jean performed a solo at John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Jr.’s, funeral in July of 1999. In the words of Steve Desrosiers, a reporter for the Haitian Boston Reporter who interviewed Wyclef in April 2003, ‘‘as

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much as we want to try we really can’t pin him nor just claim him for ourselves [Haitians]. He dines with presidents. He shoots movies in Jamaica. He leads fundraisers in Haiti. He writes lighthearted odes to strippers in the deep south. The latest? He’s about to launch a World Music record label called Sak Pase Records (What’s Happening Records)’’ (Boston Haitian Reporter, April 2003, p. 12). Wyclef was also nominated for a Golden Globe Award for the song he wrote for the acclaimed movie Hotel Rwanda, released in 2004. In short, American hip-hop music would not be what it is today without Wyclef Jean. Wyclef has proven to the world that genius transcends barriers, prejudices, and human bigotry. His impact on American society is immeasurable; he is one of the most important treasures of contemporary American and world music. In January 2005, Wyclef launched his philanthropic foundation, Ye´le´ Haiti, which raises money for education, environmental programs, AIDS prevention programs, and small-business development. He has enlisted the help of many American corporations (COMCEL, for example) and celebrities such as Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Susan Sarandon, and Jonathan Demme who contributed generously to his cause. Ye´le´ Haiti provides scholarships to thousands of poor children to attend primary school; in addition it provides vocational training to Haitian gang members, so that they can turn their lives around. The foundation is also involved in job creation. With funding from the Pan American Development Foundation and USAID, it created Project Clean Streets, that employs approximately 2,500 people a day. Currently, the foundation is working on a new initiative called Ye´le´ Cuisine, a micro-enterprise program designed to help women in poor neighborhoods operate food outlets, which can bring revenue to them while at the same time assist in feeding needy children in the area. As recently as March 13, 2007, Wyclef testified on Haiti’s behalf before the Subcommittee on the Western Hemisphere Committee on Foreign Affairs of the United States House of Representatives. In fact, he has been named Haiti’s ‘‘roving ambassador’’ by current Haitian President Rene´ Pre´val. As Haitian roving ambassador and American hip-hop icon, Wyclef is the epitome of transnationalism. As mentioned earlier, in addition to transnationalism, hybridity is one of the salient cultural outcomes of Haitian immigration. In the following section, the various characteristics of Haitian diasporic hybrid identity are highlighted. My remarks are organized around three major themes: (1) Heightened sense of Blackness; (2) Pan-Caribbean and Pan-African experience; and (3) Sense of membership into francophonie.

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HAITIAN DIASPORIC HYBRID IDENTITY Heightened Sense of Blackness Haitian immigrants do not come to the United States as tabulae rasae. They bring with them a ‘‘baggage of things past,’’ which includes their values, culture, aspirations, conceptions, and beliefs about who they are as a people. One of the strongest components of their experiential baggage is a nationbased interpretation of the concept of race. This interpretation is deeply rooted in Haitian history. It is important to recall that the declaration of independence on January 1, 1804, officially marks the birth of Haiti as a nation and, more importantly, as the first, sovereign Black nation in the Western Hemisphere. This Black nation won its independence from French colonial power as a result of 13 years of fighting. Independent Haiti became the symbol of anticolonialism, African regeneration, and racial equality. The unity of all Blacks (free colored men and slaves alike) against White subjugation is at the root of the establishment of Haiti as a nation. As Charles (1990, p. 13) remarks, ‘‘race was the unifying theme for nationhood.’’ For Haitians, race can be equated with nation because it constituted the basis of their winning and maintaining full autonomy as a republic. In the same connection, Basch, Glick Shiller, and Szanton Blanc (1994, p. 185) argue that ‘‘in their conflation of race and nation all Haitians accept that they are Black and assert that to be Black is to be truly human.’’ As an independent republic of Black people, Haitians do not experience White domination as such; they are used to self-governance and to seeing Blacks in positions of political, judicial, educational, social, and economic power. However, upon arrival in the United States, one of the first things they discover is that Blacks are no longer in control. Control belongs to White America. All of a sudden, being Black is no longer associated with positive values, but with continuing rejection and discrimination. Used to societies ‘‘where education, income and culture partially erase one’s blackness’’ (Foner 1987, p. 11), Black immigrants in the United States find that the color of their skin renders them ‘‘invisible’’ at best, ‘‘inferior’’ at worst in the eyes of the dominant White majority. They soon become aware of the new label placed on them: ‘‘minorities.’’ It is precisely this new condition of being minorities (as opposed to the majority in the homeland) that gives rise to their heightened sense of Blackness or even a new definition of this concept. This new definition is shaped by their experiences of being Black in America. The implications of those experiences are somewhat different for first- and second-generation Haitian immigrants.

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With regard to first-generation Haitian immigrants, one of their most salient strategies in dealing with their new assigned status is the affirmation of their ethnicity, which entails a sense of pride as a people and where they come from. For many first-generation Haitian immigrants, this frequently manifests itself in a certain distancing from other groups occupying the same subordinate position, particularly from native Black Americans. Charles (1990) made a similar claim when she wrote: ‘‘Haitians tend to develop forms of identity with a marked pattern toward disaffiliation from the black American population,’’ and she goes on to explain how this disaffiliation surfaces in the common saying among Haitians, ‘‘I don’t want to be Black twice.’’ Many first-generation Haitian immigrants, therefore, exploit to a great extent the various aspects of their identity that make them distinct from African Americans. One such aspect includes a strong sense of nationality, which surfaces in their self-identification as Haitians. As Ze´phir (1996) has pointed out, generally speaking, first-generation Haitian immigrants are not keen on the idea of calling themselves Americans, because this designation can only mean Black Americans, who they realize are placed at the bottom of the totem pole in American society. This placement is in direct conflict with the Haitian definition of Blackness, which is synonymous with pride and unflinching independence. Their race is a symbol of a glorious past, that of the revolution that led to freedom, nationhood, and equality with Whites. Haitians’ deep beliefs in the concept of race equality is manifest in their desire to remain Haitians as opposed to becoming Black Americans. In their minds, the label Haitian expresses more the positive meanings of Blackness than does Black American, perceived by many Haitian immigrants to be too stigmatized. Moreover, the fact that Haitian immigrants have their own distinct language, Haitian Creole, unique to them, enables them to maintain their ethnicity and their sense of ‘‘peoplehood.’’ Haitian Creole is a marker of Haitian immigrants’ ethnolinguistic identity and contributes to their feeling of belonging to a proud cultural and linguistic heritage. In addition to their language, Voodoo, considered by many scholars the religion of the Haitian majority, reinforces Haitians’ sense of uniqueness and helps them maintain their ethnic distinctiveness. Many Haitians use their religion as a parameter of ethnic identity, which sets them apart from other groups who do not share this common religion. In fact, there exists here in the United States an association on Haitian Voodoo, KOSANBA (or Congress of Santa Barbara), which was created in 1997 by a group of leading Haitian academics from well-known universities around the country for the scholarly study of Haitian Voodoo. KOSANBA is housed in the

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Center for Black Studies at the University of California at Santa Barbara, and it organizes an annual meeting sometimes in conjunction with the Haitian Studies Association conference. Their 2006 meeting was held in Detroit at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African History; at the time of this writing their 2007 meeting is slated to take place on the campus of the University of Massachusetts at Boston. These events organized by Haitian scholars of the diaspora enable members of the Haitian immigrant community to cultivate their ethnic heritage and valorize their own religious traditions. In short, through their attachment to their homeland or nation, their language, their religion, and their particular lifestyle, Haitian immigrants have managed to remain a separate Black ethnic group in America. Haitians define their Blackness in terms of linguistic, cultural, and religious traditions directly inherited from Africa. These attributes foster a source of pride that enables them to sustain the harshness of racism in America, where Blackness does not carry the positive connotations that it does in the homeland. Second-generation Haitian immigrants comprise individuals who were born here in the United States of Haitian parents, or those who came to this country at an early age (before adolescence). Generally speaking, secondgeneration Haitian immigrants do not speak English with an accent and are quite familiar with the American way. Because they lack their parents’ distinctive accents, children of Haitian immigrants can ‘‘choose’’ to be more American than ethnic, and they are certainly not overtly distinguishable from American Blacks. Consequently, this group is more heterogeneous with regard to their choice of an ethnic identity. A study conducted by Waters (1999, p. 287) among second-generation Black immigrants from the Caribbean in New York City, including a significant segment of Haitians, revealed that members of this group ‘‘vary a great deal in their identities, perceptions, and opinions,’’ and she sorted them into three general types: (1) those who identify as Americans; (2) those who identify as ethnic Americans; and (3) those who identify as immigrants ‘‘in a way that does not reckon with American racial and ethnic categories.’’ Unlike the parents who, generally speaking, tend to identify themselves as simply Haitians, second-generation Haitians are more inclined to identify themselves as Haitian Americans, or, in some cases, as African Americans. In my extensive description of ethnic identification trends among second-generation Haitian immigrants (Ze´phir, 2001), I identified various patterns: those who display a strong form of Haitianness; those who display a weak form of Haitianness; and the ‘‘undercovers,’’ referring to those who go to great length to conceal their Haitian identity and choose to call themselves African Americans.

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Those who label themselves African Americans appear to be teenagers enrolled in the public schools who are strongly influenced by peer pressure and a desire to belong. They do not perceive an ‘‘ethnic’’ identity as important to their self-image. In fact, according to Nachman (1997, pp. 118–119), many younger Haitians reject parental control and react to American negative stereotypes of Haitians. They deny their Haitian identity, and ‘‘in many cases, model their behavior and attitudes upon those of innercity African Americans.’’ Those are the Haitian youth who change the pronunciation and spelling of their last names, going from Pierre to Peter, Michel to Michael, Louis to Lewis, Alexandre to Alexander, Herve´ to Herb, and Phe`de to Fred (Ze´phir, 2001, p. 100). Second-generation Haitian immigrants who tend to identify themselves ethnically are generally, but not exclusively, from middle-class backgrounds. Haitian parents with more education and income are able to afford better schools for their offspring. In those schools and in their neighborhoods, young Haitians are less likely to come in contact with inner city African Americans. Moreover, it has been argued that middle-class parents spend more time with their children and, therefore, are better able to supervise and educate them about the Haitian definition of Blackness, which we recall rejects the American social system that identifies them as minorities. Secondgeneration immigrants who choose to define themselves ethnically are proud of their Haitian origin, and do not make any attempt to conceal it. In fact, many advertise the ethnic origin of their parents and identify Haiti as their ancestral homeland. The well-known Haitian American writer, Edwidge Danticat, is a classic example. She identifies with the cultural traditions of her Haitian-born grandmother, and considers herself a ‘‘daughter of Anacaona’’ (Anacaona is the name of an Arawak Indian queen, who ruled over the land of Ayiti).3 The same can be said of the Haitian American actress, Garcelle Beauvais, who came to the United States when she was seven, and who co-starred with Eddie Murphy in Coming to America. Garcelle is a household name to many television viewers around the country. Indeed, she is the leading star in the very popular television program, The Jamie Foxx Show, which propelled her into the limelight. In an interview with the Haitian magazine, Haı¨tiens Aujourd’hui, the young actress states: ‘‘In this very harsh milieu, it is not the fact that you are Black that makes you stand out. In my case, it is rather the fact that I am a Haitian born in Haiti.’’4 Hip-hop artist, Wyclef Jean, discussed at length earlier, is another compelling example of how some well-known members of the second-generation Haitian immigrants acknowledge the importance of their Haitian heritage in the construction of their ‘‘selves’’ in the United States.

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Their experiences, indeed, mirror those of second-generation Caribbean immigrants discussed in McGill (2005) through their cultural productions, in the sense that these Haitian artists and writers ‘‘perform and construct relationships to a parent culture on the one hand and American cultures on the other’’ (p. 4). The immigration experience has engendered on the part of Haitian immigrants a stronger need to talk about or to display their Blackness. This behavior is more typical of the diaspora than of communities in the homeland. After all, in Haiti, everybody is Black and Haitian. The concept of Haitian ethnicity is a construct that developed on foreign soil as a means of surviving in racist societies. Given the very circumstances that shaped this particular construct, Haitian ethnicity is by definition hybrid, composed of both autochthonous and foreign elements. We now turn our attention to another aspect of Haitian cultural hybridity, that is the Pan-Caribbean and Pan-African experience.

PAN-CARIBBEAN AND PAN-AFRICAN EXPERIENCE Earlier, I mentioned that there was a tendency on the part of the Haitian diaspora, particularly members of the first generation, to distance themselves from other Black groups, particularly native Black Americans, occupying the same subordinate position. While this is generally true, there exists, however, a fair number of Haitians who find out that this tactic does not necessarily guarantee better treatment or placement on the American social ladder. Repeated instances of discrimination on the part of Whites, who perceive Haitians to be AIDS carriers, barbarian, illiterate, and uncivilized, led many Haitians to take a deep breath and to rethink their perspectives on the reality of race relations in the United States, and to discard some of their pretensions to superiority over other Blacks. This manifests itself in the need to recognize the commonalities of a PanCaribbean and Pan-African experience, and to join forces with ‘‘outside’’ communities, as opposed to remaining within the confines of the Haitian diaspora community. On one level, the reality is such that it is not entirely unusual to find a small percentage of Haitians who choose to identify themselves as West Indians, Caribbeans, or islanders. Moreover, Haitians, who are also fluent speakers of Spanish and who phenotypically can pass as Hispanics, sometimes opt to claim a Hispanic identity (mostly Dominican). These

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various classifications make some sense when one keeps in mind that a significant number of Haitians live in neighborhoods populated by West Indians, and other Spanish Caribbean groups. Recall that in New York City, Jamaicans and Dominicans are the largest Caribbean groups. The same situation obtains in Miami, which also has a very large Caribbean population. Therefore, Haitians, for whom the label Haitian is as stigmatized as the label African American, can regroup themselves under a Pan-Caribbean identity and culture which include common characteristics – music, food, lifestyle – shared by all the islands and, in some cases, the similarities of a Creole language. In fact, several Haitians acknowledge the benefits of membership in this broader geographical category, and find some advantages to affiliating with other Black immigrant groups who, like them, are trying to come to grips with the reality of race and ethnic relations in the host society. On another level, there is also nothing surprising about finding Haitians, who in spite of their ethnic pride, manifest a strong solidarity and unity with native Black Americans, and ally with them in an effort to improve the status of all Blacks living in America. Haitians in this category tend to be better educated and, consequently, are able to judge the African American community not by the faults of its disenfranchised, but by the successes of its achievers. They are very well aware that the plight of Black Americans is also that of Black immigrants. Whatever treatment is reserved for Blacks from America is also reserved for all Blacks living in America. In this discussion, it is interesting to note that the theme of the 1997 Haitian Studies Association Conference held in Detroit was Haitians in the Pan-African Community: Culture, Identity, Affirmation. Such an event suggests that there is a growing recognition that complete ethnic separateness and attitudes of disdain toward other Black groups are not the best ways to improve the social conditions of Haitians in America. The underlying message is that it is quite possible for Haitians to be proud of their ethnic heritage without segregating themselves from other Black groups, who by virtue of their Blackness, share similar experiences of discrimination and have common objectives. The emerging propensity on the part of some Haitians to choose to define themselves in terms of the common values of a Caribbean and Black heritage and to regroup themselves under a ‘‘pan-ethnic ideology’’ is a manifestation of the Haitian diaspora cultural hybridity. Those various identities claimed by Haitians are a direct result of their immigrant conditions, and can be regarded as coping strategies in a fluid society where race and ethnic relations are in constant flux. .

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MEMBERSHIP INTO FRANCOPHONIE The last aspect of Haitian cultural hybridity that I will briefly discuss concerns membership into francophonie. Although all Haitians share a common language, Haitian language, since it is spoken by 100% of the population, it is, nevertheless, important to acknowledge the existence of a small percentage (between 5 and 20%) of the population that is, in addition, French speaking. For bilingual Haitians, including those of the diaspora, French is an active language. In previous works (Ze´phir, 1997, 2005), I discussed the social value of French for bilingual Haitian immigrants and its actual use within the Haitian diaspora community in New York. For this group, French is a ‘‘linguistic capital’’ that is constantly manipulated by its speakers in anticipation of social benefits, namely a higher placement on the American social scale. In fact, some argue that their knowledge of French should allow them to be counted among the francophones d’Ame´rique, a classification perceived by them to be much more desirable than that of the minorite´s d’Ame´rique. Within the Haitian diasporic community, there have long been in existence several French language periodicals, Haı¨ti en Marche, Haı¨ti Progre`s, Haı¨ti Observateur, all claiming a French readership among the bilingual diaspora. Moreover, it is important to note that the major Haitian diasporic newspaper, The Haitian Times, publishes a weekly column in French titled Du coˆte´ de chez Hugues (Hughes’s corner). In this discussion, it is useful to mention that bilingual Haitian immigrants were schooled in French, not in Haitian Creole. Therefore, for them reading and writing in French come more naturally than in Creole, a language they learned to read at a later stage and, in a few cases, cannot read and write at all. Furthermore, bilingual Haitians certainly take pride in their French literary heritage. Jacques Roumain’s Gouverneurs de la rose´e (The Masters of the Dew) and Price Mars’ Ainsi parla l’oncle (So Spoke the Uncle) are all classics of francophone literature. More recently, Lilas Desquiron, thanks to her novel Les chemins de Loco-Miroir (Reflections on Loco-Miroir), also joined the ranks of the literary diaspora aiming at an international readership. So does Haitian American writer, Edwidge Danticat, whose novels, originally written in English, have been translated into French, as for example, Breath, Eyes and Memory, that appeared in French as Le Cri de l’oiseau rouge; and The Farming of Bones, as La Re´colte douce des larmes. The use of the French language gives an international dimension to the works of these and other authors, and unquestionably enriches the

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francophone literary canon. Additionally, they offer valuable insights into Haitian culture, not always accurately represented abroad. The French linguistic heritage has concrete manifestations within the Haitian diaspora. The literary channel is perhaps the strongest vehicle that allows Haitian immigrants to maintain a link with the francophone world. Those who appreciate this tradition are not ready to relinquish it; they want to preserve it, as they associate with it a number of social benefits that mesh with their goals of making a better life and improving their status. This explains why some Haitian bilinguals also claim a francophone identity, and welcome membership into the francophone world. In short, Haitian hybridity, which manifests itself in the various labels with which Haitians choose to define themselves and their various affiliations, provides ‘‘a context of empowerment’’ (Kraidy, 2005, p. 161), in which they attempt to fulfill their social potential and mitigate social tensions in the United States.

CONCLUSION In this chapter I have attempted to show that cultural identity within the Haitian diaspora was a transnational and hybrid concept, constructed on foreign soil as a means of adjusting to unfamiliar and harsh realities. Such an ethnicity is not static; it is dynamic and multi-dimensional. By its very nature, it is also an unfinished product, continuously evolving and constantly being molded by new elements, resulting from the contact with other cultures and other people. Perhaps to describe the character of Haitian diasporic identity, one might have to accept its ever-changing formulations or ‘‘enunciations’’ (McGill, 2005, p. 240); its multiness – more than one language, more than one ideal, more than one thought, more than one way of simply being human.

NOTES 1. A full discussion of Haitian organizations, community centers, and other diasporic networks can be found in Ze´phir (2004). In addition, Pierre-Louis (2006) focuses entirely on hometown associations in New York City. 2. A great deal of the information provided on Dumas Sime´us and Sime´us Foods International (SFI) can be found on the Internet. Various websites were consulted and downloaded in June 2007. Moreover, in 2003–2004, I had several personal exchanges with him.

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3. This is taken from an article by Edwidge Danticat herself, titled ‘‘We are ugly, but we are here,’’ in which she talked about her Haitian heritage, and evoked memories of her grandmother. The article appeared in the newsletter of the Association for Haitian American Development published in Decatur, GA. Volume IV, number II, issue XIII, pp. 7–8. April–June 1998. 4. This is taken from an article about Garcelle Beauvais titled ‘‘Garcelle Beauvais: Simplement belle,’’ and published in Haı¨tiens Aujourd’hui, 2(2), pp. 12–13, 1998.

REFERENCES Barkan, E. (1995). Race, religion, and nationality in American society: A model of ethnicity – from contact to assimilation. Journal of American Ethnic History, 14(2), 38–75. Basch, L., Schiller, N. G., & Blanc, C. S. (1994). Nations unbound: Transnational projects, postcolonial predicaments, and deterriolized nations-states. Langhorne, PA: Gordon and Breach. Charles, C. (1990). A transnational dialectic of race, class, and ethnicity: Patterns of identity and forms of consciousness among Haitians migrants in New York City. Ph.D. dissertation, State University of New York at Binghamton. Espiritu, Y. L. (2003). Home bound: Filipino American lives across cultures, communities, and countries. Berkeley: University of California Press. Foner, N. (1987). New immigrants in New York. New York: Columbia University Press. Gans, H. (1992). Ethnic invention and acculturation: A bumpy-line approach. Journal of American Ethnic History, 12(1), 43–52. Gold, S. J. (2000). Israeli Americans. In: P. Kivisto & G. Rundblad (Eds), Multiculturalism in the United States: Current issues, contemporary voices (pp. 409–420). Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press. Kivisto, P. (2005). Incorporating diversity: Rethinking assimilation in a multicultural age. Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers. Kivisto, P., & Rundblad, G. (2000). Multiculturalism in the United States: Current issues, contemporary voices. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press. Kraidy, M. M. (2005). Hybridity, or the cultural logic of globalization. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Laguerre, M. (1998). Diasporic citizenship: Haitian Americans in transnational America. New York: St. Martin’s Press. McGill, L. (2005). Constructing black selves: Caribbean narratives and the second generation. New York: New York University Press. Nachman, S. R. (1997). Review of Ze´phir’s Haitian immigrants in Black America: A sociological and sociolinguistic portrait. Journal of Anthropological Research, 53(1), 116–119. Pierre-Louis, F., Jr. (2006). Haitians in New York City: Transnationalism and hometown associations. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Portes, A. (1995). The sociology of immigration: Essays on networks, ethnicity and entrepreneurship. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Portes, A. (1996). The new second generation. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Portes, A., & Rumbaut, R. G. (2001). Legacies: The story of the immigrant second generation. Berkeley: The University of California Press.

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Portes, A., & Rumbaut, R. G. (2006). Immigrant America: A portrait (3rd ed.). Berkeley: University of California Press. Portes, A., & Stepick, A. (1993). City on edge: The transformation of Miami. Berkeley: University of California Press. Purkayastha, B. (2005). Negotiating ethnicity: Second-generation South Asian Americans traverse a transnational world. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Rumbaut, R. G., & Portes, A. (2001). Ethnicities: Children of immigrants in America. Berkeley: The University of California Press. Said, E. W. (1993). Culture and imperialism. New York: Vintage Books. Stepick, A. (1998). Pride against prejudice: Haitians in the United States. Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon. Stepick, A., Grenier, G., Castro, M., & Dunn, M. (2003). This land is our land: Immigrants and power in Miami. Berkeley: University of California Press. Warner, L. W., & Srole, L. (1945). The social systems of American ethnic groups. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Waters, M. (1999). Black identities: West Indian immigrant dreams and American realities. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Ze´phir, F. (1996). Haitian immigrants in Black America: A sociological and sociolinguistic portrait. Wesport, CT: Bergin and Garvey. Ze´phir, F. (1997). The social value of French for bilingual Haitian immigrants. The French Review, 70(3), 395–406. Ze´phir, F. (2001). Trends in ethnic identification among second-generation Haitian immigrants in New York City. Wesport, CT: Bergin and Garvey. Ze´phir, F. (2004). The Haitian Americans. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Ze´phir, F. (2005). Les roˆles respectifs du cre´ole et du franc- ais dans l’identite´ culturelle de la diaspora haı¨ tienne. In: A. Valdman & J. Auger (Eds), Le Franc- ais aux Etats-Unis (pp. 455–475). Que´bec: University of Laval Press. Zhou, M. (1997). Segmented assimilation: Issues, controversies, and recent research on the new second generation. International Migration Review, 31, 975–1008.

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GERMAN AND JAPANESE TRANSNATIONAL MIGRANTS IN AMERICA: BICULTURALISM IN COMPARATIVE PERSPECTIVE Masayo Nishida INTRODUCTION To study biculturalism in the United States is to look into how racial and ethnic boundaries are defined, maintained, and contested in this society. In everyday life in the United States, it is a pervasive tendency to classify individuals into existing cultural groupings according to their ‘‘lineage,’’ and to assume little or no variation within the categories. In the meantime, much academic research repeatedly points to racial and ethnic groups being socially constructed, and that therefore, racial and ethnic identities are contextual and multi-layered, and members within a group are far from monolithic. This chapter adds to this debate against the deceptively simplistic, yet prevailing, view that regards racial and ethnic groups as largely impermeable and static, by underlining the dynamism and multiplicity of cultural identities perceived by a group of transnational migrants. I maintain that transnational migrants, who simultaneously maintain connections with two cultures derived from their society of origin and their host society, are bicultural in its wider definition. I hereby argue that, in

Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 77–103 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15005-X

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addition to birth into a racial or ethnic minority group and mixed heritage as the existing literature explores, demographic movement from one society to another may create a realm for biculturalism. Transnational migrants, like other types of bicultural individuals, are engaged in an act of balancing two (or more) cultures, sometimes fall into a sense of marginality due to their in-betweenness, and sometimes create a unique hybrid culture out of the two cultures with which they have deep-seated connections. The inability to categorize them may contest the existing cultural boundaries based on race and ethnicity, and suggest a new perspective on race, ethnicity, and culture. I explore the ways in which a group of transnational migrants live bicultural lives in contemporary America, and consider their potential effects on America’s racial and ethnic landscape, drawing on 50 in-depth interviews with German and Japanese professional and white-collar workers living and working in the Greater Boston area. Due to their high levels of human capital and ‘‘First World’’ origin, their experiences are not representative of all transnational migrants. Nonetheless, I argue the respondents’ bicultural adaptation sheds a new light on cultural boundaries at present closely related to the concept of race and ethnicity, or one’s lineage. I will start with a brief look at the current U.S. racial and ethnic landscape with a focus on the prevailing view of ethno-racial identity, one that is understood as determined by ascribed characters and as being mutually exclusive. It is followed by an analysis of ideal-typical patterns of encounters with people of different cultures. Then, I will explore the findings of the indepth interviews: how the respondents are accepted in American society, how they behave in certain ways out of cultural repertoires rooted in America and their society of origin, and how they perceive their cultural identities. In the last section, I will discuss the significance of these transnational migrants on the future of racial and ethnic relations in the United States.

BICULTURALISM: A BURDEN ON RACIAL AND ETHNIC MINORITIES The term ‘‘bicultural’’ in the American context is often closely associated with the ambivalent status of racial and ethnic minorities. This ambivalence has been salient since as far back as the beginning of the twentieth century,

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when Du Bois, in The Souls of Black Folk, examined ‘‘double consciousness.’’ He revealed the split psyche and conditions of ambiguous being of African descendants on American soil, caught between two opposing cultures – the mainstream white culture and the culture of their ancestors (Du Bois, [1903]1994; Dennis, 2003). African descendants have viewed American society and themselves through ‘‘the veil,’’ which means that they keep a certain distance from mainstream America. African Americans are a part of, yet feel apart1 from American society, as a result of persistent racism and segregation. This peculiarity of in-betweenness resonates with Simmel’s ([1908]1971) concept of the stranger, who comes today and stays tomorrow, without completely merging himself into the culture of the society’s majority. This peculiar status of being internal outsiders still applies to most racial minorities (Feagin & Sikes, 1994; Lacy, 2007; Telles & Ortiz, 2008; Tuan, 1998). Race and ethnicity still are the most salient divisions in social interactions in the United States (McPherson, Smith-Lovin, & Cook, 2001). Constituents of minority group are located in-between the culture of their ‘‘origin’’ and mainstream American culture. People of racially and ethnically mixed heritages are also bicultural, and they also experience the ambivalence of in-betweenness. Historically, a clear, linear heritage was considered the norm and the mixing of blood was regarded as an exception. Children resulting from miscegenation were automatically classified into the ‘‘inferior’’ race category in the United States, as the ‘‘one drop rule’’ emblematically represents (Nobles, 2000). Today, the societal force to classify people of interracially mixed heritage into an existing category is still strong. Those who are not easily categorized into a single racial or ethnic identity are considered suspicious and problematic for their alleged dual loyalty or lack of a full-fledged cultural identity. People of two or more heritages are at risk of being ostracized as ‘‘others’’ by the larger society and by their racial and ethnic groups (Root, 1992). This tendency reiterates the ‘‘deviant’’ aspects of bicultural individuals. Their potential to bridge the relevant cultures is largely overlooked, and they are viewed as problematic. Thus, the term, bicultural, bears the connotation of the burden of inbetweenness, rather than that of providing strength to such individuals. Even though many scholars repeatedly emphasize the multiplicity of cultural identities and the fluidity of racial and ethnic boundaries (Espiritu, 1992; Kibria, 2002; J. H. Kim, 2004; Nagel, 1994; Omi & Winant, 1994; Padilla, 1986; Waters, 1991, 1999), in the everyday world, bicultural being is mostly considered aberrant, and a burden to its bearers.

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CULTURAL COMPOSITIONS OF A SOCIETY Bicultural individuals are under enormous pressure to choose one cultural group over the other, but in a situation in which they cannot easily do so. I argue that this struggle of bicultural individuals arises from a societal contradiction between two normative forces in the United States: the expectation that the individual sustains the culture of his/her ancestors, and the demands that s/he accepts mainstream American (reading white) values and customs. This exemplifies the uniqueness of America’s racial and ethnic landscape: the prevailing notion of essentialism, that one’s ancestors determine the cultural traits that the individual possesses, on the one hand, and the faith in civic nationalism, that a single set of ‘‘American’’ values and customs unites Americans as a nation, and therefore, one has to conform to it, on the other. The key to understanding this contradiction is to figure out how Americans have responded when encountering people of other cultures. I argue that there are four types of consequences when one group of people meets a substantive number of people of different culture(s) in a bounded territory. Developing Faist’s (2000) categorization concerning immigrants’ adaptation in a host society, I propose the nativist, assimilationist, cultural pluralist, and cultural syncretist models as the ideal-typical patterns.2 These patterns are divided along two measures: the cultural membership (‘‘closed’’ membership based on descent or ‘‘open’’ membership based on common values), and the direction the society ‘‘ought’’ to follow (a homogeneous society under a single set of cultural norms and values, or a heterogeneous society with multiple sets of values and customs). These perceived images affect the manner in which the society accepts or rejects people of different cultures within its boundary. The models are set out in Table 1. Nativists believe that the interests of the society can be protected and sustained only through maintaining its constituents as members of a specific national group, who supposedly share a descent. They pursue the goal of a unified society comprising a homogeneous group of people who share the same values and customs. Culture is understood in an essentialist manner Table 1.

Society – Homogeneous Society – Heterogeneous

Models of Cultural Groupings.

Culture/Constituents – Closed

Culture/Constituents – Open

Nativism Cultural pluralism

Assimilationism Cultural syncretism

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and people of different cultures are depicted as ‘‘unable’’ and ‘‘unwilling’’ to adapt to the dominant culture of the host society due to their ascribed characteristics. According to the nativists’ claims, immigrants are innately different (unless they are originally from the same ethnic and racial heritage), and should be prevented from entering and staying in the territory for the sake of the solidarity of the society. Assimilationists also desire a cohesive society that is regulated by a single set of values. However, the difference from the nativists is that the assimilationists consider that individuals can adopt the cultural values of the receiving society. Newcomers are viewed as able to become part of the society as long as they follow the dominant rules and norms; they are considered a menace only when they do not conform to the society’s norms and customs. In contrast to the nativists who emphasize that shared ancestry is the foundation for societal unity, the assimilationists underscore the ability of human beings to learn a new set of norms and values. These attitudes approximately exemplify ethnic nationalism and civic nationalism, respectively. Apart from their differences, both nativists and assimilationists consider that a society should be ruled under a single set of norms and values. In their opinion, tolerating multiple cultures within a society is detrimental to its interests, and it will lose its solidarity and may degenerate into chaos, which should be avoided at all costs. In contrast, the cultural syncretist and cultural pluralist models do not consider that cultural diversity necessarily contradicts the well-being of a society. These two stances vary in that the cultural pluralist model assumes that people maintain their cultural traditions based on descent solidly over generations (even millennia in the case of some diaspora). Their national and ethnic traits display little or no influence from the culture of other groups. In a way, the cultural pluralists share the essentialist belief with the nativists that a culture is determined by one’s birth. Therefore, a multicultural society in the cultural pluralist model works as a constellation of racial and ethnic groups with rather static cultural boundaries, quite independent from each other, which may be working in harmony or be strictly stratified. The cultural syncretist model admits that individuals can obtain certain aspects of other cultures, while maintaining much of their original culture. It also emphasizes the possibility of creating a third culture, which is related to, yet distinctive from, the two basic cultures. This approach shares with the assimilationist model the belief that culture is not essentially affixed to one’s ascribed background, and can be learned by any group of people; yet the cultural syncretist model differs from the assimilationist approach in

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that cultural choice is not mutually exclusive. As suggested earlier, cultural syncretism shares with cultural pluralism the idea that cultural diversity can be beneficial to the society. Thus, cultural syncretism views cultural diversity in its full complexity and dynamism; cultures may be merged across the group, and cultural boundaries are always in the process of redefinition.

ENCOUNTERS OF PEOPLES OF DIFFERENT CULTURES IN THE UNITED STATES As a society of immigrants (Handlin, [1951]2002; Higham, 1999) and of the conquered and the slaves (Hollinger, 1999),3 the United States epitomizes all of the above-mentioned four patterns of reactions toward people of different cultures. Nativist movements were once prevalent against white ethnics from southern and eastern Europe (Alba & Nee, 2003; Ignatiev, 1995), and against Jews (Herberg, [1955]1983; Sacks, 1994), while Asians were legally banned on the West Coast (C. J. Kim, 2004; Gerstle, 2001; Tuan, 1998) and Mexicans, even though legally categorized as white, were socially segregated in the Southwest (Foley, 2004). While nativist thoughts and movements resurface recurrently (see Brimelow, 1996; Huntington, 2004; Perea, 1997 for ‘‘new’’ nativism), the force is not as intense today as it was in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. There is no place for bicultural individuals in the nativist scheme. American society demonstrates a stronger legacy of assimilation. This perspective expects migrants to become good American citizens, regardless of their origins or former cultural affiliations. White ethnics’ integration during the immigration lull between 1924 and 1965 is often cited as proof of this (Alba & Nee, 2003; Waters, 1991). However, many scholars are cautious about accepting the simplest version of an assimilation model that depicts mainstream culture as being attainable for everyone on an equal basis. They consider it a rather naive belief. Scholars point to a more complex reality, including rejection by the mainstream, obstacles placed in the way of certain racial and ethnic groups, and different levels of stigma attached to them (Telles & Ortiz, 2008; Tuan, 1998; Waters, 1999). Yet, the idea remains strong that America, as a civic nation, should and does receive people who share its values. Under the assimilationist model, bicultural individuals can be blamed for dual loyalty, or not sufficiently cherishing American values and customs, and for clinging too much to their culture of origin, which is un-American.

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The pluralistic model was first embodied with absolute inequality in the form of racial segregation within the plantation economy and under the Jim Crow laws in the South. Primarily owing to the Civil Rights Movement, de jure racial segregation was abolished, and social norms have changed to celebrate cultural diversity, which was a great paradigm change (Joppke, 1998).4 Yet, today’s celebration of multiculturalism still holds the legacy: the essentialist understanding that cultures are derived from individuals’ lineages, or ‘‘communities of descent’’ (Hollinger, 1999). This rather static view of racial and ethnic boundaries could be a double-edged sword. While underlining existing group boundaries helps to maintain the distinctiveness of cultures, it also discounts complexities within the group and the malleability of cultural boundaries. In this paradigm, bicultural individuals are deviant, because they renounce belonging to a given cultural group. It has been over a century since Du Bois examined the ambivalent, bicultural lives of African Americans in the United States and conceptualized them as internal ‘‘Others.’’ Since then, much has changed in the surrounding racial and ethnic landscape of American society. However, the tension between the essentialist understanding of racial and ethnic categories and the assimilationist pressure to conform to a single set of cultural values has not been resolved. In fact, the legitimacy of categorization based on ascribed characteristics has even been enhanced with the current multiculturalism through the cultural pluralist model, which expects that individuals belong to a given cultural group depending on their descent. By and large, bicultural lives are still a burden to their bearers.

Transnational Migrants and the Cultural Syncretist Model Transnationalism, a relatively new analytical tool to understand international migration, corresponds well with the cultural syncretist model. The transnationalism approach considers that migrants can concurrently belong to the cultures of the receiving and sending societies (Basch, Glick Schiller, & Blanc-Szanton, 1994; Glick Schiller, Basch, & Blanc-Szanton, 1992; Levitt, 2001; Portes, Haller, & Guarnizo, 2002; Smith & Guarnizo, 1998). By indicating that migrants can learn the American way of life while they sustain the customs of their society of origin, the transnational perspective suggests the high possibility of migrants holding stakes in two (or more) cultures, thus being bicultural. In addition, the transnational approach poses a question against the rather static depiction of the relationship between a culture and its constituents (against the nativist and pluralist

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models), and challenges the notion of the inevitability of having one culture to unite people within the framework of a society (challenging the assimilationist and nativist models); it further contests the significance of making a dichotomous choice regarding immigrants’ loyalty between the sending society and the receiving society (thereby opposing the cultural pluralist and assimilationist models). The literature on transnational migrants explores the dynamism of cultural transformation, and the simultaneous belonging to multiple cultures. It demonstrates how the cultural syncretist model is empirically practiced (Kurien, 1998; Levitt, 2001; Smith, 2006). The transnational approach captures the migrants’ sense of belonging with a ‘‘both/and’’ perspective, rather than an ‘‘either/or’’ view, in relation to the sending and receiving societies. The theory uncovers the fact that transnational migrants find a comfort zone between the two cultures, rather than choosing one or the other, as conventionally assumed (see Handlin, [1951]2002). Transnational scholars maintain that migrants can embrace these cultures concurrently, that the host society’s culture can be (selectively) learned by immigrants without renouncing their original culture, and that the cultures are flexible enough to be created into a new hybrid. This cultural duality, what Levitt and Glick Schiller call ‘‘simultaneity’’ (2004), is nothing but biculturalism. Transnational migration inadvertently poses various questions regarding the existing racial and ethnic boundaries and may eventually move the United States toward a society of syncretic cultural configurations.

METHODOLOGY AND DATA SOURCE My analysis draws on in-depth interviews with 25 German and 25 Japanese highly skilled migrants living and working in the Greater Boston area. The data were collected for a larger study to investigate the adaptation to the U.S. society of an understudied group of migrants, those who hold high levels of human capital and are of ‘‘First World’’ origin. For the purpose of exploring how these migrants perceive their lives in the United States and view their cultural identity(ies) vis-a`-vis existing racial and ethnic categories, I deem that the in-depth interview is most appropriate. The interviews were conducted between October 2005 and May 2006. The respondents’ assigned names and their characteristics are summarized in Tables 2–5. 54 percent of the interviewees are male (60 percent among the Germans and 48 percent among the Japanese). The age range is between 27 and 50, and the median age is 37. The average of the

German Women. Years in U.S. (Accumulative)

Table 2.

Years in U.S. (Current)

German n/a American American (Korean) n/a n/a French n/a n/a

Spouse’s Nationality (Ethnicity)

Occupation

LPR LPR LPR LPR LPR H-1B LPR H-1B F-1

Legal Status

Highest Degree

9 5 8 11 8 8 8 9 5

Age

9 5 6 11 8 8 7 5 5

Name

BA MA MA MA MD MA BA PhD MS

n/a

37 37 32 37 38 41 33 37 38

LPR

Gisela Sabine Monika Marianne Helga Rita Ursula Katharina Gabriele

7

BA

5

30

Software developer Paster/educator Managing consultant Healthcare marketing Physician Development editor Marketing manager University instructor Researcher (enrolled in doctoral program) Nanny/medical assistant

Karin

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85

Erik Otto Edgar Dieter Karl Heinrich Joseph

Paul Sebastian

Hans

Name

35

42 41 34 40 43 37 44

35 35

35

Age

MBA MD MD MA

PhD

PhD PhD PhD PhD BA PhD MA

PhD MS

MA

Highest Degree Lecturer (enrolled in doctoral program) High tech consultant Manager, software engineering Director, pharmacology Computer scientist Physician Lecturer Consultant Physician Manager, sales/ marketing Director, university research (physical science) Management consultant Surgeon Surgeon Lecturer (enrolled in doctoral program)

Occupation

2 5

6

Years in U.S. (Current)

5 10 8 10 6 5 7

5 6

6

Years in U.S. (Accumulative)

H-1B

LPR US citizen LPR F-1 LPR LPR LPR

LPR H-1B

LPR

American German n/a American (Cuban/ Spanish)

French

Dutch American (Bolivian) American (Chinese) n/a n/a German German

American (Chinese) Russian

American (German)

German Men.

5 9 8 6 6 5 7

5

LPR H-1B J-1 LPR

Spouse’s Nationality (Ethnicity)

5

8 7 7 10

Legal Status

7 7 6 10

86

Anton

38 35 36 33

Table 3.

Oliver Wilfried Franz Ju¨rgen

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Years in U.S. (Accumulative)

Legal Status

Japanese Women. Years in U.S. (Current)

n/a n/a

Table 4. Occupation

US citizen F-1

Spouse’s Nationality (Ethnicity)

Highest Degree

13 6

Age

11 6

n/a

Name

MA MA

LPR

34 34

8

Kaori Akiko

6

n/a

MA

F-1

34

5

Chiaki

2

Canadian American (French) American (white) n/a

BA

O-1 LPR LPR LPR

27

7 14 9 20

Rei

6 10 9 10

Japanese

MD BS MSW MA

LPR

45 48 31 41

9

Yumi Kyoko Mami Takako

9

LPR

MS

14

40

9

Sayaka

Librarian Sales/Administration (enrolled in another master’s program) Documentary film maker International education (enrolled in master’s program) Pathologist Analyst Psychotherapist Director, non-profit organization Research lab technologist Administrator BA

American (mixed heritage) n/a n/a

40

H-1B L-1

Yuko

8 9

MSW LLM

7 3

31 36

Therapist Attorney

Naomi Katsura

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87

Tetsuo Akihito Ken Kazuhiko Yasuhiro

Kazuo Masashi Shota Kunio

Name

33 34

36 43 36 41 40

39 50 43 37

Age

MA

BA BA

PhD PhD PhD DMD BS

MD PhD PhD PhD

Highest Degree

Occupation

8 10 6 4

Years in U.S. (Current)

5 10 7 9 8

8 12 6 4

Years in U.S. (Accumulative)

LPR F-1

H-1B LPR H-1B F-1 LPR

J-1 LPR H-1B H-1B

Japanese

American (Italian) Japanese

Japanese Japanese Japanese Japanese Japanese

Japanese Japanese n/a Japanese

Japanese Men.

5 8 1 9 8

6 7

Student visa

Spouse’s Nationality (Ethnicity)

6 7

6

Legal Status

4

88

Takaaki Akira 32

Table 5.

Haruki

Medical researcher Director, pharmacology Medical researcher Physician/Medical researcher Assistant professor Medical researcher Assistant professor Dentist Manager, engineering (enrolled in MBA program) Sales Finance (enrolled in master’s program) Consultant, city planning (enrolled in doctoral program)

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respondents’ current stay in the United States is six years, ranging from two years to a little over ten years, while the average of consecutive length of several stays is approximately seven years, ranging from a little short of five years to twenty years. The great majority of the respondents consider their settlement in America as permanent or semi-permanent. The sample does not include corporate expatriates and diplomats who know with certainty that they will return to their society of origin or transfer to another society in several years upon completion of their assignments in the United States. First of all, it should be noted that the cultural background of the population of this study is not especially monolithic, despite the fact that the respondents come from two societies that are said to most closely approximate the concept of ethnic nationalism, comprised of a homogeneous group of people. As far as their actual background is concerned, three respondents have one non-German parent and a few have a nonGerman grandparent. Degrees of exogamy of their parents’ or grandparents’ generation are not reported among the Japanese respondents. Quite a few respondents have visited or lived in the United States previously. Five Germans and seven Japanese spent substantial periods of time during their childhood, or in their young adulthood, in a third country, including Argentina, Hong Kong, Italy, Lebanon, Malaysia, the Netherlands, Spain, Switzerland, and the United Kingdom. Their parents’ and grandparents’ mixed marriages and their own extensive living in other societies affect their cultural identity in several ways. Two extreme examples are Otto and Sayaka. They developed quite different strategies to cope with hazing by their peers for not being an ‘‘authentic’’ German or Japanese. Otto, having a father from another European country, tried harder than anyone else to perfectly fit the image of a German. He states, ‘‘I might be more German than a lot of 100 percent Germans.’’ On the other hand, Sayaka accepted pan-Asian identity, over Japanese identity, as her primary cultural identification. Upon her return to Japan, she was ‘‘convinced that I was a [nationality of a society in Asia in which she spent five years of her childhood]. Still I’m not very conscientious about being Japanese; rather I feel I’m Asian.’’ In between these two examples lie a few others who view themselves as German and European simultaneously without major conflict, or accept a reputation as ‘‘a little bit unorthodox’’ as Japanese. Regional attachment is another factor that complicates their cultural identity prior to and after their arrival in the United States. Joseph is originally from East Germany. He came to the United States via Bavaria, in southern Germany, where he worked for a couple of years. He says he felt

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more foreign there than now in America, even though East Germans and Bavarians are alleged to speak the ‘‘same’’ language and share the ‘‘same’’ ethnicity. Similarly, Katharina is from southern Germany and states that southerners are different from typical Germans from the north, in looks (such as hair color) and accent. She was even ridiculed by a northerner for being from a southern town in Germany and teaching German in the United States with a strong accent and a different set of vocabularies from ‘‘standard’’ (reading northern) German. Likewise, Takaaki is proud of his Kansai accent and upbringing in the western part of Japan. He gives less significance to being Japanese in his self-identity, as his attachment to the region is much stronger. Thus, they demonstrated quite a range of nationalcultural identity patterns prior to their moves to the United States. In contrast to this ‘‘unexpected’’ heterogeneity in cultural identity, the respondents’ socioeconomic status is quite homogeneous. All the participants possess legal papers, which allow them to live and work lawfully in the United States. They are university graduates or hold equivalent degrees. More than 80 percent of the respondents have already acquired, or are currently pursuing, one or more graduate degrees, such as Master’s, MBA, MD, and PhD. Their educational levels are thus far beyond the average of the general population in any of the three countries related to this study, the United States, Germany, and Japan. They are engaged in professional or white-collar jobs.5 Their occupations include medical researcher, physician, business consultant, corporate manager, business administrator, software engineer, medical engineer, librarian, book editor, filmmaker, director of a non-profit organization, preacher, therapist, medical assistant, and faculty member at an institution of higher education.

FINDINGS The Nativist Model? No significant nativist reaction was found against these respondents. Exceptions are minor incidents, such as that in the countryside some Japanese respondents were stared at for their Asian looks as if they were objects of freak shows, or spoken to extremely slowly as if they did not understand English at all. While these experiences are not pleasant, the respondents reported that they did not feel they were explicitly malicious; rather they thought that these reactions had resulted from little exposure to non-whites. Ursula had an uncomfortable moment at a party where she was

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mostly speaking in German with her German friend; a ‘‘narrow-minded’’ (her depiction) African American male complained about her not speaking in English. Ursula also considers that the incident is solely attributable to that particular individual, and not a general response from American society. Overall, the respondents do not encounter overt discrimination or marginalization. They do not think that their foreign-born status affects them negatively. They even point out that sometimes Americans view them with mild admiration for the high cultures and advanced technologies of Germany and Japan.

The Assimilationist Model? German and Japanese professionals are well received in America, and do not depend extensively on their co-nationals in the process of adaptation. At first glance, it appears that these migrants follow a straight-line assimilation. Unlike low-skilled migrants who (are/were forced to) form an ethnic enclave and are segregated from the mainstream at the early stage of assimilation, the respondents directly start their American life among (upper-) middleclass Americans. Their residences are spread around (upper-) middle class neighborhoods in the Greater Boston area. The people I interviewed work with Americans of high educational and socioeconomic backgrounds on a fairly egalitarian basis. While they mostly work in American institutions, one-third of the respondents reported that the majority of their colleagues are other international professionals. None works in a workplace where Germans or Japanese are a predominant majority. Even at German- or Japanese-owned corporations, where a few of my respondents work, they say that the business style is quite American and the number of other Germans and Japanese is quite small. While some have a few clients, customers or sponsors of the same nationality, this happens as a ‘‘coincidence,’’ not by preference. Karl did not hesitate to choose an American contractor over its German competitor for sheer judgment of quality of the service. Ken considers it an advantage that Japanese clients come to him for projects; however, this is seen as an ‘‘extra’’ to the majority of his clients in America and Europe. Ethnic businesses designed to cater for specific needs are either non-existent or not widely utilized among the study participants, except that grocery stores are moderately used. It appears that German and Japanese professionals do not depend on ethnic connections for their occupations, and are well connected to America’s primary market, both as producers and consumers.

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As well as the lack of ethnic businesses, the study participants maintain very weak social networks with their co-nationals in the United States in their private lives, if they are not completely severed from them. Furthermore, there is no evidence of chain migration. My respondents’ purposes to come to America vary from first-hand access to state-of-the-art technology, America’s leading position in a specific field of research or business, a better work environment, a fondness for American popular culture, to an American spouse’s preference to stay in or return to the United States. None have decided to live in this society because they had a close relative or friend here. Rather, they come here through their previous connections with American institutions or individuals, or connections they have made specifically for their moves. Likewise, no one has called for an extended family member or friend from the motherland to live and work together, except spouses and children. There are several informal gatherings and support groups for Germans and Japanese in the Greater Boston area that are based on nationality and/ or language. Some are general, some are meant for academics, some cater to those who have an American spouse, and there are also play groups. They gather regularly (once a week, or once a month), enjoy conversation in their native language, and exchange information. Some groups organize social outings over weekends or holidays in addition to regular gatherings. The amount of participation in these group gatherings symbolically represents the respondents’ distance from their co-nationals. Many are on the mailing lists but have never attended any meetings. Some have attended only a couple of times. Only a few are regular attendees of these ethnic gatherings.6 As for more casual encounters, while many respondents are neutral, if not enthusiastic, about making new friends with their fellow countrymen, a few participants intentionally keep a certain distance from their co-nationals and even demonstrate a slight contempt towards those who cling only and always to their co-nationals. Some experienced an awkward silence when they happened to meet their countrymen on a social occasion. Their weak ethnic networks can be complemented by networks with Americans, even upon arrival. Some respondents had connections with Americans before the act of migration due to their previous visits to the United States, or the experiences of working with American colleagues and in American corporations in their own country. American friends, acquaintances, and significant others made through these experiences affect their decision to move to the United States and help their adjustment thereafter in one way or another. For example, with the assistance and advice of American friends she was acquainted with through her job in

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Germany, Helga filed a lawsuit against her landlord in the first few months upon her arrival. The lawyer she hired was a friend of her American friends. Filing a lawsuit over minor issues is ‘‘uncommon’’ in Germany, according to her. Yet, her trust in her American friends led her to follow an American way of solving the problem. Marriage can be considered as an indicator of the level of trust between groups and as an index of assimilation (Gordon, 1964; Qian & Lichter, 2001). Here again, co-nationality does not appear to be of the utmost significance. Although it is impossible to generalize from the limited numbers of the sample in this study, the result may be suggestive. 16 out of 32 married respondents have chosen co-nationals as their spouse, and the other 16 are in an exogamous marriage. The exogamous marriage rate is higher among the Germans, both males and females (12 out of 16 married Germans, or 75 percent), and among the Japanese females (4 out of 5 married Japanese females, or 80 percent) than among the Japanese males (1 out of 11 married Japanese males, or 9.1 percent). Of these 16 exogamous marriages, 11 are married to an American spouse, and of the remaining 5 international marriages, 2 are married to a French spouse, and 1 each to a Russian, Dutch, and Canadian spouse. As for cross-racial marriages, five Germans are married to a non-white, and five Japanese to a non-Asian. Regarding the selection criteria for (future) spouses, there was a range of responses. Dieter, who is single, says he would strongly prefer an American woman; Nanako and Naomi, both single Japanese females, say they do not care about the nationality of a spouse; in contrast, Akihito, a Japanese man married to a Japanese woman, questioned me, the investigator, a single Japanese female, about whether I could imagine being married to an American male, implying difficulties of overcoming cultural differences in the private sphere, on top of the general efforts required to sustain a marriage. In summary, even though they are foreign born, the respondents find few problems in their search for desirable neighborhoods, high-status occupation, American and other international friends, and even marriage partners. At the same time, the participants do not overly depend on their compatriots. The connections to co-nationals may function as supplemental social supports, but are not the primary one. It is unlikely that the respondents are familiar with the network analyses of ‘‘the strength of the weak ties’’ (Granovetter, 1974) or the ‘‘structural hole’’ (Burt, 1992), but it appears that they are instinctively aware of the possibility of the negative impacts of membership in a tight-knit community if they solely depend on it. Their integration into American society appears

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relatively trouble-free and straightforward, as if they epitomize the assimilation model.

The Cultural Pluralist Model? In contrast to the assimilationists’ assumption and desire that the dissolution of the ethnic community indicates complete Americanization, the respondents do not recognize themselves as Americans. Represented by the statement by Chiaki, ‘‘Life in America is a lot comfortable, but I’ve never thought of America as my country,’’ the respondents enjoy a comfortable life in the United States, yet do not feel they entirely belong here. When explicitly asked how they perceive themselves in terms of cultural identity, most of the respondents identified themselves as Germans/ Europeans or Japanese. Hyphenated terms, such as German-American or Japanese-American, are saved for those who were born and raised in the United States (sometimes including their own children), but not themselves. No one identifies himself/herself primarily with America, even though a few acknowledged an American influence on their identity negotiation to some extent. Thus, their American identity is thin, at best. The sense of belonging to the culture of the origin society is stressed, sometimes enhanced and re-appreciated, precisely because they are away from it. Realizing that their values are different makes them conscious of the distinctiveness of being German or Japanese. They feel they are different from Americans on such issues as having a constantly positive outlook, conspicuous consumption, straightforward expression of patriotism, rigid views on sexuality and alcohol consumption in public, superficiality of friendships, directness of conveying a message, political predilection, individualism, commitment to conservation of energy, attitude toward work, and appreciation of family and life. Some of these issues are salient among both Germans and Japanese, some are only pointed out by Germans or Japanese, and for others, Germans and Japanese hold opposing views on Americans. For example, having an optimistic outlook is frequently mentioned as a typically American characteristic by both Germans and Japanese. However, many Germans think that Americans are too conformist and unwilling to say ‘‘no’’ or anything negative in front of a person; on the other hand, quite a few Japanese think they are not as assertive as most Americans are. The respondents’ thick identity with Germany/Japan seems to be reflected in their immigration status. While a few respondents demonstrate an interest

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in becoming a U.S. citizen at some point in the future, and one has actually completed the naturalization process, the great majority prefers to maintain German or Japanese citizenship, and obtain legal permanent resident status in the United States. For many, maintaining the citizenship of the society of origin is associated with a continued emotional attachment, and renouncing it means becoming disconnected from Germany or Japan, which they do not desire.7 In contrast, American citizenship is viewed as a set of rights from a utilitarian perspective, which the respondents do not find specifically beneficial in contrast to the status of legal permanent residence. Because there is little practical incentive and stronger emotional attachment to the society of origin, German and Japanese highly skilled migrants are not interested in legally becoming U.S. citizens. Reflecting their strong cultural attachment to the society of origin, most respondents consider it important that their children learn German or Japanese. They had various reasons. The language of origin is the centerpiece of a culture, or represents a worldview. Without the language, the children will not be able to directly communicate with the respondents’ family back at home. Some respondents also reveal a concern that they might not be able to completely comprehend their children’s issues, particularly those of an emotional nature, only through English. Mastering as many languages as possible is beneficial to enrich the child as a person as well as to increase economic opportunities. The actual commitment to teaching German or Japanese ranges from speaking at home, engaging their children in German or Japanese play groups, and sending the children to German or Japanese schools. The consensus among the respondents is that their children shall not be raised only in English. These examples indicate a strong persistence of cultural identity as Germans and Japanese.

The Cultural Syncretist Model and Transnational Approach In the previous section, I have emphasized the retained and renewed sense of belonging to the culture of the sending society among the respondents. It may appear that the respondents are eternal strangers on American soil, as the ideal typical sense of cultural pluralists would assume, or the nativist would fear. However, the respondents do respect some elements of American culture and American values, and selectively embrace them in their everyday lives and include them in their own values. At the same time, they can be quite critical about certain institutions and customs in their

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native lands. In due course, they develop emotional attachments to American culture and American society, but that does not necessary reduce their appreciation of the culture of their original society. Gabriele considers herself ‘‘German or European, definitely,’’ and not American. Yet, every time people ask her where she is from, noticing her accent, she feels a slight sense of isolation. She feels at home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, after five years of residence and desires to be received as a Bostonian. Likewise, for Kazuo, being a zealous fan of the Boston Red Sox and being Japanese are two aspects of himself, which do not contradict each other. When Katharina went to Berlin, where ‘‘a strong tradition of antiAmerican[ism]’’ prevails, a bartender was appalled to know that she lives in the United States, and she asked herself, ‘‘is it that bad?’’ In a similar vein, Chiaki is critical about Japanese expatriates in the United States who disapprove of America without even making an effort to understand it, while she might agree with some of their points, if rationally argued. Thus, without a doubt these migrants cultivate a sense of attachment to American culture and American society, without denouncing their thick identity as Germans and Japanese. What the respondents consider meaningful about America varies widely from individual to individual. Ken finds the United States attractive for its relatively transparent practice of meritocracy in the work environment, and abhors the seniority system in Japan. Kunio greatly cherishes the community’s involvement regarding child rearing in America, while he determinedly refuses to become an American. Marianne strongly identifies herself with the American way of self-reliance, and turned down a ‘‘wonderful’’ job in Germany in consideration of the high tax rate and welfare mentality there, even though she misses cultural activities in Germany. In contrast, Sebastian finds no common ground with the ‘‘Midwestern American cowboy stereotype,’’ who knows nothing about the world, but says he could readily identify with left liberal people from Massachusetts. Some American values and customs are accepted as a necessary adjustment by some respondents, and shunned by others. Ursula says, ‘‘I think in America life is very expensive. You spend a lot of money. And you cannot [get] upset about all these expenses. You just have to live with this. You just have to live with your checking account is kind of always low. So, over the years, I’ve learned to live with it.’’ She thinks that her friends and family in Germany would not understand the change in her manner of spending. In contrast, Karl abides by what he thinks of as a ‘‘quality of life’’ philosophy which is not driven by commodities or competition with neighbors or colleagues as many Americans do in his observation.

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While maintaining a strong sense of belonging to the culture of the original societies, the respondents could be very critical about certain customs and values of their homelands. Though thoroughness and a sense of order are generally pointed out as a positive trait of the German or Japanese character, when they become excessive, the respondents think that they lack flexibility and effectiveness. In comparison with the United States, Germany and Japan are depicted as sometimes too rigid and too hierarchical in relation to one’s age and titles. Thus, I argue that these respondents are becoming bicultural, transnational migrants, who hold within themselves two or more cultures and who are continuously involved in a balancing act between different, sometimes contradictory, customs and values. Monika succinctly describes her bicultural being thus: ‘‘when you go back and forth, there are certain things you like and certain things you don’t like. You’ll never get everything all in one place.’’ The respondents do not idealize American culture. Neither do they blindly admire the culture of their society of origin. Through a deepening understanding of American culture, they adopt those elements of it that resonate with their individual values. At the same time, they reconfigure their understanding of their original culture. In this manner, the respondents create their own bicultural, transnational social field.

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSIONS To this point, I have explored adaptation exhibited by German and Japanese highly skilled migrants on American soil. Like other transnational migrants, the respondents in this study are engaged in a balancing act between the culture of America and that of their society of origin. At the same time, due to their high levels of human capital and their ‘‘First World’’ origin, the patterns of their bicultural lives vary to a great extent from those of other transnational migrants with different levels of skills and coming from economically less advanced societies and whose adaptations are more frequently examined in the literature (Eckstein, 2006; Levitt, 2001; Smith, 2006). Some of these differences include their favorable reception, not being isolated from the mainstream, and the sustained connection with the society of origin of their own volition, not out of the need for emotional and other types of support, as marginalized transnational migrants exhibit. Taking into account both general characteristics as transnational migrants and the unique situations surrounding the respondents in this study, what do the

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bicultural lives of German and Japanese professionals imply with regard to the cultural boundaries in the United States?

Positive Biculturalism? The majority of Germans and Japanese whom I interviewed did not negatively view their bicultural lives as a source of confusion, dilemma, or social disruption. Positive acknowledgement of having multiple levels of cultural attachment is a trend among transnational migrants in general; it appears that it is easy for the respondents in this study, specifically, to voice their affirmation of biculturalism, because they have little concern about being blamed for not being sufficiently American, German, or Japanese, because they benefit from the relative stability of their social positions in the related societies due to their high levels of human capital and being members of ‘‘strong’’ societies. It is true that a few respondents were uncertain about their cultural in-betweenness. As Yumi confessed, ‘‘It’s too late for me to join either Japan or North America. I do not belong to either.’’ However, this was a minority opinion among the people I interviewed. The majority view was that it is acceptable not to fall into only one category. Describing herself as ‘‘a European living in America on a permanent basis,’’ Helga thinks, ‘‘[having] another perspective, another place you feel at home is not so unusual. And it’s not such an unusual feeling anymore.’’ She said that she had started to accept her in-betweenness in a positive manner after a few years of contemplation. Similarly, Tetsuo and Ken see no problem being both Japanese and American simultaneously, and consider that aptitude in two cultures give them advantages in practical terms (i.e., wider access to professional positions in two societies and wider marketability), as well as in individual development. In addition, Karl and Gisela see themselves, not only as bicultural individuals who are substantially connected with the cultures of their sending and receiving societies, but as more universal ‘‘world citizens’’ and ‘‘global citizens,’’ who have a broader perspective, not even specifically tied to the host society or the society of origin. Karl says, ‘‘I’ve been more like a world citizen. I kind of feel not really, really German anymore, but not definitely American.’’ This view is expressed in an unequivocally affirmative tone. Although not many respondents used the terms ‘‘transnational migrants’’ and ‘‘global citizens,’’ they have a rather optimistic view about their multiple belongings. The respondents believe that their bicultural

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lives are valuable and advantageous, for both practical and individual enrichment.

Culture(s) without Racial or Ethnic Grouping? Another distinctive feature of my respondents is that they are engaged in bicultural lives outside any tight-knit ethnic community. While their sense of belonging to the society of origin is fairly thick, it does not require substantive support from their racial or ethnic groups. For the respondents, it is one thing to consider the culture of the original society as a significant base for their self-identity, and it is quite another to create and maintain close ties with their co-nationals. As explored earlier, they do not depend on ethnic social networks. For the respondents, sharing a language and similar experiences in their upbringing, let alone sharing descent, may not automatically arouse a significant sense of relatedness. As a result, my respondents’ transnational, bicultural endeavor is not a collective engagement. Rather, it is a solitary act. This uniqueness sheds light on the relationship between individuals and a cultural group from a new perspective. Influences from their co-nationals are minimal due to the lack of ethnic community and the weak ethnic networks for the respondents in this study. Under these circumstances, which aspects of German or Japanese culture are considered essential, and which elements of American culture are considered significant and acceptable varies widely from respondent to respondent. In addition, while the respondents are somewhat proud of their culture of origin, they are quite open to other cultures, including, but not limited to, American culture. They learn and internalize some of the customs and values of other cultures through contacts with their American and international colleagues, close friends, and spouses during their residence in the United States. In this manner, German and Japanese highly skilled migrants selectively create partial, simultaneous connections with multiple cultures, on an individual level, without much intervention by the ‘‘racial’’ or ‘‘ethnic’’ groups they are supposed to belong to. As Brubaker (2002) suggests, perhaps it is high time to consider ethnicity separately from a group perspective. The respondents’ unique experiences will contribute to the study of race and ethnicity to consider the direct relationship between individuals and cultures, not just through groups and collectivities. Here, I do not intend to discount the effects of race and ethnicity, as the

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respondents’ individualistic behaviors and choices are condoned in part because they belong to groups that are not racially stigmatized, and therefore many of their actions are favorably received, and not viewed with suspicion and fear. Nonetheless, I argue that this new pattern of cultural engagement is worthy of serious consideration and that an increase in this type of bicultural migrant may alter the racial and ethnic boundaries in the United States in the long run.

NOTES 1. Shankar & Srikanth (1998) originally used the phrase, ‘‘a part, yet apart,’’ to describe the situation of South Asians in Asian America, but I believe that the sense of ambiguous belonging expressed by this phrase can be applied to many people of color in their relation to the larger American society (see Kibria, 2002). 2. Faist (2000) proposes assimilationist, cultural pluralist, and transnational models, but not the nativist model. 3. The slave trade can be considered to be a peculiar type of migration, namely involuntary migration (for voluntary and involuntary migrants, see Fairchild, 1928; Ogbu, 1978). 4. Critics point out that the celebration remains on the surface only (C. J. Kim, 2004). 5. The exceptions are three respondents who have taken time off from their work for child rearing. Before the childbirths, they were also engaged in lines of jobs similar to the other respondents. 6. These include the founders of groups. 7. Dual citizenship is not very easy for the Germans to acquire, and is not an option, in theory, for Japanese, due to the regulations of the German and Japanese governments.

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Dennis, R. (2003). W. E. B. Du Bois’s concept of double consciousness. In: J. Stone & R. Dennis (Eds), Race and ethnicity: Comparative and theoretical approaches. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Du Bois, W. E. B. ([1903]1994). The souls of black folk. New York: Gramercy Books. Eckstein, S. (2006). Transnational family based social capital: Remittances and the transformation of Cuba. International Journal of the Sociology of Family, 32(2), 141–171. Espiritu, Y. L. (1992). Asian American panethnicity: Bridging institutions and identities. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Fairchild, H. P. (1928). Immigration: A world movement and its American significance. New York: Macmillan Company. Faist, T. (2000). The volume and dynamics of international migration and transnational social spaces. Oxford, UK: Clarendon Press. Feagin, J. R., & Sikes, M. P. (1994). Living with racism: The black middle-class experience. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Foley, N. (2004). Straddling the color line: The legal construction of hispanic identity in Texas. In: N. Foner & G. M. Fredrickson (Eds), Not just black and white: Historical and contemporary perspectives on immigration, race, and ethnicity in the United States. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Gerstle, G. (2001). American crucible: Race and nation in the twentieth century. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Glick Schiller, N., Basch, L. B., & Blanc-Szanton, C. (1992). Towards a transnational perspective on migration: Race, class, ethnicity, and nationalism reconsidered. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences Volume 645. New York: The New York Academy of Sciences. Gordon, M. M. (1964). Assimilation in American life: The role of race, religion, and national origins. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Granovetter, M. (1974). Getting a job: A study of contacts and careers. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Handlin, O. ([1951]2002). The uprooted: The epic story of the great migrations that made the American people. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Herberg, W. ([1955]1983). Protestant–Catholic–Jew: An essay in American religious sociology. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Higham, J. (1999). Cultural responses to immigration. In: N. J. Smelser & J. C. Alexander (Eds), Diversity and its discontents: Cultural conflict and common ground in contemporary American society. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Hollinger, D. A. (1999). National culture and communities of descent. In: N. J. Smelser & J. C. Alexander (Eds), Diversity and its discontents: Cultural conflict and common ground in contemporary American society. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Huntington, S. P. (2004). Who are we?: The challenges to America’s national identity. New York: Simon & Schuster. Ignatiev, N. (1995). They swung their picks. In: N. Ignatiev (Ed.), How the Irish became white (pp. 92–121). New York: Routledge. Joppke, C. (1998). Immigration challenges the nation-state. In: C. Joppke (Ed.), Challenge to the nation-state: Immigration in Western Europe and the United States. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Kibria, N. (2002). Becoming Asian American: Second generation Chinese and Korean American identities. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press.

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Tuan, M. (1998). Forever foreigners or honorary whites?: The Asian ethnic experience today. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Waters, M. C. (1991). Ethnic options: Choosing identities in America. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Waters, M. C. (1999). Black identities: West Indian immigrant dreams and American realities. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.

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PART III BICULTURALISM AND THE FEMALE EXPERIENCE

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FANNIE BARRIER WILLIAMS, BICULTURALISM, AND THE AFRICAN AMERICAN EXPERIENCE, 1887–1926 Mary Jo Deegan Fannie Barrier Williams (2002) is a towering American intellectual, journalist, and sociologist, yet her ideas, life, and contributions remain virtually unknown.1 As she explained, she was a light-complexioned woman of African descent with ‘‘quite a strain of French blood in my ancestry’’ (Williams, 1904/2002, p. 11). Many descendants of the African diaspora have white ancestors, a group sometimes called ‘‘mulattoes’’ and studied by Chicago sociologists as the quintessential ‘‘marginal man’’ (Park, 1928; Routledge, 2005; Stonequist, 1937), but a smaller proportion of this group looks white. Williams studied this latter group, which she represented, in bits and pieces throughout her corpus, which I analyze here. I also reprint her short essay on ‘‘The Perils of the White Negro’’ (1907) because this is an important essay on biculturalism and it is not cited anywhere in the scholarly literature. The ambiguity of ‘‘White Negroes’’ like herself led to her phenomenologically based reflections (Schutz, 1962, 1967) and analyses of being unacceptable to both races, the topic of her essay (Williams, 1907). Here she established several arguments long forgotten, highly controversial, or deemed ‘‘politically incorrect’’ today. But this is not merely a sensational topic, it is vital to understanding her intellectual legacy, lived experience, Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 107–128 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15006-1

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and the lives of many people of color who struggle everyday with questions of identity, ancestry, culture, and a sense of home. She is part of an understudied cohort sometimes referred to as part of ‘‘the Migration of the Talented Tenth’’ of African Americans moving to Northern cities between 1890 and 1910 (Drake & Cayton, 1945, p. 53) or as Wilson J. Moses (1987) analyzes it, ‘‘the lost world of the Negro’’ consisting of intellectuals whose ideas are studied rarely today because they do not fit those of the now more popular Harlem Renaissance.2 Born in 1855, she lived in the North, South, and Midwest, and her vital experiences in each region shaped her life and understanding. She was a friend of most of the powerful feminists of her era, a leader in the social settlement movement, and a founder and analyst of the black women’s club movement. She was a spiritual seeker who drew strength from her Unitarian religion, church, and friends. She followed in the traditions of the New England Transcendentalists, abolitionists, and pragmatists (West, 1989). She led in the new articulation of feminist pragmatism (Deegan, 2000, 2002a, 2002b, 2005b), anchored in Chicago at Hull-House, and she transformed it through her writings on the black experience in American a quarter of a century from 1892 to 1917. Her co-operative, non-violent model of American race relation, which I call black feminist pragmatism, is the forerunner of the American civil rights movement, especially the work of the far more honored figure of Martin Luther King, Jr (1986/1991; Deegan, 2002a). Her life was grounded in her family, her parents, and siblings, and later her husband, nieces, and nephews. Williams was a woman of multiple ethnicities, a ‘‘race woman’’ who dedicated her life to ending the barriers of white racism (Feagin, Vera, & Batur, 2001). She experienced the paradox of being ‘‘betwixt and between’’ white and black groups, a status which she analyzed in her own sociological writings. Victor Turner (1967) sees this as a powerful position because it is ambiguously defined and therefore mysterious and a challenge to the social order, what he calls ‘‘liminality.’’ Williams documented the social processes surrounding what Erving Goffman, in 1963, called ‘‘stigma,’’ a characteristic that could discredit an identity. He worked many decades after Williams identified this process for the white Negro. As a ‘‘marginal woman’’ she gained insight into the irrationalities and social processes of creating the status of being both an outsider and insider to American life (Deegan, 2005a; Dennis, 2005). Williams, moreover, founded black feminist pragmatism, althought her status as an intellectual is not recognized by contemporary scholars beside myself (e.g. Collins, 1990, 2000). Here, I analyze her writings and experiences as ‘‘bicultural,’’ existing between and

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within black and white ideas and communities, using her writings on the topic as the theoretical framework and intellectually connecting her work with that of many sociologists associated with the University of Chicago or the social settlement Hull-House.

WILLIAMS’ WRITINGS ON BICULTURALISM Williams was a black feminist pragmatist who contributed to and drew on the ideas and practices of the ‘‘Hull-House school of race relations’’ (HHSRR). This American theory unites liberal values and a belief in a rational public with a co-operative, nurturing, and liberating model of the self, the other, and the community, based on the historical ideas and commitments of abolitionists and Abraham Lincoln. Education and democracy are emphasized as significant mechanisms to organize and improve society, especially the relations between black and white people. This school had a distinct institutional influence, structure, and status (Deegan, 2002b). As an African American women who wrote and spoke using feminist pragmatism as it applied to the black experience viewed from her lived standpoint, she developed black feminist pragmatism (Deegan, 2002a). I concentrate here on her writings on biculturalism, especially her (Williams, 1907) essay on the perils of ‘‘a White Negro.’’ She wrote about this anomalous racial category in a number of other pieces that I also analyze here. Like W. E. B. DuBois (1903) she lived and analyzed the ‘‘Negro problem’’ when the two were contemporaries (Schutz, 1962). She could have chosen to live as a ‘‘white’’ person in racist America, but instead she spent her life analyzing the life of black Americans and the social construction of racial categories. Also like DuBois (1903), she used her biographical location, childhood in the North, and higher education to reflect on being a problem and studying a problem – as a woman and as a person of color. Although he was a person of multiple ethnicities like Williams, he is remembered and honored as a fierce critic of racism and his unrelenting opposition to Booker T. Washington is a key to that status. Unlike DuBois, Williams admired Washington and thus has been labeled frequently as an ‘‘accomodationist’’ (see Fishel, 1971; Spear, 1973). Such a label is flawed and incorrect. As I (Deegan, 2002a, 2002b) argue extensively elsewhere, Williams followed a ‘‘third way’’ characteristic of feminist pragmatism, especially with her emphasis on African Americans, where she supported both men and women, vocational and higher education (Williams, 2002a, 2002b), social

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protest and social diplomacy. In fact she explored what Goffman (1959, 1967) calls ‘‘tact.’’ It was the foundation for her presentation of self, which she developed within a broad, interracial network of social activists. DuBois was part of this network, and many of her ideas of the talented tenth, professional class, and college education supported his work, but anyone who supported Washington is perceived today as automatically opposed to DuBois. Williams was aware of her privileges as an educated woman of color who published many essays in both the white and black press. She knew that her writing could help the black community confront racism. For example, she wrote: I am often asked why I do not speak or write upon some other theme than the one involving always a consideration of the colored people of America, and I am sometimes, not so gently, told that there are other themes within the range of those who would write for the public quite as interesting. The answer to all this is very easy. Whether we will or not we are always placed on the defensive. It is not because we are too sensitive, but rather because there is so much at which to complain. Take the ordinary newspaper correspondent, for example. The sight of a Negro seems always to excite his risibilities. The temptation to put the colored race in a ridiculous light is too strong to resist. There is always much material to make smart and funny reading. Those writers who treat the race lightly and more or less humorously are much more numerous than those who are serious and sympathetic. Such writers help to give the race a bad character. Writing for New Orleans recently, a correspondent of The [Chicago] Times-Herald aptly shows the sort of writing that accounts for the anxiety felt by every colored man or woman to help to correct the low estimate placed on the race by those who see only the ridiculous side of the Negro character. According to the impressions of this correspondent, ‘‘laziness, immorality and indifference to education’’ appear to be the make-up of the ‘‘average Negro.’’ The Negro minstrels could not well exceed this exaggeration of the weaknesses of the unfortunate people. (Williams, 1897)

She then proceeded to show the strengths and hard work of black laborers whom a white journalist had misunderstood. This is but one example of how Williams wrote about her liminal status in scattered passages throughout her corpus. I concentrate here on two major essays and a fictional piece that focused on biculturalism, especially the life facing an African American descendent with a lightly colored complexion. Two of these essays, her autobiography, and her fictional romance, ‘‘After Many Days: A Christmas Story,’’ are reprinted and easily available today (see respectively, Williams, 1904/2002, 1902/1994), but the third essay has never been reprinted and is included in its entirety below, followed by my analysis of it.

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Williams’ ‘‘A Northern Negro’s Autobiography’’ 1904 Early Biography, 1855–1870 Fortunately Williams wrote a spirited autobiography for the popular journal, the Independent, which they published on July 14, 1904 (see Williams, 1904/2002, pp. 5–13). She composed it in response to a series that the magazine had published on March 17, 1904 that had presented the views of ‘‘A Southern Colored Woman’’ (1904), ‘‘A Southern White Woman’’ (1904), and ‘‘A Northern White Woman’’ (1904), where the African American woman was assumed to reside only in the South. Williams’ bicultural and liminal life as a free-born black woman from the North who had worked as an adult in the South and then returned to the North represented a strongly contrasting perspective to the experiences of these other, more ‘‘typical’’ women (Schutz, 1967). Although this lively piece introduced Williams and her worldview to a general public, it was understandably short on precise details such as dates and locales in which events occurred. This is her only autobiography, and no archival collection of her papers exists.3 This is typical for most African Americans in Chicago, especially women.4 Fannie Barrier was born on February 12, 1855 to Harriet Prince and Anthony J. Barrier, the youngest child in a family with two daughters, including her sister Ella D., and a son, George. She was descended from at least three generations of free African Americans, a small but remarkable group of free blacks who lived in the North prior to the Civil War. She was petite, spoke softly but persuasively, had light skin and an awareness of her multiple, racial/ethnic heritages. But even this self presentation can be perceived differently. For example, one reporter for the Chicago Daily Tribune who covered a speech by her on black women described her in this way: In Mrs. Williams’ appearance there is not much to suggest African origin at first sight, for though her complexion is dark and her hair black, the cast of her features indicate a strong admixture of white blood. Her voice would give no clew to her race. Her enunciation is that of an educated women, her language simple and expressive, and her manner self-contained. (To Hear Mrs. Fannie B. Williams, 1894)

Her photographs show this ambiguity in ethnic-racial identification. Her most frequently reproduced image is her most ‘‘African’’ image, and when I tried to have a more ‘‘white’’ image – never republished since 1894 – reproduced for my edition of her collected writings, my choice was ignored and the press insisted on the most popular image. When I rejected it

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because it is continually reproduced and widely available on many web sites, the ‘‘second most ‘African’ image’’ was selected by the press with a background of orange that made her image a blurred, unrecognizable image (The 1893 ‘‘unacceptable’’ photograph of Williams for the book cover). Since there are four images of her (and several more drawings), consistently ignoring her more ‘‘white’’ images reveals the persistence of colorism. This ambiguity in her self presentation reflects ‘‘the paradoxical features of marginality’’ as being both an outsider and an insider and an example of ‘‘insiders as outsiders’’ (Dennis, 2005, p. 3).

Her father was a barber, coal merchant, homeowner, and a leader in the local Baptist church (Smith, 1992, p. 1251). He was also an active figure in

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the larger, predominantly white community. In 1904 (Williams, 1904/2002, pp. 5–6) she wrote of her parents and early home life in Brockport, New York: My father, during his membership in this church, held successively almost every important office open to a layman, having been clerk, trustee, treasurer and deacon, which office he held at the time of his death, in 1890. He was for years teacher of an adult Bible class composed of some of the best men and women of the village, and my mother is still a teacher of a large Bible class of women in the same Sunday school. Ours was the only colored family in the church, in fact, the only one in the town for many years, and certainly there could not have been a relationship more cordial, respectful and intimate than that of our family and the white people of this community. We three children were sent to school as soon as we were old enough, and remained there until we were graduated. During our school days our associates, schoolmates and companions were all white boys and girls. These relationships were natural, spontaneous and free from all restraint. We went freely to each other’s houses, to parties, socials, and joined on equal terms in all school entertainments with perfect comradeship. We suffered from no discriminations on account of color or ‘‘previous condition,’’ and lived in blissful ignorance of the fact that we were practicing the unpardonable sin of ‘‘social equality.’’ Indeed, until I became a young woman and went South to teach I had never been reminded that I belonged to an ‘‘inferior race.’’

This traumatic experience fundamentally changed her and gave her a deep understanding of what it meant to be African American in the Deep South. Like many other educated young women from the Northeast, Williams was well-read in the Transcendentalists, including Ralph Waldo Emerson and that radical pacifist, Henry David Thoreau.5 She graduated from the State Normal School at Brockport in 1870 in the academic and classical course that certified her as a schoolteacher. Although her family was Baptist, she became a Unitarian who was highly critical of Christianity (see Williams, 1894b/2002). Fannie Barrier remained close to her parents and siblings throughout her life. They were a bulwark in the seas of racism that surrounded her as an adult. Educational and Teaching Experiences, 1870–1887 Upon graduation in that early cohort of educated women, Williams made another unusual, liminal, choice for a women when she joined many other Northeastern ‘‘school marms’’ to train the young, newly emancipated children of the South. Her uniqueness in comparison to these predominantly white women, however, arose from the fact that she was not going to ‘‘help the helpless’’ but to represent her own community and to find herself in their shared fates. Later, Williams (1902/2002, pp. 30–31) wrote respectfully

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about her white, female cohort who lived in the South during this time of tumult and who were often mocked and misunderstood in their attempt to reach out to the poor and disadvantaged. In addition, she wanted to experience the – to her – mysterious and dangerous South and thereby end her sheltered, bourgeois existence. The Civil War had ended only in 1865, so she wished to see first-hand the rapidly changing, then hopeful, Reconstruction of the violent states that had enslaved millions. She was shocked by her treatment there: It was here and for the first time that I began life as a colored person, in all that term implies. No one but a colored woman, reared and educated as I was, can ever know what it means to be brought face to face with conditions that fairly overwhelm you with the ugly reminder that a certain penalty must be suffered by those who, not being able to select their own parentage, must be born of a dark complexion. What a shattering of cherished ideals! Everything that I learned and experienced in my innocent social relationships in New York State had to be unlearned and readjusted to these lowered standards and changed conditions. The Bible that I had been taught, the preaching I had heard, the philosophy and ethics and the rules of conduct that I had been so sure of, were all to be discounted. All truth seemed here only half truths. I found that, instead of there being a unity of life common to all intelligent, respectable and ambitious people, down South life was divided into white and black lines, and that in every direction my ambitions and aspirations were to have no beginnings and no chance for development. But, in spite of all this, I tried to adapt myself to these hateful conditions.

Her early life of egalitarian, biracial interactions did not prepare her for the color line she encountered in the South as a schoolteacher. This transformative and traumatic experience (Deegan, 1989) changed her view of religion, the state, her self and group identification, and her understanding of being ‘‘a problem’’ (DuBois, 1903). Her subsequent life in Chicago, moreover, added another perspective that enabled her to see and articulate the regional and historical differences dividing women’s experiences in the United States. Williams did not give up her self-knowledge that she was a talented, full member of the United States. More bitter blows rained upon her, however, but this time from her formerly responsive North, when she continued her graduate education in the arts and music. As she (Williams, 1904/2002, pp. 6–7) recalled: I had some talent for painting, and in order to obtain further instruction I importuned a white art teacher to admit me into one of her classes, to which she finally consented, but on the second day of my appearance in the class I chanced to look up suddenly and was amazed to find that I was completely surrounded by screens, and when I resented the apparent insult, it was made the condition of my remaining in the class. I had missed the training that would have made this continued humiliation possible; so at a great

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sacrifice I went to a New England city [Boston], but even here, in the very cradle of liberty, white Southerners were there before me, and to save their feelings I was told by the principal of the school, a man who was descended from a long line of abolition ancestors, that it would imperil the interests of the school if I remained, as all of his Southern pupils would leave, and again I had to submit to the tyranny of a dark complexion. But it is scarcely possible to enumerate the many ways in which an ambitious colored young woman is prevented from being all that she might be in the higher directions of life in this country. Plainly I would have been far happier as a woman if my life up to the age of eighteen years had not been so free, spontaneous and unhampered by race prejudice. I have still many white friends and the old home and school associations are still sweet and delightful and always renewed with pleasure, yet I have never quite recovered from the shock and pain of my first bitter realization that to be a colored woman is to be discredited, mistrusted and often meanly hated. My faith in the verities of religion, in justice, in love and many sacredly taught sentiments has greatly decreased since I have learned how little even these stand for when you are a colored woman.

Her painful entry into the life of Southern black people shaped her life experiences from that point until her death. Her idyllic youth provided a firm image and experience of social equality, but her adult experiences revealed the cracked foundation of that time of harmony. Williams taught for a number of unspecified years in the South because she wanted a challenge, which she got, and to be part of a grand historical change. Here she encountered all the difficulties and indignities of life in the Reconstruction era that one would expect for an independent, previously sheltered, African American women, as noted above. Her only known comment on her years as a teacher reveal her feelings of hopelessness when she taught black children in a bigoted society: ‘‘‘It used to trouble me when I taught school,’ said Mrs. Williams. ‘I used to wonder if it did any good to teach children who would have no place in the world’’’ (Williams cited by M.M. 1888, p. 26). Williams traveled throughout the South by train, then the major form of transportation and one that became increasingly racially segregated after Reconstruction failed to attain racial justice. On one occasion she claimed her French ancestry to remain seated in a white Jim Crow car (see 1904/ 2002, pp. 10–11), an example of her using wit and survival skills in response to an unjust system. This fleeting event consisted of only five French words, but it is denounced by most of her biographers and interpreted as a sign that she regularly passed as white (e.g. Fishel, 1971, p. 620; Logan, 1982, p. 656; McFeely, 1991, p. 366; Smith, 1992, p. 1253). This scholarly misrepresentation reflects the problem of being accepted as an authentic black person for the ‘‘white Negro’’ and the unacceptability of passing for contemporary African Americans. This harsh interpretation of Williams who did not pass as white in her everyday life and who fought for African American rights,

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ideas, and history throughout her life blames the victim of discrimination instead of the oppressor. But the contemporary situation for people of color is strikingly different from that found in the early 1900s. The color line was entrenched then in Jim Crow society in ways that are hard to imagine today. For example, one newspaper account in the Chicago Defender led with the headline: ‘‘Negroes Married to Octoroons Must Leave Louisiana’’ (1910). It reported that the US Supreme Court decreed that neither blacks nor whites could marry or co-habit with ‘‘White Negroes.’’ If this law was violated, the ‘‘criminals’’ were subject to imprisonment, and states throughout the Deep South were in the process of enforcing this statute. This type of injustice helps to explain Williams’ assertions that blacks often held a sympathetic view towards passing during her era (see reprinted article below) and why it was not unusual to know people who passed. For example, William M. Kephart (1948, p. 336; see also Eckard, 1947) suggested that this was quite a large population. He tried to determine the number of African Americans involved in this secretive process. He documented that estimates ranged in 1948 from 12,000 people annually to 40,000–50,000, a wide difference in population estimates that would compound over time. In 1964 James E. Conyers and T.H. Kennedy (1964) asked college students of their knowledge of blacks who passed and found that the estimates varied widely by race and gender, with black women the most likely group to know people who passed. Thus, these studies indicate that Williams as a light-complected, college-educated, woman of color might have been in a particularly strong position to be informed on this issue. Wanda Hendricks (1993, p. 1260) notes that Williams quickly left the Deep South where Jim Crow society would have been highly problematic for the independent young woman. She then taught school in Washington, D.C. where she met other educated and articulate members of the black elite, probably including Anna Julia Cooper (1998). During this time, she also studied at Boston’s New England Conservatory of Music and then at the School of Fine Arts in Washington, D.C. In the latter school she was taught by several portrait artists and established her reputation as an artist. Mrs N. F. Mossell (1899/1988, p. 111), for example, reported that ‘‘At the New Orleans Exposition some years ago her pieces on exhibition were the theme of many favorable criticisms by visiting artists.’’ Here in the nation’s capitol, she met her future husband, S[amuel]. Laing Williams.6

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Marriage, 1887 S. Laing Williams, like Fannie Barrier, was an ambitious, educated, and astute leader. He was a remarkable man who was born in Savannah, Georgia in 1858 during the slavery era, but information on his life is even sketchier than his wife’s. In his only known photograph he appears to be a person with African and European ancestry. At nine years of age he moved to La Peer, Michigan where he attended local schools and graduated with honors from La Peer High School. In 1881 he graduated from the Department of Literature, Science, and the Arts at the University of Michigan where he was among the first African Americans to complete this program.7 He briefly taught school in Alabama, where he might have met Booker T. Washington who ultimately became his close friend. This job was followed by an appointment to the Pension office in Washington, D.C. Williams then studied law and his presence caused a stir among his classmates. As F. B. Williams recalled: Mr. Williams, too, met opposition from his fellow students in the Columbia[n] Law School [now called George Washington Law School] in Washington[, D.C.]. They held meetings to protest against his presence. Fortunately, some of the students who entered with him from Ann Arbor also held meetings in his behalf, and they finally induced others to leave him in peace. (Williams cited by M.M. 1888, p. 26)

He graduated with a B.L. in June 1884 and a M.L. in June 1885. ‘‘He was the first Afro-American to enter the latter school [the Columbian Law School] and won a prize for [his] legal thesis’’ ([FBW], 1906). Fannie was 32 years of age when they married in 1887, and by that time she clearly had a mind of her own and was no longer the sheltered woman who left New York to find adventure. S. Laing and Fannie Barrier Williams relocated to Chicago shortly after their wedding in 1887. They were part of what Drake and Cayton (1945) refer to as ‘‘the Migration of the Talented Tenth.’’ This migration of black people to Chicago is overlooked often in the history of Chicago’s race relations, although it is a fascinating story as we see here. These newlyweds lived for many decades in Chicago where they became important figures in the small circle of African American leaders, the ‘‘Elite 400’’ (Knupfer, 1996, p. 58). Fannie apparently met her true love in S. Laing, for she portrayed a romantic vision of bicultural America in her story of interracial love conquering racial hatred.

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‘‘After Many Days: A Christmas Story’’ (1902) Williams relates a love story about a ‘‘white Negro,’’ a young woman who was raised to believe she was white. When she visits her fiances’ home over Christmas she is shocked to learn that her biological mother was born a slave and she now lives on the former plantation of her fiance’s family. (Why her fiance and biological mother are from the same home is explained only superficially!) After discovering her biological family and her black heritage, she fears that she will be abandoned by her white fiance and his family. Like a fairy tale, or a ‘‘Christmas story,’’ they do not reject her, and she is free to marry and live happily ever after. Clearly the more probable ending to this story of interracial love in the Deep South would have been the immediate termination of her engagement and marriage plans. Williams, however, imagined a ‘‘happy’’ bicultural ending, reflecting her own experiences, religious commitments, romantic ideas, and optimism about American race relations. The fact that this story has been reprinted suggests that she is not alone in seeing this as an interesting and plausible romance (1902/1994). Despite this reprinting, I do not believe that Williams’ intellectual strength lies in fiction. Her non-fiction, however, is insightful, powerful, and highly rational, as we see in her next bicultural piece, reprinted below for the first time and followed by my analysis of it.

PERILS OF THE WHITE NEGRO8 ‘‘The term ‘White Negro’ suggests one of the most interesting paradoxes of American life. The people to whom this term is applied are not Negroes according to the principles of ethnology, and are not white according to understanding and usage of that term in the United States. Although American in nativity, language, interests and appearance, the status of these people is shifting, anomalous and embarrassing to themselves and everybody else. Wherever their race identity is known, their right to live and act is challenged either by white or colored people. They seem to be a hopelessly disturbing social factor, because they may be either black or white by their own election or force of circumstances. The only sanction for insisting upon the status of these people as Negroes is the uncompromising American antipathy to anything related to the Negro race. Comeliness, culture, genius, wealth, conquering forces when otherwise applied, count for nothing as against the merest, and often unsupported, hint of the presence of Negro blood in an individual. This infinitesimal admixture of Negro blood passes on the terrible heritage of woe to the man or woman, who by every appearance of complexion and form, is entitled to be regarded as a white person. They belong to no race and yet they must suffer all the disabilities inhering in the race to which they are least related by ties of blood. Every generation adds to the number of this anomalous race.

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An audience composed of so-called colored people discloses an alarming variety of color and feature. To those who have studied conditions and appearances for the past thirty years, the Negro is not only bleaching out, but the number who are to all appearances absolutely white, and yet classed as Negroes, is surely on the increase. There seem to be but two courses open to the so-called ‘White Negroes’, one is to remain where American prejudice forces them and heroically share the fate of their darker kindred, the other course is to establish themselves in communities, where their identity is not known, and quietly take their places in the ranks of the white people exclusively. Thousands of them, weary with the ceaseless struggle against American prejudice pursue this latter course and successfully ‘pass for white.’ In the larger cities like New York, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis may be found large numbers of White Negroes, both men and women, who have won social and business prominence as white people. The secret of their race variety though well guarded, remains through life a terrible ‘family skeleton,’ far more to be dreaded than a hidden crime. Although there are many such cases in the North, there are few exposures. It requires a more than ordinary provocation for colored people to betray members of their own race, and sometimes of their own kin, for they realize all too well the bitter thralldom and humiliations to which such exposures lead. Thus safeguarded, it is not at all surprising that these ‘White Negroes’ become employed as clerks, bookkeepers etc. in many stores and offices of Chicago and elsewhere where their presence would not be tolerated a moment, if their identities were known. For example, in a certain large printing establishment in Chicago, a woman had been steadily employed for several years, as compositor. Her work had proven so satisfactory that she had been promoted step-by-step until she gained the position of forewoman of the department in which she worked. Unfortunately for her, one day a relative, showing colored blood, called to see her. Not willing to resort to any diplomacy which might be regarded as an insult by her relative, she received her on equalled terms, that is openly and kindly. Many personal questions were afterward put to her by her associates, which finally led to the discovery that she had some colored blood in her veins, though absolutely invisible. She was immediately discharged, no other reason being assigned but this fatal discovery. Many similar cases might be cited. In like manner social relationships [are ended because] of the often invisible drop of African blood. The complications and confusions growing out of the anomalous position of these people are often as amusing as a ‘Comedy of Errors’ or as painful as a tragedy. The actual experiences of many of these people in their efforts to live the double life into which they are forced, would furnish the most romantic kind of fiction. Parents and children, sisters and brothers of different complexions are often found openly living apart yet cherishing a secret and abiding love for each other, which may be exhibited only under cover and when free from interfering forces of prejudice. The colored boy or girl whose complexion carries them along the highway of opportunity, oftentimes must deny their loved ones in order to save themselves for success. Loss of position, loss of business and social relationships, however sacred, is the certain fate of every successful white man or woman, who is accidently discovered to be a ‘White Negro.’ In order to protect themselves and their client from this sort of deception, agents with houses, stores or business places to rent, in which the presence of the Negro, though

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white, would be worse than a pestilence, have established a rule to make the most searching inquiry into the antecedents of all applicants, lest this invisible color creep in. Railroad conductors in the South are required to be experts in order to save the ‘Jim Crow’ car law from being [humili]ated by Negroes whom nature [had made white.] [A paradoxical event] occurred not long ago on a Texas railroad. A prominent professional colored man from a certain city in Texas boarded a train and took a seat in the ‘Jim Crow’ car, where by their own legal classification he belonged. He was promptly told by the conductor that white people were not allowed to ride in the Negro car and that he must go into the white car. The passenger refused. He was finally threatened with arrest, and upon his continual refusal the conductor carried out his threat and telegraphed to the police authorities of the very city, in which the law-breaking passenger lived, to have a warrant ready for his arrest. On reaching the city, the conductor confidently pointed out the recalcitrant white passenger to the officer. As soon as the officer laid eyes on the passenger he knew him to be a colored man, and of course the warrant was not served, the laugh being upon the conductor. Other equally ridiculous mistakes are still being made, as in the recent case when a pronounced brunette belonging to a wealthy and prominent Southern family was forcibly ejected from the white cars and placed in the ‘Jim Crow’ car, in spite of her protestations and apparent proofs. The case is still pending in [the] courts. Mistakes of this kind are less frequent in the North, where the lines are not so rigidly drawn. Then, again, Southern people are generally so keen scented that they can detect the African blood, however well disguised by straightness of hair or fairness of complexion. But the dangers of mistaken identity are on the increase even in the North. It has become very important for the young man and woman about to be married to look well into the pedigree of the beloved one, lest they find themselves irrevocably joined to an African in disguise. However, in spite of family and social complications, there is a growing tendency North and South[,] for every colored man or woman who can, to ‘pass for white.’ They find that this is the only way to secure an equal opportunity or highway to success in the world of trade and business. They are scarcely to be blamed, since they are certainly not responsible for the anomalous position in which they find themselves. Thus it is that right or wrong, the Negro is carried into the very heart life of the proud Anglo-Saxon, in spite of laws and hatreds of all kinds, which are not of his own making. In thousands of places, safeguarded by every possible social restriction, the Negro is present[–] undetected and unsuspected. From this secret blending the chivalric South is as insecure as staid New England. The shadow of the departed crime of slavery still abides to haunt the generations of freedom.’’

INTERPRETING WILLIAMS’ ‘‘PERILS OF THE WHITE NEGRO’’ Williams argued here that ‘‘race’’ was a socially constructed category. ‘‘Skin color’’ profoundly affected the behavior of the self and other, whether the other was white or black. Shades of skin color were part of the ‘‘color line’’

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for both black and white Americans. ‘‘Light complected’’ descendants of Africans were anomalous and were not accepted fully by either group. This resulted in a unique perspective of being an insider and outsider to both groups. Sometimes the ‘‘White Negro,’’ moreover, was acceptable to both groups and sometimes not.9 Her romantic Christmas story told of acceptance of a white Negro by whites within a white family. Regardless of an individual’s acceptance or rejection by others, both cultures shaped the self. One of the most unusual parts of this essay is her discussion of passing, drawing on her lived experience and the lebenswelt surrounding her (Schutz, 1962, 1967). She argues that white Negroes often passed for white, and this behavior was more common in large cities in the North. Thus, the later ‘‘Great Migration’’ after World War I would have been an ideal time for such change in racial identification because one’s family, community, and home were in flux (Grossman, 1989). Williams argues that such passing was accepted by many friends and families as well as by herself. As she noted: ‘‘They are scarcely to be blamed, since they are certainly not responsible for the anomalous position in which they find themselves.’’ ‘‘Secret blending,’’ lack of detection, and unsuspected identities defied the color line and the attempt to make such acts scandalous if not illegal (e.g. Negroes Married to Octoroons Must Leave Louisiana, 1910). ‘‘Every generation adds to the number of this anomalous race,’’ a fact that continues to be true for almost a century after she wrote this essay (see Eckard, 1947). White Negroes are disruptive, they threaten an absurd social order which had powerful economic, emotional, and political consequences. Williams advances several arguments here that are similar to those of Erving Goffman, and she should be seen as the first sociologist writing dramaturgical analyses. For example, her analysis of the white Negroes flawed identity precedes Goffman’s (1963) examination of a ‘‘stigma’’ by many decades. Discovering the ‘‘hidden flaw’’ of African ancestors could lead to social disruption, embarrassment, and loss of face for a white Negro. While she acknowledged the possibility of tragic results (an outcome Goffman stresses), Williams added the dimension that sometimes such discovery can be ludicrous. Her account of her interaction on the train where she passed as French is a fascinating account of a process Goffman analyzed in Interaction Ritual: Essays on Face-to-Face Behavior (Goffman, 1967). Williams understood that questioning racial identity is problematic for the white conductor and the passing African American. Williams drew on the normative process of tact and the ambiguity of her self-presentation. She also echoes Goffman’s (1959) analysis in The Presentation of Self in

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Everyday Life when she shows the fragile ‘‘performances’’ of a person ‘‘passing’’ as white, as well as for a white person perceived as ‘‘black’’ by authorities. Finally, Williams described the gendered rules that Goffman (1977) analyzed in ‘‘The Arrangement Between the Sexes’’ (1977). She found such rules flimsy and discriminatory, for both women and black men, long before Goffman did. In fact, a large body of her corpus is on gender and a topic far beyond the scope of this chapter (see Williams, 2002, pp. 17–69). Her essay ends with the haunting sentence: ‘‘The shadow of the departed crime of slavery still abides to haunt the generations of freedom.’’ These are the words of protest, dismay, and resistance: They are not words of accommodation.

INTERPRETING WILLIAMS’ MULTIPLE LIMINALITY AND HER WRITINGS ON BICULTURALISM Unlike other notable African American women of her era who were born in the South during slavery, like Anna Julia Cooper (1998) or Wells-Barnett (1892, 1893, 1970), Williams was born in freedom in the North and raised in a stable family who encouraged her formal education. Thus, Williams presents a Northern experience and worldview in a manner more similar to that of the great sociologist W. E. B. DuBois (1903) than to many other African American women from the South. Her role as an intellectual black woman represents her life ‘‘behind a Gendered Veil’’ in the community and the profession of sociology (Deegan, 2000, 2002b). Williams was also a ‘‘multiliminal’’ person who lived at the margins of several social statuses (Deegan, 1998, 2005a): she was a female intellectual that Simone de Beauvoir (1949) describes as a contradiction in terms; she was part of the ‘‘Elite 400,’’ the highest social class in the black community, yet at one point she and her husband faced an extreme financial problem; she was a college graduate and a black woman when the majority of black women were illiterate and few white women had completed high school; and she first experienced racial discrimination as an adult and not as a child (Williams, 1904/2002). Williams’ experiences challenge the scholarship of many contemporary scholars studying African America women. Thus, many scholars rightfully condemn black women’s treatment at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, but Williams (1894a, 1894b) played a powerful role there

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(see criticism in Wells-Barnett, 1893, and a positive analysis of the significant participation of Africans and African Americans, including Williams, in Reed 2000). She was a suffragist and feminist when many members of her cohort were not. She spoke at the funeral of Susan B. Anthony before the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA), a group usually criticized as closed to black women (Williams, 1907, 2002, p. 137; Kraditor, 1965; Terborg-Penn, 1998). Williams’ significant intellectual corpus is ignored by many scholars (e.g., Collins, 1990, 2000), a fate shared often with other black female intellectuals, despite growing evidence of important writings by a number of black women, including Wells-Barnett (1892, 1893, 1970) and Cooper (1998). Williams assumed that her greater access to privileges associated with white society required her to aid the black community. She explained that her anomalous position as a white Negro allowed her to have access to white newspapers (such as the Chicago Record Herald) and to correct black stereotypes found in them and created by white reporters. This is an example of the positive aspects of being light-complected and crossing cultural boundaries (see Dennis, 2005; Park, 1928). Her autobiography showed how her multiple statuses shaped her experiences, career, and understanding of the world. She never advanced the slightest argument that race was a biological category, indicating her forward-looking race relations theory when many white male sociologists did not do so. Williams wrote, too, on education, rationality, intellectual labor, and fighting for social justice as a ‘‘new Negro woman’’ and a black feminist pragmatist. She advocated a growing civic consciousness and women’s right to obtain suffrage and full citizenship, for black and white women. Williams was part of an understudied migration of intellectuals and leaders to Chicago between the 1890s and World War I (Moses, 1987; Reed, 2000). Thus, she rarely wrote on the Great Migration after the war because she stopped writing just as this black social movement was beginning to appear in Chicago. She witnessed, nonetheless, the emerging Black Belt on the Southside of Chicago between 1887 and 1918, and she did comment on that. Williams represented the standpoint of the oppressed, especially African Americans and African American women. She analyzed the interaction between race, gender, and power. She developed a theory and practice structured by history, ideology, material resources, manners, and emotion. She practiced an active co-operative model with an emphasis on fighting for civil and cultural rights; and the work of the HHSRR. Although her examination of biculturalism was only part of her whole body of work, she created a significant approach to analyze the lived experience of multiple

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cultural backgrounds, an increasingly common phenomenon in our pluralistic society.

CONCLUSION Fannie Barrier Williams lived on the margins of a bicultural world. She reflected on her own life when she analyzed the paradoxes and anomalies surrounding the ‘‘White Negroes.’’ Her analyses add new dimensions to our understanding of the black experience, its complexity and multidimensionality. She left a legacy of black feminist pragmatism that needs more exploration and a wider audience. She described race as a social category, part of a process of social construction of the self, the color line, and the community. She anticipated many subsequent discussions of ‘‘marginality,’’ ‘‘liminality,’’ and gender. Her writings were widely read during her era, and they could be popular again. Her work, moreover, is particularly fruitful as a basis to study the dramaturgical presentation of self, interactions rituals, stigma, and the arrangement between the sexes for African Americans during her era. As an extraordinary theorist of biculturalism, Williams needs serious consideration as a major intellectual and sociologist. Although almost a century has passed between her writings and contemporary life, we still need to catch up with her prescient analyses. Moreover, as intermarriage between people of different racial/ethnic groups increases, the types of issues Williams discussed will be increasingly debated and explored. The lives of ‘‘White Negroes’’ will be better understood, if we draw on her insightful knowledge.

NOTES 1. I summarize the small, and often hostile, literature on Williams in Deegan (2002a). 2. Williams was part of the foundation leading to the Chicago Renaissance, an African American cultural movement that is severely understudied. See Knupfer (2006) for a discussion of this major social explosion of ideas, often associated with black women, in Chicago. Knupfer does not analyze Williams as a central figure in this process, although I do. 3. I hope that more of her papers and correspondence will be found as she becomes better known. With the aid of Michael R. Hill, I searched the archival program RLIN and the Manuscript Collections Indexed in the National Union Catalogue and no archival deposits for Fannie Barrier Williams are noted. Two letters from her are found in the published Booker T. Washington Papers, and S. Laing Williams, her husband, briefly mentions her in some of his extensive,

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published correspondence to Washington. See Washington (1972–1989). I visited the Library of Congress in June 2002 and found that several letters from Williams to Washington were illegible, despite the efforts of the staff to retrieve them. I did find a few letters that are not relevant to this chapter. No archival collection for S. Laing Williams exists either, but his correspondence with Booker T. Washington can be found in the Washington papers. Several useful items are found in his ‘‘Necrology’’ file at the University of Michigan. 4. Anne Knupfer (1996) also found this to be the case in her study of African American Women’s clubs in Chicago. I examined the Ida B. Wells Barnett papers in the Department of Special Collections, Regenstein Library, at the University of Chicago and they contained none of Williams’ papers. Williams’ relationship to Wells-Barnett is also not examined extensively in the literature on Wells-Barnett. Linda O. McMurry (1998) briefly considers Williams and portrays her negatively. I also examined the very small collection on Elizabeth Lindsay Davis and the Phyliss Wheatley organizations at the University of Illinois at Chicago, University Library, Department of Special Collections. Several biographical entries on Fannie Barrier Williams exist and I use them extensively here. Generally they rely heavily on her autobiography (Williams 1904/2002). 5. For more background readings on the movement see The Transcendentalists, edited by Perry Miller (1950/1978). Cornell West (1989) traces Emerson’s work, including his writings on African Americans, and its connection to the pragmatist movement. West’s analysis could extend fruitfully to Williams’ writings. 6. He is called ‘‘Laing’’ in some publications and the more formal ‘‘S. Laing’’ in others. The latter name is used here. 7. Williams’ obituary in the Chicago Defender stated that he was the first African American to graduate from the University of Michigan. This honor goes to Gabriel Hargo, however, who graduated from the Law Department there in 1870. My thanks to Karen L. Jania of the Bentley Library, the University of Michigan, for supplying this information. 8. ‘‘The Perils of the White Negro’’ (1907). The colored American magazine, 13(6) December, 421–423. 9. Alice Dunbar-Nelson; novelist, activist, and wife of Paul Laurence Dunbar, passed as white on a number of occasions and recent scholarship on her life shows her self-hatred and confusion about her anomalous race and class background, amplifying Williams’ analysis of the white Negro during this era (see Alexander, 2004).

REFERENCES Alexander, E. (2004). Lyrics of sunshine and shadow. New York: Plume. A Northern White Woman. (1904). Experiences of the race problem. Independent, 56(14), 590–594. A Southern Colored Woman. (1904). The race problem – an autobiography. Independent, 56(14), 586–589. A Southern White Woman. (1904). Experiences of the race problem. Independent, 56(14), 590–594.

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de Beauvoir, S. (1949/1952). The second sex. In: H. M. Parshely (Ed. and Trans.), New York: Modern Library. Collins, P. H. (1990). Black feminist theory: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment. New York: Routledge. Collins, P. H. (2000). Black feminist theory: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment, Rev. Ed. New York: Routledge. Conyers, J. E., & Kennedy, T. H. (1964). Reported knowledge Negro and white college students have of Negroes who have passed as whites. Journal of Negro Education, 33(Autumn), 454–459. Cooper, A. J. (1998). The voice of Anna Julia Cooper. In: C. Lemert, & E. Bahn (Eds) and C. Lemert (Intro.). Boston: Rowman and Littlefield. Deegan, M. J. (1989). American ritual dramas: Social rules and cultural meanings. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Deegan, M. J. (1998). American ritual tapestry: Social rules and cultural meaning. Greenwich, CT: Greenwood Press. Deegan, M. J. (2000). Transcending a patriarchal and racist past: African American women in sociology, 1890–1920. Sociological Origins, 2(Summer), 37–54. Deegan, M. J. (2002a). Fannie Williams and her life as a new woman of color, 1893–1918. In: J. D. Mary (Ed. and Intro.), The new woman of color: The collected writings of Fannie Barrier Williams (pp. xii–lx). DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press. Deegan, M. J. (2002b). Race, Hull-House, and the University of Chicago: A new conscience against ancient evil. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Deegan, M. J. (2005a). Transcending the ‘marginal man’: Challenging the patriarchal legacy of Robert E. Park. In: R. Dennis (Ed.), Marginality, power, and social structure: Issues in race, class, and gender analysis, research in race and ethnic relations (Vol. 12, pp. 207–227). San Diego, CA: Elsevier. Deegan, M. J. (2005b). Women, African Americans, and the ASA, 1905–2005. In: A. J. Blasi (Ed.), The diverse histories of American Sociology, 1905–2005 (pp. 178–206). Leiden, The Netherlands: Sponsored by the History of Sociology Section, American Sociological Association. Brill. Dennis, R. (2005). The age of marginality. In: R. Dennis (Ed.), Marginality, power, and social structure: Issues in race, class, and gender analysis, research in race and ethnic relations (vol. 12, pp. 3–8). San Diego, CA: Elsevier. Drake, St. C., & Cayton, H. (1945). Black metropolis. New York: Harcourt, Brace. DuBois, W. E. B. (1903). Souls of black folk. Chicago: A. C. McClurg. Eckard, E. W. (1947). How many Negroes ‘Pass’? American Journal of Sociology, 52(May), 498–500. Feagin, J. R., Vera, H., & Batur, P (2001). White racism (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge. Fishel, L. H., Jr. (1971). Williams, Fannie Barrier. In: T. J. Edward, J. W. James & P. S. Boyer (Eds), Notable American women (Vol. 3, pp. 620–622). Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, Harvard University. Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life. Garden City, New York: Anchor Books, Doubleday Co. Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Goffman, E. (1967). Interaction ritual: Essays on face-to-face behavior. Garden City, New York: Anchor Books, Doubleday. Goffman, E. (1977). The arrangement between the sexes. Theory and Society, 4(Fall), 301–331.

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Grossman, J. R. (1989). Land of Hope. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hendricks, W. (1993). Williams, Fannie Barrier. In: D. C. Hine, E. B. Brown & R. Terborg-Penn (Eds), Black women in America (Vol. 2, pp. 1259–1261). Brooklyn, NY: Carlson. Kephart, W. M. (1948). The ‘passing’ question. Phylon 9 (4th Quarter), 336–340. King, M. L., Jr. (1986/1991). In: M. J. Washington (Ed.), A testament of hope. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. Knupfer, A. M. (1996). Toward a tenderer humanity and a nobler womanhood. New York: New York University Press. Knupfer, A. M. (2006). The Chicago black renaissance and women’s activism. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Kraditor, A. S. (1965). The ideas of the woman suffrage movement, 1890–1920. New York: Columbia University Press. Logan, R. W. (1982). Williams, Fannie Barrier. In: R. W. Logan & M. R. Winston (Eds), Dictionary of American Negro biography (pp. 656–657). New York: W.W. Norton. M. M. (1888). Cultured Negro ladies. Chicago daily Tribune, 28 October, p. 26. McFeely, W. S. (1991). Frederick Douglass. New York: W.W. Norton. McMurry, L. O. (1998). To keep the waters troubled: The life of Ida B Wells. New York: Oxford University Press. Miller, P. (Ed.) (1978/1950). The Transcendentalists. New York: MJF Books. Moses, W. J. (1987). The lost world of the Negro. Black American literature forum, 21(Summer), 61–84. Mossell, N. F. (1889/1988). The work of the Afro-American woman. In: J. Braxton (Intro.). New York: Oxford University Press. Negroes Married to Octoroons Must Leave Louisiana. (1910). Chicago Defender, 7(May), 1. Park, R. E. (1928). Human migration and the marginal man. American Journal of Sociology, 33(May), 881–893. Reed, C. R. (2000). All the world is here!: Black presence at white city. Bloomington, IN: University of Indiana Press. Routledge, D. (Ed.) (2005). Research in race and ethnic relations. San Diego, CA: Elsevier. Schutz, A. (1962). Collected papers, 1: The problem of social reality. In: M. Natanson (Ed. and Intro.). The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff. Schutz, A. (1967). The phenomenology of the social world. In: G. Walsh & F. Lehnert (Trans.) and G. Walsh (Intro.). Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Smith, J. C. (1992). Fannie B. Williams (1855–1944). In: J. C. Smith (Ed.), Notable black American women (pp. 1251–1254). Detroit: Gale Research. Spear, A. H (1973). Williamsn, Fannie Barrier. In: E. T. James, et al. (Eds), Dictionary of American biography (pp. 827–828). New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Stonequist, E. V. (1937). The marginal man. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Terborg-Penn, R. (1998). African American women in the struggle for the vote, 1850–1920. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. To Hear Mrs. Fannie B. Williams. (1894). Chicago Daily Tribune, 17(December), 8. Turner, V. (1967). The ritual process. Chicago: Aldine. Washington, B. T. (1972–1989). In: L. Harlan (Ed.), The Booker T. Washington papers (14 vols). Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Wells-Barnett, I. B. (1892). Southern horrors: Lynch law in all its phases (Reprinted (1990). On lynching. Salem, NH: Ayer.). New York: New York Age Print.

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Wells-Barnett, I. B. (Ed.) (1893). The reasons why the colored American is not in the world’s Columbian exposition. Chicago: Privately printed. Wells-Barnett, I. B. (1970). In: A. M. Duster (Ed.), Crusade for justice: The autobiography of Ida B. Wells. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. West, C. (1989). The American evasion of philosophy: A genealogy of pragmatism. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Williams, F. B. (1894a/2002). The intellectual progress and present status of the colored women of the United States since the emancipation proclamation. In: M. J. Deegan (Ed. and Intro.), The new woman of color: The collected writings of Fannie Barrier Williams (pp. 17–27). DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press. Williams, F. B. (1894b/2002). Religious duty to the Negro. In: M. J. Deegan (Ed. and Intro.), The new woman of color: The collected writings of Fannie Barrier Williams (pp. 73–77). DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press. Williams, F. B. (1897). Negro in truth and fiction, 1897. Freeman, 6(22 May), 1–2. [Reprinted from Chicago Times-Herald]. Williams, F. B. (1902/1994). After many days: A Christmas story. In: J. A. Hamer & M. J. Hamer (Eds), Centers of the self (pp. 31–45). New York: Hill and Wang. Williams, F. B. (1902/2002). Club movement among Negro women. In: M. J. Deegan (Ed. and Intro.), The new woman of color: The collected writings of Fannie Barrier Williams (pp. 28–46). DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press. Williams, F. B. (1904/2002). A northern Negro’s autobiography. In: M. J. Deegan (Ed. and Intro.), The new woman of color: The collected writings of Fannie Barrier Williams (pp. 5–13). DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press. Williams, F. B. (1907). The perils of the white Negro. The colored American magazine, 13(December), 421–423. Williams, F. B. (2002). The new woman of color: The collected writings of Fannie Barrier Williams. In: M. J. Deegan (Ed. and Intro). DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press.

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PART IV BICULTURALISM IN INSTITUTIONAL SETTINGS

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TRIPPING THE WHITE FANTASTIC: NAVIGATING THE POLITICS OF DISLOCATION AND BICULTURAL AUTHENTICITY IN ACADEME Matthew W. Hughey ABSTRACT This chapter considers a narrative attuned to the tensions of bicultural performativity (blackness and whiteness) and how that performance relates to the politics of dislocation within the context of pursuing an advanced degree at a prestigious university. It does so by providing moments from my own narrative of self that focuses on an interrupted and hybridized racial project. In this chapter, I attempt to engage the reader by communicating the subjectivity of such moments in a provocative, fragmented, and emotionally charged self-reflexive manner. My own narrative, its performative element, and its racialized nature, are then considered in relation to larger sociological contexts and forces that present bicultural racial formations and their boundary transgression as a regulatory mechanism. Out of these narrative examples, I emphasize the growing centrality of performance studies as a frame of analysis.

Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 131–158 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15007-3

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MATTHEW W. HUGHEY Come, and trip it, as you go, On the light fantastic toe; And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty; And, if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free – John Milton, L’Allegro, 16451

This autoethnographic account concerns my experiences as a white, working class, male from the mid-south who was raised in a black neighborhood, has four black half-brothers, was a member of the Black Panther Party (BPP), and is an active member of a Black Greek-Letter fraternity. In this work, I come to terms in narrative fashion with different readings of my racial biculturality that both ‘‘constrain and enable’’ (Giddens, 1984) my pursuit of acceptance in the contemporary culture of academe as a graduate student pursing a Ph.D. in sociology. This story is a narrative of conflict and (dis)location that has evolved into a discourse about the role of performing whiteness and blackness at an elite university, and the place of a racialized bicultural graduate student in this highly specialized subculture.2 I link my experiences to social, cultural, and specific academic discourses via a thorough sociological self-exploration. In so doing, I attempt to connect my personal experiences to the wider (sub)cultural settings in which I was (and am) immersed. Therefore, I believe autoethnography a useful method for examining one’s surroundings in a self-reflexive manner. It is my hope this essay will read as a description of how bi-cultural racialized subjectivity is produced though everyday life and how that dichotomous ontology presented distinct obstacles, as well as afforded avenues, in the journey to enter the ivory tower. As Antonia Darder has written, ‘‘biculturalism must be understood as a contested terrain of difference’’ (1991, p. 2). Drawing from Alexander, Giesen, and Mast (2006) and Alexander (2004a, 2004b), I present racialized bicultural subjectivity as performative scripts that are hidden (resulting in ‘‘authenticity’’) or manifest (resulting in skepticism). Alexander (2004a) writes, Performative actions have both a manifest and latent symbolic reference. Their explicit messages take shape against background structures of immanent meaning [emphasis in original]. In other words, social performances, like theatrical ones, symbolize particular meanings only because they can assume more general, taken-for-granted meaning structures within which their performances are staged. Performances select among, reorganize, and make present themes that are implicit in the immediate surround of

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social life – though these are absent in a literal sense. Reconfiguring the signifieds of background signifiers, performances evoke a new set of more action-specific signifiers in turn. It is these signifiers that compose a performance’s script [emphasis in original]. (p. 102)

Recently, we have witnessed a shift from considering social life as ‘‘texts’’ and/or ‘‘artifacts’’ as paradigmatic manifestations of culture, toward the recognition of the central importance of the performative. This transition from a textual to a performative paradigm invites renewed investigations of the dynamic and processual aspects of biculturality and reveals new perspectives for cultural sociology and critical race theory by highlighting and comparing diverse forms of performative practices within these fields. The narrative form of this chapter takes the shape of three stories as they relate to my entrance into academe. Specifically, they relate to my emergent identity as an ‘‘ongoing accomplishment’’ (Garfinkle, 1967) and the inscription of bicultural whiteness and blackness on my ‘‘presentation of self in everyday life’’ (Goffman, 1959). These entries narrate the contradictory relationship to whiteness and blackness in special regard to the contexts of my emergence in various settings. I summarize these entries with a more traditional framework of bicultural dimensions in regard to performativity, power, dislocation, and authenticity. I conclude with positing questions for further study.

METHODOLOGY There are two major developments of late in regard to ethnographic racial studies: debates over representation, and the increasing trend toward self-reflexivity. Roughly a quarter of a century prior, Bertaux and Kohli (1984) noticed that due to increased focus on positivism within the fields of social inquiry, ‘‘life stories were no longer fashionable’’ (p. 231) and were made marginal or submerged in the various disciplines. In our contemporary moment, however, we are immersed in a renewed interest in personal narratives, life histories, and autobiographies due to the changing nature of methodological fieldwork, the types of questions posed due to the influence of the cultural turn, and increased focus on post-structural-informed theory (Cole, 1992; Watson & Watson-Franke, 1985). The guiding interconnectivity between theory, data, and methods in this chapter reflects a changing conception of self and society (Cohen, 1994; Giddens, 1991; Buroway, 1998). Specifically, I employ ‘‘autoethnography’’ in both of its double-senses – referring to both ethnography of one’s own

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group, or an autobiographical writing with ethnographic interest [i.e., a self (auto)ethnography, or an autobiographical (auto)ethnography, respectively] (Reed-Danahay, 1997). This work seeks to bridge that dialectic by questioning the convention between self/society and objective/subjective by drawing out the mechanisms and effects of cultural displacement, shifting axes of power, and the tension of identity inherent to any bicultural project. This represents a new trend toward an awareness of power and the politics of representation (Behar & Gordon, 1995; Fischer, 1994; Moore, 1994; Strathern, 1987). In this vein, my use of autoethnography is akin to Gatson (2003); grounded in concepts such as a ‘‘‘figural anthropology’ of the self’’ (Lionnet, 1991, p. 166), ‘‘generative autobiography’’ (Alexander, 2000), and in an abiding belief in the practice of ethnography from a sociological perspective. The latter is anchored in the work of Du Bois (1940[1995]), who sought an interrogation of his racialized biography in relation to social context. He wrote, ‘‘My discussion of the concept of race y [is] not to be regarded as digressions from the history of my life; rather my autobiography is a digressive illustration and exemplification of what race has meant in the world in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries’’ (p. 388). Given that the self is ongoing project that is always emerged in processes of formation, it is particularly germane to recognize that the self is always a partial project. The self is a social creation and social performance, continually swinging back and forth between ‘‘the me and the we’’ (Hall, 2001, p. 119). As Sarah Gatson (2003) writes, ‘‘The pieces that form a more or less complete set of biographic facts and the ways in which one may interpret those facts are not equally accessible to all’’ (p. 23). Hence, my birth in a particular set of social conditions, within a particular historical moment, within a particular genealogy, all contributed to my access to specific and particular information, as well as my interpretation of that information. As elusive as self-identity is, the sociological project is concerned with the discovery of empirically verifiable ‘‘facts.’’ Hence, there is a tension endemic to the question of whether the facts or the interpretation of facts is at the center of social inquiry. Following such a dilemma, I believe that sociological autoethnography should illuminate as much as possible about the events: the who, what, when, why, and where, and most importantly, how they are indicative of larger social meanings and trends. Such an approach dovetails with Clifford Geertz’ (1983) contention that ethnography is ‘‘a continuous dialectical tacking between the most local of local detail and the most global of global structure in such a way as to bring them into

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simultaneous view’’ (p. 69) as well as C. Wright Mills quest to build a robust ‘‘sociological imagination’’ that merged ‘‘the personal troubles of the milieu’’ to ‘‘the public issues of the social structure’’ (Mills in Burawoy, 1991, p. 6). As such, the autoethnographic project realizes that we cannot remove ourselves from certain contexts, and should seek to illuminate the connection of self to larger social processes within the context of particular social locations. As Tami Spry (2000) writes, Autoethnography – with its body in the borderlands between autobiography and ethnography – is a narration signifying at least one interpretation of ever-fluctuating identity. And since the autoethnographic story is a discursive act, it is always turning back upon itself, effecting continuing strategies of/in lived experience y The autoethnographic ‘‘I’’ becomes a plural pronoun with the constant refraction of selves in disparate locations y ‘‘We find a discourse of situation; a ‘politics of location’’’. (pp. 84–85)

Hence, authoethnography accrues with the goal of this chapter: to rearticulate the politics of (dis)location in relation to the performance of bicultural identity in the context of academe. As Deborah Reed-Danahay (1997) writes, One of the main characteristics of an autoethnographic perspective is that the autoethnographer is a boundary-crosser, and the role can be characterized as that of a dual identity y It is associated with the late nineteenth-century ideas of ‘‘double consciousness’’ y The notion of autoethnography foregrounds the multiple nature of selfhood and opens up new ways of writing about social life. (p. 3)

Therefore, I will show that ‘‘biculturalism’’ is more complicated than simply a bridge or conflict between two distinct poles. Biculturalism is a cultural structure that creates different meanings amidst a framework of tensions between identities, institutions, and ideologies. As Eric Mykhalovskiy (1996) has noted, those who use autobiographical perspectives in the social sciences (DeVault, 1994; Gatson, 2003; Krieger, 1991; Okely, 1992) are often accused of self-indulgence or narcissistic merriment. While I am very aware of the tendency to engage in omphaloskepsis (navel gazing), especially since the advent of whiteness studies, those that deride the intellectual dimensions of autoethnography may well miss the point that autoethnography is not limited to the self because social actors do not accumulate their experiences in a vacuum (Stanley, 1993). Applied here to biculturalism, my analysis resists reductive, dualistic views of self/other distinctions. ‘‘To write of individual experience is to write of social experience’’ (Mykhalovskiy, 1996). Fittingly, Antonia

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Darder (1991) writes in due consideration to the intersection of biculturalism and marginalized methodology that, it is imperative to stress that I am not suggesting that subjective interpretations of lived experience alone can suffice in the struggle to overcome and transform structural conditions of domination, whether in theory or in practice. And further, it cannot be denied that claims to exclusive ‘‘authority’’ derived solely from lived experience can be misused to silence and undermine the possibility of dialogue. Yet, despite these possible dangers, we must find the manner to incorporate in our intellectual work those ways of knowing that are rooted in experience. (p. 5)

Accordingly, William G. Tierny (1998) writes, ‘‘autoethnography confronts dominant forms of representation and power in an attempt to reclaim, through self-reflective response, representational spaces that have marginalized those of us at the borders’’ (p. 66). Therefore, while a dominant reading of racial and gendered ontology would not lead one to frame me as ‘‘marginal,’’ I have tried here to produce an account of a figure navigating the tensions of biculturalism in special regard to how my whiteness and blackness has become readable in relation to specific contexts and what that reading represents.

BICULTURAL BACKGROUND From John Howard Griffin’s (1962) Black Like Me, Gregory Howard William’s (1996) Life on the Color Line, Mark Naison’s (2002) White Boy, to Tim Wise’s (2005) White Like Me, many white authors have explored how their racial categorization was shaped and dramatically altered by their own agency and (in)ability to perform their whiteness, as well as the structural forces that shaped their racial consciousness and even imposed a changed racial identity. My stories are not identical to the aforementioned, but they inform me. I was born to white parents, but my mother was previously married to a black man whose marriage brought them four bi-racial sons (my older half-brothers) making my family distinctly bicultural. I am descended from grandparents who were in the KKK as well as from the famous abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison. I was raised in an almost all-black area of a city in North Carolina because, as my parents would tell me years later, ‘‘We didn’t want you growing up the same as everybody else. We wanted you to know what it’s like to be different. We wanted you to know how racial difference feels.’’ Years later, I would read Du Bois’ (1903) The Souls of Black Folk, in which he wrote, ‘‘one ever feels his twoness’’ (p. 7) and identify with his

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words. I knew they were not written for me, as he was describing the context of blackness in the U.S., but still his words rang true. I was the only white boy in my group of peers growing up and, despite our friendships, my outsider status was glaringly apparent. When police hassled us, I was quickly ‘‘whited’’ – made almost exempt from the harassment – drawing resentment from my friends afterward even as we joked about how my skin color got me ‘‘off the hook.’’ I was constantly in fights with groups of whites that thought I was trying to be black, and with groups of blacks that believed I did not belong. My dislocation between both groups led to my development of a scathing racial analysis, carrying Malcolm X’s speeches with me everywhere by age 12 and joining one of the last remaining chapters of the BPP by age 15. I went to a local state college after high school but dropped-out after my freshman year, mainly due to my desire to become a history major that was complicated by my discontent with classes that were in direct contradiction to the non-Eurocentric histories I was reading from John Henrik Clarke, Carter G. Woodson, and Lerone Bennett, Jr. I moved away from the U.S., living in Kingston, Jamaica, where I sat-in on sociology courses at the University of the West Indies. There I began to develop an intellectual appetite for the works of Du Bois, Garvey, C. L. R. James, and Stuart Hall, the radical tradition of Black Marxism, and the insights of critical and cultural sociology. I returned to the states and college, and was asked to pledge a Black Greek-Letter fraternity and majored in sociology. It was upon graduation that I became keenly aware that my parents were succeeding – I was beginning to know what difference felt like. Now making my way into the professionalized setting of academe, my racial formation is a harsh twoness, maybe not with the same physical or overt vehemence of my childhood, but with the same emotional and intellectual ferocity. In the three stories that follow, I concentrate on key experiences wherein the politics of my displaced biculturality has, on the one hand, enabled my insights into a racialized world, a world where race is the ‘‘fundamental axis of social organization’’ (Omi & Winant, 1994, p. 13). On the other hand, it has constrained my ability to be received as a serious intellectual, a scholar driven by a rigorous program, or even a legitimate graduate student despite my early publishing record for a scholar of my professional age, service to campus and community, and stellar teaching evaluations. The aforementioned should raise questions of appropriation, authenticity, and authority from the critical reader. As Linda Martin Alcoff (1995) points out, ‘‘Persons from dominant groups who speak for others are often treated

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as authenticating presences that confer legitimacy and credibility on the demand of subjugated speakers; such speaking for others does nothing to disrupt the discursive hierarchies that operate in public spaces’’ (p. 99). From this, one might conclude that it is better not to speak for others at all, or not to arbitrate as one might act appropriatively. However, such recoil is both intellectually detrimental and even epistemologically suicidal. As Henry Louis Gates Jr. stated, ‘‘Like it or not, all writers are ‘cultural impersonators’’’ (in Callaghan, 1995, p. 196), and such arguments often reify social and cultural boundaries. I more fully address this problem later in this work, but offer the following now: my work engages how my racialization has been located and received by audiences in relation to the dynamics of power that enabled or constrained that performance. I am not attempting a Marxist-laden structural analysis of what my (or other’s) biculturalness ‘‘essentially’’ is, nor am I purporting to ‘‘speak for’’ bicultural ‘‘others.’’ I am speaking for myself in those extended moments when I am discursively, politically, or even ontologically perceived as a thirdspaced ‘‘other.’’ In these moments I am ‘‘othered,’’ despite the markers of so-called ‘‘biological differences,’’ by the result of aesthetic stylizations of the body, discursive habits, political affiliations, and stereotyped and racist mental routines supplied by cultural forces. This is tripping the white fantastic.

CULTURE WARS: ‘‘DO YOU WANT TO BE AN ACTIVIST OR AN ACADEMIC?’’ Institutionalized rejection of difference is an absolute necessity in a profit economy which needs outsiders as surplus people y we have no patterns for relating across human difference as equals. As a result, those differences have been misnamed and misused in the service of separation and confusion. – Audrey Lorde, Out There: Marginalization in Contemporary Culture, 1992

Shortly after graduating with my masters I was accepted to a top university for pursuit of a Ph.D. in sociology. I was soon caught up in the whirlwind first few weeks of fitting into a new cohort, getting accustomed to a new environment, and meeting new faculty members whom, in large part, decide your fate. After weeks of chasing down one particularly influential professor, I succeeded in gaining an audience with her. I was looking forward to meeting her and ‘‘studied up’’ on the books and articles that she published. I came dressed to the meeting as many of the faculty dress (t-shirt, corduroys, loafers, and a sport coat), except that my t-shirt was

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emblazoned with the famous picture of Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale, co-founders of the BPP, guns-in-hand, standing outside of their headquarters in Oakland, CA in 1967. I knocked on the office door, walked in, and enthusiastically greeted her. Instead of saying hello back to me, she looked at my shirt and said, ‘‘Black Panthers, huh?’’ Thinking this to be an acknowledgement of my work, I spouted out that practiced blurb that sums up your work in five seconds or less: ‘‘Yes! My master’s thesis dealt with an examination of the Panther ideology as a hybridity of neo-Marxist and Black Protestant epistemology.’’ She immediately responded in a sharp tone, ‘‘Do you want to be an activist or an academic?’’ I was shocked – where was this headed? My previous faculty loved my work, I had already published an article in a peer-reviewed journal from my thesis chapters, had other articles from it under review, an editorial piece in the Chicago Tribune, and presented my findings at the first academic BPP conference the year prior. I searched for words to respond politely while still defending the merits of my work. ‘‘I was under the impression that one’s work on activist organizations could be approached from a rigorous academic standpoint, [and then I went too far:] and that activism and academics need not be mutually exclusive.’’ ‘‘They are!’’ she boomed back at me, ‘‘I would never commit the sin of allowing my personal ideology to creep into my scholarship.’’ At this point, there was not much to do. To retreat backward would show the weakness of my position and to belabor the point would be disrespectful. I opted to change the topic. ‘‘I’ve read your work, and I would really like to hear more about your latest projects.’’ Taking my not-so-subtle hint that I would humbly and tactfully acquiesce, the professor began to speak about her work, making sure along the way to cast disparagement toward methods that were thought not to be rigorous, topics that were ‘‘over-researched’’ (like race in her opinion), and work that was ‘‘subjectivity biased’’ (due to its activist underpinnings). We soon wrapped up the conversation and she half-heartedly said goodbye to me as I left her office. This treatment is not an uncommon occurrence among scholars who study the black radical tradition. Rather, this occurrence is indicative of the ‘‘culture wars’’ surrounding who decides, and with what criteria, how and what about race is credentialed enough to be worthy of scholarly analysis (a problem of data), how that data is to be analyzed (a problem of methods), and what worthwhile hypotheses there are (a problem of the research question). Ironically, the professor’s work focused on white-dominated, intellectual and political movements. The encounter showed that whiteness

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is associated with worthiness – through its constant accompaniment with all things cerebral, modern, moderate, and objectively passive. Those things associated with ‘‘blackness’’ are signifiers of the carnal body, emotional volatility, and subjective activism. Perhaps if my shirt had spoken that day, Dr. Huey P. Newton would have emerged from the cloth to state, The historical relationship between black and white here in America has been the relationship between the slave and the master; the master being the mind and the slave the body. y the slave master became the omnipotent administrator and the slave became the supermasculine menial y The whole relationship developed so that the omnipotent administrator and the supermasculine menial became opposites. (Newton, 1970)

As the Cartesian separation of mind and body, intellectual and activist, has been transferred to white and black, respectively, one may more clearly view how racial/cultural interplay is today regulated by the historical circumstances, collective memory, and legacy of discrimination mitigated by unequal relations of power that are normalized by Eurocentric epistemology. This continues today, especially at elite universities in the Old South in which I am (dis)located. As Orlando Patterson writes, Try as each group might, there was no escaping the violent embrace of Africa and Europe that was the crucible of American culture in the Old South y we should be very careful never to confuse interaction with mutuality. Each group may have influenced the other, but the terms of trade were brutally asymmetric and amounted in most respect to outright social, economic, and cultural parasitism y (Patterson, 1998, p. 240)

When the professor stated, ‘‘I would never commit the sin of allowing my personal ideology to creep into my scholarship,’’ it was too late, she already had. All suppositions, even the deductive, Popperian, positivist, approaches, are inclusive of ideological content. As made clear across disciplines – from Go¨del’s ‘‘incompleteness theorem,’’ the late Wittgenstein’s work, to the sociology of science and knowledge (Berger & Luckmann, 1966; Kuhn, 1962) underpinned by ‘‘Mannheim’s Paradox’’ – ideology is ever-present. A belief that ideology can be cordoned-off, especially in regard to the study of race, can open up the dangers of reifying race and then mapping that reification onto attributes of principle and societal virtue like hard work, rigor, and scientific scholasticism. While ‘‘[s]cience has often been used as a justification to propose, project, and enact racist social policies’’ (Dennis, 1995, p. 243) Eduardo Bonilla-Silva (2003) argues that public norms have changed. Today, the linguistic boundaries of what we consider racist behavior has adapted to permit whites to justify white privilege in an

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age when overtly expressing such views would be unacceptable in most social circles. Bonilla-Silva’s ‘‘color-blind racism,’’ can be used to explain how the professor’s comments were enabled. By using a cultural script composed of ‘‘linguistic manners and rhetorical strategies (or race talk)’’ (Bonilla-Silva, 2002, p. 42) she could express a disparaging ideology toward work on ‘‘radical’’ forms of blackness she thought unworthy of scholastic merit. Further, my bicultural framework that was recognized through my appearance as a white man, but coupled with my academic background and my clothing in support of radical blackness in the foreground, was immediately read as a subjective, ideologically ridden bias that, despite my credentials that brought me there in the first place, framed me as undeserving, unscientific, and thus displaced in graduate school.

WHITE LIBERALISM: ‘‘I GUESS THAT MAKES YOU CULTURALLY BLACK?’’ Within commodity culture, ethnicity becomes spice, seasoning that can liven up the dull dish that is mainstream white culture y fantasies about the Other can be continually exploited, and that such exploitation will occur in a manner that reinscribes and maintains the status quo. – bell hooks, ‘‘Eating the Other’’ in Black Looks: Race and Representation, 1992

After the last encounter I setout to ‘‘prove’’ my worth and deservedness as a graduate student. I asked one of my professors, Mr Donner, for whom I was a teaching assistant, if I could give a lecture on racial representations in the media. Mr Donner agreed and a few weeks later my lecture was delivered to a disproportionately white audience of almost 200 students. I dug up demographic numbers, backed them up with strong cultural reasoning, intertwined brief film and news video clips, and included supplementary information from heavy hitting race and media scholars from Darnell Hunt to Stuart Hall. I concluded with the summation that racial representations are constructed ontologisms that labor to represent different cultural logics and assumptions about the professed ‘‘essence’’ of those races and the social order writ large. Afterward, Mr Donner asked if I would like to receive some advice on my lecture and I happily accepted. We set up an appointment for later that day. Upon entering his office he gave me a quizzical look and told me to sit down. After giving basic advice, he paused and awkwardly began searching for his words. ‘‘I think students had a hard time with your voice y That is,

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I think the students had a hard time knowing what you are, because y well, you’re black right?’’ I starred blankly at him. I was unsure as to whether this was a joke about my personal past, my current research, or exactly what was happening overall. I began to laugh awkwardly, trying to invite him into what I hoped was an unusual joke on his part. He was not laughing. The only thing I could think of to say in response just spilled out, ‘‘Uh, well, I’m part Cherokee.’’ He replied, You’re not black!? Wow, I thought you were, I mean, when I spoke with you on the phone about giving you the teaching assistant position I had the image of a black man [his emphasis] on the other end. And your clothes and your political views, and didn’t you work on a paper about the Black Panthers? Wait! [long pause] y Your lectures make so much more sense now y about what you said regarding race as a social construction y I mean with all of what you do and stand for, I guess that makes you culturally black?

I was floored. Had this tenured professor, having obtained his doctorate degree from a prestigious university, just reduced all that is ‘‘black’’ to Panthers, leftist politics, and what he thought was a black vernacular accent? Although overt racism is now a less commonplace occurrence as it was 50 years ago, I argue that its form has changed dramatically, shifting from an overt oppression to more of a less visible hegemony that reduces blackness into easy to identify icons. Four different streams of current academic discourse typify the debate over racism. First, an optimistic standpoint campaigns for the view that antiblack prejudice is in hasty retreat (Firebaugh & Davis, 1988; Lipset, 1996; Sniderman & Carmines, 1997). Second, scholars like Schuman, Steeh, Bobo, and Krysan (1997) show that racial perspectives are filled with a mixture of approval and bigotry. This is exemplified by idealistic approval of racial liberalism in the abstract with a staunch disapproval of racial policies (like affirmative action or reparations for slavery) in the specific. Third, scholars like Roediger (1994), Bobo and Kluegel (1993), Lipsitz (1995), Dyer (1997), and Sidanius, Singh, Hetts, and Federico (2000) argue that a latent white supremacy governs racial relations. Fourth, the work of Sears and Kinder (1971) and Kinder and Sanders (1996) shows how anti-black attitudes and traditional Western value systems such as meritocracy and individualism merge together to form a ‘‘symbolic racism’’ that rationalizes and/or hides racist intent in mainstream ideology. An all-too common form of misunderstanding that is generated through ‘‘symbolic racism’’ by liberal professors is disguised in the shift toward an outwardly perceivable social constructivist stance that is the current

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academic trend. To Mr Donner, my biculturalness was taken as proof of the process of racial constructivism about which I lectured, but in so doing, reinscribed essentialist assumptions about the nature of blackness. This inclination frames whiteness as a social construction, but forgets systems of relation (power) that situate whiteness as some ‘‘fake’’ norm against which the essentialized ‘‘authenticity’’ of non-whiteness is compared. Hence, whiteness is reconfigured as the center. As David Roediger states, ‘‘ y the consciousness of whiteness also contains elements of a critique of that consciousness and that we should encourage the growth of a politics based on hopeful signs of a popular giving up on whiteness y by exposing, demystifying, and demeaning particular ideology’’ (1994, pp. 3, 12). Therefore, a way out of this ontological trap of whiteness appears in the form of the rejection of the cultural aspects associated with white normalcy and the emulation of marginalized subjects – a process in which Mr Donner thought I was ‘‘culturally’’ engaged, after it dawned on him I was not ‘‘black.’’ Rather than being born as an ‘‘other,’’ many whites deeply invest in the idea of difference that easily lapses into essentialist formulations. The romanticized naturalization of marginality that slips into many whites’ understanding of race relations is a primary element of what I discuss. Scholar Ross Chambers (1997) writes, The differential structures that mediate social relations are themselves mediated by the phenomena we call power and desire. One of the effects of such phenomena is to distribute unmarkedness the privileges of normalcy and unexaminedness and to reserve for markedness the characteristics of derivedness, deviation, secondariness, and examinability, which function as indices of disempowerment (although, oddly, not always of undesirability). (pp. 188–189)

Also, George Lipsitz (1998) writes, the long history of interracial relations has created a possessive investment in whiteness that includes an investment in certain conceptions about people of color y the frequent invocation of people of color as sources of inspiration or forgiveness for whites, and the white fascination with certain notion of primitive authenticity among communities of color, all testify to the white investment in images that whites themselves have created about people of color. (p. 118)

This inaccurate and symbolically violent characterization of ‘‘others’’ opens up a way of thinking about the roots of the liberal white political imagination. Many academics making the transit into tenure or toward some other kind of accommodation within the teaching machine often do so through uncritical and essentialist acceptance of mainstream diversity as something of a fetish. However, if we redeploy, even for an instant, a

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historical view of racism in the West, we can see how our society is dangerously steeped in neo-liberal racism even as it congratulates itself for achieving a supposedly post-colonial status quo.

THE PRICE OF THE TICKET: ‘‘I THOUGHT YOU WERE A BLACK GUY WITH A CHIP ON YOUR SHOULDER’’ The price the white American paid for his ticket was to become white y This incredibly limited not to say dimwitted ambition has choked many a human being to death here: and this, I contend, is because the white American has never accept the real reasons for his journey. – James Baldwin, The Price of the Ticket, 1985

After finishing my coursework and passing my comprehensive exams, I began exploring what I hoped would serve as a topic for my dissertation. I began studying the reproduction of racism in a site many would think it’s least likely manifestation – antiracist organizations. I obtained an opportunity to present my preliminary findings from a case study at an academic conference. I presented a paper that demonstrated the simultaneous fight against, and reproduction of, racism by white antiracist organizations. I empirically demonstrated several epistemological strategies the antiracist organization used to unintentionally rationalize racism, and fielded questions afterward from an audience of about a hundred people, almost all white. As I was leaving the room in which my presentation took place, one of the coordinators of the conference approached me. ‘‘I really enjoyed your presentation, but I have to admit,’’ he said with a pause, ‘‘ y when I first read your abstract for the conference, I thought you were a black fellow. But I’m glad to see that you’re Caucasian.’’ I was immediately taken aback by his statement, and collected myself. ‘‘Really? Why is that?’’ I asked in a calm, quizzical tone. He replied, ‘‘Well, when I first read your work I thought you were a black guy with a chip on your shoulder. Like you had something to prove. But now that I see you’re white, it’s okay. More white people need to do work like yours.’’ ‘‘It’s interesting that you say that.’’ I replied, attempting to simultaneously negotiate how I would respond politely, and also remember his words so that I could scribble them down immediately after our conversation. ‘‘But y ’’ I continued, ‘‘I’m a cultural sociologist concerned with how the ‘good whites’ reproduce racism. I don’t see how my racial appearance would make my work possess less or more of

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a ‘chip.’’’ Not knowing how to respond, he stuttered, ‘‘Well y that’s, uh y great,’’ managing to place an awkward smile full of teeth on his face. ‘‘I just meant that it’s good to have more white people doing work like you.’’ I thanked him for his ‘‘kind’’ words, we shook hands, and parted ways. This experience can be negotiated in a plurality of ways. Yet, I believe two main racialized tropes emerge amidst the polysemy. First, the dominant or preferred reading of his comments indicate his support of subjectivities from the center (i.e., white people) deconstructing their own position, privileges, and the subsequent ideologies that rationalize and propagate the reproduction of the status quo racial order. This viewpoint is commonplace among liberal scholars who outwardly support more whites conducting work on race (especially whiteness), more men studying gender (especially masculinity), and more people who identify as straight studying sexuality (especially heterosexuality). By stating, ‘‘More white people need to be doing work like yours’’ he was expressing solidarity with my work. Second, his comments could be a read in an oppositional way that affords insight into the symbolic meanings and episteme that propelled and rationalized his statements. The socially constructed black scholar that I was in his mind’s eye (when he read my abstract) was perceived in a negative light. Although my work was constituent before and after our meeting, it was read in a differently raced way. When I was black in his imagination, my work served as a window to my character and personality. I had a ‘‘chip on my shoulder’’ and I had ‘‘something to prove.’’ Although my intellectual proclivities and scholarly production remained the same, my blackness was a detriment; a negative mark upon me that made my work appear as more of a platform political statement than as legitimate scholastic inquiry. However, when my ‘‘Caucasian membership’’ was displayed to him, my work was magically transformed. No longer did I have anything to prove, my whiteness was proof enough. White skin is often a substitute for gray matter. A combination of both aforementioned interpretations is most telling. Together, these bring to light several points: First, the professor’s expressed solidarity with my work was based on my performance as a white person, with the assumption that my loyalties were first and foremost with other white people. When I indicated that I was a ‘‘cultural sociologist concerned with how the ‘good whites’ reproduce racism,’’ I betrayed the code of whiteness, enacting a performance that was definitely not scripted. Second, anti-black ideology can be hidden in friendly white actions. This synthesis of neo-liberalism and historical racism is disguised and mystified in the praise of white deconstruction. Michael Eric Dyson, professor of

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African-American Studies at Columbia University, has made a similar critique of the field of ‘‘Whiteness Studies,’’ discerning that it is a sneaky form of white narcissism that serves to marginalize black intellectuals whose work circumambulates around whiteness. The professor’s praise of my work hid the negative sentiment he would have held toward the same work if it had originated from a black scholar. Third, my work found a white antiracist white to reproduce racist ideology – a finding largely unflattering to liberal whiteness. When I was thought to be black, I did not possess the right or the moral authority to criticize such ‘‘good’’ forms of white identity. However, when my whiteness was revealed, I immediately was granted this privilege. Not only was I granted it – I was praised for it. The professor discovered that I am not a black guy with a chip on my shoulder. These chips, just like James Baldwin’s aforementioned ‘‘ticket,’’ must be white, because it became camouflaged on my skin when he met me. It was only the proclamation of my concern with ‘‘how ‘good whites’ reproduce racism’’ that made the chip visible and made my white-allegiance ticket stamped ‘‘invalid.’’

DIFFERENCE AS SPACE: (RE)FRAMING THE CONCEPT OF BICULTURALISM The work of Foucault emphasized a ‘‘genealogy’’ that exposed the effects of power, authority, and knowledge through specific institutions, practices, and discourses with multiple and diffuses points of origin. We now need a ‘‘genealogy of biculturalism [that] must be theoretically grounded in the historical intricacies of social formations that emerge from the collision between dominant/subordinate cultural, political, and economic relations of power which function to determine the limits and boundaries of institutional life in this county’’ (Darder, 1991, p. 11). Many scholars contend that the concept of biculturalism is problematic (Duncan, 2005; Dyson, 2005; Hall, 2001). Hence, the term ‘‘bicultural’’ must be applied suspiciously and in due consideration to its specified parameters and context. As Darder writes, There can be no question that biculturalism in the United States has evolved from a set of conscious and unconscious adaptational strategies to preserve significant dimensions of cultural knowledge and collective identity, adapt to changing material conditions and resist institutional forms of psychological and physical violence. (1991, p. 7)

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While my stories reference the history and geo-politics of marginalized subjectivities and how their cultures are hybridized (and hyphenized) in conjunction with the center, my narratives do not fit by comparison. However, the correlation remains in regard to views of my subjectivity as a dislocated site of cultural inscription and performance. It is precisely because ‘‘the body as text’’ has become such a common truism, that it is not whether we recognize the body as being textually inscribed, but as to whether we assign it to what Saussure has called, ‘‘its proper place.’’ My ‘‘black-whiteness’’ is more than textualized and readable, it is performed as a dislocated ‘‘third space’’ as described by Homi Bhaba. To be viewed as occupying my ‘‘proper place’’ – due to the misrecognition of the third space as invalid – I must engage in believable racial theatrics. Accordingly, several lines of scholastic inquiry on biculturalism have emerged. First, post-colonial literature (Dyson, 2005; Ritchie, 1992) examines the discourses of nations that have emerged from a history of national or ethnic conflict in which neither side has gained a complete victory. Second, the social and psychological impact of biculturalism (Darder, 1991; Milan, 1993; Romay, 1993; St. Clair, Valdes, & OrnsteinGalicia, 1981) often pays special regard to education and the role of critical pedagogy in either emphasizing or overcoming biculturalism. The third view is the more entrenched considerations of scholars who have long noticed a strain between opposing worldviews due to race relations in the West (Buriel, 1984; de Anda, 1984; Du Bois, 1903[1999]; Fanon, 1952; Ramirez & Castaneda, 1974; Rashid, 1981; Solis, 1980; Valentine, 1971). Within this third perspective there is a schizophrenic character to the literature that oscillates between readings of biculturalism as either restricting or enabling. That is, biculturalism is framed as either a structural force that restricts social options, or as a free-floating agency that affords actors the ability to navigate different situations. Generally then, biculturalism is often discussed as an issue of cultural continuity whereby bicultural transmission is framed as a process of basic replication and homogenous uniformity (Lave, 1988, p. 10). This can easily facilitate a view of biculturalism as a domineering force that organizes people (Eisenhart, 1995), rather then questioning how individuals acquire and organize their biculturalness. Conversely, theorizing biculturalism with a hyper-agency acquisition model can lead to reducing and reifying biculturalism as a welldefined bodies of knowledge that are commonly known to specific in-group members (Wolcott, 1991, p. 256). A solution to viewing biculturalness from either the transmission model or the acquisition model, is the rearticulation

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of our conception of biculturalness as performativity that both ‘‘enables and constrains’’ (Giddens, 1984; Hays, 1994) social behavior in a variety of contexts. Such recognition allows for the articulation of a fourth position: biculturalism is a cultural product itself and is a borderland of ‘‘the third space’’ (Bhabha, 1990) whereby it is a displaced space of political terrain and strained existence (Darder, 1991; Giroux, 1995; Gomez-Pena, 1993; Grossberg, 1993; Minh-ha, 1992). In this sense, ‘‘the white fantastic’’ I describe is ‘‘a shock culture, a border culture, a third culture, a closed country’’ (Anzaldua, 1987).

DIMENSIONS OF THE POLITICS OF DISLOCATION: (IN)AUTHENTIC BICULTURAL PERFORMATIVITY The import of bicultural performativity for sociological study is a function of the interplay of many of the aforementioned situations. As cultural sociologist Jeffrey Alexander writes, When theatrical dramas are successful, there emerges a kind of ‘‘fusion’’ between these diverse elements of performance, a coming together of background meaning, actors, props, scripts, direction, and audience. Actors seem really to ‘‘be’’ their role. Their performances are experienced as convincing, as ‘‘authentic.’’ Audiences, sometimes literally but always figuratively, forget for that moment that they are in a theatre or movie house. The performance has achieved verisimilitude, the aesthetic quality of seeming to be real. (2004a, pp. 173–174)

The dangers of abstracting biculturalism as ‘‘performance’’ are that milieu will be lost and grand narratives will be imputed that gloss over important contextual details. There are important intersections between the dimensions of biculturalism that complicate their functioning and make little sense when alienated from one another. This is not to retreat into a vulgar relativism, but recognizes that, as Henry Giroux stated, the politics of biculturalism refuses to venerate theories of hybridity in which the specificity of experience, the corporal nature of particular communities, and the particularities of language and belonging are erased in a relativistic notion of identity. Identity may be open but it cannot be understood exclusively through discursive constructions that erase how cultural differences are marked traces of history, place, and shifting, but specifically felt experience. (1995, p. x)

Accordingly, performativity does not push sociology towards an absolute subjectivity. Rather, the framework of multidimensionality around which it

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is organized holds fast. Performativity introduces a method and theory for understanding a dimension of biculturalism, and is not an attempt to explain every part of it. This approach allows an investigation into the embeddedness of bicultural narratives within a ‘‘ruling apparatus’’ or ‘‘regime’’ that aims to disclose, ‘‘how people’s activities are reflexively/recursively knitted together into particular forms of social organization’’ (Smith, 1990, pp. 635–636). Therefore, in the dimensions that follow, I draw strains of theoretical insights out of my self-conscious narratives while simultaneously acknowledging that cultural and political authority cannot rest on claims to transparent personal testimony alone. I attempt to answer Darder’s call that ‘‘biculturalism as a political construct must move beyond simple notions of individual psychological theories of identity, liberal paradigms of pluralism, and unproblematic notions of two distinct cultural world views interacting y that depends on the ability to read actual situations of power’’ (1991, p. 11). For a multifaceted approach to biculturalness as performance, it is imperative to start with the idea that every performance is composed of certain rudiments. These rudiments draw upon my autoethnographic data, but also transcend them. That is, the moment of bicultural performance is first understood as a personal experience, but then is immediately seen as a representative experience that reflects divergent people and different places in the world, all at the same conjuncture, in the same historical moment. Across these different points, different backgrounds and experiences, one can see the emergence of the same crisis of a monocultural being, a being that is out-of-place in the world, whether we are speaking of W. E. B. Du Bois’ ‘‘double consciousness’’ (1903), Edward Said’s (2000) Out of Place, or my particular difficulty in performing the subjectivity that I am continually summoned to be by dominant social scripts. This is indicative of a certain historical moment in the geo-politics of identity politics, the moment in which reading subjectivities as explicitly monocultural due to politics like the ‘‘one-drop rule,’’ are coming to a crisis. Therefore, a bicultural out-of-placeness, is both lived from the inside as a subjective fact, and yet at the same moment, it is a matter of objective historical conjuncture. It is a part of the circumstances into which one is born and formed. This bicultural experience of dislocation is a particular moment that is a new configuration that must be continually rearticulated and simultaneously connected to the ‘‘genealogy of biculturalism’’ for which Darder calls (1991, p. 11). While that genealogy is beyond the immediate

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scope of this work, the following dimensions are offered for more sociological attention toward these situations:  Hostility: Bicultural authenticity varies in relation to the perceived hostility between the two cultures.  Disparity: Bicultural authenticity varies in relation to the degree of bicultural disparity.  Ascribed vs. Attained Identity: Bicultural authenticity varies by perceived attained or ascribed identity.  Primary and Secondary Relationship: Bicultural authenticity varies by perception of primary and secondary identity.  Worth: Bicultural authenticity varies by the perceived level of worth in the attained culture.  Relation of Audience to Actor: Bicultural authenticity varies by the relation of actor and audience subject placements.  Explicit Discourse: Bicultural authenticity varies by the level of explicitness in the discourse about the cultures in question.  Simplicity and Clarity: Bicultural authenticity varies on the level of simplicity and clarity of the script.  Direction: Bicultural authenticity varies by direction of approach.

CONCLUSION As scholars of social and cultural inquiry, we must ask, what does it mean to be bicultural? This must be answered by theorizing through the ‘‘lens of bicultural formation’’ as occurring in a site of third-spaced dislocation. While phenomenological treatises yield a certain amount of insight, these must be connected to wider phenomenon of structural displacement and dislocation. That is, what one might first view as personal experience, later loses its subjective categorization when it is seen as a representation of many people in different places in the world, all within the same conjuncture, at the same historical moment of post-colonization, post-modernity, and the rearticulation of identity politics. Biculturalism must be understood as both lived inside as a subjective fact, and as a matter of objective historical conjuncture. Why then must we speak of the ‘‘lens of bicultural formation’’? It is necessary because we are not simply theorizing a vulgar dichotomy between ‘‘self and object,’’ or between two cultures and their meeting grounds, but

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instead to make explicit the conditions of bicultural authenticity and identity and we cannot fully live, but which we can rethink. That is, we are endlessly in the culture that we are theorizing. Part of an illusion of structuralist, functionalist or even a draw back of social life as ‘‘text,’’ is the assumption that we can theorize the relations in which we are embedded without the mediation of ideology and culture. When analyzing biculturalism we must address those things that are ‘‘already, always’’ that constitute both the bicultural subject and ourselves, and how we then reflect and represent what we study. The analyst must understand that the bicultural subject is both creating, and is created by, biculturality. In Price of the Ticket, James Baldwin examines bicultural dislocation in an essay entitled ‘‘Stranger in the Village’’ in which he visits a remote European village. In the essay, he is in conversation with the words of James Joyce, ‘‘Joyce is right about history being a nightmare – but it may be the nightmare from which no one can awaken’’ (1985, p. 81). Baldwin (1985) agrees with Joyce but expands on the notion in a more reflexive sense to write, ‘‘People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them’’ (p. 81). This is reminiscent of Marx’s proclamation that ‘‘Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past’’ (Marx, 1978, p. 595). Fittingly, Baldwin visa`-vis Joyce (and Marx) makes clear that we must approach social inquiry by de-centering the subject, by refraining from the violently egotistical idea that we create theory ourselves. By destabilizing the position of authorship, we also begin an upheaval of the blind allegiance to the humanist dream or fantasy. There are many cases of biculturalism that present themselves as a chaos of appearances. Scholars must break into those with ideas, thoughts, and concepts (theory) by making what Stuart Hall (2004) calls the ‘‘detour through thinking.’’ In the study of biculturalism, the ‘‘detour’’ is the reflexive moment of navigation of both the phenomenological treatise of bicultural subjects themselves, and their relationship to common political positions that has a patterned similarity with other bicultural subjects. These formations of biculturalism are performed and represented in the space between subject and object. Authentic readings depend on the nature of those conjunctions. New forms of biculturalism and their relationship to the organization of power in particular moments (such as academe) raise specific questions. Does biculturalism today represent a new conjuncture of social forces? It is not enough to simply write, ‘‘Matthew acts in a socially bifurcated manner because he is bicultural.’’ This tells us nothing except that which we already knew. It is not the production of critical theory, but the

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production of ideology. Therefore, we must ask what is new about this moment of bicultural formation, the implications of performance theory, and their relation to power. Traditional Marxist or Weberian considerations locate power in material, structural, and institutional forms. It is the ability to force or coerce. Such thinking about power can be reductive and cannot explain how more authentic cultural performances yield a power that is grounded in its ability to convince. While resources matter, emphasizing them without a focus on performativity, leaves the dynamics of the action of power under-developed. Structural theories of power can leave out the seminal power of hostility, disparity, ascribed/attained identity, primary and secondary relations, worth, relations of audience to actor, explicit discourse, simplicity and clarity, and direction. Thus, the performance of power (power-as-action) mediates all accounts of meaning and the effectiveness of believability in biculturality. I argue that the secure and institutionalized positions from which we take our inquiries on biculturalism must become more reflexive, involving the real-life consequences of our theorizing (as my narratives intended to present) and to which many remain blind. However, there is a double-bind here: our inquiries into the third space confers a voice to those previously unheard and it also muffles and distorts the power of that voice in question. There is not an original problem. However, I do argue that we cannot allow certain texts, authors, methodologies, or epistemic perspectives to become stand-ins for other less well-known bicultural subject positions. That is, we must resist the specific canonization of narrow versions of biculturalism, in that its efficacy remains in the immense heterogeneity of the third space. We must rethink the historical and contemporary dimensions of the regime of dominant knowledge on biculturalism through a plurality of geo-political registers of reasoning. Scholarly inquiry on biculturalism must therefore be predicated on a plurality of epistemic positions articulated by those on the ‘‘underside of modernity’’ (Dussel, 1996). We must not forget that many forms of theoretical models of biculturalism are still uncomfortable and not popular precisely because they remain unidentifiable and unauthentic – and that is threatening and unfamiliar to many. We can approach Griffin’s Black Like Me or Spivak’s subaltern studies as ‘‘proper’’ bicultural works of sufficient theoretical rigor and narrative import. But we must be vigilant not to allow ourselves to transform them into essentialized commodities. Rather, we must work to shift both the criteria and the perspectives of canonization itself to speak of biculturalisms without rehearsing the naturalization of a particular form

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of biculturalism. Otherwise, the search and expansion of work on biculturality will result only in the stylization of history though a recycling of tokenism and narrow nostalgia. A way out of this paradox is the search for the conditions and mechanisms of epistemic logics that produce the very claims to authenticity through a re-conceptualization of those claims as performative pleas for belief (Alexander et al., 2006; Alexander, 2004a, 2004b). Questions that will continue to assist in the refinement of the concept of biculturalism and add to its usefulness within the sociological discipline are inclusive of:  What is the threat of ‘‘losing the subject’’? That is, will the threat of a removal of specific cultural, racial, ethnic, or national bicultural identities render those on the margins as non-distinctive and inauthentic?  To what extent are the structures of polity, economy, family, etc. related to cultural and social formations of biculturality?  What are the specific dynamics and cultural logics that form and maintain particular subcultural formations around bicultural identity?  Who and what determine the stability and/or volatility of bicultural identity?  What types of bicultural intersections are more or less likely to be read as deviant or normal and what social or audience conditions affect those readings?  What are the mechanics that effect authenticity? That is, what are the processes for searching for originary pasts on which to base primary, secondary, or equilateral biracial or bicultural authenticity?  Issues of self-hate (Fanon, 1952) in regard to biculturalism must be addressed in regard to the dynamic tension of scholars that pronounce essentialism on their subjects, and subjects that reify their own bicultural formations. That is, what are the dangers of making bicultural identity, which is often bathed in nostalgia and stereotypes, intellectually essentialist, while failing to inquire how subjects might consider a ‘‘primordial’’ biculturalism politically essential?  What is the longitudinal behavior of biculturalism? That is, as Waters (1990) found, reported ethnic homogeneity varied directly with age. Might there be a similar or confounding effect with biculturalism? Answers will assist in making the concept of biculturalism a useful concept that can be made distinct from the often reductive, superficial, and politically correct ‘‘multiculturalism’’ and ‘‘diversity’’ discourses that ignore power and social mechanisms that have real world effects.

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NOTES 1. ‘‘Tripping the light fantastic’’ is commonly extrapolated from Milton’s lyric poem L’Allegro (1645). ‘‘Tripping’’ in Milton’s poem does not mean to stumble, but rather to move nimbly. I extend its usage here to signify both ease and difficulty in movement and I replace ‘‘light’’ with ‘‘white’’ to emphasize the bicultural navigation of whiteness and blackness. 2. This account aims to be as accurate as possible, however, proper names of members and potentially identifying knowledge of the organizations and institutions that the reader may encounter are replaced with pseudonyms.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT The author is grateful for the discerning feedback from editor Rutledge Dennis. The author also appreciatively acknowledges the comments on earlier drafts from Milton Vickerman and the author’s summer 2007 ‘‘Critical Perspectives on Whiteness’’ (AAS 406, SOC 206) students.

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SPANISH LANGUAGE AND LATINO ETHNICITY IN CHILDREN’S TELEVISION PROGRAMS$ Erynn Masi de Casanova THE NEW WAVE OF LATINO-THEMED CHILDREN’S PROGRAMS ‘‘Dora! Dora!’’ squealed my 18-month-old son from his stroller on the crowded subway platform. I scanned the crowd but could not locate the source of his excitement. Then a young girl turned her back to us and I saw on her purple backpack the face of ‘‘Dora the Explorer,’’ whose name had made its way into my son’s small vocabulary. This scene could have easily taken place in any city or town in the US; young children of all ethnicities are familiar with Dora’s animated television program. Worldwide, parents have spent over $3 billion on Dora the Explorer merchandise since 2001, and most products feature English and Spanish phrases (Jime´nez, 2005). And Dora is not alone: her show was just the first in a recent wave of animated educational children’s programs featuring Latino main characters and dialogue in Spanish.

$

Previously appeared in Suzanne Oboler (Ed.), Latino Studies, 2007, Vol. 5, pp. 455–477, Palgrave Macmillan, reproduced with premission of Palgrave Macmillan.

Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 159–185 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15008-5

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This study uses content analysis to examine Spanish use in children’s television, using three popular animated children’s programs as case studies: Dora the Explorer (on Nickelodeon, Noggin, and CBS), Dragon Tales, and Maya & Miguel (both on PBS).1 I will describe the ways in which Spanish is incorporated into each show, exploring the links between Spanish use and notions of Latino ethnicity and/or Latin American nationalities, beginning with an examination of the literature on language and ethnicity, then giving an overview of each show and a discussion of the programs’ content. Television shows designed for pre-schoolers introduce cultural ideas and values before many children encounter other agents of socialization, such as school and peers. In an increasingly diverse society, television presents children with perspectives on ethnic difference, in most instances drawing on some form of multiculturalism.2 Non-Latino children may use these shows to construct ideas about Latinos (with repercussions for interaction with Latino/a children), and Latino children may compare the characters to people in their families and communities (with consequences for identity and self-concept).3 I argue that the three programs examined here present three versions of multiculturalism that are exemplified in their treatment of Spanish and its links to Latino ethnicity.4 Dora takes an instrumental view of language, meaning that Spanish is not linked to ideas about Latino culture, but is shown as a skill that can be acquired by young viewers, a form of nonspecific cultural capital. In this formulation, ethnic difference is downplayed. Dragon Tales sees ethnic difference as something individuals have; Spanish is strongly associated with immigrant Latino characters and is presented almost as an innate personality trait. In Maya & Miguel, Spanish is linked to Latino culture, and this culture is accessible to all people, even non-Latinos; dabbling in ‘‘other’’ cultures is presented as fun, and an egalitarian inclusionism prevails. Unlike much research on Latinos in the media (Rodrı´ guez, 1997; Da´vila, 2001), I am not primarily interested in visual images, marketing to Latinos, or the use of stereotypes. Instead I take a sociolinguistic perspective, looking at the way Spanish language use communicates particular stances on ethnic relations and ideas of Latinidad. Many scholars use the term latinidad (whose literal translation is ‘‘Latinness’’) without defining it, but it is understood here to represent a range of discourses about what it means to be Latino/a. Latinidad, or the idea that people categorized as Latinos share common cultural orientations, can be seen as being imposed by the dominant society, or as created by people who consider themselves to be Latino or Latina. Scholars in many fields are concerned with identifying and

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interpreting discourses of latinidad and their sources. Sociolinguistics is a field perpetually interested not only in how language shapes and is shaped by social interaction, but also in the links between language and group identity (including ethnicity and latinidad). Despite the insights of sociolinguistic theory and empirical research, studies of media or other cultural products rarely make use of this valuable approach.

LATINOS AND LANGUAGE IN CHILDREN’S TELEVISION Sesame Street, which first aired in 1969, was a pioneer in portraying bilingual and Spanish-speaking Latino characters in a positive light. Beginning in the early 1970s, adult Latino/Latina characters used Spanish on the show. Those of us who grew up with Sesame Street remember the racially/ethnically diverse cast, which included Marı´ a (Puerto RicanAmerican actress Sonia Manzano) and Luis (Mexican-American actor Emilio Delgado), and segments teaching simple Spanish vocabulary such as abierto/cerrado (open/closed) and hola (hello). The first bilingual puppet character on the program, Rosita, made her debut in 1993; she became the center of an ongoing segment called ‘‘The Spanish Word of the Day.’’ Rosita is a Mexican immigrant who often speaks nostalgically of Mexico. She speaks Spanish with a noticeably Mexican accent and vocabulary (e.g., using the word charro for ‘‘cowboy’’5), and her English bears traces of Spanish pronunciation. And while puppets may rule the Street, humans of Latin American origin are also presented on the program. Over the years, Sesame Street has featured several famous Latinos and Latinas as celebrity guests, including Marı´ a Conchita Alonso, Jose´ Feliciano, and Celia Cruz. The shows examined here are thus not the first to incorporate Spanish language and Latino and Latina characters for a young audience. Portrayals of Latinos on television, however, take on heightened significance now that Latinos are the largest minority group in the United States. The use of Spanish language on mainstream television6 is especially relevant in the context of the recent debates over immigration, bilingual education, and ‘‘English only’’ policies (de la Torre, 2002). Dora first aired in 2000 and, according to one Nickelodeon executive, was designed to reach Latino markets: ‘‘a few years ago, we decided to reach out to Latinos y we couldn’t afford to ignore them’’ (Jime´nez, 2005). A Latino

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vice president at the company states: ‘‘Nickelodeon has gone out of its way to capture the Latino audience by being authentic, and by embracing culture and language’’ (Jime´nez, 2005). These claims are contradicted, however, by the fact that the show’s creators and producers are non-Latinos and the audience is primarily comprised of white children. The show’s creators claim that what sets Dora apart is its teaching of Spanish vocabulary and the fact that ‘‘Dora is a Latina,’’ yet this was not always part of the design of the show (www.nickjr.com/home/shows/dora/parenting_features/meet_doras_ creators.jhtml). According to one Nickelodeon executive, the Dora character was originally supposed to be a rabbit. After the vice president attended a conference and learned that ‘‘Latinos were rarely lead characters on children’s TV,’’ however, she requested that Dora be made a Latina girl (Sigler, 2004). This is an example of a conscious decision to insert multiculturalism into the show. Harewood and Valdivia (2005) refer to this type of multiculturalism as ‘‘additive’’ (p. 92); indeed, the Latina main character was an afterthought. The portrayal of Latino children on television fits what I have called the ‘‘generic Latino/Latina’’ type (Casanova, 2003), a visual representation of Latinos that glosses over national origin differences (as well as differences in class and race) among US Latinos and Latin Americans throughout the hemisphere. The generic Latino/Latina is not associated with any nationality and usually has light skin, dark hair, and dark eyes: nearly all the Latino characters on the three shows discussed here fit this description. This generic image of latinidad is used to market products throughout the Americas, and thus appears in both English- and Spanish-language media. This prototype is easily visible in print media, but, in the context of television, how does the generic Latino or Latina speak (and in what language)? In US English-language media the erasing of distinctions between Latinos is facilitated by the fact that Latino characters often speak accented English instead of (regionally specific or class-specific) Spanish. This separation of Spanish language from national origin or Latino subgroup membership allows for the social construction of a Latino subject lacking historical, national, and linguistic specificity. Unflattering depictions of Latinos in the mainstream media, as lazy and uneducated, as criminals and drug dealers (Navarrete & Kamasaki, 1994), often feature characters speaking Spanishinfluenced English or using words or phrases in Spanish.7 Both insiders and outsiders may perceive Spanish as being a common bond, a unifier of people with a variety of backgrounds and national origins. Based on these strong associations between Spanish language and Latino identity in both popular

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and academic thought, it is worth asking how these concepts are embodied in Latino/a TV characters. Within pan-ethnic constructions of Latinos by the dominant group (C. Rodrı´ guez, 1997; A. Rodrı´ guez, 1999; Da´vila, 2001), different strains and stereotypes compete and coexist. Latin American and Latino characters and settings are often ‘‘tropicalized,’’ evoking the exotic Other through images of palm trees, coconuts, and jungle creatures (Aparicio & Cha´vez-Silverman, 1997; Lo´pez, 1998; Harewood & Valdivia, 2005). Because Mexican-origin people are the most numerous national subgroup in the US Latino population, markers of Mexicanness (as constructed by members of the dominant group) may also stand in for Latino/a or Latin American ethnic identity: sombreros, foods such as tacos, Aztec- or Maya-looking artifacts.8

LANGUAGE AND ETHNICITY Sociolinguistics examines how language and identity (including ethnic and national identity) shape each other, and how both are socially constructed in diverse societies (Harris & Rampton, 2003; Joseph, 2004). Latinos currently comprise nearly 13% of the total US population. It is estimated that 28 million people residing in the US speak Spanish, about half of whom say they also speak English ‘‘very well’’ (US Census Bureau, 2003). It is often assumed that a person of Latin American origin will be fluent in Spanish, although linguists have shown that this is often not the case. Among US Latinos, ‘‘whether or not one speaks Spanish can be a sensitive topic’’ (Fought, 2003, pp. 193–194). There is some debate among scholars as to whether Spanish is seen by Latinos as being essential to ethnic identity. Working with a Mexican-American population, Fought found that most of her subjects thought of language as tied to ethnicity, though some did not; these opinions were not correlated with actual language use or ability (2003, pp. 197, 200). For Latinos who view Spanish as an important aspect of ethnic identity and do not see themselves as good speakers, ‘‘linguistic insecurity’’ can result, as in the case of one young man who told Fought: ‘‘I have like a fear of speaking Spanish because I can’t roll my r’s and I don’t want to sound like a white boy’’ (2003, p. 203). This insecurity comes from the strong connections made between language and ethnicity in the mainstream and Latino cultures, as typified by this statement: ‘‘US ethnics who ‘betrayed’ the ethnic mother tongue and who do not wish to recover it can never hope

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to completely understand themselves’’ (St. Clair, Valde´s, & Ornstein-Galicia, 1981, p. 35). Among Fought’s subjects, there was an implicit association of English with assimilation and Spanish with ‘‘ethnic pride’’ (2003, p. 202). But this dichotomy is not always relevant to Latinos and Latinas in the US. In her work on a Puerto Rican community in New York City, Zentella found a more fluid connection between language and ethnicity: ‘‘Puerto Rican ethnicity was being re-defined without a Spanish requirement in order to accommodate monolingual English youngsters’’ (1997, p. 55). The Spanish spoken by Latinos in the US is quite heterogeneous, with many dialects and varying degrees of mixing Spanish and English. Place of birth, personal immigration history, community composition, education level, knowledge of other languages, socioeconomic status, and other factors account for this diversity in language use. Because Spanish dialects are viewed by Latinos as more or less prestigious based on class and regional connotations (Fought, 2003, p. 207), Latinos may prefer to use English with other Latinos. Simply put, ‘‘Latinos are less distinguishable when they speak English’’ (Zentella, 1997, p. 47). For non-Latinos who do not speak Spanish, Latinos may be seen as equally homogeneous when they speak Spanish. Mainstream children’s television programs like the three examined here are banking on the fact that their mainly White audiences will embrace (or at least tolerate) the use of Spanish dialogue. Why would monolingual English-speaking Americans want their children to learn Spanish? For young people from non-Latino families that speak only English, there are economic motivations for learning a second language (Cummins, 1996, p. 288). Parents may see their children learning Spanish or another language as a ‘‘means of becoming more cultured or of equipping oneself with a skill or tool which could be of use for some future occupation, while showing little genuine regard for the people or culture represented by the other language’’ (Koltowski, 1992, p. 42). This instrumental view perceives a second language as a tool for getting ahead or a means of increasing cultural capital, but without a desire to engage with the cultures of the people who speak that language. In their work on parents’ online discussions of Dora the Explorer, Harewood and Valdivia (2005) found evidence of this perspective. Latino parents’ views on Spanish usage in children’s programs and Latino characters like Dora or Maya and Miguel have been largely overlooked by social scientists. As the programs examined here are popular among both Latino and non-Latino children, more research is needed to examine Latino parents’ attitudes toward Spanish use in children’s programs and toward teaching their children Spanish.

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Different levels of bilingual ability exist, and the phenomenon of ‘‘balanced bilingualism,’’ or equal competence in both languages, is rare (Zentella, 1997, p. 44; Fought, 2003, pp. 198, 219). ‘‘Code-switching’’ is common among US Latinos, including those who are not fully bilingual. Code-switching is defined here as a switch into a second (usually minority) language while conversing in one language. This practice can sometimes make a conversation unintelligible to someone who does not know both languages, although it is a sign that the person being addressed is considered to be part of the (in this case Latino) in-group (Zentella, 1997, p. 52; Sebba & Wootton, 1998, pp. 262–263; cf. Lo, 1999, p. 462). Code-switching may take the form of translation, that is, the repetition of a word or phrase in two languages. Linguists have also developed the term ‘‘emblematic codeswitching’’ to describe a switch into a minority language with the express purpose of ‘‘highlighting ethnic identity’’ rather than facilitating communication (Fought, 2003, p. 6).9 With reference to Latinos, Gumperz and Herna´ndez-Cha´vez (2003) state that despite the fact that code-switching ‘‘is held in disrepute, it is very persistent wherever minority language groups come in close contact with majority language groups under conditions of rapid social change’’ (p. 294). Fought suggests that Spanish speakers born in the United States ‘‘see codeswitching as a linguistic way of setting themselves apart [from Latin American-born speakers]’’ (2003, p. 209; cf. Weyers, 1999). Code-switching may be ‘‘a comment on the speaker’s perception of self’’ or a mechanism for projecting ‘‘dual identities’’ (Myers-Scotton, 2002, pp. 44–45). Codeswitching’s signaling of group membership makes it an important practice for examining the links between language and ethnicity. Code-switching in various forms was commonly observed in all three programs studied here. To understand the way each show defines who is Latino or Latina, I look at how Spanish is used by different characters in light of how the show and its producers describe and portray these characters.

A SOCIOLINGUISTIC APPROACH TO CONTENT ANALYSIS In order to gather information on the use of Spanish in these children’s programs, I transcribed all Spanish words and phrases used in 10 randomly selected episodes of the programs, Dora the Explorer, Dragon Tales, and Maya & Miguel, airing in September and October 2005. Ten episodes would

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represent two weeks of viewing if a child watched one episode each weekday. In the chapter, I use numbers to refer to the episodes, and the titles are listed in an appendix at the end of the chapter.10 I performed qualitative content analysis on these excerpts, coding the features of each instance of Spanish speech. An instance could be just one word, or it could be a phrase, or an exchange between two or more characters: any moment in which Spanish appeared in the flow of English dialogue. Each instance was coded according to the phonetic pronunciation of Spanish words, the type of utterance (whether the word/phrase was a command, question, exclamation, etc.), the speaker or speakers, and whether or not it involved code-switching (using Spanish and English in the same sentence or in two consecutive related sentences). By seeing which characters use Spanish, how these characters use Spanish, and in what types of interactions it appears, we can begin to understand what it means when producers or writers refer to these characters as Latinos or Latinas and the conceptions of Latinidad and multiculturalism that are being invoked. While this is a qualitative study of the content and context of instances of Spanish in the three programs, basic descriptive statistics were calculated to determine the prevalence of the different categories listed earlier. Highlights are presented in Table 1. Both before and after transcribing and analyzing these 30 episodes, I spent several months watching these programs informally in order to gain general information about them. The research topic presented itself due to the fact that my toddler son (who has one Latino and one non-Latino parent and speaks Spanish and English) regularly watches the programs studied. In recent years, other social scientists’ intellectual Table 1.

Spanish Language Use Comparison.

Show (10 Episodes Each)

Average Number of Instances of Spanish Use Per Episode

Average Number of Instances of CodeSwitching Per Episode

Percentage of CodeSwitching Instances with Repetition in Both Languages (Translation)a

Dora the Explorer Dragon Tales Maya & Miguel

17.1 8.8 25.9

8.8 6.0 11.6

57 23 49

a

This is when code-switching takes the form of a character saying a word or phrase in one language and then repeating it (or another character repeating it) in the second language; it is essentially code-switching that serves as translation.

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curiosity has been piqued by observing their children’s worlds (Messner, 2000; Grasmuck, 2005).

THE SHOWS: PLACING THE DATA IN CONTEXT Dora the Explorer Seven-year-old Dora’s adventures take place in what the show’s creators call a ‘‘magical world’’ with vaguely Latin American features, from the preponderance of palm trees and tropical plants to the stucco house with its red-tile roof and quasi-‘‘ethnic’’ design features. Harewood and Valdivia apply Aparicio and Cha´vez-Silverman’s (1997) concept of ‘‘tropicalization’’ to their analysis of Dora the Explorer, aptly describing Dora’s landscape as ‘‘tropicalized’’ (2005, p. 90), although it occasionally features some quasiMexican elements as well. Most Dora episodes follow a similar pattern: They begin with Dora greeting the viewers by either saying ‘‘Hola, soy Dora’’ or the English equivalent, ‘‘Hi, I’m Dora.’’ The characters then encounter some problem or task to be completed, and they ask the map to show them how to arrive at a particular destination. Along the way, Dora and her monkey sidekick Boots encounter animal characters and practice skills such as counting and identifying shapes and colors. In the process of interacting with Spanishspeaking characters (either monolingual or bilingual), Spanish vocabulary and dialogue often occur. According to the show’s creators, Spanish is used on the show because: Educators believe that introducing a second language to a child before the age of 6 or 7 is an important factor in his/her ability to achieve fluency. For many of our preschool viewers, Dora is their first encounter with a foreign language y the show might teach them a little Spanish and make them curious and interested in learning more, or simply make them aware of and comfortable with foreign languages. For our Spanish-speaking preschool viewers, seeing Dora use Spanish might encourage them to take pride in being bilingual. (www.nickjr.com/home/shows/dora/parenting_features/meet_doras_creators.jhtml.)

This statement reveals much about the show’s presentation of language. First, we can see that the show is primarily oriented toward non-Spanishspeaking children, who are discussed at length, whereas Spanish-speaking (presumably Latino) viewers are mentioned almost as an afterthought. Second, Spanish usage in Dora is described as an approach to ‘‘foreign’’ language learning, as opposed to a reinforcement of Spanish as a home language or an effort to create fully bilingual children. Thus the reference to

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‘‘achieving fluency’’ seems contradictory here. The producers are familiar with the literature on language acquisition (or at least its specialized vocabulary), as evidenced by their reference to what linguists call the ‘‘critical period hypothesis.’’11 Third, this explanation of language use in the show also references values of multiculturalism and multicultural education: the producers hope to influence their young viewers’ attitudes toward ‘‘foreign’’ languages and increase their acceptance of linguistic diversity. I thus agree with Harewood and Valdivia’s analysis of this quote: ‘‘Spanish cannot be afforded the taken-for-granted status of English, it can only be viewed within a framework that accepts it as a resistant Other’’ (2005, p. 99).

Dragon Tales The PBS website describes Dragon Tales as a ‘‘fantasy adventure series’’ targeting viewers aged three to six (www.pbskids.org/dragontales/ parentsteachers/program_summary.html). The main characters are Latino siblings, six-year-old Emmy and four-year-old Max; another major character, six-year-old Enrique (a recent immigrant to the United States from Colombia), was subsequently added. Each story begins with Emmy and Max (and sometimes Enrique) in their playroom. A magical chant transports them to Dragon Land. Once there, the characters are presented with a problem, a challenge, or an emotional conflict which is resolved by the end of the episode. Each story is designed to teach lessons about behavior and attitudes, such as getting along with others, having selfconfidence, and being persistent. These lessons are often impressed upon the children by Quetzal,12 the teacher of the dragons. Spanish appears less frequently in Dragon Tales than in the other programs studied. For example, in the first episode of the show, Quetzal addresses the children as ‘‘nin˜os’’ and Emmy asks him ‘‘You speak Spanish?’’ He replies yes, that he is from ‘‘Me´xico’’ and Emmy tells him that is where her abuelita (grandmother) is from. Spanish use is generally associated with the two characters that are identified as immigrants from Latin America: Quetzal and Enrique. Occasionally, another character will introduce vocabulary or dialogue in Spanish. Emmy and Max seem to be familiar with Spanish, but are not portrayed as being balanced bilinguals or expert speakers. The show’s producers do not identify the teaching of Spanish as a primary objective of Dragon Tales; however, they note that the introduction of Enrique as a main character allows for more emphasis on

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‘‘cultural diversity’’ and ‘‘provides more opportunities for Hispanic content.’’ They explain that Enrique’s ‘‘ability with the Spanish language provides a special bond with Quetzal and some opportunity for lengthier exchanges in Spanish’’ (www.pbskids.org/dragontales/parentsteachers/faq_ general.html). Rather than teaching Spanish in a didactic manner, Dragon Tales incorporates Spanish as part of the cultural background of certain characters which can then be shared with others. Ideals of multiculturalism (in the sense of accepting linguistic diversity) are evident in the acceptance of Spanish use by non-Spanish-speaking characters and the attempts by these characters to learn some Spanish words.

Maya & Miguel PBS’s Maya & Miguel is targeted at a slightly older audience than the other shows examined here: six- to eleven-year olds.13 Because of this, the show has more intricate plot lines and more complicated dialogue in both English and Spanish. There are certainly many pre-schoolers who watch Maya & Miguel. The program’s title characters are 10-year-old twins Maya and Miguel Santos. In the program, they interact with their family (mother, father, and grandmother: Mama´, Papi, Abuela), a bilingual parrot named Paco, and a diverse group of friends. Miguel’s best friends include an African-American boy (Theo) and a Caucasian boy who is an amputee (Andy). Maya’s friends are a Chinese-American (Maggie, voiced by actress Lucy Liu) and Chrissy, who is described on the website as ‘‘AfroDominican.’’14 Maya and Miguel’s cousin Tito, like Enrique on Dragon Tales, is a recent immigrant. A typical episode begins with a problem for which Maya devises a humorous and half-cocked solution. Despite warnings from Miguel and others, Maya continues on a course toward crisis and chaos, although, of course, all is set right at the end of the episode. The primary objective of Maya & Miguel’s ‘‘educational philosophy’’ is ‘‘to encourage children to value, respect, and better understand a variety of cultures, perspectives, traditions, languages, and experiences’’: this is an explicitly multiculturalist goal that envisions difference as contributing to a desirable diversity. According to the show’s producers, ‘‘even though the characters of Maya and Miguel’s world may be different from one another, they still view each other in a positive way’’ (www.pbskids.org/ mayaandmiguel/english/parentsteachers/program/summary.html). Another objective of the program is to ‘‘support children in their understanding of English y vocabulary’’, and the incorporation of Spanish is said to

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promote ‘‘a positive attitude toward knowing and learning more than one language’’ (www.pbskids.org/mayaandmiguel/english/parentsteachers/ program/summary.html). Many characters on the show are skilled bilinguals, and Spanish is also used by non-Latino characters who are not skilled speakers. According to Deborah Forte, the president of Scholastic, which produces the program, ‘‘all the characters are bilingual to varying degrees y Abuela speaks Spanish [she also speaks English] y [the kids] speak much more English y but they pepper it with Spanish y We studied the way families spoke, and this was the way that many of them did it’’ (Texeira, 2006). Spanish is an essential component of characters’ personalities and identities and a lingua franca within Maya and Miguel’s social network.

FINDINGS: SPANISH IN CHILDREN’S EDUCATIONAL PROGRAMS Table 1 summarizes the frequency of Spanish language speech in each show, as well as the frequency of code-switching and the frequency of instances of non-native Spanish pronunciation. Three features of the use of Spanish in these programs convey information about the shows’ portrayal of the links between language and ethnicity: (1) code-switching; (2) bilingualism and biculturalism; and (3) Latin American nationality and dialect.

CODE-SWITCHING Generally, code-switches in these programs move into Spanish during English speech. I define code-switching as a speaker incorporating both English and Spanish words in the same ‘‘turn’’ or two consecutive related turns that include both English and Spanish. In sociolinguistics and microsociological conversation analysis, conversations are seen as individual speakers taking turns: one person speaks, then another: this is what is meant by ‘‘turn.’’ An example of a code-switch in one speaker’s turn is Dora’s Backpack’s signature line: ‘‘Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum y ¡;Delicioso!’’ (all episodes). An example of a code-switch in two subsequent turns is Boots (Dora’s monkey sidekick) saying ‘‘Let’s go!’’ followed by Dora’s ‘‘Va´monos [let’s go]’’ (DE #10).15 Often code-switching takes the form of translation or

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repetition of a previously uttered word or phrase in another language (English or Spanish). This use of code-switching is likely tied to overtly didactic aims or aims on the part of the writers to include non-Spanishspeaking viewers. In Maya & Miguel, Paco the Parrot serves as a translator who often engages in these types of code-switches. He usually either translates a word or phrase that someone else has just said, or he repeats the same word, phrase, or idea in both languages. An example of this is when he says: ‘‘Busca las llaves, look for the keys’’ (MM #3). The high incidence of this type of code-switching in this program (49% of all switches are translations) is undoubtedly related to Paco’s role as the resident EnglishSpanish dictionary. Spanish is presented in a didactic manner on Dora the Explorer, along with other, similarly taught skills such as counting and identifying shapes, colors, and hidden objects/characters. As a result, most code-switches in Dora are also translations. The writers of the program seem to want viewers to understand all the words and phrases used and to learn Spanish equivalents of common English words. An example of this type of overt translation is Dora repeating Diego’s command ‘‘Push, push, push!’’ in Spanish: ‘‘Empujen, empujen, empujen’’ (DE #1). Phrases frequently presented in this way include ‘‘let’s go’’/‘‘va´monos’’; ‘‘there it is’’/‘‘allı´ esta´’’; and ‘‘thank you’’/‘‘gracias’’. Another type of code-switching common in Dora encourages viewers to give commands in Spanish, which are then obeyed by characters. For example, Dora says ‘‘tell the big blue fish to say ‘abre’ [open]’’ (DE #2), and she asks viewers to ‘‘say cı´rculo [circle]; say tria´ngulo [triangle]’’ (DE #6). Sometimes code-switching seems to be an issue of word choice or emphasis. For instance, Dora says things like ‘‘Cocodrilo [Crocodile] has siete [seven] boo-boos’’ (DE #4) or ‘‘Do you see mi casa [my house]?’’ (DE #5). This less common form of code-switching is also used by Backpack, who says ‘‘Can el paraguas [the umbrella] keep you dry?’’ (DE #6). The apparent objective of these code-switches is to teach Spanish vocabulary and its English equivalents, presumably to non-native Spanish-speakers. Dragon Tales is the program with the lowest incidence of code-switching and also the lowest percentage of code-switches that are translations. Some examples of code-switching that repeat words in both languages are: ‘‘Paciencia means patience’’ (DT #1B); ‘‘No, no ahora – not right now’’ (DT #6A); or ‘‘Our song is called ‘El Coquı´’, ‘The Frog’’’ (DT #6A). On the whole, however, code-switching in Dragon Tales is primarily associated with two Latino immigrant characters, Quetzal and Enrique; in most cases, their code-switches are not translated. Examples of Quetzal’s code-switching

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include his tendency to address the children and dragons as ‘‘Nin˜os,’’ and lines such as ‘‘We’ll give your planta [plant] y plenty of sunshine and agua [water]’’ (DT #10B). Enrique’s speech is characterized by heavy codeswitching, with lines like ‘‘I taught them that song in English and en espan˜ol [in Spanish]’’ (DT #6A); ‘‘Oh no, vente aquı´ [come here], come back here, canica [marble]’’ (DT #6B); and ‘‘Mi mano [my hand] is starting to hurt’’ (DT #7B). As shown by these examples, the two major code-switching characters do not generally explain or translate their switches into Spanish. These switches seem to be what linguists call ‘‘emblematic’’ (Poplack, 1980; cited in Fought, 2003, p. 6), meaning that they are markers of Latino ethnic identity rather than gaps in vocabulary (more extensive code-switches can also be markers of ethnic identity). The program with the highest number of instances of Spanish use was Maya & Miguel, which may be related to its larger amount of dialogue. Viewers of Maya & Miguel encounter more Spanish words and phrases used without translation than in the other shows, although roughly half of the Spanish utterances were translated into English or translated from English. Paco the Parrot routinely translates, with lines like ‘‘The door’s open? La puerta esta´ abierta’’ (MM #8) and ‘‘Gato- cat y Pato-duck’’ (MM #8). Other characters also code-switch and repeat the words and phrases in two languages, as when Maya says ‘‘le escribio´ una carta – he wrote her a letter’’ (MM #1); when Tito says ‘‘No escuche´; I didn’t hear’’ (MM #3); or when Miguel’s friend Theo says to him, ‘‘Concentration,’’ and Miguel replies ‘‘ Concentracio´n?’’ (MM #9). Just as commonly, code-switches in Maya & Miguel are not explained or translated. This is especially the case when older Latinos (like the twins’ parents or grandmother) are speaking to younger Latinos (like Maya and Miguel). Examples of code-switches by adult characters include: ‘‘Come on, m’ijo [my son]y ’’ (MM #2); ‘‘You should stop by my panaderı´a [bakery]’’ (MM #4); and ‘‘I made this calavera [sugar skull] for your abuelo [grandfather] Ernesto for the Dı´a de los Muertos [Day of the Dead; a Mexican holiday]’’ (MM #6). These seem to be emblematic code-switches that reference a (shared) Latino identity and cultural heritage; in these examples no translation is necessary because Spanish is the in-group language. Only in Maya & Miguel is there frequent code-switching and language crossing16 by non-Latino speakers of Spanish. Maya and Miguel’s friends engage in code-switching and actively try to learn and use Spanish words and phrases. The Anglo character Andy has a crush on a monolingual Spanish speaker named Esperanza, and he tells her clumsily: ‘‘Esperanza,

?

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my espan˜ol no bien [Spanish not well], pero [but] I want to hablar [to talk]’’ (MM #1). African-American Theo enters the Santos’ apartment in Episode 8 and says ‘‘Hola, everyone.’’ And Chinese-American Maggie makes a humorous mistake in an episode about a lost cat: ‘‘So, lost cat in Spanish is pato perdido [lost duck; the correct word is gato, cat]?’’ (MM #8). NonLatino characters are not hesitant to use the little Spanish that they know, and the fact that this language crossing is accepted by the Latino characters speaks to the type of multiculturalism promoted by this program. Languages and cultures belong to whoever wishes to learn and use them; Maya & Miguel’s characters partake of a veritable cultural smorgasbord.

BILINGUALISM AND BICULTURALISM In some cases, the producers of these programs claim to encourage and promote bilingualism in children. Characters, such as Paco the Parrot on Maya & Miguel, and Enrique on Dragon Tales, are often described in promotional materials as ‘‘bilingual’’; an article on Dora and her cousin Diego calls them ‘‘fully bilingual’’ (Jime´nez, 2005). The producers of Dora the Explorer, as seen earlier, identify bilingualism as an aim, emphasizing early exposure and ‘‘pride in being bilingual’’ (www.nickjr.com/home/ shows/parenting_features/meet_doras_creators.jhtml). This sentiment is echoed by the teenage actress who performs the voice of Dora: ‘‘I love being Dora y because she’s bilingual and speaks Spanish’’ (Sigler, 2004). The actress who plays Dora, Kathleen Herles (the American-born daughter of Peruvian immigrants) is described as ‘‘fluent in Spanish and English’’; in an interview, she appears to have greater fluency and more native-like pronunciation in English (www.soyunica.gov/guests/herles. aspx). Her Spanish has English-influenced features such as false cognates (choosing a Spanish word that is similar to a related English word rather than an exact equivalent) and the use of ‘‘um’’ as a filler (www.nickjr.com/ parenting/parents_tv/index.jhtml?videoid ¼ 32139).17 The definition of bilingualism being promoted by Dora the Explorer, then, focuses on comprehension and basic vocabulary rather than a particular pronunciation, grammar, or fluency. As mentioned earlier, balanced bilingualism is quite rare, as seen in the work of linguists and other scholars. In terms of characters, many apparent bilinguals appear on these programs. On Dora the Explorer, all but four of the twelve regularly occurring characters identified use mostly English but also speak Spanish without prompting. There are only two fully monolingual characters: a

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Spanish-speaking squirrel named Tico (who, surprisingly, has some English-influenced pronunciations of Spanish) and the show’s ‘‘villain,’’ Swiper the Fox, who only speaks English. In Dora’s world, the only bad character is the one who does not speak any Spanish. The Latino main characters of Dragon Tales, Emmy and Max, are never called bilingual or referred to as Spanish speakers, although they sometimes use a word or two of Spanish without prompting. The two more skilled bilinguals are Enrique and Quetzal, both depicted as being immigrants from Latin America. While Enrique has a few key phrases that are often spoken in Spanish without translation, like ‘‘que´ la´stima [what a shame/too bad]’’ and ‘‘ Que´ es eso? [what is that?],’’ he and Quetzal tend to use codeswitching rather than Spanish-only sentences, even with each other. This supports my earlier suggestion that code-switching and use of Spanish by bilinguals in Dragon Tales is not about communication, but is an example of ‘‘emblematic’’ code-switching, or Spanish as an ethnic marker. Unlike some characters on Dora, Quetzal and Enrique, explicitly presented as native speakers whose second language is English, use standard Spanish pronunciation,18 although other bilingual characters do not always do so.19 Maya & Miguel is a program in which almost everyone has some bilingual ability. All of the regularly occurring characters, and most others, speak mostly English but also use Spanish (although not all are native speakers or Latinos). The most explicitly multicultural of the three shows, Maya & Miguel encourages language crossing by non-Latino characters, as in an episode called ‘‘The Letter,’’ in which a Caucasian character tries to speak Spanish to a monolingual Spanish-speaking girl character that he likes. While bits of dialogue in only Spanish are quite rare on this show, it is common for one character to speak Spanish to another and be answered in English, or vice versa. For example, when Abuela asks Maya, ‘‘Maya, do´nde esta´n mis cubiertos? [where is my silverware?],’’ Maya replies, ‘‘I didn’t think we needed any knives and forks’’ (MM #10). This type of exchange, quite common in Maya & Miguel, does not so much assume bilingualism on the part of the viewer as serve to eliminate the need for explicit translation, which could become tedious and inhibit plot development.20 There is a range of pronunciations of Spanish in Maya & Miguel. Maya (voiced by Candi Milo), who has the most lines in Spanish, mixes standard pronunciations with English-influenced ones. Examples of English-inflected pronunciations by this character include replacing Spanish vowels with the English / /, gender disagreement between article and noun (‘‘un promesa [a promise]’’), non-standard pronunciation of /rr/, and splitting diphthongs

?

?

e

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into two syllables (‘‘a-di-os’’ instead of ‘‘a-dios’’). Maya’s signature line, ‘‘¡;Eso es [that’s it!]¡;,’’ delivered in each episode, sounds like a monolingual English speaker’s ‘‘S.O.S.’’ Interestingly, Tito, presented as a recent immigrant from Mexico, produces occasional English-influenced pronunciations. As in Dragon Tales, Spanish use in Maya and Miguel is related to identity and Latino ethnicity, but this is not an indexical relationship, as seen by the repeated instances of language crossing by non-Latino characters. It is not unusual for Latino characters to slip in and out of Spanish and be understood by non-Latino characters, who themselves say things like: ‘‘You still haven’t tried the arroz con habichuelas’’ (MM #9). Non-Latino characters refer to Maya and Miguel’s grandmother as Abuela and their mother as Sen˜ora Santos. To what extent are the characters bicultural? References to Latin American or Latino cultural elements in Dora are so few that it is difficult to say whether this title character could be considered ‘‘bicultural.’’ The only non-mainstream cultural reference that appeared in the episodes studied was the celebration of cousin Daisy’s fiesta de quincean˜era (traditional 15th birthday party) (DE #6). Also in that episode, Dora attempted to teach her friends and viewers a simplified version of the mambo. It is doubtful whether this makes Dora bicultural. Culture is explicitly part of the storyline on Dragon Tales and especially Maya & Miguel. There are two regular characters on Dragon Tales who are depicted as bicultural: Enrique and Quetzal. Emmy and Max, the main characters, are Latino and seem to have some knowledge of Latin American cultural forms such as songs through their Abuela, who never appears. Enrique is the primary vehicle for imparting cultural knowledge: he occasionally teaches the other characters songs (e.g., Que Llueva, Que Llueva), games (e.g., rayuela), and sayings found throughout Latin America. Just as the offstage grandmother in Dragon Tales is associated with an unspecified Latino immigrant background, Maya and Miguel’s grandmother is a model of biculturalism and a source of cultural information for her family. She teaches her grandchildren and their friends proverbs, introduces them to Mexican foods, and describes celebrations like the Day of the Dead. Maya and Miguel are comfortable living in two cultures, and move easily between them. Like Dragon Tales, Maya & Miguel has a young immigrant character, cousin Tito, who shares cultural knowledge with his cousins and their friends. One memorable episode depicts Tito explaining to the group the intricacies of lucha libre (Mexican professional wrestling; MM #4). Biculturalism is the norm for Latino characters in Maya & Miguel,

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and non-Latinos also express a genuine interest in Latin American (usually Mexican) cultures and traditions.

LATIN AMERICAN NATIONALITY AND USE OF DIALECT It is common for US Latinos, both native- and foreign-born, to identify strongly with their country (or countries) of origin (Oboler, 1995; Flores, 1997). A question relevant to this study is that of the national origins of the main characters and how this is signaled through language or dialogue. In promotional materials and journalistic articles on Dora the Explorer, Dora is consistently referred to as Latina, with no further information given about her origin. During Hispanic Heritage month, the Dora website featured ‘‘Latin’’ recipes from many different countries, with no mention of the national origins of the dishes. Harewood and Valdivia (2005) witnessed a spirited debate among parents on the Dora online message board as to the character’s national origin, but the show and its producers remain silent on the subject. Dora, Max, Emmy, Maya, and Miguel are all versions of the ‘‘generic Latino/a’’ type: they are light-skinned, dark-eyed, dark-haired persons of vaguely Latin origin with no discernible national-origin identity outside of their connection to the US (Casanova, 2003). The ‘‘generic Latino/a’’ is used to market products in Latin America and the US based on an assumed/ constructed pan-Latino identity, with no changes necessary as advertisements cross national borders (Da´vila, 2001; Casanova, 2003). It is an economically productive fiction for companies that use it, despite the fact that it does not fit the real lives of most US Latinos, who have a range of phenotypes and tend to identify themselves with particular national-origin groups. Further evidence of these programs’ effort to provide a pan-Latino model of ethnicity (that is, one that erases intra-group difference) is provided by the varieties of Spanish used by the characters and taught to the viewers. The Spanish in these shows tends to be Standard Spanish (without regional markers) or Spanish with English-influenced pronunciations. The exception is Maya & Miguel, which occasionally features non-standard Spanish, as will be discussed. One version of Spanish used by these ‘‘generic Latino’’ characters is a generic (standard) Spanish, or what Da´vila (2001) calls ‘‘Walter Cronkite Spanish’’ and A. Rodrı´ guez (1996) calls a ‘‘nationality-neutral Spanish

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accent’’ (see also A. Rodrı´ guez, 1999). This variation of Spanish, while not typically heard in everyday conversation, is seen as having the broadest appeal. This phenomenon is also seen in English-language media, where actors in commercials and news anchors rarely have an identifiable accent.21 References to specific national origins were rare on Dragon Tales until the introduction of the newest character, Enrique.22 Enrique has just moved to the US from Colombia, and we are told that ‘‘his roots are Colombian and Puerto Rican’’ (http://pbskids.org/dragontales/parentsteachers/character_ descriptions.html). He was apparently raised in Colombia, although his references to Puerto Rico imply that he has spent time there. With his multinational heritage and standard Spanish, Enrique is not strongly identified with any one Latino subgroup, although his background is not mysterious in the way that Dora’s is. Like the Spanish used in Dora, the Spanish spoken by Enrique and Quetzal is a standard, non-regional Spanish. Like Enrique, Maya and Miguel are from a tri-national Latino family. In a feature on the website in which the show’s characters answer questions from young fans, ‘‘Maya’’ writes: ‘‘I was born in the US, but my mother is from Mexico and my father is from Puerto Rico’’ (http://pbskids.org/ mayaandmiguel/english/friends/maya/faq/archive2.html). It is probably no accident, in terms of marketing strategy, that Maya’s parents represent the two largest demographic segments of the US Latino population: Mexicans and Puerto Ricans. It seems that Maya and Miguel are closer to the Mexican side of the family, since their mother’s mother lives with them, and they spend time with their maternal aunt and uncle and cousin Tito (recent immigrants from Mexico City). Objects and images symbolizing Mexican culture are frequently featured on the program, whereas I have never seen an episode that featured Puerto Rican cultural elements (besides pasteles, a traditional Puerto Rican food that the family eats in Episode 4, and the reference to habichuelas cited earlier). Despite some direct references to Mexican heritage, Maya and Miguel (and their family members, except for Tito and Abuela) speak a version of Spanish that is not regionally marked. They are twice removed from a specific (e.g., Mexican) national-origin identity: having been born in the US, and having parents of two different national backgrounds. In contrast with the other two shows’ use of standard Spanish, the Spanish spoken on Maya & Miguel is everyday, colloquial Spanish, including the use of diminutives (i.e., hermanito [little brother]), terms of endearment (mi corazo´n [sweetheart]), and exclamations (¡;que´ lindo! [how beautiful!]). Characters sometimes use non-standard Spanish, as when

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Mama´ addresses Maya and Miguel as ‘‘m’ijitos’’ instead of the standard pronunciation of mis hijitos (MM #2). Proverbs and sayings that may differ from region to region appear in the show, usually spoken by Abuela or someone quoting her.23 Language in Maya & Miguel is occasionally regionally marked: Abuela has a distinct Mexican accent and syntax, as do characters featured on single episodes (i.e., Mr. Lo´pez, the landlord, Episode 4). Maya and Miguel speak a relatively standard dialect with colloquialisms but no regional markers. Their parents also speak standard Spanish that is not especially regionally marked. Even though they are given nationalities (Mexican and Puerto Rican), these are not mentioned frequently, and in terms of physical appearance, Maya and Miguel’s parents are ‘‘generic Latinos’’; so are Maya and Miguel. The prevalence of Spanish that is not region- or class-specific and the sparing use of references to specific Latin American nationalities (i.e., Mexican, Colombian) have the effect of presenting a relatively homogeneous portrait of Latinos in the US; this is likely a function of the desire to market these programs to a wide audience that is primarily composed of non-Latinos. However, as scholars have shown, most US Latinos view themselves and other Latinos in terms of national-origin identity, of which language is a primary marker.

CONCLUSION: THREE REPRESENTATIONS OF THE LANGUAGE–ETHNICITY LINK Line-by-line, comparative, and contextualized analysis is useful for examining the messages about Spanish, Latino ethnicity, and multiculturalism that surface through the use and content of Spanish dialogue. In these three cases, the multiple ways of incorporating Spanish are linked to specific constructions of ethnicity and group identity. Despite these important distinctions, however, the recurring image of the ‘‘generic Latino’’ in both its tropical and Mexican forms reminds us that diverse people of Latin American origin are collapsed into one ethnic category for marketing purposes and as a symbolic ‘‘other’’ for mainstream white Americans (Da´vila, 2001; Casanova, 2003; Harewood & Valdivia, 2005). What I found through my analysis, however, is that there are multiple ways of presenting the relationship between Latino identity and Spanish. On Dora, the emphasis is on instrumental Spanish: counting, colors, simple nouns, and commands. Elementary vocabulary is taught with no

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overt references to specific Latin American cultures or nationalities nor to Latinos/Latinas as such. Dora and her family are ‘‘generic Latinos’’ in a world inhabited by animals rather than people. In Dragon Tales, Spanish serves a character development function. It is generally used by one of two immigrant characters, who rarely (although increasingly in newer episodes) teach Spanish to others. There is no direct teaching of Spanish to the viewer, as in Dora; in fact, there are sometimes entire episodes of Dragon Tales with no instances of Spanish. In this context, Spanish words and phrases give ‘‘ethnic’’ characters personality, and the message is what I would call ‘‘multiculturalism light.’’ Also in this case, the Latino human characters interact mostly with animals (dragons), only one of whom is identified as Latino. In Dora, Spanish is something characters use to achieve desired ends: ethnicity is unimportant. In Dragon Tales, Spanish is something characters have: language and ethnicity are conceived of as personal characteristics. Maya & Miguel features the most Spanish dialogue and the most interactions between characters of diverse ethnic, racial, and class backgrounds. The characters move in an environment that is at times culturally diverse and at times heavily Latino. Spanish is not the property of one or two characters: most of the characters try their hand at using Spanish words and phrases, and it becomes an in-group language among the twins’ peers. Most Latin American-origin characters fit the ‘‘generic Latino’’ model of light skin and vaguely Latin looks. With a few exceptions, most of these characters speak standard Spanish even if their nationalities are specified. However, unlike in the other shows, these nationalities and cultures are sometimes featured. This is a significant distinction as it recognizes the importance of national origin within the US Latino population while also portraying a (real and ideal) pan-Latino identity. In general, however, the shows all present a ‘‘generic Latino’’ image that can be used to market products to non-Latinos and Latinos of all backgrounds to promote the shows (e.g., books, videos, and toys). In these programs, characters’ ethnic identities are not determined by language skills or usage of Spanish, and a limited range of Spanish language styles are evident across the three shows. This situation differs slightly from many media representations and popular stereotypes, in which Spanish and Latinos/as often stand in for one another. For example, Dora is identified by the producers as bilingual and Latina, and her Spanish has Englishinfluenced pronunciation features. Max and Emmy from Dragon Tales are Latino but not bilingual, and they speak Spanish as other native English speakers might. In Maya & Miguel, Latino characters sometimes display

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English-influenced pronunciation and many non-Latinos speak Spanish, an example of ‘‘language crossing.’’ These situations appear to be closer to the inclusivity described by Zentella (1997), in which Spanish fluency is not required for someone to be considered Puerto Rican, than to an indexical relationship between language and identity. Spanish can be an ethnic marker but is not always, and these two functions can be seen in the same show (as in Dragon Tales). The variety of pronunciations and language skill sets is a sign that language and ethnicity are not mutually pre-determined, but have a fluid and situational relationship (as in real life). However, these representations are still limited; for example, in all three shows, only one minor Latina character is described as having African roots. While those who listen carefully can hear Mexican Spanish24 in Maya & Miguel, Spanish from other regions (the Caribbean, Central and South America) is conspicuously absent. These issues should be further explored in studies of representations of Spanish in US media. Research exploring how these shows are interpreted by young (Latino and non-Latino) viewers and their parents would be illuminating. The way that the Spanish language instances are received most likely varies by the social position of the viewer. For example, over one quarter of the Spanish words on Dora the Explorer are commands. For a White child from a wealthy family with a Latin American nanny, learning these imperative forms may be a way of more efficiently ordering the help around. For a Puerto Rican child with minimal Spanish skills, it may be a way of understanding her abuelita’s commands. When Spanish is seen as a tool, as in Dora, there is tremendous leeway for the viewer to decide how (or whether) to use newly learned vocabulary. When Spanish is accompanied by a multicultural message of accepting others and celebrating diversity (as in Maya & Miguel), language is being taught along with values such as tolerance. These issues are also relevant for educators teaching Spanish as a second language: learning Spanish may be viewed as simply a way to get ahead in a globalizing economy, or as a means of engaging with ‘‘other’’ cultures. In either case, a version of the language-ethnicity link is being constructed.

NOTES 1. Latino and Spanish-speaking characters do appear in a few other animated educational programs, including Clifford’s Puppy Days (PBS), Jay Jay the Jet Plane (PBS), and The Save-Ums! (Discovery), but they are not the show’s main or title

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characters, and for this reason, were not included in this study. The study was completed before the debut of the newest children’s program with a Latino title character, the Disney Channel’s Handy Manny. 2. Multiculturalism is a set of popular and pedagogical discourses about the benefits of recognizing and embracing differences in diverse societies. The term is the center of much academic debate, and these discourses are viewed critically by many scholars. In this chapter, I do not attempt to make value judgments about multiculturalism. Rather, I am interested in pointing out the different versions of multiculturalism presented in these ‘‘educational’’ programs. 3. It is estimated that 18% of Dora’s viewers are Hispanic (Fong, 2006). 4. According to Peter Wade (1997), ethnicity is ‘‘about cultural differentiation’’ and the ‘‘language of place’’ rather than phenotype or physical appearance: ‘‘‘Where are you from?’ is thus the ‘ethnic question’ par excellence’’ (p. 18). This is not to say that an individual cannot possess multiple ethnic identifications or that people who are seen as belonging to an ‘‘ethnic’’ group (such as US Latinos) cannot be racialized or discriminated against based on their appearance. 5. Outside of Mexico, the most common Spanish term for cowboy is vaquero. 6. This chapter focuses on English-language television, as most Spanish-language programming is geared at adults, and as, even in Spanish-speaking households, children tend to watch television in English (Aguirre, 1998). 7. For in-depth discussions of Latino stereotypes in Hollywood films, see Rodrı´ guez (1997) and de los Santos and Domı´ nguez (2003). 8. See Lo´pez (1998) for an interesting discussion of how film star Dolores del Rı´ o alternately embodied both the exotic/tropical and Mexican/ethnic versions of Latinness in her career. 9. See Bailey (2000) for examples of how Dominican youth use code-switching to assert their ethnic identity and avoid being perceived as African-American. 10. I use abbreviations for the show’s titles: DE for Dora the Explorer, DT for Dragon Tales, and MM for Maya & Miguel. For example, a reference to (DT #7) would indicate that a quote was drawn from Episode 7 of Dragon Tales; see the appendix for the titles of the episodes. 11. The ‘‘critical period hypothesis’’ is the idea developed by sociolinguists and neuroscientists, that the optimal period for language learning is early childhood; there is much debate in the field of sociolinguistics over the existence and cut-off point of such a period (see Brown, 1980). 12. The quetzal, a brightly colored bird that lives in Mexico and Central and South America, was held sacred by ancient Mayas and Aztecs. Quetzalcoatl, or the ‘‘plumed serpent,’’ was a deity revered throughout ancient Mesoamerica (see Castillo, 1997). In addition, the quetzal is the national bird of Guatemala and the name of that country’s currency. 13. This is the age range indicated on the PBS Kids website; according to a recent Los Angeles Times article, the show is ‘‘aimed at Spanish-speaking kids just starting school’’ (Texeira, 2006). 14. See Duany (1998) for a discussion of why it would be unlikely for a Dominican person to self-identify as ‘‘Afro-Dominican’’; see also Bailey (2000) and Toribio (2000). 15. Text in brackets represents my translations of transcribed Spanish utterances.

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16. See Rampton (1999). Language crossing is when a person uses a language that is seen as ‘‘belonging’’ to a social or ethnic group of which he or she is not a member. Language crossing can be accepted by the group whose language is being used, or can be seen as illegitimate because of the speaker’s identification as an outsider. 17. Her vocabulary is also more expansive in English than in Spanish, as seen in the online interview, in which she answered the same questions in Spanish and in English. Herles does not provide the voice of Dora for the Spanish version of the show. 18. In linguistics, standard pronunciation is that which is relatively unmarked in terms of region, race, influence of other languages’ pronunciation, or class status. 19. An example of a character depicted as a native speaker but demonstrating English-influenced pronunciation is the famous soccer player, ‘‘El Pie,’’ featured in Episode 7A. He had an accent in English, but frequently replaced Spanish vowel sounds with the English / /. Also called the ‘‘schwa’’ sound, this is an unaccented vowel sound as in the second syllable of the English word ‘‘pencil.’’ 20. On the use of this technique in literature, see Rudin (1996). 21. Several chapters in Harris and Rampton (2003) discuss the use (and debates about the use) of Standard English in education. 22. I found just one mention of nationality in the Dragon Tales episodes analyzed: the exchange between Quetzal and Emmy mentioned earlier. 23. Examples include ‘‘No hay atajo sin trabajo’’ [there’s no success without hard work], ‘‘Panza llena, corazo´n contento’’ [full belly, happy heart], and ‘‘Cada quien tiene su manera de matar pulgas’’ [each person has his/her own way to do things]. These were all featured in Episode 5. 24. Linguists agree that there are five major regional dialects of Spanish in Latin America: Caribbean, Mexican, Andean, Rı´ o Platense, and Chilean (Zentella, 1997, p. 42). These dialects differ in pronunciation and vocabulary. e

REFERENCES Aguirre, A., Jr. (1998). Language use and media orientations in bilingual Mexican-origin households in Southern California. Mexican Studies/Estudios Mexicanos, 4(1), 115–130. Aparicio, F. R., & Cha´vez-Silverman, S. (Eds). (1997). Tropicalizations: Transcultural representations of Latinidad. Hanover: Dartmouth University Press. Bailey, B. (2000). Language and negotiation of ethnic/racial identity among Dominican Americans. Language in Society, 29, 555–582. Brown, H. D. (1980). The optimal distance model of second language acquisition. TESOL Quarterly, 14(2), 157–164. Casanova, E. M. (2003). Women’s magazines in Ecuador: Re-reading ‘‘la Chica Cosmo’’. Studies in Latin American Popular Culture, 23, 89–102. Castillo, D. A. (1997). The tropics of the imagination: ‘‘Quetzalcoatl and all that’’. In: R. A. Frances & S. Cha´vez-Silverman (Eds), Tropicalizations: Transcultural representations of Latinidad (pp. 67–98). Hanover: Dartmouth College.

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Cummins, J. (1996). Negotiating identities: Education for empowerment in a diverse society. Los Angeles: California Association for Bilingual Education. Da´vila, A. (2001). Latinos, Inc.: The marketing and making of a people. Berkeley: University of California Press. de la Torre, A. (2002). Moving from the margins: A Chicana voice on public policy. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. de los Santos, N., & Domı´ nguez, A. (2003). The Bronze screen: 100 years of the Latino image in Hollywood [Film]. Questar Home Video. Duany, J. (1998). Reconstructing racial identity: Ethnicity, color, and class among Dominicans in the United States and Puerto Rico. Latin American Perspectives, 25(3), 47–172. Flores, J. (1997). The Latino imaginary: Dimensions of community and identity. In: R. A. Frances & S. Cha´vez-Silverman (Eds), Tropicalizations: Transcultural representations of Latinidad (pp. 183–193). Hanover: Dartmouth College. Fong, V. (2006). Dora the Explorer. Available at http://www.cheskin.com/blog/blog/archives/ 000830.html. Accessed on July 25, 2006. Fought, C. (2003). Chicano English in context. Basingstoke, England: Palgrave Macmillan. Grasmuck, S. (2005). Protecting home: Class, race, and masculinity in boys’ baseball. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Gumperz, J., & Herna´ndez-Cha´vez, E. (2003). Bilingual code-switching. In: R. Harris & B. Rampton (Eds), The language, ethnicity and race reader (pp. 291–302). London: Routledge. Harewood, S. J., & Valdivia, A. N. (2005). Exploring Dora: Re-embodied Latinidad on the web. In: R. M. Sharon (Ed.), Girl wide web: Girls, the Internet, and the negotiation of identity (pp. 85–103). New York: Peter Lang Publishing. Harris, R., & Rampton, B. (Eds). (2003). The language, ethnicity, and race reader. London: Routledge. Jime´nez, M. C. (2005). Go, Diego, Go! Dora’s adventurous cousin gets his own Series. Hispanic Online.Com. Available at www.hispaniconline.com/a&e/05_diego.html. Accessed on September 17, 2005. Joseph, J. E. (2004). Language and identity: National, ethnic, religious. New York: Palgrave MacMillan. Koltowski, F. (1992). Early bilingualism, personality integration and emotional adjustment. Il Forneri, 6(1), 35–49. Lo, A. (1999). Codeswitching, speech community membership, and the construction of ethnic identity. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 4, 461–479. Lo´pez, A. M. (1998). From Hollywood and back: Dolores del Rı´ o, a (trans)national star. Studies in Latin American Popular Culture, 17, 5–33. Messner, M. (2000). Barbie girls versus sea monsters: Children constructing gender. Gender & Society, 14(6), 765–784. Myers-Scotton, C. (2002). Contact linguistics: Bilingual encounters and grammatical outcomes. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Navarrete, L., & Kamasaki, C. (1994). Out of the picture: Hispanics in the media. Washington, DC: National Council of la Raza. Oboler, S. (1995). Ethnic labels, Latino lives: Identity and the politics of (re)presentation in the United States. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Poplack, S. (1980). Deletion and disambiguation in Puerto Rican Spanish. Language, 56(2), 371–385.

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Rampton, B. (1999). Language crossing and the redefinition of reality. In: P. Auerter (Ed.), Code-switching in conversation: Language, interaction and identity (pp. 290–317). London: Routledge. Rodrı´ guez, A. (1996). Objectivity and ethnicity in the production of the Noticiero Univisio´n. Critical Studies in Mass Communication, 13(1), 59–81. Rodrı´ guez, A. (1999). Making Latino news: Race, language, class. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications. Rodrı´ guez, C. E. (1997). Latin looks: Images of Latinas and Latinos in the U.S. media. Boulder: Westview Press. Rudin, E. (1996). Tender accents of sound: Spanish in the Chicano novel in English. Tempe: Bilingual Press/Editorial Bilingu¨e. Sebba, M., & Wootton, T. (1998). We, they and identity: Sequential versus identity-related explanation in code-switching. In: P. Auer (Ed.), Code-switching in conversation: Language, interaction and identity (pp. 262–286). London: Routledge. Sigler, E. (2004). Kathleen Herles. Hispanic Online.Com. Available at www.hispaniconline.com/ magazine/2004/june/Features/latinas5.htm. Accessed on September 17, 2005. St. Clair, R., Valde´s, G., & Ornstein-Galicia, J. (1981). Social and educational issues in bilingualism and biculturalism. Washington, DC: University Press of America. Texeira, E. (2006). TV for kids courts Spanish speakers. The Los Angeles Times, February 28, 2006, E10. Toribio, A. J. (2000). Nosotros somos dominicanos: Language and self-definition among Dominicans. In: A. Roca (Ed.), Research on Spanish in the United States: Linguistic issues and challenges (pp. 252–270). Somerville: Cascadilla Press. U.S. Census Bureau. (2003). Language use and English-speaking ability: 2000. Census 2000 Brief. Available at http://www.census.gov/prod/2003pubs/c2kbr-29.pdf. Accessed on July 25, 2006. Wade, P. (1997). Race and ethnicity in Latin America. London: Pluto Press. Weyers, J. R. (1999). Spanish as an ethnic marker in El Paso, Texas. Southwest Journal of Linguistics, 18(1), 103–116. Zentella, A. C. (1997). Growing up bilingual. Oxford: Blackwell.

APPENDIX. EPISODES STUDIED Dora the Explorer (DE ) Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode

#1: #2: #3: #4: #5: #6: #7: #8:

‘‘Dora and Diego to the Rescue.’’ Aired 9/9/05. ‘‘Fish Out of Water.’’ Aired 9/9/05. ‘‘Bugga Bugga.’’ Aired 9/14/05. ‘‘Doctor Dora.’’ Aired 9/16/05. ‘‘The Big Storm.’’ Aired 9/16/05. ‘‘Daisy, la Quincean˜era.’’ Aired 9/17/05. ‘‘Big River.’’ Aired 9/20/05. ‘‘Dora’s Got a Puppy.’’ Aired 9/21/05.

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Episode #9: ‘‘Backpack!’’ Aired 9/24/05. Episode #10: ‘‘The Big Red Chicken.’’ Aired 9/30/05.

Dragon Tales (DT ) Episode #1: ‘‘Hide and Can’t Seek/Art of Patience.’’ Aired 9/9/05. Episode #2: ‘‘Just for Laughs/Give Zak a Hand.’’ Aired 9/14/05. Episode #3: ‘‘Knuck, Knuck, Who’s Where/Just Desserts.’’ Aired 9/15/05. Episode #4: ‘‘The Grudge Won’t Budge/We Put the Fun in Funhouse.’’ Aired 9/16/05. Episode #5: ‘‘Puzzlewood/Let’s Dance.’’ Aired 9/19/05. Episode #6: ‘‘Musical Scales/Hand in Hand.’’ Aired 9/23/05. Episode #7: ‘‘Sky Soccer/Making it Fun.’’ Aired 9/26/05. Episode #8: ‘‘A New Friend/El Dı´a del Maestro.’’ Aired 9/30/05. Episode #9: ‘‘Express Yourself/A Snowman for all Seasons.’’ Aired 10/3/05. Episode #10: ‘‘The Balancing Act/A Small Victory.’’ Aired 10/4/05.

Maya & Miguel (MM ) Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode Episode

#1: ‘‘The Letter.’’ Aired 9/10/05. #2: ‘‘Soccer Mom.’’ Aired 9/14/05. #3: ‘‘I’ve Got to be Mi-guel.’’ Aired 9/14/05. #4: ‘‘The Wrestler Next Door.’’ Aired 9/19/05. #5: ‘‘Maya and Miguel, Come on Down!’’ Aired 9/19/05. #6: ‘‘La Calavera.’’ Aired 9/19/05. #7: ‘‘A Little Culture.’’ Aired 9/21/05. #8: ‘‘Rhymes with Gato.’’ Aired 9/27/05. #9: ‘‘The Slump.’’ Aired 9/29/05. #10: ‘‘When Maya Met Andy.’’ Aired 10/3/05.

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PART V BICULTURALISM AND IDENTITY FORMATION

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INTEGRATION AND THE FORMATION OF ETHNIC IDENTITY AMONG SOUTH ASIAN IMMIGRANTS IN NORWAY Navid Ghani ABSTRACT This study is designed to explore the process of integration and ethnic identity among South Asian immigrants in Norway. In this study I examine the extent to which different factors such as, time since migration, receptiveness of the host society, position in the labor market, schools, social networks, and interaction with the host society, contribute to immigrants’ integration and the construction of their identity in a multicultural society like Norway. Based on ethnographic methods including unstructured interviews of first-generation South Asian immigrants and their children in Norway, three different levels of integration are explained. The first level involves high ethnic identity and low integration and relates to first-generation immigrants who have accepted that a permanent return to their home country is impossible. The second level of integration is related to high ethnic identity and high integration. The individuals in this category are second-generation immigrants who are integrated into Norwegian society, while maintaining a high ethnic identity by strong allegiance to their parental norms and Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 189–223 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15009-7

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values. The third level is low integration and low ethnic identity and explained in terms of identity crisis, which sometimes causes an internal turmoil and disorientation for many immigrants.

INTRODUCTION Although a substantial amount of literature has been written on the subjects of ethnic relations in Norway, there are, nevertheless, very few studies that examine the socioeconomic integration patterns of South Asian immigrants in Norway. My attempt at contributing to this discourse stems the unique perspective as an immigrant myself who has experienced the process of integration first hand in metropolitan Oslo. There are two reasons why I choose this topic and believe it is worthwhile. First, the demographic and the ethnic composition of the post-1970 immigrants in Norway differ greatly from the earlier Nordic and European immigration into Norway. Migration occurs because of push-pull factors that push immigrants out of their own countries because of poor economic conditions and draw them into industrial countries. The socioeconomic conditions of the 1970s and the rapid economic growth in the Western industrialized countries have caused immigration to Norway that, in turn, has significantly impacted Norway’s relatively homogenous society. These changes have brought with them a resurgence of long-standing debates over immigration policy, race and ethnicity, and integration of immigrants in the 1990s. The Norwegian government has been explicit in proclaiming equal opportunities for all of its residents (White Paper 1996–1997). However, there has been little evidence that equality ideology has helped to improve the everyday lives of immigrants and their offspring living in Norway. Surveys from the early 1990s, point towards a high degree of resentment towards non-Western immigrants (Hernes & Knudsen, 1994). Berg (1997) has analyzed her experience with the immigrant settlements in Norwegian counties. She found that non-European immigrants faced consistent problems during the economic boom of the 1990s, when native Norwegians and other Westerners were enjoying full employment. Other Norwegian surveys carried out from 1994 to 2000 showed a more favorable opinion of immigrants when it comes to equal opportunity for immigrants in the socioeconomic spheres (NCBS, 2001). However, among many Norwegians who maintained some liberal approach towards immigrants, there was also a growing feeling of discontent for immigrant groups, with

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the strongest negative attitudes felt towards South East Asians because of their Muslim background. When I undertook this research, I believed that high unemployment rates among immigrants and the effects of racial discrimination in certain areas are indicators of the fact that immigrants are still ascribed a position of ‘‘Other’’ in the contemporary Norwegian society. Thus these issues deserved greater research attention, for this reason, one of the objectives of this study was to explore the implications of demographic changes on the integration process of these immigrants and their descendents. The second reason for this research is my interest in immigrant-related issues and my desire to improve the conditions in this area. My knowledge in this area has been acquired through work experience with immigrants and my contact with the professionals in the field of ethnic and race relations. In addition, I will be drawing upon my own experiences as a first-generation immigrant who lived in Norway for more than 20 years. In response to those who might question the scientific integrity of such research, my answer is that being personally related to one’s subjects or having a special relationship with the cultural traditions to which one studies does not disqualify the research. As Guba and Lincoln (1989) point out, it simply makes the researcher more inclined and interested in the area of study and more accountable to the subjects.

THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVE The conceptual framework is based largely on the concepts of socioeconomics and integration during the nineteenth and early twentieth century. The decline of a rural population, the growth of cities, the emergence of nation states, and globalization of trade are some phenomenon that has evoked new theories and explanations. These theories not only discuss production systems but also social interaction as well. A number of classical and contemporary theoretical perspectives still underlie the discussion around integration and how a coherent society is possible. Brettell and Hollifield (2000) emphasize that the study of social relations is grounded in the classic works of social theorists (e.g., Marx, Weber, and Durkheim) and such classic sociological theory is central to understanding the processes of migration and immigration integration. Starting with the classical approach, Karl Marx discusses socioeconomic disparity and argues that this ultimately leads to increased inequality between social classes. He says that in such a society, human exploitation has been

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carried out to the most extreme degree. Accordingly, it leads to inequality and disadvantage and prevents exploited groups from equal participation in the society (Bottomore & Goode, 1983). One problem with this approach is that it undermines the emergence of the welfare states. Further, I will argue that human exploitation and oppression is not attributable to a specific economic system such as capitalism but can be found in any form of economic system. In the Norwegian case, for example, the difference and disparity in socioeconomics between minority and majority groups exist, and the state with its progressive-minded, tolerant, and inclusive approaches become the most important organization in promoting the integration of Society (Brox, 1993; Fuglerud, 1996; Ljunggren, 1988). Another classical theorist whose work figures heavily in discussions of social cohesion and integration is Max Weber. His model of the integration of modern societies or social solidarity is influenced by individual and group social interaction. Weber assumes that inequality follows from the inevitability of a struggle for dominance or survival within a social environment (Weber, 1978). For Weber, equal opportunity is just one aspect of class conflict, and argues that inequality exists in specific structural situations when there is an element of competition between groups, and when equity is blocked by institutions and organizations. In particular, the exercise of self-interest by individuals in a diverse society will not, according to Weber’s view, guarantee equality of social justice (Weber, 1978). Weber sees the virtue of tolerance and equitability as important factors for a stable and just society, and the key elements for the transition from one society to another. He argues that one important element in every society is the structure of dominance practiced by different social actors. Accordingly, the state or authority is an important agent in promoting equality and justice for all groups in society. According to Hamburger (1989) and Schierup (1988), equal opportunity and social cohesion will not secure any result if any of the competing groups lacks a required attribute as discussed by Weber. Similarly there is the question of individual choice and attitudes, which even under ideal conditions, may lead to different patterns of social life and behavior for some groups. This can create negative outcomes that will not support integration and social cohesion (Hamburger, 1989; Schierup, 1988). Like Marx and Weber, Durkheim was very concerned about the complexity of social integration in the modern society. He characterized modern society by social differentiation, density of population, and the struggle for survival. He defines integration as relationships between different social groups and individuals that reinforce social bonds and

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convince individuals of the fair and just basis of their status in society. He discusses two forms of societal integration: mechanical and organic solidarity (Durkheim, 1984). Mechanical solidarity suggests that integration binds groups together into a single moral and social unit with a sense of common duty and responsibility. Another aspect of Durkheim’s theory is that people are different, therefore they have to depend on one another if the society is to remain stable and productive. Durkheim calls this approach organic solidarity. According to this model, cooperation and solidarity is based on the division of labor where the diversity of social groups in a modern society allows a recognition and dependency upon one another, while sharing the welfare benefits among them. For Durkheim, societal integration involves a sense of moral obligation upon the individual towards the wider society. Thus, in Durkheim’s theoretical framework, integration is a matter of individuals’ moral convictions. The moral aspect of Durkheim’s theory is important for integration because of its emphasis on individual motives, inclinations, and convictions. One problem with this theory, however, is that while it emphasizes values and morality, it ignores the fact that socioeconomic disparity cannot be solved just by moral convictions and discipline. There are also other aspects of social cohesion and integration. For example, state power is important to regulate economic life and to hold society together. In any given society there are oppressed groups. A just system in which the people’s rights are protected is not possible without state intervention. Contemporary theories of modern integration derive from the classical theoretical perspectives that suggest that integration is achieved through interaction, social consensus, and a functional participation of all actors and institutions in the society’s socioeconomic system (Fuglerud, 1996; Aron, 1967; Larsen, 1992). Norwegian sociologist Berg (1997) argues that there is a dual process of interaction and sees integration as the product of both interaction between social groups and contacts with public and private sectors that provide the conditions that make for their participation. According to Berg, integration is important in pluralistic societies and it can be achieved only through interaction among different groups and is endorsed by the power structure of society. Other studies are consistent with this approach. For example, Hamburger (1989) and Schierup (1988) argue that the future of a multicultural society is closely connected to immigrants’ real possibilities to influence their own conditions of life style. According to these authors, an autonomous sociodevelopment and organization among established immigrants is important in the sense that it helps the new immigrants to get information about society’s institutions through their own

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sociocultural network and thus become part of the majority while maintaining their own identity. All of these studies point to the idea that the socioeconomic process of integration is fundamentally interactive and that intergroup contact affects attitudes. As the Norwegian government suggests, ‘‘the more interaction between members of different cultures occurs, the more mutually favorable attitudes will develop which will then lead to the smooth integration of different groups in the Norwegian society’’ (White Paper No. 17, 1996–1997). The problem that I can see for this notion is that the failure of individual immigrants to achieve socioeconomic mobility is linked either to their reluctance to accept the values of their host society or to the resistance of the native majority to accept them on an equal basis. Nevertheless, in this model a successful integration is based on cooperation and solidarity among various social groups and requires the engagement of legal institutions. Accordingly, this model leads me to believe that socioeconomic integration is measured by individuals’ and groups’ behavior in relation to each other even as they retain a measure of their original cultures. I would also expect that the state, as a powerful entity, act to insure that all social groups and classes in the society are integrated according to the principle of equality. American contemporary theorists developed their own models of integration in relation to the set of general theoretical issues regarding societal cohesion as addressed by the classical and contemporary European perspectives. In the 1970s and 1980s, the assimilation perspective of the earlier twentieth century was rejected by many contemporary scholars. As the question about immigration and integration of immigrants around the world has become a hot issue during the past two decades, many scholars have started to explore the phenomenon in light of modern immigration. Some of the most prominent contemporary individuals involved in immigrant-related issues are Borjas, Portes, Rumbaut, and a British born South African sociologist, John Rex. They shared similar concerns for the betterment of social groups in a modern multicultural society and argue that integration can be measured by education, work, income, experience, and other elements of human capital that immigrants bring along with them into their new country (Portes, 1995) and (Rumbaut, 1997). George Borjas (1990), in his theory of integration that contains a socioeconomic dimension, link socioeconomic success to the time perspective. According to his model, integration can be achieved in socioeconomic terms. Using the concept of human capital that suggests that the economic success of immigrants is determined by the skills that they bring with them, Borjas describes socioeconomic integration as achieving parity with the native majority in

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such areas as education, employment, and income. He explains that the longer the stay of the immigrants in the new country, the better the chance of knowing all there is to know of the host society, and thus adapting to the labor market and becoming economically successful. For Borjas, time-sincemigration is an essential factor in the positive integration process. This means that the longer the time spent in Norway, the more likely immigrants are to integrate into the Norwegian society. This integration model assumes that as time passes, the minorities become more familiar with mainstream society, and thus more economically and socially successful (Borjas, 1990). The problem of Borjas’ model is that while it supports the notion that socioeconomic achievements of immigrants are associated with the time perspective in general, there are some specific groups of immigrants (e.g., Nordic and Western European immigrants in Norway) whose affluence allows them to integrate into the mainstream no matter how long they have stayed in the host country. John Rex (1970) argues that successful integration depends upon the history and social structure of the country from which immigrants originate. According to this model, socioeconomic success depends on cultural and social similarity of various groups. This model is derived from Park and Burges’ theory of assimilation (1921), which states that the more similar immigrants are to the host population, the more successful they are likely to become. One of the problems with this model is the fact that in today’s multicultural societies, it has become more difficult for an immigrant group to assimilate (Isbister, 1996; Rumbaut, 1997; Schierup, 1988). As my formulation of the term integration suggests, the fundamental theoretical question about integration deals with the new ethnic minorities in an ethnically pluralist society with many groups choosing to hold on to their ethnic identities, depend on their own communities and share the welfare goods among themselves. However, as my own experience shows that the success of immigrant integration depends on the duality of the process based on cooperation and solidarity among different groups, and the assistance of professional institutions in order to solve societal challenges and promote a more equitable system of social order. Accordingly, I believe, the state becomes a very important organ in promoting national integration through measures, which can minimize differences regarding opportunities and living conditions for all groups in the society, irrespective of their origins. However, the state control over life has tended to lock immigrants into welfare dependency in which immigrants have been marginalized from the social and civic sphere of society and, thus, are less integrated into society, as this research will document.

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Other theoretical perspectives have also dominated the study of immigrant integration. According to these perspectives, education, professional qualifications, language proficiency, and the like are indicators of successful integration (Portes & Rambout, 1996; Portes, 1995; Rumbaut, 1997; Rex, 1970). Several sociologists’ claims that such indicators of human capital allow immigrants to advance socioeconomically, and it give the host country a growing source of labor. Regarding educational attainment, Rex (1970) argues that ‘‘related to the occupational structure is the educational system, through which amongst other things people seek to gain success to the higher occupations and to a position of power’’ (p. 96). According to this view, education plays a sovereign role in the attainment of occupational and status mobility. Interestingly, immigrants from European and Nordic countries, appear to gain a higher return on the human capital they possess than immigrants with similar qualifications from the non-European countries. In other words, if immigrants are thought of as coming from a society in which, on average, the range of occupational are great (e.g., Nordic and other Western European), their chances of integration are great. But if they come from countries, which are different from the host country (e.g., Asians and Africans), their chances of integration are less. Thus, this model must be differentiated by ethnicity. Further, this model does not say anything about immigrants who do not have high education and adequate command of the Norwegian language. Portes and Rambout (1996) add another dimension to the theory of socioeconomic integration. They view skin color or visibility as an important factor in determining the degree of integration of any ethnic group. Physical appearance delays the process of integration more than other factors. They hypothesize that by virtue of moving into a new social environment marked by different values and prejudices, physical features become a stigma or handicap (p. 248). Herbert Gans (1992) argues, ‘‘while dark-skinned immigrants from overseas cultures will also integrate, racial discrimination will not encourage their adaptation, at least not into white society’’ (p. 177). This situation faced by non-Western immigrants is quite consistent with this approach. As data presented in this chapter will indicate, the employment situation for non-Western immigrants has remained high throughout the last decade in spite of the fact that the Norwegian economy was booming and the job market was favorable for job seekers. The data from the Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics (NCBS, 2001), for example, shows that the unemployment rate of African immigrants was 14.7 percent in August 2001 (15 percent in 2000, 15.3 percent in 1999, and 14.8 percent in 1998), a slight decrease from the previous years, compared to

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the unemployment rate for the population at large, which was 2.8 percent in 2001 and has been less than 3 percent in the late 1990s. The unemployment rate of Asians was 10.7 percent in 2001 (11.1 percent in 1999 and 10.3 percent in 1998), and for South and Latin Americans it was 8.9 percent in 2001 (8.9 percent in 2000, 7.9 percent in 1999, and 7.7 percent in 1998). The figures for other groups such as Western European and Nordic immigrants were 4.1 percent in 2001 (4 percent in 2000, 3.3 percent in 1999, and 2.5 percent in 1998). Substantial increases from the previous years, but these figures are substantially lower than those for African and other nonEuropean immigrants. These facts indicate that non-Western immigrants are more likely to be unemployed irrespective of how good the national economy is and how good the government’s intentions are. And as I interpret it, unemployment robs people not only of income but also of their personal integrity and general contentment. It also forces many immigrants to become social and welfare recipients. The Norwegian welfare system has played a more central role in the lives of many immigrants than has the labor market. For instance, in some cases, a family with many children could receive more money from the social welfare system than from their employment. This is one of the consequences of unemployment disparity. In her study of the immigrant population in Norway, Marie-Christine Merametdjian (1995) found that most of her respondents agreed with the statement that ‘‘Norwegians makes them responsible for most of the country’s problem.’’ She argues that the attitudes of the dominant group influence the integration process of the minority group. For instance, those who strive to learn Norwegian might be discouraged when they experience how difficult it is as a ‘‘visible’’ immigrant to be accepted by Norwegians, even those with higher education and good language proficiency. These statistics, as I can see it, reveal an obvious effect of race and color that may hinder immigrants’ overall integration into society. These findings also suggest that in spite of precious human capital, such as education and language skills, non-European immigrants face a difficult process trying to integrate because they do not share common sociocultural traits with the majority society (Berg, 1998; Byrkje, Dyvi, Inkoon, & Johansen, 1991). From this perspective, the integration of particular immigrant groups follow a common path, from the hardships of finding employment to everyday discrimination and to low socioeconomic attainment from their participation in societal institutions. This shared experience highlights the unique struggles of ethnic minorities. We might expect that such realities would problematize the popular ideals of solidarity

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and equality that are espoused by Norwegian policy makers. After all, how can integration be achieved by immigrants without the host society’s acceptance and tolerance, for all of the various cultures, values, and individual interests? Thus, the question that needs in-depth study, especially taking into consideration the national policies, is how the ideologies on immigration and integration emphasizing smooth and successful integration of immigrants into Norwegian society are justified within a society of marginalized minority groups. How does this notion of equal opportunity contradict immigrants’ marginal situation in the labor market and education? Does equality ideology help or hinder integration of immigrants into Norwegian society? Does public opinion regarding immigration affect the integration process? Is there something about the criteria of citizenship and the use of public welfare that might explain this phenomenon? In the light of integration models and the questions posed above, I derive the following general statement: to what extent is integration facilitated by socioeconomic mobility, and whether integration possible for immigrants who preserve their own cultural identity within the context of a broader national unity. From this statement, I further derive a hypothesis: the longer the stay in the host country, the higher the chances that immigrant groups will achieve success and upward mobility. I will therefore expect that as time passes by, and immigrants become more familiar to Norwegian socioeconomic infrastructure, the more economically and socially successful they will be. Finally, integration is thus a matter of active participation in the host country’s social affairs and of possessing or gaining a sense of belonging and satisfaction. It is postulated that integration is achieved through interaction, social consensus, and functional participation of all actors and institutions of the society (Durkheim, 1984). Integration is the product of interaction among socials groups and their contacts with the public and private sectors that encourage or prohibit participation (Berg, 1997; Alba & Nee, 1997). The more interaction between different groups, the more likely that mutually favorable attitudes will develop, which will then lead to a greater degree of equality and a lower degree of discrimination and unequal treatment of immigrants.

METHODOLOGY I have chosen to gather my data by using ethnographic techniques centered on narratives of immigration experiences. I think that with this kind of

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research, dealing with human beings and their life experience, ethnographic research gives people a chance to explore and to give some context to the work, in addition to giving us concrete, quantifiable data. I characterize this approach as a study of interrelations within the existing norms of modern society, and one that captures the content and context of immigrationrelated issues through qualitative participant observation and interviews. This study was conducted over a two-year period (2001–2003). The study is based on unstructured interviews that I conducted with 25 first-generation South Asian men and women; questionnaire to 56 second-generation immigrants; and gathering of secondary sources, such as newspaper articles, pamphlets, and public documents. These findings are their simple oral stories and the reader is cautioned not to generalize them. Pseudonyms have been given to the subjects to protect their identity. Most of my first-generation immigrants were from Pakistan, few were from India and Bangladesh (Pakistanis were one of the largest immigrants groups in Norway). All of them were from Muslim background. Their ages ranged from 45 to 65 years with a concentration of middle-aged respondents. Most of them had resided in Norway for 20–30 years and were from varied socioeconomic background. I interviewed people at their residence, where they themselves felt comfortable and relaxed. In addition, I had the opportunity to observe the life in their houses, the way the houses are decorated, and the living conditions and facilities in the houses and area of residence. Each interview started with a conversation, and my respondents described the details of their lives. All interviews began with the oral consent script that was read to the subjects and their decision on whether or not to participate in the study. In my interviews with second–generation immigrants, I concentrated on youths who had grown up in Norway, and who had completed all or most of the required 10 years of schooling. The second-generation children with whom I spoke were sought from targeted schools. They were from 16 to 19 years of age, and they were in the 10th, 11th, and 12th grades at the time of the interviews. Before any young person could participate in an interview, written permissions were requested and obtained from the individual schools within the municipality that had young immigrants of these defined categories enrolled as students. If the school agreed to participate in the research, another invitation was extended to the parents of the students who were 16 and 17 years old, as parental permission was required for minors. The research permission form for parental permission was translated into Urdu, and parents or guardians were asked to fill out a slip attached to the letter indicating whether they approved or disapproved of their child’s

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participation in the study. Students who had not returned their parents’ written consent to school were excluded from the study. For the students who were 18 years and above parental consent was not necessary. As adults, they just had to read a consent form for participation in the research. The students also had to fill out a questionnaire before I interviewed them, which also meant that they agreed to participate in the study. In all, 56 interviews were conducted among second–generation South Asian immigrants. Among them were 38 females and 18 males. The reason there were more females among this group of respondents was that during the time of the interviews there were always more women in the classes than men. I was told by the school administration that usually the enrollment of men is very low as compared to female students. The basic objective of these interviews with the first-generation immigrants was to find out what their reasons for immigrating were, what language problems had they encountered, and what social connections did they find or make? I was also interested in knowing why they chose to come to Norway in particular, and whether they had had a network of friends or relatives when they came. Was this network instrumental in providing help for adapting to the new environment? And how did the demographic and socioeconomic characteristics of immigrants affect their integration into Norwegian society? For the second generation my interest was in finding out: How do they feel about growing up in Norwegian society, and what did they experience as the main obstacles to becoming integrated into the Norwegian mainstream? The narratives of first-generation immigrants constitute a crucial legacy in shaping the multivalent identities of their children. Therefore, it was interesting to find out where do the allegiances of second–generation immigrants lie. How does this younger generation see their lives and professional prospects as compared to those of their parents? What are their hopes and plans for the future, if any? The second– generation respondents were also asked to estimate how much contact they wished to have with Norwegians and how much they actually had.

INTEGRATION AND ETHNIC IDENTITY – SOUTH ASIAN IMMIGRANTS The First Generation The South Asian immigration to Norway has been described as a chain migration in which the earliest members of a village facilitated the

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immigration of others from the same area. Why do they decide to migrate to Norway? I have identified a number of reasons as causative to the migration of these immigrants to Norway. The major reason cited by my respondents was economic betterment for themselves and their families. Thus it suggests that thy were dissatisfied with at least some aspects of life in their native country, and saw life in Norway as holding a better chance to satisfy some of their needs. Most of my respondents reported that they themselves had made the decision to migrate to Norway. Only few told me that they followed the decision of others. Among those who migrated were ordinary persons with an ambition to earn money and students who mainly sought further or higher education. These immigrants were more or less homogeneous, predominately farmers and unskilled laborers. There were very few professionals such as engineers and academics among them. Those from Pakistan (who speak Punjabi) were the dominant group among the South Asians in Norway, and their number has continuously increased due to family reunification. The migration and settlement patterns for South Asian immigrants have followed almost a set pattern. Most came first as single men and thereafter sought to settle down and establish families in Norway. Several of them were not used to big cities, although Oslo is not large when compared to many other European cities. But these immigrants nevertheless found many facilities and opportunities that were helpful; particularly, they were impressed by the role of the government in providing all sorts of assistance to people who were socially disadvantaged. They were impressed by the neat, clean streets and the well-developed structure of Norwegian society. They wrote back home that Norway was beautiful and well organized, and that there was a livelihood for anyone who wanted to work. A couple of respondents told me that they wrote to relatives back home that it sounded as if one could live comfortably in Norway where no one was poor, and the quality of life was excellent. After gaining jobs, learning some Norwegian, and establishing themselves they went back to their respective native countries be married and brought their wives and families to join them. Most had become naturalized Norwegian citizen; one-third were in the process of naturalizing at the time of the interviews, and a few of them remained uninterested in doing so. The latter explained their reason for maintaining their native citizenship as, ‘‘We don’t know yet.’’ ‘‘We are psychologically attached to our native country, our parents’ graves are there, and there we belong,’’ was another phrase that I heard repeatedly. One early immigrant explained, ‘‘Norwegian nationality means nothing to me. I am happy without that. If requiring a Norwegian nationality means

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good integration, then I would prefer to be left alone. Why should I be integrated by something [a culture] that is itself sliding to become something else? I am proud of my identity and cultural norms and will not forget that.’’ Thinking along similar lines, most of my respondents stressed the importance of their native identity, values, and traditions repeatedly as they asserted their difference from Norwegians norms and values. Most of my respondents observed their national holidays as Independence Day, and National Day. There are also several cultural activities among these immigrants. Their children usually observe religious holidays such as Eid (follows the month of Ramadan), but they also prefer to observe Norwegian secular and religious holidays. And the parents encourage their children to observe Norwegian holidays, so they will not be left out and isolated from their Norwegian friends who normally observe these events. Despite this indulgence children were expected to be obedient and to defer to parental wishes. As Syed pointed out, ‘‘Our children were born here, and they grew up here. We don’t mind if they have both parents and Norwegian traits in their characters.’’ But, he added, ‘‘Things should be not taken for granted here as well. No matter how high the grades our children achieve, or if they become pilots or doctors, Norwegians will never consider them as equals but will always see them as just immigrants.’’ For Masroor, ‘‘The maintenance of a link with my native country is important especially in the face of uncertainties, difficulties, and fears about eventually not being fully integrated into the Norwegian society.’’ This view was shared by many of my respondents, with the possible exception of the few who believed that they were part of both societies. I noted, however, that efforts were made by parents to teach aspects of their culture and traditions to their children. Efforts in this direction were very visible during private functions and ceremonies, such as at National Day celebrations, religious events, weddings, and child naming. A majority of my respondents are now married and have children. Mixed marriages are not common. It is not clear whether Norwegians tend to shy away from finding spouses among certain immigrant groups, or the immigrants themselves are not interested in marrying Norwegians. Most of my respondents, however, said that they would prefer to marry within their own group, which shows that there is little apparent interest in merging into the dominant group. I also found the same preference among second-generation youth. No one in my sample was in favor of mixed marriage, in spite of the argument that such association promotes the integration of these immigrants into Norwegian society. One of my respondents, whom I met at the wedding of a friend’s daughter, narrated

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his story as follows, ‘‘Although I thought that inter-ethnic marriage would promote integration, in my case it became paradoxical, and I still regret that I was married outside my own group. It was mental torture for us both. I became so isolated and depressed that I even thought of hurting myself, finally, it ended with a divorce.’’ Divorce among South Asian immigrants is very rare. Most of their marriages were arranged, and it was considered to be a good tradition, of which they were proud. All of the wives were from the same ethnic backgrounds as their husbands. And, although some of the women worked, the majority of both wives and husbands adhered to the traditional division of household tasks. South Asian immigrants come from a traditional culture where tasks and roles are clearly divided along gender lines. Wives were expected to stay at home to take care of the children, while the husband was the major breadwinner. Immigration to Norway, however, did somewhat alter the division of labor for many immigrants at home, specifically with regard to the patterns of male authority and female home-centeredness. As my interviews indicated, most of my female respondents wanted to remain housewives. Some of the women I interviewed attended schools, while others absorbed themselves in a variety of odd jobs. They wanted jobs for economic necessity, to learn Norwegian, and to remain in touch with Norwegian society. The wives of Pakistani shopkeepers helped their men in running the stores, such as was seen in the case of several of my respondents. These women like the ideology of gender equality and freedom and would prefer to stay in Norway. But except for a few liberal individuals, all other first-generation immigrants do not encourage their wives to obtain marketable skills or jobs. The cultural antecedents of these relationships center upon the segregation of roles in which, nominally and legally, husbands have ultimate authority, but in reality wives exercise a great deal of power in the home. Both Masroor and Syed present themselves and their wives as successful role models for the next generation. ‘‘Be sure to listen to your children, give them a good education, and take them back home to their home country. Embrace them when they come with their choice of partners, because we are sure their choice is not bad as we think it might be.’’ Many immigrants were also in favor of seeking marriage partners for their children in their home country. For them ‘‘arranged marriage’’ means an initial introduction that is sponsored by both families, and then the prospective partners are given the freedom to get to know each other for some time before making a decision whether or not to marry.

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Religion is a very important institution and a source of inspiration for my respondents. They seemed to be satisfied in practicing their religion, although some of the female respondents were concerned about teaching their children about their religious and cultural heritage through mosques. According to them, the mosques are led by older men, and generational and gender factors prevent them from sponsoring the kinds of activities that the youngsters would prefer to attend. For example, second-generation Norwegian Muslims might be more easily be attracted by coeducational activities, but this never finds approval among the elderly Muslim priests who lead the mosque activities. These priests, according to my female respondents, are reluctant to give up the native Urdu language, even though they admit that the language is a barrier to understanding and appreciation of the religious and cultural programs. The mosques, however, draw many immigrants to religious, social, and political functions where they socialize and immerse, thus ignoring the fact that such socialization often hinder their ability to integrate into mainstream society. Although second-generation youths are not frequent visitors to the holy places, the mosques have become community centers for the first-generation immigrants that symbolize a link to one’s identity and recognition of one’s present affiliation as a member of a Muslim community. Most of my respondents have had general problems of adjustment to a new way of life and disappointment with the social and cultural life more often than problems with housing. Overall, their feelings ranged from disappointment to resentment about the lack of opportunities for social contacts with Norwegians. Many have tried to establish contact with the local Norwegians, but it has not worked. Hence these immigrants do not and never have had Norwegians in their primary networks. Their interactions with Norwegians have always been very limited, formal, and hindered by such Norwegian cultural values as homogeneity, selfsufficiency, and family-centeredness, as well as their fear of an alien culture. Mohammed and his wife lived in a two-room flat when they first arrived in Norway, but later they moved to a bigger flat in the same vicinity with their three daughters. Mohammed felt that people of Oslo are rather closed. He said: I have many good Norwegian friends, but I see that I have to take the initiative myself. If you do not approach people, they may think that you are there temporarily, and you may end up with no contacts. From the perspective of integration, it is important for us to engage with each other. Of course, such a process of interaction will not change our habitual patterns, but it can modify our lifestyles and equip people with the appropriate and necessary means of living together.

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Syed (mentioned earlier) is an active member of the community, and he knows what goes on in his neighborhood. His contact with Norwegians was partly due to his own efforts and partly through his daughter. He finds Norwegians to be friendly when they work together, but as soon as work is finished so is the friendship. He said: The closed nature of the new society toward immigrants poses difficulties to an immigrant’s integration, particularly when it comes to entering existing social networks. As a result many immigrants feel isolated and have a sense of being left out.

Syed was of the opinion that those who participate more in social organizations as well as cultural and religious ones gain more opportunities for contacts and interactions with others. Two of my other respondents, Pervaiz and his wife, Sajida, reported that they have had very little contact with Norwegians outside of work. While their Norwegian colleagues were easy-going and good-natured, they did not seem to want to have anything to do with the Pakistanis after work hours. This attitude was attributed to the Norwegian custom of not having contact with foreigners. According to Pervaiz and Sajida it is difficult to get in touch with Norwegians. Although one meets in the workplace, this is not enough contact to enable people to get acquainted with each other. Masroor’s experience of feeling isolated in the school cafeteria reflects the situations of many others who told me similar stories about their Norwegian workplaces. They told me that if any interaction whatsoever takes place between themselves and Norwegians, it is normally on the Norwegians’ terms, while the immigrants’ code of behavior is rarely taken into consideration. Such an attitude was perceived as an established structural barrier or obstacle that inhibits social contact in the society. The consequence was, as they put it, ‘‘a deepening of the isolation that slowed down their integration process.’’ Both South Asian men and women, in general, try to associate mostly with fellow countrymen. Despite better economic conditions in Norway, they feel more lonely and homesick. The links between them and their home country remain strong. Remittances have been reduced over time, and home visits may decline in frequency, but cultural and familial links remain. Letter writing was the most common type of communication between Norway and their native country in the early 1970s. The introduction of videos in the early 1980s enabled frequent sending of homemade movies back home. In 1990 and beyond the Internet revolution occurred, many started communicating with their families and relatives through this new medium. The Internet was also used to get news and other information from their home

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country. ‘‘It was a big development, and we were glad to see our parents and other family members on the screen through the Internet,’’ as one of my respondent reported. The Internet revolution, he continued, ‘‘was a pleasant change from the traditional mode of communication to the new way of contacting people around the world.’’ Limited social contact between these immigrants and the native Norwegians led to many inherent problems such as loneliness, isolation, and sometimes hostile treatment from the majority population. Even persons with Norwegian skills, qualifications, or with a perfect knowledge of Norwegian experienced discrimination in one way or other. ‘‘Are we going to live with that forever?’’ many asked. Many immigrants perceived the Norwegian attitude in general to be cold, isolated, and individualistic, which affects Norwegians’ relationships with their own families as well as other groups. Neglect of the elderly and isolation in small nuclear families were considered to be values of which the Norwegians should not be proud. However, I have a reservation about this perception by many immigrants. Writing as a sociologist educated within Western culture, I would argue that in Norway, too, families emphasize love, affection, and compassion, although they may show them differently. I knew many Norwegian families who had friends and neighbors who were considered to be part of their own families, a gap usually filled by the members of an extended Asian family. Likewise, many Norwegians whom I know had respect for their elders, but this respect meant honoring the person’s own wishes about where they want to live in their old age. Most Norwegians prefer to live in their own homes throughout their life span rather than with their children’s families. There is no doubt that Norwegians believe in individualism and autonomy, and they teach these values to their children. When children have grown up they are encouraged to leave their parents’ home. A Norwegian friend told me that he had to leave his parents’ house when he was 18 years old because his parents wanted him to be self-reliant and independent. Now he is 45, and his parents are in their 80s. His parents do not want to become a burden on him, in spite of their son’s desire to have them move in with him. In other words, the elderly in Norway want to retain a sense of themselves as independent and masters of their own life circumstances. Therefore, I believe that when it comes to aspects of the integration of two very different cultures each one should respect and appreciate the other’s values and try to find the positive in each situation. I hope that the second generation will perceive things differently and try to build bridges between each culture’s values.

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One of the most critical areas for evaluating the integration of firstgeneration immigrants is that of occupation and employment. Unemployed people, regardless of skin, color, ethnic origin, or language are very expensive in a society that has the goal of maintaining a certain minimum standard for all of its members. The primary goal of most of my respondents has been to better their economic status; thus, one measure of their success lies in their ability to find jobs and possibilities for promotion. The standard industrial classification for activity sectors in Norway is divided into three categories: primary, secondary, and tertiary. The primary sector consists of agriculture, forestry, and fishing, while manufacturing, mining, quarrying, electricity, gas, water supply, and construction are all defined as a secondary sector. Activities such as hotels, restaurants, transport, communication, finance, real estate, health, and social work are defined as a tertiary sector (Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics, 2000). Employed immigrants are more concentrated within specific fields of trade and industry (in the tertiary sector) than Norwegians and other Westerners. One can generally say that many immigrants from non-Western countries are over-represented in labor-intensive industries where many unskilled workers are usually employed. Based on a rough distribution of industries, it appears that non-Western immigrants constitute a great proportion of employees within cleaning work, and hotel, restaurant, and transport services. Western immigrants, on the contrary, are overrepresented in industries that, to a larger extent, demand a specialized and highly educated workforce. They are also over-represented within the petroleum sector and business services. Other industries that employ relatively many immigrants are the manufacturing industry, culture, teaching, and health care services. Many of the non-Western immigrant male employees work in typically female-dominated industries. Here one might also raise the question of gender disparity, but I have no intention of entering this debate in this study. The distribution of jobs for immigrants in Norway is given as follows by the 1999 Statistics Norway: transport 23 percent, cleaning and sanitation 17 percent, hotel and restaurant services 14 percent, food production 13 percent, teaching, health care, and cultural services 10 percent, manufacturing industry 5 percent. These percentages make up to 87 percent of total immigrant labor output. This demonstrates the concentration of immigrants in less-skilled manual occupations. Consistent with these facts and figures, the level and nature of the jobs held by my employed respondents were preponderantly in the lower level of the tertiary sector. Most of them were employed in the service sector and

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remained in those jobs for several years without any upward mobility. None of my respondents were in senior managerial or supervisory positions, although I knew that some Indian and Pakistani immigrants were working as managers in the Oslo Transport Agency. The primary reason that they are hired by this agency as managers might be that public transportation services are dependent on immigrants both as employees and as consumers. Many immigrants drive public conveyances, and without them as Fuglerud (1996) point out – Oslo would stop. Those immigrants (although fewer in number) in supervisory positions usually started their careers in the agency from scratch. In other words, they started at the bottom and cleaned trams, buses, and subway cars. They acquired skills and went through a variety of practical training before starting to drive the vehicles. Gradually, after undergoing further training, they rose to their present status. Most respondents, however, who work in other service areas had seldom been promoted or recognized for their contributions to their workplaces. And only a few others were successful businessmen. I also found in my study that a smaller proportion of educated immigrants are employed (also as compared with similarly educated Norwegians). Borjas (1990) argues that economic activities increase with rising education levels. The hypothesis drawn from this argument postulates that those immigrants with a higher level of education will have less of a problem-finding employment. All the same, among many immigrants, economic activity is lower and registered unemployment is higher, regardless of educational level. Thus my study does not support this hypothesis. The following stories also offered anecdotal evidence. Four respondents who had higher educational credentials and professional skills than the others described conditions in the labor market as biased and a barrier to integration. The first was Akbar who, despite an innately content nature, had suffered psychologically from not getting a job that matched his qualifications. I later learned that he had moved to Canada with his family. The second, Imran, was qualified to be a hotel manager, but he had spent several years doing odd jobs in Oslo. Finally, eight years ago, he got a job that had no chance of promotion with a large hotel group. This is how he summed up his feelings: Even with my ‘unquestionably’ genuine qualifications [because they were earned in Norway], I ended up distributing newspapers in the early mornings and supplementing my earnings with income from a restaurant job. Although I am satisfied with my present job, I feel sad that I did not get the opportunity to put my knowledge into practice for all those years.

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When I asked him how he felt about the lack of promotion from his present position after so many years doing the same thing, he responded: As far as promotion goes, everyone has an equal opportunity, I believe. I have seen people promoted from manual to semi-skilled jobs, for example. But above that level, it depends on different things. I would say that the attitude of the employer limits one’s opportunities for promotion. Some employers will accept us at a senior level where our effectiveness depends on our individual professional skills and expertise. For others we are unacceptable in positions that imply authority over Norwegians. Unfortunately, I am still struggling for advancement, and I hope to get a breakthrough in the near future.

The third respondent Amjad put the matter more bluntly: You can’t get a good job – the sort of job you are capable of doing. You have to take what you can get. The only job readily available to me was nurse assistant in the hospital. I have been in this job for 15 years. Although the job description was below my previous experience and background as a professionally trained banker, I went after the job because of the enormous pressure on my family’s finances. I am also considering a move to Canada, because I see more possibilities there for myself and for my children.

My fourth respondent was Musa, a 45-year-old retired electrician. This is how he summed up his feelings: I was unable to find a job that was consistent with my educational background and my fluency in Norwegian, although I’m not like a native speaker. But I felt that I was sufficiently prepared to earn a living and thereby save my family the humiliation of being dependent on social services.

Berg and Vedi (1994) confirm that many Norwegians indeed consider non-Western immigrants to be generally less-educated and that they have many negative stereotypes and attitudes about such immigrants, in spite of the fact that, on average, immigrants tend to have better educations than Norwegians (NCBS, 1999). The European Commission for Racism and Intolerance, in its 1999 report, states that immigrants in Norway, particularly from the non-Western countries, often experience a disparity between their qualifications and their actual opportunities in the labor market. Berg and Vedi (1994) further argue that racist attitudes in industry and professions contribute to this disparity, fostering resentment, and tension. This pattern of disparity also applies to persons with little or no education. Those respondents who had had little education were mostly non-skilled workers. They were over-represented in low-paying jobs, especially in the service sector, and many are unemployed as well. In many cases the social welfare system came to play a more central role for these immigrants than the labor market. For instance, a family with several

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children could receive more money from the social agencies than from their employment. The following is a summary of some of their comments: Before I came to Norway I had undergone three years of apprenticeship as an auto mechanic in Pakistan. The Norwegian authorities did not recognize my previous training. For this reason I have always found it difficult to find a job that matches my skills. Now I wash the floors of a big hotel in Oslo. Although I make good money now, it is not sufficient enough to maintain an average living standard for my family. I have had jobs in several different companies in the Oslo area during the last 15 years. With a technician’s background it was relatively easy for me to get a job more quickly than others, but it was not easy to get a permanent position, especially for a person who is an immigrant and above 50. For me at this age it is difficult to learn new technical skills. I am not good in the Norwegian language, either. These ‘disabilities’ make my finances insecure, and I cannot plan for the future. A few years back, it was easy to get even a cleaning job. Today, the situation has changed. The cleaning companies are demanding more job-related qualifications. These companies prefer persons with an adequate knowledge of the Norwegian language and a cleaner’s certificate. If I had other qualifications, I would rather look for some sort of skilled job, which I believe would be better paid and give more security. The income from my unskilled job was not enough, and they never gave me a raise in wages in spite of several requests. I quit my job because I felt that my experience from Pakistan was not appropriate for Norwegian conditions. Today I run my own kiosk [newsstand]. I am my own boss, and I hope to break even in the future. I did not have enough education to compete in the job market’’ (I interviewed this respondent in 2001). When I interviewed him again in 2003, he owned two more kiosks, one in Oslo and the other in Drammen, a small town 40 miles from downtown Oslo. His annual income amounted to more than half a million dollars, and he donates $1,000 each month to the local mosque where his children go.

Another respondent who has a college degree and belongs to the business community told me that he had never engaged in manual labor in India. In Norway, he did not want to work at a menial job, so he decided to open his own business with an approximate capitalization of $15,000 (Nkr 100,000). ‘‘Now my annual revenues run from one million crowns ($100,000þ) to five million crowns. I have six employees in my travel agencies.’’ In answer to my question on how he became successful in business, he said: I had no business experience from India, but with the help of my friends and local knowhow I did not have any problem with proper locations and marketing (pause) but I am not a rich man, as my business is very modest, and I have no intention of increasing or expanding it into other fields. I am content with the present situation.

His story reflects the fact that owning a small business is another option for those who wish to start their own adventures and may have difficulty

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finding a job or one in accordance with their education and experience. Persons who have little education also have this possibility if they have startup capital and the basic knowledge of how to run a business, as we saw in the example of the man with three kiosks. Recently, the Norwegian press praised the Indian as hard working and diligent and one of the more prosperous groups in comparison to other Oriental groups. I found the most surprising aspect of these interviews to be an apparent unawareness of or unwillingness to acknowledge the presence of job or employment discrimination, despite its obvious occurrence. Riaz explained this phenomenon: The experience of discrimination is most widespread among people who, by every criterion of ability, are the most able and best qualified. For example, it happens that if there is a Norwegian and an immigrant with the same qualifications, the Norwegian will get the job, and this also occurs when it comes to promotion. People like me who want a better job or reward for their services expose themselves much more frequently to the possibility of discrimination.’’ When these immigrants try to move outside the role that is prescribed for them, by aspiring to jobs other than those for which they were initially recruited and are thought to be best-suited, the issue of discrimination becomes relevant.

Another respondent works in the local branch of the National Department of Labor in Oslo, supported this view, but he added that other factors play a part: Many immigrants do not have a working knowledge of Norwegian, and they lack adequate qualifications by Norwegian standards in the degrees and training they acquired in their home country. It is quite common that between 10 and 20 immigrants file job applications daily, but unfortunately Norwegian employers are less interested in these applicants. So an immigrant, regardless of his or her educational background and experience, must accept a low-status job such as cleaner, dishwasher, or nurse’s aid.

Respondents were questioned about their incomes and how satisfied they are/were with their jobs and working environments. They were also asked if they had or could save something from their incomes and wages. Their responses varied. Some said that they save a little money, while others said they used to save, but now it is difficult to think about setting aside money from expenses. Only a few had an income range between $31,000 and $40,000, while the majority of my respondents had an annual income between $16,000 and $30,000. Those with disabilities receive a disability pension, which is around $15,000–20,000 and consists of a basic pension, a supplementary pension, and special supplement (for other special needs). For the sake of reference, the average annual earnings of full-time public and private employees in Norway amounted to $29,000 as of October 1,

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2000, which was an increase of 5.3 percent from the year before. Wage levels are higher for professionals; for example, nurses and physicians had yearly earnings of $45,000 and $55,000, respectively. Corresponding yearly earnings of full-time employees with executive work positions in the public sector were around $28,000. In other occupations requiring a higher education, full-time employees had yearly earnings of $40,000. At academic institutions, professors had average yearly earnings of about $55,000 and above. The corresponding figure for semi-skilled laborers in the service sector amounted for $27,000 (Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics, 2001). Here I would like to add that according to the Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics the average annual cost of living for a family of four persons in Oslo was said to be about $25,000. Unemployed respondents in my sample received unemployment benefits, around $20,000 annually, from the social services office (Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics, 2001, confirms this estimate). Those who lived on marginal incomes, for example, less than $15,000, also have the possibility of applying for social assistance. The following instance comes from a respondent who applies for social assistance every month. According to him, a social worker calculates the allowance to supplement his income: ‘‘I get about $1,100 (Nkr 12,000) each month from my restaurant job. This is not enough, because I have four small children, and my wife stays at home.’’ According to him, ‘‘I get $700 (Nkr 7,000) additional help each month from the social office plus $80 (Nkr 665) for household insurance.’’ He continued, ‘‘Last month I also received $130 (Nkr 1,128) for my son’s glasses and $50 (Nkr 345) for dental work for my other child.’’ This help, he argued, provided his family with a source of permanent income security. I asked if this dependency could lead to a negative reaction from the Norwegians, and how he thought this help would negatively affect his integration into Norwegian society. In reply he said, ‘‘It is quite the opposite. By having a minimum standard of living we can maintain our integrity and integrate more quickly into Norwegian society.’’ He concluded, ‘‘The type of transfer payment that I receive is nationally standardized. If you are unemployed, disabled, or a service employee with a low income, you get the same amount in unemployment insurance or social benefits as Norwegians.’’ In cases when the family has a large number of children, the dependency on social assistance becomes more apparent. Majid, a bus driver, has five children, and the norm for the social allowance he received every month was $900 (Nkr 9,000), which supplemented his salary. His wife is a homemaker, because she has to look after the children, while he works as a bus driver

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after about eight years of post-secondary study. He observed, ‘‘Although we are dependent on social benefits from the state, it does not mean that we are not integrated into the Norwegian system. We also participate in the productive life of this society by contributing our human capital.’’ No respondents complained about working hours or working conditions and most replied that they are satisfied with these circumstances. Almost half of my respondents were affiliated with their trade unions but were not aware of their rights and obligations. Thus, there is an evident generalization that these immigrants are satisfied with their levels of income and consider Norway to be a secure and safe place to live, although most are concentrated in low-paying jobs with minimal status in the service industry sector. The stories told by these respondents illustrate the fact that immigrants occupy a low position in the occupational hierarchy, and that this pattern of employment applies as well to educated immigrants, for instance, those with university educations. This also suggests that the Norwegian welfare system plays a more central role for immigrants than the labor market. As we have observed, in some cases, a family with many children could receive a substantial amount of money as a social benefit. The level of immigrants’ dependency on social allowances is important. A more detailed and thorough examination is necessary to establish how it may affect immigrants’ integration and the form of their community boundaries in the host society.

The Second Generation When asked about the extent of their attachment to the traditional values and cultural norms of their parents’ home country, most of my secondgeneration respondents appeared to be committed to maintaining their cultural identity and heritage. This response was quite similar to those recorded in my interviews with the first generation. The difference appears to be how these youths put their ideas into practice. The respondents characterized their approach as flexible and liberal, stressing the impact of living and growing up in a new environment, which is quite different from their parents’ home country. They do not reject their parents’ identity and cultural values, nor do they totally reject the norms and values of the Norwegian society. As many pointed out, ‘‘You do not belong here, you don’t belong there, it is like you have to create your own identity.’’ Many of them, however, were concerned about certain Norwegian values,

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particularly the poor care given to the elderly and the culture’s acceptance of couples living together without being formally married. The individualism of the Norwegians, combined with the marital norm of the two-income household was interpreted by these youths as egoism and lack of familial responsibility towards their elders. For my respondents, it was unthinkable to allow their parents to live alone, and they questioned, how one could do this to their parents, and how one could let them die alone? They asked me bluntly, do you call this integration? For these youths, it was especially morally wrong that many Norwegians live together and have children outside of marriage. This was a moral issue, and there was no justification for it whatsoever. They wondered, what relationship could you have with these children? In contrast to their parents, the majority of my respondents said that they are less likely to observe religious rituals, prayers, and attend the Mosque on a regular basis. This indicates that, despite a high level of participation among the first-generation immigrants in religion, the majority of the second-generation youth tend to be less involved in religious affairs. Perhaps this is because they feel a sense of belonging to a society in which religion is not practiced as strongly as it is in their parents’ home country. To sum up, all my respondents appear to show attachment to their ethnic identity and cultural heritage but take a liberal stance towards religion, explaining that because of time constraints and other commitments such as studies it is hard to practice religion on a day-to-day or regular basis. Second-generation youths also differentiated themselves from their parents in terms of their attachment to Norwegian ways of life. Contrary to their parents who resist integration into Norwegian society, they are receptive of the Norwegian culture. For instance, most of those in my sample celebrate Norwegian religious and secular holidays such as Christmas, Easter and the Norwegian national day. Several respondents indicated that they observe these holidays ‘for the sake of integration,’ so they are not left alone and isolated from the rest of the society. Some of them also indicated that participating in the social festivities has important implications for community relations because it promotes acceptance and integration into Norwegian society. However, according to these respondents, many ethnic and religious holidays recognized by the immigrants may not be observed by the Norwegian society and thus can only be celebrated as a personal matter shared with a limited number of their Norwegian friends. The practices of forced marriages and to a certain extent arranged marriages are seen as restricting their rights to decisions crucial in regard to their integration and their future. Almost all the respondents, regardless of

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gender, did not believe in forced marriage and most of them would not like to marry a Norwegian partner because of cultural and religious differences. Since Pakistanis comprise one of the largest ethnic groups in Norway, it is comparatively easy to find a spouse within ones own social circles. Pakistanis and Indians also have good contacts with their home country and therefore can also find spouses there. Male respondents were more interested in marrying a girl from their own ethnic background, while some female respondents would prefer to marry Norwegian men, because they are less dominating of women. Arranged marriages without the consent of the persons involved were mentioned as one of the main sources of intergenerational conflict between second-generation South Asian youths and their parents. The main reasons given by these youths were: (a) one should feel free to choose whom he or she likes, and (b) because they now live in Western society, they should adapt accordingly to their new environment. When asked what society should do if these marriages are found to be forced or arranged under pressure, they responded, ‘‘These marriages should be annulled if there has been lack of consent.’’ The dilemma for these youths is what should be done to stop such marriages to happen. Because they perceive of this issue as family related, they see the solutions found within the family limits. However, they are also aware of the fact that unless society knows about such marriages, most people will remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors. There was a significant awareness attached to the issue of arranged and forced marriages. In the context of these marriages, my female respondents questioned the attitudes of their parents. How should one be tolerant towards those who themselves are not tolerant? Their reaction to questions regarding marriage indicated their feelings of distrust and frustration. The strategies of the younger generation were, however, centered on increasing their own influence in this process, rather than obeying parental wishes of intra-ethnic marriages. Most of the respondents also blame their parents for preventing them from integrating into Norwegian society. As long as they hold on to their traditions and norms, it will be a problem for us to be accepted as Norwegians, they argued. They also criticize their parents for not participating actively in their neighborhood and in society in general. Several of them said that their parents were elected in the local programs such as neighborhood watch and social activities, but they never participated in their meetings. Some of my female respondents blamed their mothers for not mixing with the Norwegian women. They also blamed

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them for not allow their daughters to make Norwegian friends and take active parts in social activities. This statement was also reflected in the fact that the majority of my respondents, most of them women, claimed that their participation in leisure activities was minimal since parents do not often allow girls to take part in outdoor hobbies and other social and recreational activities. Many respondents perceive integration as a reciprocal process with changes occurring in both the dominant and the minority groups. When asked about the problem of integration into Norwegian society, the majority of them listed the following obstacles, which made them feel like outsiders: Generational conflicts, teachers who are incapable of dealing with multi-cultural situations, inadequate facilities at schools, textbooks with ethnocentric themes, visibility of their skin color, lack of understanding of foreign cultural norms, intolerance and arrogance of some Norwegians create negative feelings among many people of ethnic backgrounds.

Some of the narratives arising from this study also contradict previous findings and assumptions. For example, the assumption that parents with negative attitudes towards the society’s values may prevent children from successfully adapting in the host society is not supported by these interviews. This study suggest that parent’s negative approach towards societal norms and values, as well as their strict upbringing, does not necessarily mean a more restricted integration than those children who are born in liberal environments and have the support of their parents to integrate into Norwegian society. This also suggests that the parents need not discontinue their traditional values in order for their children to learn the host society’s cultural norms. The present study further shows that the second generation, in contrast to their parents’ generation, tends to have more positive expectations for socioeconomic mobility. Unlike their parents who abandoned their homeland and came to Norway with the expectation of finding new economic opportunities, the second-generation students see school as offering the necessary education, competence, and skills they will need to have a successful future. In contrast to the previous findings suggesting that there is most commonly a strong ‘‘pushy parents’ syndrome,’’ where children are supposed to stay in touch with their parents and remain dependent, these youths saw educational success as an avenue for personal mobility rather than as merely a way to bring honor and success to their families. It has been argued that school is a fundamental arena for identity work (Schierup, 1988; Erikson, 1963) and although the identity problem was

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mentioned by most respondents, the reality of it cannot be overemphasized. As school pupils, the second generation is confronted with two sets of cultural values. On the one hand are the norms and values of their parents, and on the other hand, are those promoted by the host society. In school they are taught to express opinions and ask why, whereas at home their parents want them to be more traditional and do what they are told. While many parents look down on the values and norms of the host society, Norwegian society, in turn, often rejects the parents’ values and cultural practices as a whole. The second generation appears to be more receptive to cultural change. Most of my respondents were, however, torn between these two cultural worlds. When they perceive of their parents as rejecting the norms and values of the host society, they may be compelled to choose between the cultural values of their parents and that of the society. This study indicate that those children whose parents are flexible towards the host society’s cultural values, perceive integration as an easier process, while integration is much more difficult for those whose parents reject the cultural norms of Norwegian society. This confusion exhibited by some of the respondents suggested frustration which compelled them to make a choice between the values of their parents’ culture and that of their host society during their integration process. Although, the second-generation youths were more influenced by the Norwegian society and culture, for many, their allegiance remained with their parents. The youths in this instance identify with both the norms of their parents, and that of the host society. Of course, doing so causes an internal identity crisis. An easy way out may be for these children to develop their own unique sense of identity. Such youths are family oriented and family is the primary social unit for them. At the same time, they are emotionally attached to the place where they were born and grew up, and can never think of going back to live in their parents’ home country. My study has thus found that the majority of the second-generation youths maintain a dual frame of reference: high integration, high ethnic identity. By integrating their experiences in Norwegian society with their experiences at home, they have developed certain characteristics, which they believe will help them attain upward mobility. They want to be taken seriously as a generation on its own and also as mediators between Norwegian authorities and the parent’s generation. For some of my second-generation youth, however, it is problematic to be between two worlds. One role at home where parents’ values dominate and another outside of the home where values differ considerably from their parents. They are low on integration as well as low on ethnic identity.

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This situation can be likened to an identity crises or cultural disorientation, which may result in dropping out from school or intergenerational conflicts regarding early and forced marriages as well as other social issues. The phenomenon of identity crisis also sheds light on the question of juvenile delinquency among these children. Identity crisis or ‘‘disorientation,’’ as some writers of ethnic studies (Larsen, 1992; Hamburger, 1993) have described as affecting youths of minority background, was also noticed among my respondents. But contrary to popular belief that such crisis may lead to delinquency and crime (Ward, 1989), this was not found among the sample of youths in my study. Only a form of adolescent trauma was evident, characterized by confusion and lack of confidence in youths’ demeanor, expression, and behavior. This situation is described by Da Fonsca in an article entitled Indentitetsoken [In Search of Identity]. According to Da Fonsca, ‘‘Immigrant children often have an identity problem. Their parents have low socioeconomic status, many are without jobs and have language problems. Their children have a problem accepting them as their role model’’ (cited in Aftenposten, November 20, 1996). In the light of being faced with such difficult situations, these youths may often seek a pattern of identification or role models outside the family, and even from the larger society that marginalizes them. The consequence is that they do not do well in school and spend much time devoted to leisure activities such as watching movies and listening to music in search of role models. Sometimes they are successful while other times they are not. They struggle as they are pulled in two directions – by the norms and values that their parents promote, and by those promoted by the larger society. It is this confusion that underlies the bulk of second-generation adjustment difficulties. They are low on ethnic identity and low on integration. It is difficult to predict how long this pattern of disorientation will continue as this more acculturated group achieves adulthood.

DISCUSSION AND ANALYSIS OF FINDINGS First and Second Generation In the preceding sections I reported the content of my interviews with firstgeneration South Asian immigrants without much analytical or interpretative approach. I have simply presented a series of stories (few cases) and explored the processes through which they have accommodated to and integrated into Norway.

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I examined such specific issues as their backgrounds and why they came to Norway. Other issues that came up during these interviews included the early stages of their adaptation, their expectations and aspirations, interaction with Norwegians, language abilities, and cultural distance – with constant reference to the factors of discrimination and identity. Because only portions of the stories were used in each relevant area, some of the accounts may appear to be rather fragmented. What insights have been gained from this study? Overall, I believe that the study yielded negative findings. The levels of participation of immigrants in the surrounding society (functional participation) and the occupational salary order are functions of the interactions in which the immigrant’s integration into the larger society take place. And, as amply conveyed in the narratives above, both of these functions or factors were notably low for my respondents. This indicates that the overall picture of the integration of firstgeneration immigrants in Norway is not positive. For the second generation the position is mixed. Three levels below represent the different modes of integration in Norway. Level one (Diagram ‘‘A’’ in Fig. 1) shows high integration–high ethnic identity. Individuals and groups in plural societies have a strong sense of ethnic culture and are comfortable with norms and values of the larger society. The individuals in this category are second-generation immigrants (as most of my respondents agreed) and their integration depends upon a number of adaptive patterns in the schools, the work place, and among social contacts. The ethnic identity dimension focuses on the retention of ethnic ways and their life styles. This pattern, although not free from generational conflicts and issues like discrimination and exclusion, show a strong bicultural perspective or a dual frame of personality, as I would like to call it. One can easily move in and out of both these domains, although it will probably be difficult to maintain an even balance between the two. Now the question is whether the existence of this bicultural life style or cultural ways can lead to a successful adjustment or to marginality, conflict, and isolation. My findings suggest that there are other factors such as acceptance by the larger society and a number of adaptive patterns that will determine successful integration into the larger society. I predict that most of the second generation when reaching adulthood and beyond (in the next 5–10 years) will be integrated in the mainstream (high integration). Whether they will opt for low ethnic identity or relinquish their cultural identity is a question remained to be seen. But regardless of their own efforts of integration, how outsiders respond to these immigrants’ children must also

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High Integration

High ethnic identity

High ethnic identity Low integration

Diagram A

Diagram B

This model pulls second generation youth in both directions – they retain their ethnic identity while simultaneously attempting to join the larger society.

First generation immigrants belong to this category. These immigrants are less receptive to host society norms and values. The overlapping indicates that individuals have achieved a functional level of integration.

Outcome: dual or bicultural frame of characteristics.

Outcome: a person is more ethnic than Norwegian.

Low integration Low ethnic identity

Diagram C This model shows both patterns on equal levels, which means they are neither greater nor less than each other. In other words, both are low on integration and low on ethnic identity

Fig. 1.

Patterns of Integration and Ethnic Identity.

be taken into account. After all, the color of their skin will undoubtedly remain a visible stigma. Level two (Diagram ‘‘B’’ in Fig. 1), portrays high ethnic identity and low integration, a situation where a majority of individuals from ethnic background maintain their ethnic characteristics and are not motivated or inspired by the larger society’s norms and values. They consider the larger society to be self-centered and highly individualistic. The immigrants emphasize groups’ goals in their daily living and describe themselves as collectivists. Mostly first-generation immigrants in Norway, especially those

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who migrated at an advanced age, are likely to be in this category. In my interviews with the first generation, many felt that the Norwegian society will never treat them equally regardless how much they try to adapt their norms. They are less receptive to Norwegian norms and values. Because of this, they are subjected to more discrimination and racism, although this phenomenon could also be found with the second generation as well. Those of my respondents who answer, ‘‘yes’’ to maintaining a relationship with the host society and to maintaining cultural identity is illustrated by Diagram A in Fig. 1 (high integration, high ethnic identity). This diagram implies some maintenance of the cultural integrity of the group as well as the desire to become an integral part of the host society’s framework. This pattern is most representative of second-generation immigrants. Most of the first-generation respondents fit into the pattern illustrated in Diagram B in Fig. 1. My study shows that most first-generation immigrants have achieved a functional level of integration into Norwegian society but are more comfortable within their ethnic domain. The third level of integration patterns (Diagram ‘‘C’’ in Fig. 1) is the cultural disorientation, which some of my second-generation youth face. Being a product of two different cultures and often being pulled in opposite directions, the second generation fosters a unique mix cultural self-identity by developing a strategy of ‘‘inclusion’’ such as being a part of ethnic customs, and ‘‘exclusion’’ such as identifying themselves as different types of Muslims. In this way, these immigrants are dependent upon a particular kind of identity by drawing and erasing the boundaries inside and outside their ethnic community. This pattern reflects low integration and low identity. The question here is whether in future, will they adopt a ‘‘Norwegian identity’’ and reduce ties to ethnic identity or will ethnic identity be revived in this generation. This will worth investigating more close. Thus, each of these three classifications reflects an integration model available to individuals and groups in multicultural society. Norwegian immigration policy is often summarized by three terms; equality, opportunity, and solidarity. The underlying assumption of these ideals is that the Norwegian mainstream has the power to pull all groups in its direction and thus facilitate a harmonious and multicultural society. Ethnic minorities are welcome, although a ‘‘visibility factor’’ and generational conflicts plays an important role in their integration process. Thus, it is quite clear from the above integration patterns that retaining a separate cultural identity, while at the same time adopting certain norms and values of the Norwegian society, is a desired option for the second-generation ethnic youths in my sample. The ethnic identity dimension essentially

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focuses on a dual frame of reference for better integration and upward mobility. How these youth will succeed in achieving these goals may well be a matter of successful integration. Second-generation children are still in their youth and many are of school age. However, in a few years their presence will be felt to a greater extent in colleges and universities and in the labor and housing market. This is thus an extremely important factor that must be taken into account to a greater degree than previously in order to achieve positive integration of youth of ethnic background and their parents in host society. Many of the theories used in this study originated from traditional countries of immigration for example, United States and England. The Norwegian situation is still recent. Future research will need to develop clear theoretical models to account for the causation of integration problems endured by ethnic minorities. And finally, I hope that this study will serve as a starting point for more extensive studies of immigration and integration issues than I have been able to offer here.

REFERENCES Aftenposten. (1996). In Search of identity. November, Oslo, Norway. Alba, R., & Nee, V. (1997). Rethinking assimilation theory for a new era of immigration. International Migration Review, 31(4), 0826–0874. Aron, R. (1967). Main currents in sociological thoughts. London: Penguin Books. Berg, B. (1998). Innvandrere pa˚ arbeidsmarkedet [Immigrants and the labor market]. Trondhein, Norway: The Institute of Social Research (SINTEF). Berg, B. (1997). Det Kummanale Flyktningarbeid i spennenings feltet. Mellom politikk og forvaltning [The communal refugee work in an interesting phase: Between politics and administration]. Trondhein, Norway: The Institute of Social Research (SINTEF). Berg, B., & Vedi, C. (1994). Fra holding til handling [From Attitudes to Action]. Trondhein, Norway: The Institute of Social Research (SINTEF). Borjas, J. (1990). Friends or strangers: The impact of immigration on the U.S. economy. New York: Basis Books. Bottomore, & Goode, P. (Eds). (1983). Readings in marxist sociology: Marx and engels: The proletariat. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Brettell, P., & Hollifield, J. F. (Eds). (2000). Migration theory: Talking across disciplines. New York: Routledge. Brox, O. (1993). Jeg er ikke racist, meny.’’ [I’ am not racist, Buty.’’]. Oslo, Norway: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag. Byrkje, K., Dyvi, E. B., Inkoon, R., Johansen, T. (1991). Tor vi satse pa˚ invandrere? [Should We Trust Immigrants?] Institutt for Sosiologi, Universitetet I Oslo. Durkheim, E. (1984). The division of labor in society. London: Macmillan. Erikson, E. (1963). Childhood and society (2nd ed.). New York: Norton Publisher.

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Fuglerud, O. (1996). Between nation and state: Aspects of Tamil refugee migration from Sri Lanka to Norway. Ph.D. Dissertation. Institute and Museum Anthropology, University of Oslo, Norway. Gans, H. (1992). Second generation decline: Scenarios for the economic and ethnics futures of the post-1965 American immigrants. Journal of Ethnic and Racial Studies, 15(2), 173–192. Guba, E. G., & Lincoln, Y. S. (1989). Fourth generation evaluation. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Hamburger, C. (1989). Assimilation eller Integration. Danske innvandringspolitikk og tyrkiske kvinner. A˚rhus: Politica. Hamburger, C. (1993). Ethnic equality and integration in Denmark. Migration (18), 25–39. Hernes, G., & Knudsen, K. (1994). Klimaskisfte: Norske reaksjoner pa˚ flyktninger, asylsøker og invanndrere [Climate Change: Norwegian Reaction to Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Immigrants]. Tidskrift for samfunnsforsikring, 3/94, 319–342. Isbister, J. (1996). The immigration debate: Remaking America. Connecticut: Kumarian Press. Larsen, M. (1992). Innvandrere og Integrasjon [Immigrants and Integration]. Masters dissertation. University of Oslo, Norway. Ljunggren, S.-B. (1988). Conservatism in Norway and Sweden. Sage Modern Politics Series Volume 22. London: Sage. Merametdjian, M. C. (1995). Somalian refugees in Tromsø: Acculturation of Men and Women, Tromsø. Unpublished Master’s Thesis. University of Tromsø, Norway. Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics. (1999). Statistics Norway, Oslo. Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics. (2000). Statistics Norway, Oslo. Norwegian Central Bureau of Statistics. (2001). Statistics Norway, Oslo. Portes, A. (1995). Economic sociology and the sociology of economics: A conceptual overview. Berkeley: University of California Press. Portes, A., & Rambout, R. (1996). Immigrant America: A portrait (2nd ed.). Berkeley: University of California Press. Rex, J. (1970). Race relations in sociological theory. New York: Schocken Books. Rumbaut, R. (1997). Assimilation and it’s discontents: Between rhetoric and reality. International Migration Review, 31(4), 923–960. Schierup, C.-U. (1988). Integration? Innvandrere, kultur og samfun [Integration? immigrants, culture and society]. Copenhagen: Billes and Baltzer. Ward, D. (1989). Poverty, ethnicity and the American City, 1840–1925. New York: Cambridge University Press. Weber, M. (1978). Economy and society. Berkeley: University of California Press.

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STATUS MAXIMIZATION, HYPODESCENT THEORY, OR SOCIAL IDENTITY THEORY? A THEORETICAL APPROACH TO UNDERSTANDING THE RACIAL IDENTIFICATION OF MULTIRACIAL ADOLESCENTS Matthew Oware ABSTRACT This chapter examines whether the racial identification of mixed-race adolescents can be understood through several theories: Status Maximization Theory, the rule of hypodescent, or social identity theory. Status Maximization theory posits that mixed-race adolescents will attempt to identify as the highest racial status group they possibly can. The rule of hypodescent or hypodescent theory, also known as the onedrop rule, is a legacy of the Plantation-era South and prescribes that mixed-race individuals identify as their lowest status racial identity. Social identity theory posits that the higher frequency or quality of contacts with parents or individuals in mixed-race adolescents’ peer Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 225–253 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15010-3

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networks affect the racial identification of mixed-race adolescents. Also, social identity contends that a mixed-race adolescent’s intergroup dynamic (measured here as a child’s level of self-esteem, whether there is prejudice at school, and a child’s self-concept) dictates how he or she will racially identify. Through analyses of mixed-race adolescents in the National Longitudinal Adolescent Health (Add Health), I find that Asian-white and American-Indian-white adolescents do not status maximize nor abide by hypodescent, while black-white adolescents do not status maximize but do adhere to hypodescent when forced to choose one race. There is no tendency for the frequency or quality of contact with parents, romantic partners, or school composition to affect racial identity, as predicted by social identity theory. Yet, several of the aforementioned social-psychological variables are found to influence the racial identification of mixed-race adolescents. Specifically, whether they felt positively about school, if they experienced prejudice, whether they had higher levels of self-esteem, and if they felt socially accepted by their peers. Another key finding from this research suggests that racial identification for Asianwhite and American-Indian-white adolescents are both fluid and optional; this is not the case for black-white adolescents. I conclude by offering the implications of these findings for black-white multiracial individuals.

Extensive scholarship asserts that ‘‘race’’ is socially constructed; it is not strictly biologically determined. The meaning and classification scheme of race and racial groups is delineated based on the society one lives in (Cornell & Hartmann, 1998; Omi & Winant, 1994). The social construction of race can be seen in census classifications and how these have recently changed. Prior to 2000, people were not allowed to identify themselves as more than one race. If they insisted on so classifying themselves then they were either their mother’s race or the race most represented in their neighborhood (Farley, 2001). However, in 2000, when for the first time, individuals were allowed to identify as more than one race, 6.8 million people, or 2.4% of the population so identified themselves (Bureau of Census, 2000). The majority of individuals identifying as more than one race were adolescents 18 and under (Farley, 2001), suggesting that, in the immediate future, increasing numbers of individuals may identify solely as multiracial. Still remaining to be determined are the social factors that influence the identification of mixed-race individuals. There is growing anecdotal evidence as well as empirical research that suggests that the racial identification of

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mixed-race adolescents and adults is influenced by such factors as parental involvement; the racial composition of their neighborhood and school; their peer networks; their romantic partners; their economic backgrounds; how they perceive themselves in relation to marginalized communities; and the quality of contact with individuals in their social networks (Chideya, 1999; Field, 1996; Funderburg, 1994; Harris & Sim, 2002; Harris, 2002; Korgen, 1998; Miller, 1992; Rockquemore & Brunsma, 2002; Storrs, 1999; Wallace, 2001; Xie & Goyette, 1997). First, I discuss how the notion of mixed-race identity came into prominence due to influence from multiracial advocacy groups. Next, I briefly detail how families of multiple race individuals, and mixed-race individuals themselves experienced multiraciality. Within this context, I then discuss the theoretical approaches I want to test in relation with this topic. Finally, I provide some implications of these findings for mixed-race people.

BRIEF HISTORY In the past, there have always been individuals who identified themselves as more than one race, but this claim was not acknowledged nor legitimated by the United States government until 2000. In part, these actions came about due to multiracial advocacy groups. In the early 1990s groups such as Project Race and American Multiethnic Association argued that there should be a multiracial category on the census and other governmental and state forms. The rationale was that multiple race individuals have the right to be able to identify all aspects of their identity and this was in line with the American idea of individuals having their rights legitimated and protected; that is, the right to self-determination, in this case, the ability to self-identify the way one wants. These groups argued that the census and other government and state agencies failed to acknowledge these rights by not identifying a growing segment of American society. In her groundbreaking book on mixed-race identity, Root (1992) (who is herself multiracial and argues for recognition of multiracial identity) proposes a Bill of Rights for racially mixed people. In it she asserts: I have the right not to keep the races separate within me not to be responsible for people’s discomfort with my physical ambiguity not to justify my ethnic legitimacy to identify myself differently than strangers expect me to identify (pg. 7)

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I have the right to identify myself differently than how my parents identify me to identify myself differently than my brothers and sisters to identify myself differently in different situations to change my identity over my lifetime––and more than once (pg. 7).

Robbin (2000) details the massive campaign for a multiracial category by organizations such as Project Race and the American MultiEthnic Association in which they testified in the 1993 congressional hearings held in Boston, Denver, San Francisco, and Honolulu that denying individuals the right to classify themselves as more than one race is prejudicial and discriminatory. In addition, this limitation would only perpetuate the alienation and marginalization that multiple race individuals felt in a monoracial society. Websites have appeared such as Interracial Voice, where writers, mixed-race and single-race, advocate that a multiracial category be placed on the 2000 Census. These groups partially succeeded when on October 29, 1997 the US Office of Management and Budget announced that it would allow Americans to classify themselves as more than one race on the 2000 Census – yet, this was not the multiracial category demanded by these groups (Farley, 2001). In addition to there being a political push for the acknowledgement of a multiracial identity, during this time there was also research that examined the experiences of adolescents who possessed mixed-race backgrounds. Cauce et al. (1992) write that the family environment is crucial to a biracial child’s understanding of his or her heritage. The mother and father, as well as brother, sisters, or extended family may encourage and support the development of a multiracial identity. Ladner (1986) writes that multiracial families communicate subtle and explicit messages to their children about the racial identity they should adopt. Specifically, those adolescents who openly talked about racial issues with their parents were more likely to identify as multiracial than those who did not (Kerwin et al., 1993). Other scholar’s examination of mixed-race individuals attempted to socially understand their identity. One of Funderburg’s (1994) respondents wrote that his father was a black soldier stationed in Iceland and his mother was (white) Icelandic. He writes that he was born in Iceland and since there were no blacks in Iceland where he grew up he considered himself white. When he moved to the United States, in the New York area to live with his father, his friends told him that he had to learn how to ‘‘act’’ black. Finally, when he moved to Miami, blacks did not accept him; his friends were Latinos, and he began to identify himself as mixed. Another of Funderburg’s interviewees stated: ‘‘ y not only personally, but visually

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I wanted to emulatey [my mother] in every possible way y because I was raised by a white person and because most of the people I was surrounded by were white, that became my culture’’ (p. 43). In their study of blackJapanese biracials, Hall (1992) and Kerwin et al. (1993) found that there was a greater tendency by their respondents to identify as black when they lived in predominately black neighborhoods and had predominately black friends. Indeed, dating for mixed-race teens becomes more complex than for monoracial ones. Twine (1996) writes that ‘‘in an attempt to socially construct a different identity, they [mixed–race adolescents] selected partners who were ‘marked’ racially, that is individuals who were recognized as belonging to the racial category which they now identified’’ (p. 297). She found that when adolescents who are mixed with a minority status do not want to identify as minority, they do not date minorities. She gives the example of an adolescent who was a biracial black and (white) Jewish person who avoided dating black girls because he wanted to assert a biracial identity, not a black identity. However, Hall (1992) cautions that in the case of peer groups or romantic partners, racial identification may have been antecedent to group or partner acceptance. That is, an individual may have identified as a particular race prior to establishing friendships or acquiring a romantic partner. Consequently, investigating other environmental factors such as school and neighborhood composition over which the adolescent has little influence, along with the race of the romantic partner, is important in determining the relationship between these variables and racial identification. In this chapter, I examine the effects of the aforementioned social factors, but move beyond this to approach the understanding of the racial identification of multiracial individuals from differing theoretical frameworks. There is emerging research that claims that not all multiracial individuals experience being ‘‘mixed-race’’ in the same manner (Debose & Winters, 2003). For example, Asian-white or American-Indian-white individuals do not face the same levels of antagonism, tensions, or constraints from their respective monoracial populations as do black-white racial combinations due to the history of slavery and legalized institutional discrimination against blacks (Debose & Winters, 2003; Lee & Bean, 2004). Slavery as well as other forms of institutional oppression against minorities created racial hierarchies with blacks being at the very bottom and American-Indians and Asians located between blacks and whites (Spickard, 1989; Eduardo-Bonilla Silva, 2004). There is a general belief that Asians have achieved a ‘‘model-minority’’ status, although scholars from the

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Asian-American community refute this claim (Gans, 2004; Wu, 2002). In addition, Asians and Asian-American rates of intermarriage to whites are nearly triple that of blacks, with some Asian groups being more likely to intermarry with whites rather than others (Lee & Bean, 2004; Wu, 2002, p. 273). Native Americans also intermarry with whites at higher rates than do blacks, with approximately half marrying non-American-Indians; that is, marrying whites, blacks, and other minorities (C. Matthew Snipp, 2002). This research tests whether multiracial adolescents of differing backgrounds react to this implicit (and explicit) racial hierarchy by attempting to identify as the highest status race that they possibly can, status maximization, or whether they employ the hypodescent rule, which stipulates that a mixed-race individual identify as their lowest status racial identity. Alternatively, I will test whether multiracial adolescents utilize social identity theory, which argues that the quality and frequency of contacts with peers and parents, as well as other social-psychological variables affect the racial identification of multiracial adolescents. In all, specific hypotheses are drawn from an extension of status maximization theory (Davis & Robinson, 1998), the one-drop rule, which I will call hypodescent theory in this work (Davis, 1991), and social identity theory (Deaux & Ethier, 1998).

Status Maximization Theory Status Maximization theory posits a process whereby individuals attempt to adopt the highest status identity that they can reasonably justify. This theory was originally advanced in the area of class identities of married couples, where it has been found that husbands tend to take into account their wives’ characteristics in forming their class identity only if their wives’ characteristics can be used to justify a higher class identity (Baxter, 1994; Davis & Robinson, 1998). For example, Davis and Robinson (1998) find that husbands whose wives’ incomes are higher than theirs or whose wives work longer hours than they do use these characteristics, and not their own to justify a higher class identity. Extending this logic to racial identities, we would expect that mixed-race adolescents with one white parent specifically may understand that there is a hierarchy of racial statuses and attempt to status maximize by identifying themselves as white – the higher status of their parents’ races, and if not as white then as multiracial, before identifying as the lower status race. Eduardo Bonilla-Silva (1997) asserts that there is currently a racialized social structure that places blacks, Asians, and American-Indians below

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whites. In addition, he speculates that there will be a ‘‘tri-racial’’ stratification system with ‘‘assimilated urban Native Americans’’ represented in the ‘‘white’’ strata and Japanese Americans, Korean Americans, and Chinese Americans grouped in the ‘‘honorary white’’ strata (2004, p. 225). In his hypothetical future racial stratification system, Gans (2004) writes that skin color and class status will be the primary determinants of racial hierarchies, with darker and poorer groups represented at the bottom and lighter and wealthier groups represented towards the top. Clearly, in both of these stratification systems minorities are below whites, setting up a white-non-white dichotomy. Based on this racial hierarchy there may be a greater ability for Asianwhite individuals and American-Indian-white individuals to identify themselves solely as white (the highest racial status category). Because of their supposed ‘‘model-minority’’ status, mixed-race Asian-white individuals can potentially legitimately choose to ‘‘identify up’’ as white. Indeed, Gans (2004) writes that the Asians’ increasing rates of intermarriage with whites may be eliminating the social boundary that constructs them as a separate race. Joanne Nagel (1995) observes that there are increasing numbers of individuals with Caucasian backgrounds who also identify themselves as American-Indians. Indeed, a substantial portion of American-Indians are in fact mixed-raced (Snipp, 2002). In their summary of the research on multiracial identification, Lee and Bean (2004, p.230) report that 50% of American-Indian-white and Asian-white intermarried couples report an exclusively white racial identity for their offspring. Moreover, Eschbach, Supple, and Snipp (1998) argue that the fact that some whites on the 1990 Census reported American-Indian ancestry signifies the flexibility of racial boundaries for this group. Thus, the same logic may hold for multiracial American-Indian-white individuals – they can freely identify as white without being rebuffed by others. Therefore, I hypothesize that mixed-race white-non-white racial combinations will attempt to status maximize and racially identify as white.

Hypodescent Theory Hypodescent theory, more commonly referred to as the one-drop rule, prescribes that mixed-race individuals identify as the subordinate status of their racial identities (Davis, 1991; Christian, 2000). This idea emerged from the plantation-era South and focused on the subordination of blacks and the preservation of white supremacy. Specifically, individuals who were

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black-white were forced to identify as solely black. Indeed, a legacy of hypodescent is blacks continued adherence to the ‘‘one-drop rule.’’ There is still the expectation for mixed-race black-white children to choose a black identity (Wright, 1994). Furthermore, there is still the social assignment of a black identity by peers, parents, and community to mixed-race black-white individuals. (Poussaint, 1984; Thornton, 1992, 1996). Thus, any individual who is black-white may feel forced to identify himself or herself as black (Davis, 1991; Spickard, 1989). However, I apply this theory more broadly, meaning that if there are white-non-white combinations, the adolescent will identify as their minority status instead of their white identity because of the societal pressure to identify as the subordinate status.1 In effect this hypothesis is the converse of the previous one: I hypothesize that mixed-race white-non-white adolescents will identify overwhelmingly as their minority statuses when required to choose one race.

Social Identity Theory Unlike status maximization and hypodescent theory, social identity theory (Stets & Burke, 2000; Stryker, 1980) is not focused on a racial hierarchy or the specific race of an individual, but rather on intergroup relationships, or ‘‘how people come to see themselves as members of one group/category (the in-group) in comparison with another (the out-group)’’ (p. 226). Members of the in-group view themselves as similar to one another, holding the same beliefs and attitudes in contrast to members of the out-group. Social identity theory is context- and situation-driven in that an individual’s own identity can be influenced by another person’s attributes, for example, a person’s sex, ethnicity, race, and nationality at a particular moment in time can affect how a multiracial individual will identify herself or himself. Thus, if an individual sees himself or herself as sharing certain beliefs or commonalities with other people, then he or she may identify himself as part of that group, subsequently fully subscribing to the tenets of said group. I will interpret the social identity theory argument in terms of frequency, or the number of contacts, and quality, or importance of contacts, in adolescents’ social networks. The social networks examined will include adolescents’ parents, romantic partners, neighbors, and schoolmates. Several researchers have found that the racial identities of mixed-race adolescents are influenced by these factors (Chideya, 1999; Field, 1996; Funderburg, 1994; Storrs, 1999; Xie & Goyette, 1997).

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Field (1996) finds that the mixed-race adolescents she interviewed indicated that they take on the racial identity of the group that they establish ties with. Many of the respondents in Funderburg’s (1994) and Chideya’s (1999) interviewees consistently said that they take on the racial identity of their peers in their neighborhood or their school. Finally, the family environment influences a biracial child’s understanding of his or her heritage (Cauce et al., 1992). These examples illustrate the importance of social networks, such as parents, peer groups, schools, and neighborhoods. From previous research, it is clear that these factors influence multiracial identification, but what needs to be discerned is whether the frequency of contacts, alone, affects racial self-classification, or whether the quality or importance of these contacts, alone, affects racial identification, or if it is some combination of the two. Given this logic, social identity theory posits that the more frequent contact that mixed-race adolescents have with their parent of a given race, the more likely they are to identify as that race than as multiracial, and the more likely they are to identify as multiracial than as the other parent’s race (this same logic holds for peer groups, schoolmates, and romantic partners). Cooke (1997) reports that one of her biracial Asian-white respondents identified more as white because he lived and went to school in Southern white towns. In her interview with 53 college age white-Japanese respondents, Mass (1992) found that parental support of a multiracial identity and the geographic location or the proportion of whites and Japanese that lived in a specific community affected the psychological wellbeing of mixed-race Japanese-whites. These studies suggest that the frequency of contact is important for adolescents when they are establishing a racial identity, leading to the hypothesis that mixed-race adolescents who have higher frequencies of contact with neighbors, schoolmates, friends, and romantic partners of each of their parents’ races will be more likely to identify as multiracial than those who have little contact. Researchers have found that when mixed-race adolescents talk to their parents beyond a superficial level about their racial background then they are more likely to identify as multiracial (Johnson, 1992; Rockquemore & Brunsma, 2002). Rockquemore and Brunsma (2002) found that if a mixedrace adolescent feels close or is highly involved with their peers of different races or families where both the mother and father are present, then they are more likely to identify as multiracial. Johnson (1992) specifically states that the quality and frequency of contact that a child has with their family will influence their racial identification. These studies suggest that beyond frequency of contact, the quality of the contact that mixed-race adolescents

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have with their social networks are important to their racial identification. Thus, the greater the quality of contact that mixed-race adolescents have with their parent of a given race, the more likely they are to identify as that race than as multiracial, and the more likely they are to identify as multiracial than as the other parent’s race. This logic also applies to schoolmates, friends, and romantic partners. Not only are the quality and frequency and quality of contact with family members and peers important for self-identification purposes, but they also help establish and fortify a child’s self-concept and self-esteem (Johnson, 1992). Therefore, in addition to examining the quality and frequency of contact with schoolmates, friends, parents, and romantic partners, I will include social-psychological variables that have been found to affect an adolescent’s racial identification: self-esteem, how adolescents feel about school, perceptions of prejudice by other students, and whether the adolescent feels socially accepted by their peers. Earlier research purported to find that individuals who identified as multiracial had feelings of low selfesteem, were confused over their racial identity, and experienced psychological and behavioral problems (Gibbs, 1987; Piskacek & Golub, 1973; Tiecher, 1968). Yet, Cauce et al. (1992) found that the sample of adolescents that they studied did not differ from the monoracial minority control group in terms of life stress, behavioral problems, psychological distress, competence, or self-worth. Being allowed to select multiple racial categories is a new phenomena and given the pressure to ‘‘take sides’’ in matters of race may require adolescents have a relatively high self-esteem, good support from others, and live in a relatively non-prejudiced environment. Thus, I hypothesize that the greater the self-esteem, the more they feel accepted by others, and the less prejudiced and fair they perceive individuals in their social environment, the more mixed-race adolescents will identify as multiracial rather than as only one parent’s races.

METHODS Data for this research are drawn from the National Longitudinal Adolescent Health dataset (Add Health). The longitudinal study was designed to examine the individual, environmental, and contextual factors that influence the health of adolescents from grades 7 through 12 as of 1994. The survey consisted of two waves. The first wave was an in-school survey of adolescents from grades 7 through 12 and was administered in 132 schools during the spring of 1994. Of those schools that qualified, 80 were selected

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with a total 90,000 students from grades 7 through 12. The second wave was a follow-up to this in 1995, which consisted of an in-home interview of the adolescent and the principle caregiver. The sample in this work is limited to adolescents who completed the Add Health survey at home, who live with both of their biological parents, and whose biological parents identify as different races. The sample pool of adolescents is based on the race of the parents to determine whether one race takes precedence over another or if both races are given equal weight by the adolescent when they racially identify themselves. Therefore, it is important that the parents be of different races. In addition, it is essential that the child have, theoretically, equal access to both parents. Thus, it is imperative that both biological parents live at home with the child. Employing these constraints produces a sample of 142 non-Hispanic, mixed-race adolescents who live at home with both of their biological parents. The sample does not include the children of parents who identify as Hispanic or children who identify as Hispanic since this is not considered a ‘‘racial’’ category. A key strength of the Add Health survey for the purposes of this research is its construction of the race question. The in-school and at-home surveys ask, ‘‘What is your race? If you are of more than one race, you may choose more than one.’’ The categories available to choose from are white, black or African-American, Asian or Pacific Islander, AmericanIndian or Native-American, and other. Adolescents are allowed the opportunity to check more than one racial category. However, on the athome survey adolescents who select more than one race are asked a followup question that forces them to choose one race from the aforementioned categories. Thus, the opportunity to examine whether adolescents status maximize or adhere to the one-drop rule can be determined using the openended and forced choice questions. The dependent variable measures whether the adolescent identifies as their mother’s race, father’s race, or as multiracial (both races). This is a three-category dependent variable coded: (1) if the adolescent chooses the father’s race, (2) for multiracial identification, and (3) if the adolescent identifies as the mother’s race. For purposes of the analyses, whites are classified as the highest status race, with blacks, Asians, and American-Indians being treated equally, but lower than white. Therefore, if there is a black-white combination, then white would be the highest racial status and black would be the lowest. If there is an Asian-black or Asian-Native-American combination then these statuses would be treated the same.2 The coding of the independent variables is given in the Appendix.

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RESULTS I begin by testing the status maximization hypothesis that mixed-race adolescents will be more likely to identify as the race of the parent with the higher status race (that is, white) than as multiracial, and more likely to identify as multiracial than as the race of the parent with the lower status race. Table 1 shows which racial identity is chosen by adolescents when their mother’s racial status is higher than their father’s (that is, white), when both of their parents’ races are equal (or when it is minority– minority), and when their father’s racial status is higher than their mother’s (that is, white) (w2 ¼ 1.290, df ¼ 4; p ¼ .863). These crosstabulations reveal that there is no relationship between parents racial status and the racial identification of the child, providing no support for the hypothesis. In additional analyses not shown here, I used multinomial logistical regression to test whether the parents’ racial status variables predict the racial identification of adolescents. Confirming the crosstabulations, mixed-race adolescents are no more likely to identify as the race of the parent with the higher race than as multiracial, nor are they more likely to identify as multiracial than as the race of the parent with the lower status.3 Next, I test whether the presence of a black parent overrides any tendency for multiracial adolescents to status maximize. While this is a test of hypodescent, it is also implicitly, a test of status maximization because this theory predicts that a person with one black parent would attempt to identify as the higher status race; that is, as white.

Table 1.

Crosstabulation of Parental Racial Status with Adolescent Racial Identity (N ¼ 142). Adolescent Selects Father’s race Both mother’s and Mother’s race father’s races

Mother is white (%) Racial statuses equal (%) Father is white (%) Total (%) w2 Degrees of freedom

14.1 18.5 11.4 14.0

62.0 51.9 63.6 60.6 1.290 4

23.9 29.6 25.0 25.4

Total

100 (N ¼ 71) 100 (N ¼ 27) 100 (N ¼ 44) 100 (N ¼ 142)

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Table 2 presents the crosstabulation of whether adolescents with one black parent choose their father’s race, mother’s race, or a multiracial classification when asked to select more than one race (w2 ¼ 16.80, df ¼ 2; po.001). There is a relationship between having a black parent and racial identification. Where the mother is black, 71% choose to identify as their mother’s race (i.e., black), 29% select multiracial, and none pick their father’s race (although there are only seven cases where the mother is black). Thus, hypodescent theory seems to apply. When the father is black, 22% identify only as black, 69% of the adolescents choose a multiracial identification, and 9% choose only their mother’s race. When the mother is black there is a tendency for the adolescent to identify as black. This is not the case with the father; when the father is black, there is a tendency to identify predominately as multiracial. But, among such adolescents who choose a single racial identity, they are twice as likely to identify as black (22%) than white (9%). Overall, though, when the father is black, there is a tendency towards status maximization (choosing a multiracial identification or white) than to adhere to the hypodescent theory and identify as black. Consequently, in the cases where the mother is black, hypodescent theory seems to apply. However, when the father is black adolescents predominately identify as multiracial. When limiting the analyses to only Asian-white, American-Indian-white, and black-white racial combinations and examining the forced race question where adolescents are asked to specify one race (N ¼ 105), I find that: (1) for Asian-white adolescents, there is a slight tendency to identify as white, although the percentages are fairly close (45% Asian and 52% white); (2) American-Indian-white adolescents choose American-Indian and white at equal rates, 50% for both; and (3) black-white adolescents adhere to the Table 2.

Crosstabulation of Racial Status with Adolescent Racial Identity for Adolescents with One Black Parent (N ¼ 52). Adolescent Selects Father’s race

Multiracial

Mother’s race

Total

0 22.2 19.2

28.6 68.9 63.5 16.796 2

71.4 8.9 17.3

100 (N ¼ 7) 100 (N ¼ 45) 100 (N ¼ 52)

Mother black (%) Father black (%) Total (%) w2 Degrees of freedom po.001 (one-tailed test).

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one-drop rule, choosing a black identity by a three to one margin. Thus, these findings disconfirm the hypotheses that adolescents status maximize. Specifically, for Asian-white and American-Indian-white combinations, adolescents do not status maximize and choose a predominately white racial identity, while mixed-race black-white adolescents overwhelmingly choose a black racial identification (Table 3). I next test the hypotheses put forth by social identity theory, specifically, that the high frequency of contact and the quality of contact between mixedrace adolescents and their parents and peer networks will influence their racial identification. Overall, in Tables 4–7, using multinomial logistical regression, I found no significance between the frequent contact with either parent and mixed-race adolescents’ social networks (friends, schoolmates, and romantic partners) on how they racially identified. The same finding holds for quality of contact between mixed-race adolescents and their parents or their peer networks (although, as found in Table 5 for every instance that a child is satisfied with their father he or she is 20% less likely to identify as their mother’s race vs. a multiracial identification4). Due to high multicollinearity between the aforementioned variables, I had to include each one in a separate model. Also, small sample sizes did not allow for individual analyses for each racial combination (i.e., Asian-white, American-Indian-white, and black-white combinations). Albeit none of the quality and quality of contact variables were significant, there were significant findings among the social-psychological Table 3.

Adolescent’s Responses to a Question Forcing Them to Identify as Their Mother’s or Their Father’s Race (N ¼ 105).

American Indian Asian Black White

Asian-Whitea (N ¼ 60)

American-Indian-White (N ¼ 14)

Black-Whiteb (N ¼ 31)

2% (1) 45% (27) –

50% (7) –





52% (31)

50% (7)

71% (22) 23% (7)



Note: Percentages under each column represent the percentage of adolescents who choose each racial category (e.g., for Asian-white, 1 person chose American-Indian, 27 chose Asian, etc.). a Continued to identify as white and Asian. b Continued to identify as white and black.

Status Maximization, Hypodescent Theory, or Social Identity Theory? Table 4.

239

Multinomial Regression of Child’s Racial Identification on Frequency of Contact with Fathers vs. Mothers (N ¼ 129).

More activities with father Constant Pseudo R2

Model 1

Model 2

Father’s race vs. multiracial

Mother’s race vs. multiracial

.241 (1.273) 1.669

.057 (.944) 1.324 .189

Notes: Odds ratios are in parentheses; reference category on dependent variable is multiracial.

Table 5.

Multinomial Regression of Satisfaction with Parents for Fathers and Mothers (N ¼ 134).

More satisfied with father Constant Pseudo R2

Model 1

Model 2

Father’s race vs. multiracial

Mother’s race vs. multiracial

.059 (1.061) .882

.202 (.817) 1.492 .190

Notes: Odds ratios are in parentheses; reference category on dependent variable is multiracial. po.05 (one-tailed test).

Table 6.

Multinomial Regression of Closeness with Parents For Fathers and Mothers (N ¼ 129).

Closeness with parent Constant Pseudo R2

Model 1

Model 2

Father’s race vs. multiracial

Mother’s race vs. multiracial

.515 (1.674) 1.278

.260 (.771) 1.435 .187

Notes: Odds ratios are in parentheses; reference category on dependent variable is multiracial.

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Multinomial Regression of Child’s Racial Identity on Quality of Contact with Romantic Partner Variables (N ¼ 141).

Multiracial vs. non-multiracial romantic partner Involvement Involvement  multiracial vs. non-multiracial romantic partner Constant Pseudo R2

Model 1

Model 2

Father’s race vs. multiracial

Mother’s race vs. multiracial

.997 (2.710) .231 (1.297) .137 (.872) 0.059

2.906 (3.131) .182 (.194) .626 (.607) .145 .018

Notes: Odds ratios are in parentheses; reference category on dependent variable is multiracial.

variables. Examining Model 1 of Table 8, I found that if children feel positive about their school then they are 38% higher to identify as their father’s race as opposed to multiracial. The more adolescents perceive students in their school as prejudiced then the odds of them identifying as their father’s race as compared to multiracial increase by 115%.5 If children like themselves the way they are then the odds are 341% higher that they will identify as their father’s race than as multiracial. At the same time, however, the more children feel socially accepted the less likely they are to identify as their father’s race in comparison to multiracial by 78%. In Model 2 of Table 8, the more children perceive prejudice at their school then the more likely they are to identify as their mother’s race in comparison to multiracial by 115%. The odds increase by 183% that they will identify as their mother’s race as opposed to multiracial the more they like themselves the way they are. However, the odds decrease by 64% that an adolescent will identify with their mother’s race in comparison to multiracial when he or she feels more socially accepted by their peers. Both Models 1 and 2 partially support my hypotheses regarding social identity theory in relation to the social-psychological variables. First, possibly due to the emotional attachment that parents have with their mixed-race children (as argued by Radina & Cooney, 2000), attempting to buffer them from negative experiences, these children may associate positive experiences in school with their parents, subsequently identifying racially as that parent (in this case the father). Also, if students perceive prejudice at

Status Maximization, Hypodescent Theory, or Social Identity Theory? Table 8.

Multinomial Regression of Child’s Race on Quality of Relationship Variables in School (N ¼ 105). Model 1

Model 2

Father’s race vs. multiracial

Mother’s race vs. multiracial

.322 (1.380) .179 (1.196) .763 (2.145) 1.483 (4.406) 1.720 (.180) .394 (1.483) .137 (1.147) 1.168

.119 (1.130) .135 (1.145) .485 (1.624) 1.039 (2.826) 1.010 (.364) .071 (1.074) .249 (.780) 12.354

Feel positive about school Teacher is fair towards students Students in school are prejudiced Like myself the way I am Feel socially accepted Feel safe in neighborhood Proportion white in school Constant Pseudo R2

241

.130

Notes: Odds ratios are in parentheses; reference category on dependent variable is multiracial. po.05 (one-tailed test).

their school then they are more likely to identify either as their mother’s or father’s race rather than as multiracial. Perhaps adolescents’ who perceive their school as prejudiced may feel forced to choose a single race, rather than seek to compromise (which would entail having a multiracial identification). Next, the way adolescents feel about themselves and whether they feel accepted by others influence how they racially identify. It is possible that children with high self-esteem have the confidence to choose one of their parent’s races over the compromise between them, which is to identify as multiracial. At the same time, adolescents who feel socially accepted by their peers (presumably at school since this is where the question is asked) are more likely than those who feel less accepted to identify as multiracial. They may be attempting to ‘‘fit in’’ with their multiracial environment. These findings corroborate the literature that suggests that social-psychological factors such as self-esteem and external factors such as peer networks influence racial identification (Chideya, 1999; Field, 1996; Funderburg,

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1994; Gibbs, 1987; Piskacek & Golub, 1973; Radina & Cooney, 2000; Root, 1992, 1996; Storrs, 1999; Xie & Goyette, 1997).

CONCLUSION Through analyses of data on mixed-race adolescents drawn from the Add health survey data, I find that mixed-race adolescents, generally do not status maximize, specifically, adolescents who are Asian-white and American-Indian-white are as likely to select their minority statuses as they are to choose a white status when they are forced to select one racial identity. Adolescents who are mixed-race black-white are more likely to choose a black racial identification when they are limited to selecting one race. Hence, these adolescents are constrained by the one-drop rule. Although these findings do not support the status maximization theory, they are interesting nonetheless. In her seminal piece on the ethnic identification of whites in the United States, Ethnic Options, Waters (1990) argues that whites have ‘‘optional ethnicities,’’ they can freely choose to identify themselves as ethnic or not. My findings suggest that this applies as well to Asian-white and American-Indian-white individuals. These results reveal that these individuals are able to select either a solely white or strictly minority status without negative repercussions suggesting that racial and ethnic boundaries are dissipating for this population. However, because of the legacy of the one-drop rule, black-white individuals may view themselves as limited to selecting an exclusively black identity when asked to choose one race, suggesting that racial boundaries continue to be maintained for these individuals and that racial identification for this group is impermeable (Lee & Bean, 2004). Furthermore, black-white mixtures may not be immune to the forms of discrimination and prejudice that are visited upon blacks. This finding suggests that Gans’ (2004) and Bonilla-Silva’s (2004) future racial stratification systems will come into existence. That is, racial hierarchies will transform from a white-non-white dichotomy to a blacknon-black dualism. Overall, the frequency or quality of contacts that mixed-race adolescents had with their parents or members of their social networks had no effect on racial identification. Yet, some social-psychological variables were significant, confirming these set of hypotheses for social identity theory. Selfesteem, self-concept, and perceived prejudice do affect how a child identifies

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himself or herself, corroborating previous findings. Future research on mixed-race adolescents should continue to examine how these individuals relate to more ‘‘qualitative’’ indicators such as how an adolescent feels about himself or herself and how they may connect to or feel alienated from students or teachers at their schools.

BROADER IMPLICATIONS Early literature on multiracial individuals tended to depict them as psychologically and emotionally dysfunctional; these individuals were viewed as being unable to freely move and successfully negotiate a monoracial world. They were perceived as being alienated and marginalized due to their mixed-race status. Primarily, this literature focused on blackwhite interactions (Spickard, 1992). Indeed, according to my findings it is harder for black-white mixtures to assertively select a white identity, as compared to other minority-white combinations. This is because, historically, blacks who chose a white identification – who passed – where viewed as traitors to the black community, essentially thought of as abandoning blacks and blackness. This perspective manifested itself in the 2000 elections when some black radio station disc jockeys implored mixed-race blacks to select a singular black identification because of the perceived lose of political power that could occur in the black community. Maria Root’s multiracial proclamation detailed at the beginning of this chapter speaks to the narrowly defined views of racial identification from some monoracial blacks as well as other groups. Although Root and other multiracials attempt to carve out an emotional, physical, and psychological space for themselves, they are still ultimately responding to a deeply entrenched taxonomy that articulates singular racial identities, not multiple ones. Thus, the proverbial question towards multiracial individuals: ‘‘What (single) race are you?’’ Hence, although there is current literature that theoretically discusses the fluidity of racial identification, based on context, place and so forth, the reality on the ground is that ‘‘how’’ these individuals actually live continues to be determined by others. The sorts of choices that mixed-race individuals can make about themselves are, partially, dictated by outside groups and people. Unfortunately, according to my findings, the push for mixed-race individuals to select a single race could affect their selfesteem and their self-concept, which would ultimately only reinforce the belief that these individuals are ‘‘tragically mulatto.’’

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NOTES 1. Although hypodescent has mainly been discussed in relation to black mixtures, Davis (1991) writes about other societies where there is variability in terms of whether an individual with different ancestries chooses a subordinate or superior status than their parents. 2. This research focuses on American-Indian-white, Asian-white, and black-white combinations since these constitute the largest combinations in my sample and are the most frequently discussed combinations in the research on multiracial identity. 3. In this analysis and the ones that follow there were no significant differences found between the racial identification of males and females. There were also not significant differences based on income, findings there were present in other research (Xie & Goyette, 1997; Harris, 2002). 4. I convert the logit odds produced by multinomial logistical analyses to odds ratios. The numbers in parentheses are the odds ratios. Odds ratios are easier to interpret than the logit odds, which are the beta coefficients. A ratio above or below 1.0 is the percentage increase or decrease in the odds of selecting a racial identity with a one unit increase in the independent variable. 5. Numbers are rounded off, so the odds ratio for the students in school are prejudiced variable is 2.145, this translates to 115% increase for identifying as the father’s race as opposed to multiracial.

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Piskacek, V., & Golub, M. (1973). Children of interracial marriage. In: Irving stuart and lawrence interracial marriage: Expectations and reality (pp. 53–61). New York: Grossman. Poussaint, A. (1984). Study of interracial children presents positive picture. Interracial Books for Children, 15, 9–10. Radina, E., & Cooney, T. (2000). Relationship quality between multiracial adolescents and their biological parents. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, 70, 445–454. Rockquemore, K. A., & Brunsma, D. (2002). Beyond black: Biracial identity in America. Sage: Thousand Oaks, CA. Robbin, A. (2000). Classifying racial and ethnic group data in the United States in the United States: The politics of negotiation and accommodation. Journal of Government Information, 27, 129–156. Root, M. (1992). Within, between, and beyond race. In: M. Root (Ed.), Racially mixed people in America (pp. 3–11). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Snipp, C. M. (2002). American Indian and Alaska native children in the 2000 census. The Annie E. Casey Foundation and The Population Reference Bureau, April, 1–24. Spickard, P. (1989). Mixed blood: Intermarriage and ethnic identity in twentieth-century America. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press. Spickard, P. (1992). The illogic of American racial categories. In: M. Root (Ed.), Racially mixed people in America (pp. 12–23). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Stets, J., & Burke, P. (2000). Identity theory and social identity theory. Social Psychology Quarterly, 63, 224–237. Storrs, D. (1999). Whiteness as stigma: Essentialist identity work by mixed-race women. Symbolic Interaction, 22, 187–212. Stryker, S. (1980). Symbolic interactionism: A social structural version. Menlo Park, CA: Benjamin Cummings. Tiecher, J. (1968). Some observations on identity problems in children of negro-white marriages. The Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease, 146, 249–256. Thornton, M. (1992). Is multiracial status unique? The personal and social experience. In: M. Root (Ed.), Racially mixed people in America (pp. 321–325). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Thornton, M. (1996). Hidden agendas, identity theories, and multiracial people. In: M. Root (Ed.), The multiracial experience (pp. 101–120). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Twine, F. (1996). Heterosexual alliances: The romantic management of racial identity. In: M. Root (Ed.), The multiracial experience (pp. 291–304). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. US Bureau of Census. (2000). Census 2000 redistricting data (P.L. 94-171) summary file for states, tables 1, 2, PL1, PL2. Washington, DC: Bureau of Census. Wallace, K. (2001). Relative/outsider: The art and politics of identity among mixed heritage students. Westport: Ablex Publishing. Waters, M. (1990). Ethnic options. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Wright, L. (1994). One drop of blood, The New Yorker, July 25, 46–55. Wu, F. (2002). Yellow: Race in America beyond black and white. New York: Basic Books. Xie, Y., & Goyette, K. (1997). The racial identification of biracial children with one Asian parent: Evidence from the 1990 Census. Social Forces, 76, 547.

Variable Dependent variable Adolescent’s race

Independent variables Adolescent’s age

Years 12–21

Metric

1 ¼ father’s race 2 ¼ multiracial 3 ¼ mother’s race

APPENDIX. DESCRIPTION OF VARIABLES Description

Three-category variable: mother’s race, multiracial, father’s race

‘‘What is your race? You may give more than one answer.’’ Dummy variable

‘‘What year where you born?’’ Year of birth subtracted from 1995 ‘‘What grade are you in?’’ ‘‘Which ONE category best describes your racial background?’’ Dummy variables

Mother’s race

‘‘What is your race? You may give more than one answer.’’ Dummy variables

Adolescent’s grade Adolescent’s forced race

Father’s race

Grades 7–12 1 ¼ white, 0 ¼ non-white 1 ¼ black, 0 ¼ non-black 1 ¼ American-Indian, 0 ¼ non-American-Indian 1 ¼ Asian, 0 ¼ non-Asian 1 ¼ other, 0 ¼ non-other 1 ¼ white, 0 ¼ non-white 1 ¼ black, 0 ¼ non-black 1 ¼ American-Indian, 0 ¼ non-American-Indian 1 ¼ Asian, 0 ¼ non-Asian 1 ¼ other, 0 ¼ non-other 1 ¼ multiracial, 0 ¼ non-multiracial 1 ¼ white, 0 ¼ non-white 1 ¼ black, 0 ¼ non-black 1 ¼ American-Indian, 0 ¼ non-American 1 ¼ Asian, 0 ¼ non-Asian 1 ¼ other, 0 ¼ non-other 1 ¼ multiracial, 0 ¼ non-multiracial

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APPENDIX. (Continued )

Father’s forced race

Mother’s forced race

‘‘What is {initials} race?’’

‘‘Which ONE category best describes your racial background?’’ Dummy variables

‘‘Which ONE category best describes your racial background?’’ Dummy variables

Metric

248

Romantic Partner’s race

‘‘How far did you go in school?’’

Description

Mother’s education

‘‘How far did you go in school?’’

Variable

Father’s education

1 ¼ white, 0 ¼ non-white 1 ¼ black, 0 ¼ non-black 1 ¼ American-Indian, 0 ¼ non-American 1 ¼ Asian, 0 ¼ non-Asian 1 ¼ other, 0 ¼ non-other 1 ¼ white, 0 ¼ nonwhite 1 ¼ black, 0 ¼ non-black 1 ¼ American-Indian, 0 ¼ non-American-Indian 1 ¼ Asian, 0 ¼ non-Asian 1 ¼ other, 0 ¼ non-other 1 ¼ white, 0 ¼ non-white 1 ¼ black, 0 ¼ non-black 1 ¼ American-Indian, 0 ¼ non-American-Indian 1 ¼ Asian, 0 ¼ non-Asian 1 ¼ other, 0 ¼ non-other 1 ¼ multiracial, 0 ¼ non-multiracial Continuous variable 1 ¼ first grade9 ¼ professional training beyond a 4-year college or university Continuous variable 1 ¼ first grade9 ¼ professional training beyond a 4-year college or university

MATTHEW OWARE

Mother’s occupation

‘‘Which description comes closest to describing his job?’’

‘‘What description comes closest to describing her job?’’

0 ¼ not homemaker 1 ¼ homemaker 0 ¼ not worker (retail, office) 1 ¼ worker (retail, office) 0 ¼ not construction, mechanic, craftsperson 1 ¼ construction, mechanic, craftsperson 0 ¼ not factory, transportation, military 1 ¼ factory, transportation, military 0 ¼ not professional, manager, technician 1 ¼ professional, manager, technician 0 ¼ not homemaker 1 ¼ homemaker 0 ¼ not worker (retail, office) 1 ¼ worker (retail, office) 0 ¼ not construction, mechanic, craftsperson 1 ¼ construction, mechanic, craftsperson 0 ¼ not factory, transportation, military 1 ¼ factory, transportation, military 0 ¼ not professional, manager, technician 1 ¼ professional, manager, technician

Range: 0—100%

Status Maximization, Hypodescent Theory, or Social Identity Theory?

Proportions of white and minorities in census tract areas

Father’s occupation

Neighborhood-level variable Proportion of white in neighborhood

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Variable

APPENDIX. (Continued ) Description

‘‘Approximately what percentage of your full-time classroom teachers is of each of the following races?’’ Dummy variable

‘‘Which of these characterize your school? Mark all that apply.’’ Public, Catholic, Alternative, Private. Dummy Variable

Metric

Dummy variable 1 ¼ white, 0 ¼ non-white 1 ¼ black, 0 ¼ non-black 1 ¼ American-Indian, 0 ¼ non-American-Indian 1 ¼ Asian, 0 ¼ non-Asian 1 ¼ other, 0 ¼ non-other 1 ¼ public, 0 ¼ non-public 1 ¼ Catholic, 0 ¼ non-Catholic 1 ¼ alternative, 0 ¼ non-alternative 1 ¼ private, 0 ¼ non-private Scale 1–5

Scale 1–5

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School-level variable Racial composition of teachers

Type of school

Attachment variables Satisfaction with mother

Satisfaction with father

Arithmetic mean of responses to three items: (A) ‘‘Most of the time, your mother is warm and loving toward you?’’; (B) ‘‘You are satisfied with the way your mother and you communicate with each other?’’; (C) ‘‘Overall, you are satisfied with your relationship with your mother?’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree, 2 ¼ disagree, 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree, 4 ¼ agree, 5 ¼ strongly agree. Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .8959 Arithmetic mean of responses to three items: (A) ‘‘Most of the time, your father is warm and loving toward you?’’; (B) ‘‘You are satisfied with the way your mother and you communicate with each

MATTHEW OWARE

Closeness to mother

Closeness to father

Involvement with romantic partner

Attachment to male friends

Scale 1–5 Scale 1–5

Count 0–7

Count 0–5

Count 0–5

Status Maximization, Hypodescent Theory, or Social Identity Theory?

Attachment to female friends

other?’’; (C) ‘‘Overall, you are satisfied with your father?’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree, 2 ¼ disagree, 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree, 4 ¼ agree, 5 ¼ strongly agree. Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .9482 ‘‘How close do you feel to your mother?’’ 1 ¼ not at all, 2 ¼ very little, 3 ¼ somewhat, 4 ¼ quite a bit, 5 ¼ very much ‘‘How close do you feel to your father?’’ 1 ¼ not at all, 2 ¼ very little, 3 ¼ somewhat, 4 ¼ quite a bit, 5 ¼ very much Sum of responses to seven variables: (A) ‘‘I told my partner that I loved him or her.’’; (B) ‘‘My partner told me that he or she loved me.’’; (C) ‘‘We thought of ourselves as a couple.’’; (D) ‘‘I met my partner’s parents.’’; (E) ‘‘We went out together alone.’’; (F) ‘‘We had sexual intercourse.’’; (G) ‘‘We went out together in a group.’’ 1 ¼ yes, 0 ¼ no Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .6500 Sum of responses to five variables: (A) ‘‘You went to his house in the last seven days.’’; (B) ‘‘You met him after school to hang out or go somewhere in the last seven days.’’; (C) ‘‘You talked with him about a problem in the last seven days.’’; (D) ‘‘You talked with him on the telephone in the last seven days.’’; (E) ‘‘You spent time with him last weekend.’’ 1 ¼ yes, 0 ¼ no. Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .8253 Sum of responses to five variables: (A) ‘‘You went to her house in the last seven days’’; (B) ‘‘You met her after school to hang out or go somewhere in the last seven days’’; (C) ‘‘You talked with her about a problem in the last seven days’’; (D) ‘‘You

251

Variable

APPENDIX. (Continued ) Description talked with him on the telephone in the last seven days.’’; (E) ‘‘You spent time with her last weekend.’’ 1 ¼ yes, 0 ¼ no. Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .8642 Scale 0–7

Count 0–10

Count 0–10

Metric

252

Frequency variables Contact with parents

Activities with mother in past 4 weeks

Activities with father in past 4 weeks

On how many of the past seven days was at least one of your parents in the room with you while you ate? Sum of responses to ten variables: ‘‘Which of the things listed on this card have you done with your mother in the past four weeks?’’ (A) gone fishing; (B) played a sport; (C) gone to religious service or church-related event; (D) gone to a movie, play, museum, concert, or sports event; (E) talked about someone you are dating, or a party you went to; (F) had a talk about a personal problem you were having; (G) had a serious argument about your behavior; (H) talked about your school work or grades; (I) worked on a project for school; (J) talked about other things you are doing in school. 1 ¼ yes, 0 ¼ no. Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .4333 ‘‘Which of the things listed on this card have you done with your father in the past four weeks?’’ (A) gone fishing; (B) played a sport; (C) gone to religious service or church-related event; (D) gone to a movie, play, museum, concert, or sports

MATTHEW OWARE

Feel positive about school

Teacher is fair towards students Students in school are prejudiced Like myself the way I am

Feel socially accepted

Scale 3–15

Scale 1–5 Scale 1–5 Scale 1–5 Scale 1—5 Scale 1—5

Status Maximization, Hypodescent Theory, or Social Identity Theory?

Feel safe in neighborhood

event; (E) talked about someone you are dating, or a party you went to; (F) had a talk about a personal problem you were having; (G) had a serious argument about your behavior; (H) talked about your school work or grades; (I) worked on a project for school; (J) talked about other things you’re doing in school. 1 ¼ yes, 0 ¼ no. Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .5553 Arithmetic mean to three variables: (A) ‘‘I am happy to be at this school.’’; (B) ‘‘I feel like I am part of this school.’’; (C) ‘‘I feel close to people at this school.’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree, 2 ¼ disagree, 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree, 4 ¼ agree, 5 ¼ strongly agree. Cronbach’s Alpha ¼ .7725 ‘‘Teachers at this school treat students fairly.’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree, 2 ¼ disagree, 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree, 4 ¼ agree, 5 ¼ strongly agree ‘‘The students at this school are prejudiced.’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree, 2 ¼ disagree, 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree, 4 ¼ agree, 5 ¼ strongly agree ‘‘I like myself the way I am.’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree; 2 ¼ disagree; 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree; 4 ¼ agree; 5 ¼ strongly agree ‘‘I feel socially accepted.’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree, 2 ¼ disagree, 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree, 4 ¼ agree, 5 ¼ strongly agree ‘‘I feel safe in my school.’’ 1 ¼ strongly disagree, 2 ¼ disagree, 3 ¼ neither agree nor disagree, 4 ¼ agree, 5 ¼ strongly agree

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AUTOBIOGRAPHIC NOTES ON BECOMING MUSICALLY BICULTURAL Rutledge M. Dennis Biculturalism is manifested in a variety of ways in bicultural societies. As I read through the chapters of this volume the piece most missing was around the theme of biculturality. This seemed rather odd, for if there is one area which best represents the American endorsement and acceptance of biculturality, that area is music. Given the prominence of American music in American, nay, world culture, it seemed fitting to present a review of the cross currents of musical tastes and education and its impact on the psychology and sociology of one individual, or one locality. Such a demonstration would illustrate the ways music cuts across class, ethnic, and regional lines in the country. It is in this sense that music has been one of the greatest instruments for creating and sustaining intergroup interaction and communications. This has been true, despite the rigidity of segregation and Jim Crow laws in the South. In such a segregated world the cross currents of music became therapeutic integration, a symbolic integration – for places may be segregated, but it was impossible to segregate the airwaves. This chapter will focus on the crucial role music played in my maturation and intellectual development. If truth be told, it must be stated that for me music has been an ongoing, and lifetime, avocation that at moments threatened to upend what I thought would be smooth sailing towards a life of a social scientist. Thus, this volume has afforded me the opportunity to Biculturalism, Self Identity and Societal Transformation Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 15, 255–267 Copyright r 2008 by Emerald Group Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(08)15011-5

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revisit my life in music, and to simultaneously focus on the process of my ‘‘becoming’’ musically bicultural; I will not discuss my involvement in music beyond high school, since by the end of my senior high school year, for by that time my musical foundation had been set. There were, of course, changes, additions, and adjustments in my musical education in college, in the U.S. Army, and in graduate school, but again, these changes simply represented an expansion and accruement of what was already my core musical edifice. A bicultural autobiographical sketch of music is important for many reasons. First, such a review provides yet another look at black musical heritage as it developed in the South, and how this heritage was multidimensional both within many black Southern communities, and cross culturally between white and black communities. It helps us to understand the process of cultural borrowing and sharing, and the degree to which ethnic groups with political, social, and economic power may attempt to deny cultural authenticity to one group, and how individual and group inequality, protected by the legal system, distort the culture and foster images not based solely on existing realities. Though not specifically elaborated in this chapter, this brief autobiographical bicultural musical journey invites the reader to view the music as an entre´e to the social drama in action, and constantly being played out in Charleston, the South, and the nation. My musical education is important as a belated form of my own selfunderstanding of my coming of age as a child and youngster navigating on my bicycle and scooter during that period (the mid-1940s to near the late 1950s); it is also important to locate my life in time and my conscious awareness of how music shaped my intellectual growth and development. The city, Charleston, South Carolina, where this education took place, is important for several reasons. South Carolina became the first Southern state to succeed from the Union in 1860; it was in Charleston, on the famed Battery, in 1861, where southern troops launched the Civil War by an attack on Union troops at Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor. Charleston was also the city where Denmark Vesey, a free black who was also a carpenter and a leader in the city’s African Methodist Episcopal Church, organized a slave revolt in 1822. The city was also one of the leading centers of slave trading and the Old Slave Market where the auctioning of slaves took place – the building exists today, is a testimony to some of the most inhumane and cruel treatment humans have perpetrated against each other. These facts, and Charleston’s racial history, have co-existed with the city reputation, beginning in the early colonial days, as the cultural capital of the South; the city has prided itself on the number of novelists, poets, painters, and a

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host of creative artists who’ve made the city their home, and its galleries and art museums. Charleston’s white society, which was and is today highly Anglophile in its attitudes and behavior, represent the Simmelian prototype of Janus – the union of good and bad, the savage and the civilize, and refinement and brutality. This co-existence of good and evil would be played out less than a century later with the rise of Hitler and the mystification of foreigners over the fact that a country which once represented the highest form of artistic and cultural prominence could descend so quickly and so comfortably into savagery and unspeakable cruelty. Charleston, like Savannah, New Orleans, Mobile, and Richmond, was home to thousands of free blacks during the slave era. According to Hine, Hine, and Harrold (2008), ‘‘By 1860 in Charleston, three-quarters of the free black men worked in skilled trades. Free African Americans made up only 15 per cent of Charleston’s male population. Yet they constituted 25 per cent of its carpenters, 40 per cent of its tailors, and 75 per cent of its millwrights’’. These authors concluded that due to their high levels of skills, their formation of churches, schools, and fraternal and benevolent associations, literacy rates were high among Charleston’s free blacks. Many of my elementary school teachers at Henry P. Archer and my high school teachers at Burke High were the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Charleston’s free blacks, and they sought to socialize us with some of the assumptions which undergirded their own socialization: to be proud of who you are; to think big and shoot for the stars; to always be a representative of black people wherever you go; to speak English with care and precision; to be the best in your chosen field; not allow others to make you feel ashamed of your successes and for succeeding, and to be unafraid of voicing views that are different from your friends or from the crowd. These points were also emphasized at home by my mother and godmother – my father having died at the age of 37 when I was 12, by other parents, grandparents, and other relatives, and by ministers in many of our churches. This background material may be helpful to the reader, because Charleston’s history and the lessons I learned at home, in the classroom, at church, and with mentors and significant others in my young life, inspired me to be my best, study hard, and not permit racial segregation or white attitudes towards me and other blacks, to prevent me from excelling. Very early in life I thought I could be whatever I wanted to be, or wherever my talents took me, and that my life was in my own hands. Yes, god would be a factor, but I had to ultimately decide the direction. This exercise in reflecting on becoming musically bicultural forces me to bifurcate music into white and black polar types. On certain levels that is an incorrect assumption,

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because, for example, much of American popular (pop) music has its roots in black music. In order to make the case for differences in music types, styles, and tempo, it is necessary to assume that pop music can be classified in the ‘‘white’’ camp, though we know that many black singers and band directors have been some of the greatest proponents of pop music: Sarah Vaughn, Ella Fitzgerald, Roy Hamilton, Billy Eckstein, Nancy Wilson, Nat King Cole, Duke Ellington, and Count Basie. I wish to separate these music types into a Weberian ‘‘ideal typology’’ in order to better make comparisons between them. For this reason, I will group classical music, pop music, country, and western music in the ‘‘white’’ category, and the blues, spirituals, gospels, jazz, and rhyme and blues in the ‘‘black’’ category.

EARLY YEARS – 6–12 I don’t remember exactly when I began to be interested in music, but my mother and godmother would laughingly recall when they knew I would be musically inclined. Though I was then in diapers, whenever Tommy Dorsey’s recording of Boogie Woogie was played, I would immediately begin to pat my feet. My first conscious memory of reacting to music when I was very young were the times my father would sing little ditties and play his banjo. He could carry a tune, and he played the banjo quite well. His greatest musical feat, however, was as a whistler, and I would try to imitate his whistling style, without success as I grew older. Then too, my siblings and I would sing and recite little nursery rhymes before our parents, and I would compose songs for my sisters to sing. Before he died an early death at 37 my father gave me a mouth harp and a harmonica which I kept for many years; I later misplaced it while in college. I later bought another harmonica which I kept throughout my years in the U.S. Army, my travels throughout Europe, and throughout my years in graduate school. How and why we each possess the talents and skills we have are questions I’ve never fully understood. So I’ve concluded that we just have them, and we’ll never be able to explain it. Throughout this chapter four reference points will be used to explain my exposure to music and my music biculturality: schools, churches, home, and my neighborhood. If I make very few references to whites, it is simply because during my early life my contact with whites was minimal, and white individuals played a minor role in my life, as at home my world centered around my parents and godparents, siblings, and other family members, and neighborhood friends; at school my world was a completely black world. The first white I got to know outside of my early

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work experiences was the white Presiding Bishop of the Reformed Episcopal Church who visited St. John’s Episcopal Church at least six or seven times a year.

Elementary School At Henry P. Archer School I played clarinet in the band and sang in the choir. The band practiced once a week and played mainly marches by John P. Sousa. There were a few Duke Ellington tunes, and popular tunes by contemporary composers. The two best players in the band were Joe Morant, trumpet player, and Charles Gaillard, sax player; they were often asked to play solo while we march. Joseph went on to make quite a name for himself with his jazz band. Unfortunately, Charles Gaillard died at a relatively young age. It was at Archer that I became conscious of classical music, since our radio at home was not tuned in to the classical radio station. We had Assembly each Wednesday, and each week there would be performances by the choir, the band, vocal or instrumental soloists, a play, or poetry recitations. At other times in the assembly there were film clips of performances by Marian Anderson, Dorothy Maynor, Roland Hayes, The Fisk Jubilee Choir, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Hazel Scott, and Art Tatum. Though most of us came from homes in which classical music was neither played nor known, we all liked Morant’s rendition Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto in E Flat, so much so that whenever he played it, there was often a call for an encore. We were simply impressed with the sheer virtuoso and finger dexterity and breathe control required to perform the piece. Charles Gaillard was a skilled sax player, and students enjoyed his playing of The Rosary, and a couple of classical pieces by Mozart; Joe and Charles also performed duets of songs by Mozart and Sousa. On other occasions there were performances by the choirs of Burke High located in Charleston and Laing High located in Mount Pleasant, located east of the Cooper River. Once Laing performed a series of songs by Leroy Anderson, and we liked their version of Anderson’s Syncopated Clock so much we asked for an encore. Other events at school would open the door to my absorption of classical music. In the fourth grade I recalled my walking slowly up the steep steps of the outer entrance of the school’s auditorium with a gold crown on a white pillar to a recording of Mendelsohn’s Grand Triumph March, to crown Archer’s ‘‘Miss May Day’’, and every May Day there was the platting of the maypole to the tune of Beethoven’s ‘‘Fur Elise’’ or a minuet by Mozart.

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The songs by Haydn, Mozart, Mendelsohn, and Beethoven introduced me to European classical music. The choir, however, kept me grounded in the spirituals, and we sang songs such as ‘‘Steal Away’’, ‘‘Ezekiel Saw the Wheel’’, ‘‘Everytime I Feel the Spirit’’, ‘‘Somebody’s Knocking at my Door’’, and ‘‘Balm in Gilead’’. By the sixth grade Billy Eckstine was one of the most popular male singers and his Mr. B shirt was the rage among many of us. We nagged our parents to buy Mr. B shirts and at recess we got together in groups to sing his most popular hits like ‘‘Blue Moon’’ and ‘‘I Apologize’’. Sexually suggestive songs were kept out of the school, but some popular black instrumentals such as Chica Boo were popular in school and the two most popular majorettes often presented dance duets during assembly periods.

Churches My friends and I belonged to different Protestant denominations, and we often exchanged visits to each other churches. At St. John’s Reformed Episcopal Church I joined the junior choir and began to sing tenor solo at church and at special church events. My favorites were ‘‘Balm in Gilead’’, ‘‘Go Down Moses’’, and ‘‘Pilgrim’s Song’’. At most of the Baptist, AME, and Episcopal churches the format and order of the services differed but the songs sung during the services were not that different. Attending the different denominations among black churches and listening to the white churches on the radio caused me to note the similarity between the religious songs sung by each group. Blacks and whites sang ‘‘Uncloudy Day’’, ‘‘Will the Circle Be Unbroken’’, ‘‘when the Roll is Called Up Yonder’’, ‘‘Sweet Bye and Bye’’, ‘‘Whispering Hope’’, and ‘‘Precious Memories’’. The Pentecostal and Holiness churches were very different. There was sustained shouting, falling out, and testimonies throughout the services. Someone in the congregation would suddenly stand up to sing a song which might last for 10–15 min. Three songs seemed to be able to have the entire congregation shouting and singing the longest in the two Holiness churches in the community: ‘‘Power, Power, Lord’’ and ‘‘I’m Bound for Higher Ground’’, ‘‘Get Right With God’’, ‘‘Get Away Jordan’’, ‘‘There’s a Stranger at the Door’’, and ‘‘No, Never Alone’’.

Home Ironically, it was at home where I was introduced to a sustained dose of both country music and jazz. The upstairs neighbors had arrived from rural

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Charleston County across the Cooper River and had stacks of country records. I soon knew the tunes and lyrics of songs by Hank Williams, Eddie Arnold, Gene Autry, Hank Snow, Lefty Frizzell, Red Foley, and Ernst Tubb. My brother David and I would harmonize on ‘‘Peace in the Valley’’ by Red Foley, but composed by Thomas Dorsey. The truth is that I liked music, almost any music, but due to racial discrimination, I was very conscious of the white Southern dialect, and believed, I thought with some justification that the heavier the Southern accent, the greater the hatred towards blacks. I believe many Southern blacks felt as I did, and it was only when Ray Charles made hits of those country songs that I, and many blacks, then believed it acceptable to hum and sing those songs publicly, though I never did sing them publicly. It would be almost another 20 years or so before a black singer, Charlie Pride, would become a very popular country and western star. There would not be a jazz radio station in Charleston until the mid or late 1950s, but we did get musical film clips of Ellington, Basie, and Armstrong at school and in the local all-black movie theater, The Lincoln Theater. Fred, the oldest son of my neighbor, lived with his mother and two younger brothers in a house beside our house, and his upstairs apartment faced my room on the side of our house. He had just returned from a stint in the U.S. Army, and must have purchased every available record by George Shearing. He had apparently gotten used to getting up early in the mornings, so luckily he became my alarm clock, for every morning I was awaken to either Shearing’s ‘‘September in the Rain’’ or his ‘‘Lullaby of Birdland’’. Dinah Washington would score big with ‘‘September in the Rain’’ in the mid1950s, and Sarah Vaughn would record a superb ‘‘Lullaby of Birdland’’, also in the mid-1950s. Other Shearing songs played were ‘‘I’ll Remember April’’, ‘‘What is this Thing Called Love’’, and ‘‘East of the Sun (and West of the Moon)’’. He also played songs by the Inkspots and occasionally songs by Ella Fitzgerald and the Inkspots. Sunday evenings we listened to the Grand Ole Opry, since my godmother liked the comedy of Minnie Pearl. Sunday nights I was more focused on the Firestone Hour where there were classical songs, selections from operas, and American folk songs. It was on the Firestone Hour where I first heard the voices of sopranos Leontyne Price, Mattiwilda Dobbs, Reri Grist, and Betty Allen. It was also where I heard, and began to like the songs and melodies from Carmen, Porgy and Bess, Tosca, and Rigoletto. It was also there that I heard the voice of Jan Pierce who would be one of my early opera tenor heroes. Later, my favorite became Mario Lanza. I never saw classical music

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as being off limits to me – never saw it as something I couldn’t or shouldn’t have. I simply saw it as music created and produced for all who loved it. My friends also didn’t see my accepting classical music as deserting ‘‘our’’ music, though they couldn’t resist the temptation to kid me occasionally. Some may have liked it since it would leave less competition among those who sought to become the new Mr. B. I simply added classical music to my musical repertoire and incorporated it into a musical storage space in my mind. Later in college I would sing the tenor role in the Rigoletto quartet, and sang the tenor lead, Brent Weaver, in Kurt Weil’s folk opera, down in the Valley.

Community Once or twice a week I was responsible for checking in with my mother’s second cousin, Vickie, who was blind. I would write a list of what she wanted, then walk to the corner of South and Nassau to Lee’s Grocery Store. Lee was a Chinese who married a black woman, and they had three or four children. (During the time of which I write the Chinese were placed in the non-white ‘‘Negro’’ category, and due to housing restrictions, had to live in black communities. Another Chinese male/black female couple and their children lived five blocks away on Line Street.) Cousin Vickie is important in my musical education because she introduced me to gospel music. She had collected dozens of records of Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Mahalia Jackson. So as I helped her around her apartment by sweeping the floor and taking out the garbage, Sister Rosetta and her guitar blasted away with almost bluesy and jazzy renditions of ‘‘This Train’’, ‘‘Up Above my Head’’, ‘‘Lily of the Valley’’, ‘‘Ninety Nine and a Half Won’t Do’’, and ‘‘Ain’t No Grave Hold My Body Down’’. Mahalia, with her booming voice made the mood solemn with ‘‘In the Upper Room’’, ‘‘Out of the Depth’’, ‘‘Keep your Hands on the Plow’’, and ‘‘Didn’t it Rain’’. Meanwhile the music at Joe Brown’s Juke Joint on the corner of America and Reid was consistently operating at high volume and blasting away with the songs, ‘‘I Got Load’’, ‘‘One Mint Julep’’, ‘‘Drinking Wine ‘‘, ‘‘Little Red Roster’’, ‘‘Chica Boo’’, and Nellie Lecher’s recent hits ‘‘Fine Brown Frame’’, and ‘‘Oh, Looka There’’. There were also the hits made by Louis Jordan: ‘‘Run Joe’’ and ‘‘Saturday Night Fish Fry’’. In the neighborhood some parents organized a community talent show, and I agreed to sing two songs: April Shower and Four Leaf Clover. A female neighbor who was a pianist, and in her 40s heard me at the show and invited me to sing some

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songs for her. She was the individual who whetted and sustained my interest in pop music and early American show tunes. On November 4, 1951 my father died on the operating room table in Roper Hospital. His death had a great and profound impact on my life in more ways than I ever could have guessed.

YEARS 13–17 These were my high school years, and my coming of age in my family and community. During these years I thought seriously about a career and the things I enjoyed doing most. For a long time I thought of a career in music, then I thought of becoming a physician. It was this profession which occupied me, though I was interested in helping people than I was in ascertaining that I would have to battle and defeat chemistry before I could see the summit. In the meantime, I was a freshman at Burke High School and was elected president of my homeroom class. I joined the band and the choir, though I stayed in the band for only one year. What impressed me most about the choir was Prof. Fleming’s desire to have the choir delve into more songs than just spirituals. He himself was a classical and jazz pianist. He was low-keyed, patient, and sought to make singing and music fun. It was in the choir under his direction that my knowledge of classical music would develop exponentially. I would henceforth define myself as a great lover of classical music.

School During my four years at Burke, Prof. opened my musical ear and mind to some of the most beautiful music I thought I could ever hear. My neighbor, Vernell Foxworth had a lyrical soprano voice, and her voice soared into the heavens with ‘‘Berceuse’’ from the opera by Benjamin Godard, and with ‘‘Panis Angelicus’’ [Oh, Lord Most Holy] by Cesar Franck. We performed Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpros; excerpts from Smetana’s Bartered Bride; Franz Schubert’s Die Allmach [Great is Jehovah, the Lord]; J.S. Bach’s Sleepers Awake Cantata; Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, excerpts from Rossini’s Sabbat Mater, and Variations on a Neopolitan theme. Also Prof. coached two of our most talented musicians, and choir members, and encouraged them to enter the statewide music contest. Cecile Garrett won first place award singing Vissi d’arte from Puccini’s Tosca. Robert

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Richardson won the third award with Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1. He didn’t neglect the spirituals, for we sang Everytime I Feel the Spirit, My Lord, What a Morning, Go Down Moses, Joshua fought the Battle of Jericho, Didn’t my Lord Deliver Daniel, Balm in Gilead, and You will Reap just What you Sow. Then there were the popular songs from Oklahoma, Carousel, and Porgy and Bess. Gwen Simmons and I sang ‘‘If I Loved You’’ as duet for a school event. Also, Coach Mordie Richie began highlighting songs from the west as themes for physical education programs. Since I was a great fan of western movies I liked this emphasis, and enjoyed seeing the classes perform to songs such as Tumbling Tumbleweeds, Cool Water, Deep in the Heart of Texas, Wagon Wheels, Riders in the Sky, and High Noon. He also had programs centered around songs by Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett, Doris Day, and Sarah Vaughn. When we had in-school house dances the popular singers were Fats Dominos, Clyde McPhatter, Laverne Baker, Chuck Willis, Jackie Wilson, Ruth Brown, Little Esther, Little Willie John, and Lloyd Price. The groups whose music we loved were The Moonglows, The Five Keys, The Five Satins, The Clovers, The Dells, The Spaniels, The Flamingos, and The Heartbeats. Robert Richardson would invite George Smith and me to his home where he would play the piano and George and I would sing the Four Ace’s Love Is A Many Splendored Thing a dozen or more times. George had a truly magnificent voice and would have a relatively successful career as a singer. Occasionally, I would walk Harriet Jones home and as we walked we would harmonize sing The Bus Stop Song and Born to Be With You. We were in the tenth grade when we became mindful of the fact that white audiences were becoming attracted to songs by black artists and to black music. Seeing this many white singers and groups began to imitate black singers and groups, and as soon as their records were released, whites artists would record the same songs for white audiences. We knew this was happening, and we were very attentive to ways in which this hurt lack artists who were blocked from the larger white audience.

Home and Community At home I continued to listen to the Firestone Hour, but no longer to the Grand Ole Opry. I was now being asked to sing at special occasions, and I did. Prof. Fleming gave me some of his worn classical albums, and I managed to purchase a few from some of the thrift stores in the city. I bought some Beethoven, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky records and albums.

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Later when I worked as a bellhop in a downtown hotel an older resident who had been living in the hotel for many gave me some pieces from her collection when she found out I sang and appreciated classical music. In the meantime new singing avenues were opening up to me. D. Jack Moses had the D. Jack Moses Talent Show on television. He knew I sang because his wife was my English teacher at Burke. During a two year span I sang the following songs: ‘‘Look for the Silver Lining’’, ‘‘I’m Always Chasing Rainbows’’, ‘‘I Believe’’, and ‘‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’’. I was a one of the finalist for the grand prize, a trip to New York City, having become a finalist by singing Eddie Fisher’s ‘‘Oh My Papa’’. Unfortunately, I choked up on my final song, Jan Pierce’s ‘‘Blue Bird of Happiness’’, and won second prize. George Smith won first prize. I went from this talent show to the Lincoln Theater Talent Show. The talent show was similar to the Apollo Theater’s set up whereby the audience could virtually shout contestants from the stage. I won three weeks, with the songs ‘‘He’’, ‘‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’’, and ‘‘Without a Song’’. I sang ‘‘If I Loved You’’ for the final contest but lost out to an older, but very excellent sax player. The consolation prize was another radio, plus 20 dollars. George Smith and I were the leading high school tenors making the rounds on TV programs and other special programs in the city. Joe Louis Brown was another high school tenor in the area. With an excellent voice his rich Irish tenor soared with great clarity and smoothness. He was one of the local and regional winners of the Horace Heidt talent search, though I have not kept up with his progress or whereabouts. What is interesting when looking back at the teen-age singing lives of George, Joe Louis, and myself is that we were all from working class families. George and I both sang American popular music as well as rhythm and blues, whereas Joe Louis stuck pretty close to the music associated with Irish tenors. George would later gain a reputation as a relatively popular jazz singer, with bookings in the South, North, and Midwest. Of the three of us, I was probably more interested in European operas and classical music than either George or Joe Louis. My sister Margaret and I began to sing for local events, and for two years in a row we were asked by the traveling Seventh Day Adventist Church Revival Program to sing for them which we did. We sang Count Your Blessings, Whispering Hope, and It is No Secret What god Can Do. At home Margaret, David, and I would harmonize on these songs plus Peace in the Valley and Precious Memories. A cousin, Tippy Joe, would occasionally come by, and we would harmonize on Cool Water, Shenandoah, Cattle Call, Drifting Along in the Tumble Weed, Arizona Cowboy by Rex Allen, and a couple of other cowboy songs. Cowboy western songs were clearly

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among my favorites and over the years I managed to collect close to a hundred cowboy albums over the years. Meanwhile during a high school assembly program I sang the solo part in the spiritual, Little David Play on Your Harp, sang Franck’s Panis Angelicus at the elite black Episcopal Church, St. Thomas, and How Beautiful Upon the Mountain by Flaxington Harker at a local African Methodist Episcopal Church. Joe Brown’s Juke Joint continued to blast into the night. Almost, as if by clockwork, every evening about 10 pm someone would play Lonnie Johnson’s Tomorrow Night for almost a solid hour. After that Big Joe Turner’s Chains of Love would play for another hour. Roy Brown’s Travelin’ Blues, Boogie Woogie Blues, and Good Rockin’ Tonight were other favorites. Whenever I visited my cousins in Mount Pleasant they always requested that I sing Roy Brown’s Travelin’ Blues, Clyde McPhatter’s Treasure of Love, and The Bells of Saint Mary.

CONCLUSION This chapter was designed to illustrate two points: One is the great musical and cultural diversity within black communities. The second is that even those who create and attempt to immobilize blacks and keep them weak were/are unable to stem the flow of information. The biculturalism depicted here represents partially a fight against an imposed version of the possible. Though this chapter is one man’s account of his cultural and intellectual journey, it was a journey also made by others. Those who may have lacked the musical ear or the voice may not have been as intricately involved as I, however, the central theme throughout this chapter is that though the entire social structure was separate and divided by race and class, as a youngster I sought to move above and across the musical terrain. Because I enjoyed all types of music I could affirm the universality of music. This universality jumps out at you whether its opera, cowboy westerns, country, blues, jazz, or rhythm, and blues. Music provides you with potential to experience a humanness as expressed in love, hate, envy, regrets, sadness, joy, or pain. Above all, musical diversity, or as expressed in this chapter, biculturality, makes it possible to experience vicariously new intellectual and informational worlds. The unsung heroes and heroines in this chapter are people like my parents, godparents, and relatives, and the parents and relatives of my friends and others who gave us, the children and youth, hope; hope for the future, and faith in ourselves, and a determination to succeed and become

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the best. They may not have been well schooled through the formal educational system, and their musical tastes and experiences differed from ours. However, they encourage us to move beyond our present status, and to fight to experience all of the culturally enriching features of life others thought only they could understand and enjoy as part of their own cultural legacy. One of the great joys of my own musical exploration has been my discovery, years ago, of the depth of the European and white American cultural borrowing of style, tempo, tone, and texture of both African and African American musical styles. Music is life, and about life. Thus, my description of my own musical passage only illustrates all the many techniques and methods used to define and express life. Since black Americans have always affirmed life and living, with all the accompanying drama of human emotions, and since we had to, of necessity, live and co-exist in a bicultural world, it is only natural that musical biculturality is a necessary appendage of a social structural biculturality. Being musically bicultural simple means an ability to understand and enjoy my music and the music or another, and to point up the truism that music is indeed universal.