Jenny,
in her October 19th post, “Tea Cake and Literary Play,” presents an
excellent deconstructionist reading of Tea Cake. Tea Cake, she argues, “both speaks back to a trope and denies it”
and this “acknowledgment of tropes, stereotypes, and a literary tradition (and
its foils)” arises from literary play. Play is “a constant questioning and substitution of
one idea for another, a guiltless review of old methods and tired theory”—a
place to experiment with the infinitude of meaning without adhering to “expectations
for discovering a universal human truth” (Colmenero). This view of play seems
so optimistic, even “joyous” as Derrida calls it; it’s a search for meaning
that “is no longer turned toward the origin [and] tries to pass beyond man and
humanism” (Derrida 292) It’s the view of play that Derrida wants interpreters
of meaning (literary, historical, philosophical, etc.) to choose. Because the
only other interpretation of interpretation, the one far more restricting and
inhibitive, is one that ”dreams of deciphering a truth or an origin which
escapes play and the order of the sign, and which lives the necessity of
interpretation as an exile” (Derrida 292). But is it possible that the exile,
the search for an origin outside of play, is not chosen, but forced upon a
scholar because the people she is studying were stripped of their meanings in a
previous forced exile, one that occurred centuries ago, but whose effects are
still felt today? I ask, what is the “play” of someone in chains?
Hortense
J. Spillers describes how the subjugation of the Africans by the Whites was
achieved by the stripping of their figurative and actual skins. Words and paper
(money, bills of credit, bills of sale, deeds of ownership) compounded with the
“calculated work of iron, whips, chains, knives, the canine patrol, [and] the
bullet” worked to remove and breakdown the African “body,” the “point of convergence [where]
biological, sexual, social, cultural, linguistic, ritualistic, and even
psychological fortunes join” (Spillers 67); Their language, family units, social
structures, cultural identities, their gender, their humanness, their flesh,
their personalities, even their names were taken from them, leaving a gaping
hole that could only be replaced by one word—property. Once they became
property, once this rupture of their signifying chain occurred, one could argue
they gained infinite play but only in the hands of their masters, because what the slaves meant, how they could
signify,or how they could participate(i.e. how they were talked about) in
discourse was determined solely by the men and women who owned them.
What
we realize is that play is not just something people have; it’s also something that is
ascribed to them. And I ask, how is this situation different than the voices
that subaltern historians want to ascribe to their lost peoples? What is “play”
but an elite, western, intellectual idea that makes us think we’re making
something better, something unstructured and more liberated, when really “play”
is the degree of manipulation or elasticity within a person, idea, or character, their infinite ability to conform and work towards the arguments for meaning that scholars, owners, rulers, dictators, writers, etc.
particularly want to make. Thus, Tea
Cake’s play is wonderfully expansive,
but only because he can fit into and be used for so many different arguments; his
versatility enables so many readings of the text. I myself made a similar
argument about Hyde in my October 11th blogpost, “Hyde. Derrida.
Play. Go!” So eager was I to expound Hyde’s “joyous affirmation of ... play” that I
forgot to include myself with the list of scholars who use Hyde to make a point (Derrida 292) – that I attempted to “control him through knowledge even as [I] restore[d]
versions of causality and self-determination to him” (Spivak 9). Over this past
quarter, as I have argued for Hyde’s
freedom and unique voice, I have also performed my ownership of him. Perhaps this usurpation isn’t so terrifying
when discussing literary characters, but what both Jenny and I failed to address is the
real life consequences of “play” when applied to historical peoples. Stripped
of their own culturally determined sense of meaning, all their own boundaries
removed, African-American slaves could then serve whatever purpose/signify any
meaning their masters chose for them. It’s easy to see why Spillers, or any
African-American Studies scholar might dream of an “origin which escapes play”
because such an origin would be able to escape the exploitative “play” of the African-American
slave that occurred during their years of enslavement. I will not try to argue that such an origin exists, but I've tried to explore why such an origin might be desirable.
3 comments:
I really appreciate this revision of how we've been discussing the idea of "play" in these posts. I agree that I think it's easy to ignore that an idealization of play is actually the result of our "privileged" position as scholars.
Another issue that you bring up, but I don't think is the point of your post, gets at the interesting problem of cultural studies. Essentially, is it ethical to apply a literary theory like deconstruction to the lives of real historical people and thereby ascribe certain meaning to them? There have been a number of articles we've read this quarter that have made us ask - is this English? That is, that someone in an English department has written something not about literature, but on other aspects of culture and human life - your post gets at the question of whether such articles can "act" the same way as literary ones if they have an obligation to "real" humans. No question here, just thoughts that your post has provoked!
Lee,
This is a fascinating and provocative argument! Several of us have been working through questions of ethical/socially responsible scholarship this quarter, and this question is one as well. Why should the search for meaning, past, connections between idea and thing/person, or identities be something undesirable or out of vogue? On the other hand, your conclusion also reminds me of Best: perhaps in some cases, the best thing is to forego play of meaning altogether and simply move forward. I also wonder: is self-ascribed play possible?
Thank you for engaging further with one of my posts, Lee! I keep wanting to bury Derrida deep in the sand somewhere until I have the time to dissect his ouvre with an Exacto-knife...but every time he shows up a post or article I appreciate the opportunity to wrestle with his ideas again.
As Kate has pointed out, your post implicitly brings up a lot of questions about ethical scholarship and representation. That's a rather large can of worms to open, but I will only say that it is certainly true that in many instances our wide field of interpretation arises necessarily out of the fact that the people/culture/community being written about has incredibly few surviving records of how the people actually living those realities...well, actually lived those realities.
I am gonna push on this quote from your post though: Once they became property, once this rupture of their signifying chain occurred, one could argue they gained infinite play but only in the hands of their masters, because what the slaves meant, how they could signify,or how they could participate(i.e. how they were talked about) in discourse was determined solely by the men and women who owned them.
There are few surviving narratives written or dictated by black U.S. slaves, but they are out there. Although narratives such as The History of Mary Prince are certainly subject to mediation and in many cases distortion by white publishers, to claim that the institution of slavery somehow wiped clean the personhood and history of slaves doesn't do much service to the agency of those who were able to leave behind some record of their experience (even if those vestiges survive more in oral family histories and cultural practice than through written narratives). The field of play may be infinite, but it was never unmarked.
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