Reliving Reflection

            Race has come up multiple times in our discussions. Think of "The Meaning of the July Fourth for the Negro", The Lone Ranger, and "Because My Father Always Said He Was the Only Indian Who Saw Jimi Hendrix Play 'The Star-Spangled Banner' at Woodstock". Our in class discussions, however, are the most interesting parts, because unlike many of the other topics, not everyone agrees on the same ideas. While others might say that race is obviously a social construct, parts of society tend to disagree. Next up on this journey of discovery is the book, The Bluest Eye, by Toni Morrison. Even though the foreword is just four pages, Morrison's passion and fire for the subject is clearly shown. The foreword opens up with a truth; all people know how it feels to be disliked. I love this opening because the first line already garners the support and sympathy of nearly every reader, no matter their differences. It's an issue that almost everyone can relate to. Nobody likes being disliked. Nobody. As she discusses her own story she also giver he own reasons for writing. She remembers a childhood conversation, in which, one of her friends wished that she had blue eyes. These anecdotes and personal thoughts give the novel verisimilitude. Her looking back on her childhood felt reminded me of The Glass Castle. The way the both revisit memories of the past and search for meaning. How Morrison tries to find meaning in her friend's statement and how Walls does the same for her Father's casino gambling and broken relationship. How they both end up profiling themselves, Morrison by race, and Walls by wealth. The two memoirs are not so different. Their reflective nature and deeper thinking are both qualities that I find most fascinating. Their books are ways for themselves "to peck away" at these questions that were asked long ago.

"I can say that my narrative project is as difficult today as it was then."

Not Enough

They say that if you give it your all, that you will never regret. But is that really true? What if your all isn't enough. What if all that effort you put in ends up not mattering? How is that any different than if you had put in no effort? Just because you can tell yourself that you tried your best, doesn't change the outcome. To me that's just an excuse, a cop-out, a way to ignore the past. It's frustrating and shameful. It creates fears and doubts. What if I'm really not good enough? What if all the time I spent on something ends up being meaningless?

Mr. Spiegelman understands. He too has been there and has doubted himself. His own father looked down upon him. Art's unwillingness to help him with the roof, his poor choice in coats, his overpaying for a tape recorder, his stubbornness and defiant nature, are all things that make him "flawed". It doesn't matter that Art became a successful author. It doesn't matter that he's the first to win the Pulitzer Prize for a graphic novel. It does not matter. What does matter is that he wasn't in the Holocaust. Art is not Richieu. That's all that matters. So long as that fact remains, he can never be equal. In his father's eyes, he will always be less than Richieu. 

"No matter what I accomplish, it doesn't seem like much compared to surviving Auschwitz".

Life isn't always beautiful. It can be painful, upsetting, and frustrating. Sometimes life throws obstacles in your path, and you get knocked over. To remember the mistakes of the past is not something anyone really desires. I can't help but wonder what his life was like when he was making Maus. Was it painful? Did it hurt? Surely if I look up some of his interviews I can find the exact answer. But... after some thought, I realize that that isn't necessary. He has already told me what I needed to know. His feelings are right here, carefully crafted into every frame and every page, right here in front of my eyes. 

We cannot escape the past, just as we cannot escape the present. To move forward, we cannot stay stuck in the past... But to truly move forward, we must also always remember.

The Masked Maus

          The shift in time frames is an integral part of Maus, and it is used for many different purposes. In the chapter "Auschwitz (Time Flies), Spiegelman begins a whole new time frame, the one of present day. Here, Art begins to expand on a whole wide range of themes through various techniques. One of the most noticeable is the increase in the presence of masks. The masks are drawn on everybody, including the reporters and the businessmen. The masks, however, are not the same, just like how the animals drawn are not the same. They are of mice, cats, dogs, and pigs; the animals that have been drawn in the story. This stark separation from their original state of full-fledged animals to one of disguises is a sign of difference. Unlike the burned victims laying underneath their feet (who have no masks), this change signals the lies and deception of the people.  They aren't the same as the others. They have concealed motives involving Spiegelman and his story. Whether it be for their own fame or for business practices, their goals don't involve the story, but instead the "selling" of it. 

"Artie, baby. Check out this licensing deal. You get 50% of the profits. We'll make a million. Your dad would be proud!"

           The mask motif, however, isn't just reserved for businessmen and reporters. It is also drawn on the therapist, Pavel, and Spiegelman, himself. In this instance, however, the mask isn't a representation of selfishness and trickery, but instead, one of awareness. 
It is in this conversation, in which the string and the masks are the most visible. The heads and hair of Pavel and Artie are distinctly shown, giving them a much more humanized appearance. Through this present day narrative, Spiegelman shows the reader that one cannot simply be classified by their nationality or religion. That underneath the mask lies something that we all share in common, being human. To unmask what lies beneath the exterior, and to look deeper, that is what truly matters.

Fixed on Freedom

                 Freedom? Freedom!! What a wonderful and horrifying word it is. The thing is, if you had sat down next to me, looked me square in the eye, and asked me to define the word freedom. I would have most likely looked back at you with a blank stare and waited until the awkward silence became unbearable for both of us. Because, after a whole month of reading, researching, annotating, analyzing, and discussing several pieces of literature, I learned that I know nothing... er, well.. close to nothing. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the pieces thoroughly. Every piece that we read was both interesting and complex, and sparked various conversations and ideas. But, as we discussed our thoughts on each piece, it became increasingly evident that I was getting confused. The more I analyzed and reflected, I realized, the more I did not know. I became frustrated and lost, unable to see the bigger picture. It was only then did I begin to understand. There is no straightforward answer. Freedom is not a set of principles or guidelines, it is a manifestation of one's own beliefs and feelings. Jefferson, Stanton, Kingston, Alexie, Douglass, hooks, Vowell, Thoreau, and Wallace all had something in common. The willingness to share their own thoughts and opinions with others. Whether it be about race and stereotypes in society to simple awareness and discovery, each had their own purpose in writing.

"You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't."

                  
                 That is why they are/were authors. They had a burning passion to express themselves no matter what. Jefferson used his pen and stood up to the might of the British. Douglass used his voice to mock the majority in society. Kingston used anecdotes and history to explain her own. That's what freedom is: The simple telling of ideas. It's about learning to express yourself and your ideas, despite what others may think, say, or even do. To embrace your fears and insecurities, but still being brave enough to share. You are free to agree or disagree completely with everything that I have said. Because that, ultimately, is where your own freedom lies.

In society, selflessness and helping others, among other things, are to be considered positive and worthy of praise. However, the traits that one might view as exemplary are not so often demonstrated by others. In fact, the majority of the time, people are too concerned with their own thoughts and feelings to be aware of others.

In his speech, “This is Water”, Wallace analyzes how individuals have choices in how they live their lives. He addresses how people tend to “see and interpret everything through this lens of self” and fall into a “natural default-setting” of viewing others. Wallace points out that the average day for the average individual consists of “boredom and frustration”. Boredom and frustration born from the long day at work, the crowded aisles, the long checkout line, and the intensive rush-hour traffic. Wallace notes that these descriptions are “automatic”, but that our thoughts and feelings don’t have to be. We can choose to see that “everyone else in the line is just as frustrated”, or that some of the people have “much harder, more tedious or painful lives”. We are the ones who are free to decide what has meaning and what doesn’t.

“The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day”.

There are different ways to see, view, and interpret everything. We have the ability to make choices in how we think and act. It is easy for us to to fall into an automatic way of thinking, but that if given enough effort, we can change how we perceive others and the world. To depart from the unconscious and to be aware of what matters. That, Wallace explains, is real freedom.