Sunday, February 28, 2010

Response to Lyons and Stromberg

Narratives

This week's readings made me think about different kinds of literacy. From quilts, to bow ties, to spoken word, to academic writing, to journal writing, to body language, to music videos...they all have a space in my idea of literacy. Stromberg's piece, however, brings up Kenneth Burke's parlor example, this idea of equal access and how rhetoric (traditional notions of it) creates a hierarchy that denies people who may be familiar other literacies. So, those who are a part of the larger narrative don't worry about people and things that do not impact their own lives. Stromberg maps out a definition for rhetoric that binds the book as he defines "rhetoric as the use of language and other forms of symbolic action to produce texts ...that affect changes in the attitudes, beliefs, or actions of an audience" (4). So, rhetoric becomes an art that allows Native Americans to name themselves, to be at the table that creates knowledge and has a say so in knowledge dissemination and persuasion. Stromberg's piece sets up an introduction that seems to work for a book that will not only give agency to Native Americans, but allow the creation and negotiation of a narrative that is grounded in Native American rhetorical traditions, traditions that have been around for hundreds of years, but have been denied access.

Lyon's piece echoes Stromberg's introduction as he gets more into this idea of narrative in his article "A Captivity Narrative: Indians, Mixedbloods, and 'White' Academe." He notes that Native Americans are "both sides of the story. They are the story" which speaks to the history of America and how one can be "the story," but not be acknowledged as a part of that larger fabric. I really like Lyon's piece because it is a narrative...he models what he speaks about, infusing multiple identities into his writing. The narrative that he provides about his experience teaching in North Dakota brings up questions of rhetoric and power. The name of the school mascot, this idea of wanting to fight to remove the name, and then this notion of safety if one decides to speak out against cruelty. So, again, we have this question of who is "in the parlor" or at the table? Lyons notes that their has to be a space to "bring the reservation into the classroom and historize Indianness, while at the same time examining nuances of mixblood captivities" (107). He is right because these "safe houses" (Pratt) are places where histories can be analyzed in real, and dynamic ways.

The readings for this week reaffirmed for me the importance of narratives because I view them, like Lyons, as "stories of hope" (88). Thinking about the how "every time we speak or write, the history of contact is quietly (or not so quietly) stirring," I am reminded that it is important to recognize the history in narrative and narrative form (89). It is imperative that when looking to a film or music video, we understand the context and the implicit and explicit messages that are being transmitted. Rhetoric as language consciously used to convey a point, then, becomes even more important as it continues to inscribe history and name...thus, we have to constantly be cognizant of history, how a mascot's name may be demeaning our existence.

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