Resumen: Esta contribución pretende abordar el debate contemporáneo sobre la otredad y los otros identidad/cuerpo desde una aproximación crítica que combina los conceptos del borde y la frontera en conexión con tendencias más recientes en los estudios de raza. Tras una discusión de la configuración de las “otras” mujeres desde una visión pluralista, fluida y multidimensional, el foco del análisis se centra en el particular uso que la novelista Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie hace del “otro/a” en su interesante novela Americanah (2013), especialmente concentrándose en el prejuicio y la discriminación racial para denunciar las dinámicas racistas en los Estados Unidos en la actualidad.

Palabras clave: frontera; mestiza; raza; otredad; pensamiento feminista; identidad y cuerpo negros.

To delineate the contours of contemporary feminist thought in relation to the crucial concepts of border and borderland and their connection to race studies, this paper will focus on the new transnational and transdisciplinary approach to female subjectivity and agency as it pertains embodied materialism and situated politics. Concretely, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s novel Americanah, published in 2013, calls attention to these epistemological and political categories, where a fundamental shift has been effected from the conceptualization of “woman” as a universal notion to a more nuanced and plural vision of women as non-dualistic and hierarchical figurations. Especially relevant for this theoretical displacement is the work of the so-called “other” feminisms, mainly devised by Latina and black women intellectuals and activists from the decade of the 70s and 80s till nowadays. From their perspective, to explore the borders of the self, it is necessary to inhabit otherness as a strategic category, taking into account the “othered” identity and body as a site for resistance and contestation of dominant racist and sexist ideological parameters.

1. Contemporary Feminist Thought, Otherness and Mestiza Consciousness

The shift from the universal adoption of one single category of “woman” to a pluralistic representation of women in contemporary feminist thought has been really significant in the last three decades. As Lucía Gómez et al. point out, this displacement has allowed the change from “the logic of identity to the logic of difference” (3), whereby non-dichotomic conceptualizations of gender identity have been made possible as the notion of subjectivity is defined as “open, situated and contingent” (7). This possibility also contributes to reinforce the vision of a female subject that is constructed through a multiplicity of discourses and positions, thus illuminating the instability and constructedness of gender identity. The diverse identity markers—gender, race class, sexual preference, etc.—are therefore foregrounded as key issues in that conception of fluid, multilayered and multidimensional identities that characterize “other” women.

One of the groundbreaking contributions to the analysis of those multiple identities is Gloria Anzaldúa’s Borderlands/La Frontera. Published in 1987, this publication remains essential to define the concepts of the border and borderland. In the preface to the first edition, Anzaldúa tackles the physical, but also the psychological, sexual and spiritual aspects of the borderland taking her cue from the US-Mexican border conflict. She then builds her theoretical model, which encompasses a new language—the language of the borderlands—, and a new culture—border culture–, in order to chronicle what she calls “life on the borders, life in the shadows” (19). Her main intent is to unite her three cultures, namely white, Mexican, Indian in order to recreate “a new culture—una cultura mestiza” (44). This is precisely her most important objective: to give birth to a multivocal and synchretic culture where the three legacies can coexist harmoniously. This does not mean that contradictions and ambiguities are absent, but this new cultural formulation allows for the trascendence of Neocartesian dualities in order to shape a more egalitarian world order.

Struggle figures tantamount in Anzaldúa’s theory because it is inherent to borderland consciousness, best represented by the border woman, la mestiza:

Because I, a mestiza,

Continually walk out of one culture

And into another,

Because I am in all cultures at the same time,

Alma entre dos mundos, tres, cuatro,

me zumba la cabeza con lo contradictorio.

Estoy norteada por todas las voces que me hablan

simultáneamente. (2007: 99)

Fraught with contradictions, la mestiza personifies all of them living in a state of perpetual transition and contingency. Her soul inhabits two, three, four worlds, and is constantly harassed by different voices that call for a new gender order too, where the concepts of femininity and masculinity need to be revised and expanded, once again to transcend suffocating gender roles and mandates for both women and men. As Anzaldúa mentions, the first step is to “unlearn the puta/virgen dichotomy” (106), to deconstruct the heavy load of Judeo-Christian traditional stereotypical designation of women as either prostitutes or virgins. Therefore, she understands the feminist stance of the mestiza, together with her antiracist, antihegemonic and antihomophobic politics.

But in the mestiza’s political and epistemological shift there is a need to address two other important issues: the debate over humanity and the public role of the “othered” body. Perhaps the whole concern about the lack of humanity is a basic principle that pervades the mestiza’s proposal from the start. The fact that whites “looked upon us as less tan human” (107) as Anzaldúa argues, is the core of the problematization of notions of identity and agency. Both slavery and colonization were based on the assumptions of that lack of humanity on the part of the enslaved and colonized peoples. And also the main argument for the ethnocentric and racist standpoint that unfortunately continues to this day. Thus, one of the first claims to effectively counteract centuries of mistreatment and dehumanization is to claim for the right to humanity and dignity in the face of rampant ostracism and increasing discriminatory practices for those who are regarded as “other” by the dominant ideology, especially women of color or black women.

2. Mestiza (Her)story and Race in Americanah

In order to counteract that horrible history, women intellectuals and writers have been weaving another “mestiza (her)story” for more than four decades now, positioning that othered and disowned identity and body as the center for a new understanding of both epistemological and political claims. Thus, the “other” becomes a strategic point of reference as site of enunciation and self-definition, as mentioned above, but also as a site of political and social discourses and practices. There are two main areas of interest that frequently conflate in this notion of the recovery of the traumatized and negated identity and body: first of all, the creation of alternative images that deconstruct the powerful allure of the white norm and reveal more positive models to inhabit the ostracized “other”; and secondly, the rewriting of the official chronicle of history in order to incorporate these women’s voices and contributions, denouncing the harmful effects of racist and sexist dominant ideologies.2

To effectively tackle these two aspects, the work Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has been selected because this novel provides interesting insights into the texture of those alternative images as they carve a different approach to that concept of the “other” within the American context. Indeed, the book elicited great critical attention both in Britain and the States upon its publication in 2013. The author was already a bestselling author with her first novel Purple Hibiscus (2003) and especially with the second Half of a Yellow Sun (2006). Thanks to the Orange prize, she became one of the best-known contemporary voices for women of color who straddle between at least two worldviews and two cultures. And also because she declares her feminist views very openly, especially in her pamphlet We Should All Be Feminists (2014).

One of the first hints at her position as a mestiza author has to do precisely with how she has been categorized as either a Nigerian or African American writer, but also a black and decidedly feminist author. Although Adichie herself sees these generalizations as “reductive,” she is very aware of their importance: “being part of an under-represented group brings with it a sense of ‘we-ness’ which is why I feel an odd pride when an Igbo or an African or African-American or woman or Nigerian does well. I suppose categorization can be positive in this way” (2005: 1). For Adichie writing is thus a political act, as authors belonging to underrepresented groups are prone to a militant political role. Moreover, when they need to constantly redefine and correct the dominant representations about “othered” identities and bodies. Indeed, debates about her positioning as an Afropolitan witer continue both as a way of overcoming Afropessimism,3 but also as a means to celebrate plurality and mestizaje by deploying new African, but also African American subjectivities.

In this sense, Americanah is an extremely intriguing book, since it allows readers to delve into the intricacies of those “others” in American culture, African Americans, from an outsider’s point of view: a Nigerian woman who reflects upon the categories of race, gender, nationality, etc… as they are implemented in contemporary US. Adichie performs her political role as a writer by comparing racial and gender discourses in US and Nigeria from her vantage point as a mestiza writer, drawing interesting conclusions that throw light onto the workings of discriminatory practices, but which are also helpful to complicate and enrich representations of those black “others” regarded as homogeneous and one-dimensional by the dominant white gaze.

When the protagonist Ifemelu first arrives in US, what is actually striking is her rapid success as a blogger. Clearly drawing on “familiar tropes that position the US as a land of opportunity,” that is, repeating the trope of the “American dream,” Adichie’s politically-oriented novel targets the manifold limitations of that dream “by ongoing histories of racism” (Hallemeier 2015: 235, 237) from the very onset. Discourses of race and racism figure tantamount in the novel, starting from the protagonist’s awareness that “when you make the choice to come to America, you become black” (220). Confronting everyday racism is essential to Ifemelu’s experience as a hybrid entity who does not identify as black till she lands in the US.4 From that primal scene Ifemelu’s cultural commentary on the idisiocracies of race in the US will be a constant trait of the novel, ultimately discussing the further implications of “race as a global discourse” (Guarracino 2014: 11).

What is even more striking in her cultural commentary is the way in which the pervasive presence of race and racism is constantly denied by both white and black Americans: “the only reason you say that race was not an issue is because you wish it was not. We all wish it was not. It’s a lie” (290). So the complicit silence over race is deemed as an unstated social compromise, because “You’re supposed to pretend that you don’t notice certain things” (127). Thus, the presence of that absence weighs really heavily on the understanding of the insidious workings of racist discrimination on the part of Ifemelu and other non-American blacks. She perceptively chronicles episodes of blunt racism, along with other more subtle, more refined moments in which racial hostility and hatred are covered up by a thin veil of misinterpretation and uncertainty. From the terrible statement: “You people never do anything right” (182), the Manichean distinction between “we”—as the empowered subjects—in opposition to “you”—the subjugated others—is clearly present throughout the novel. And conveniently internalized and echoed by black Americans too, as they feel their options for education, for work, for promotion are not the same as for whites.

Apart from internalization, other processes are shown at work as far as racial dynamics are concerned in the States, namely, homogenization and hierarchization. As Aunty Uju affirms: “All of us look alike to white people” (120). For the average dominant subject encoded as a white heterosexual successful man, black people are reduced to just that: their blackness. Thus, all of them stand for the interchangeable other which does not admit nuances nor significant differences. It could be also argued that their (racial) difference makes them alike, although it may sound contradictory. But this is precisely how hegemonic racial politics standarize non-normative beings depriving them of their specificities, even of their own humanity. In comparison to full-fledged white subjects, blacks seem to form a unified pack, where distinctions between individuals and even communities are blurred. The differences between black Americans and Africans are then subsumed under one single category only based on skin color.

While this is absolutely true regarding the racial innuendo behind racist practices, the reversed process is also witnessed in the novel. Despite being seen as one entity, blacks are also singled out for their blackness. So most of them attempt to integrate, fit in, as they do not want to stand out. After the episode in which Dike is not given sunscreen by his teacher allegedly on the basis that he does not need it, his response is illuminating: “I just want to be regular” (184). This answer voiced by a black teenager seeks to explain that constant need felt by black Americans to prove they also belong, they are also entitled to the same rights and opportunities as whites. The need for integration is keenly felt by each African American that appears in the novel, even those who express the opposite like Blaine. As it happens, it is really relevant to see how educated upper class blacks also believe in their dream, the American dream.

Thus, Adichie provides a complex understanding of the processes involved in race prejudice and discrimination and their harmful and long-term effects. In so doing, she reveals the manifold ways in which the “others” are mistreated, marginalized and excluded from the so-called American dream. As a mestiza writer, she is keenly aware that it is necessary firstly to clearly bring to the forefront and denounce the terrible racist ideology that pervades each encounter with the racialized “other,” and secondly to look for alternative models that endorse otherness as a socially and politically strategic category.

Bibliography

ANZALDÚA, Gloria (2007): Borderlands/La Frontera. 1987. San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books.

ADICHIE, Chimamanda Ngozi and Daria Tunca (2005): “Interview”, http://www.l3.ulg.ac.be/adichie/cnainterview.html. (Accessed: June 6, 2016).

ADICHIE, Chimamanda Ngozi (2013): Americanah. London: Fourth State.

CUMMINS, Anthony (2013): “Exotic, yet Familiar”, The Spectator. May 4: 40-41.

GIKANDI, Simon (2011): “Preface”. (Ed. Jennifer Wawrizinek and J.K.S. Makokha). Negotiating Afropolitanism: Essays on Borders and Spaces in Contemporary African Literature and Folklore. Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 9-12.

GUARRACINO, Serena (2014): “Writing ‘so Raw and True’: Blogging in Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah.” Between iv.8 (November): 1-27.

HALLEMEIER, Katherine (2015): “’To Be from the Country of People Who Gave’: National Allegory and the United States of Adichie’s Americanah”, Studies in the Novel. 47.2 (Summer): 231-245.

MBEMBE, Achille (2008): “What is Postcolonial Thinking? Interview with Achille Mbembe”, Eurozine. http://www.eurozine.com/articles/2008-01-09-mbembe-en.html. (Accessed July 14, 2014).

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