"A State of Perpetual Wandering":
Diaspora and Black British Writers
Bronwyn T. Williams, University
of New Hampshire
Copyright © 1999 by Bronwyn T. Williams, all rights reserved.
This article is reproduced with the kind permission of the editors
of JOUVERT:
Journal of Postcolonial Studies.
- "Black" means more than any specific homeland, or more than
"homeland" at all. It is a word that emphasizes the heterogeneous
and unstable nature of diaspora. Not only can it move between
generations, and thereby avoid the inflexibility of a word such
as "immigrant," it also blurs the boundaries of any stable conception
of national essences. This is not engaging in the literary or
political nationalism of the former colony in the way envisioned
by Frantz Fanon
or seen in the early work of writers such as Chinua
Achebe. Instead it makes overt the porous nature of Britain's
national borders. As Paul Gilroy has pointed out in his conception
of the "Black Atlantic", the construction of Black-ness happens
in a fluid and elastic space that is neither the United States
nor Britain nor the Caribbean.
- One obvious example of this transnational space of Black identity
is the frequent reference by Black British writers, when recalling
their youth, to the significance of African-American writers as
formative and liberating voices that contrasted with the educational
system's emphasis on canonical white English writers. Phillips,
Kureishi, and others such
as Abdulrazak Gurnah all talk of the importance of discovering
the work of writers such as Richard Wright and James Baldwin.
In Kureishi's novel, The Black Album, Shahid describes
sitting in the travel agency owned by his Pakistani parents in
Sevenoaks and "instead of sending people to Ibiza I sat in the
office reading Malcom X and Maya Angelou and the Souls of Black
Folk. I read about the Mutiny and Partition and Mountbatten.
And one morning I started reading Midnight's
Children" (7). For Shahid these are all texts that provide
him with an emerging sense of identity that stands in difference
from and resistance to the dominant White English culture. That
the authors are American or English or Indian or diasporic is
unimportant, as is the nationalist framework that contains, for
example, Rushdie's
book. What is significant is the struggle with being defined as
the Other and marginalized by the dominant culture--wherever that
culture might happen to be. Shahid can draw from the experiences
of Malcom X to frame his reading about the Partition that so shaped
the lives of his parents when they fled to Britain. Still, to
Shahid, the events and places and cultures he reads about, as
influential as they are to him, were always someplace else. That
doubleness of connection and detachment, and some possible responses
to it, blurs and often transcends nation/state borders.
- A transnational space is not always a comfortable one, filled
as it is with fragmented cultures and discontinuous histories.
If, as Hall says, "Identity is formed at the unstable point where
the 'unspeakable' stories of subjectivity meet the narratives
of history, of a culture" ("Minimal Selves" 115), the inability
of the Black British subject to speak from a cohesive cultural
narrative that has not been expropriated by the dominant culture
can create in this doubleness a profound sense of alienation.
There is no space in the conventional national narrative for the
Black British subject. Those spaces that have not been forgotten
are in the midst of being forgotten by the dominant culture. Assimilation
into the dominant narrative is not an option. At the same time
there is no other "homeland" to return to for the person born
and reared in Britain; there is only the story of a place of origin
before diaspora. Such a homeland is for the Black British youth
only a catechristic construction of language. There is no sign
to accompany the signifier.
- These conflicting constructions of nationality,
diaspora, and ethnicity place the Black British in an ambivalent
and unstable space between nation and subject. What should be
"home", the land of one's childhood, the "mother" country of empire,
is unwilling to accept the Black British subject as part of the
culture because of the way in which the dominant culture is constructed
as the White Englishman. Conversely, the "decolonized nation as
the place of ultimate refuge and gratification" (Gikandi, 196)
represents only another myth of origins to which the Black British
subject can never belong. This creates more than a facile binary
of home and exile, so often invoked by the first generation of
postcolonial nationalists and immigrants. Instead, as Gikandi
says, it leads "to an aporia, as if this figure of evasion and
ambiguity is the most appropriate mechanism for responding to
the problem of origins and location in the postimperial scene"
(199). Consequently, any attempt to stabilize or essentialize
a Black British identity crumbles under the weight of its internal
contradictions.
- On the other hand, the construction of Black-ness, by its very
instability does offer a potential space outside of the concept
of the nation/state which can be used to write against those ideological
forces attempting to create a homogenous, coherent narrative of
the nation and its people. From this position there is the possibility
of contesting the post-Enlightenment modernist ideology that structures
the discourse of national and cultural identity. It allows the
possibility, as Dipesh Chakrabarty advocates, "to write over the
given and privileged narratives of citizenship other narratives
of human connections that draw sustenance from dreamed-up pasts
and futures where collectivities are defined neither by the rituals
of citizenship nor by the nightmare of 'tradition' that 'modernity'
creates" (23). Chakrabarty goes on to question whether the Western
notion of a nation/state can accommodate these other "dreams",
other narratives. This question can engage with a political moment
in Britain in a way that, by the very nature of its transnational
and transcultural repositioning of the narrative of Black identity,
disrupts the established narrative of the English nation, the
British state and the accompanying relationships of domination
and resistance.
|