"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.
I've always been quite envious of people who have talked about
"going home". Even now people don't know quite what to say to
me. . .If I were to arrive in England, people always say to
me "Good to be back home, isn't it?" I'm never sure when I see
them looking at me, if they are thinking, "Well, is this his
home?" And when I arrive in the Caribbean, people say to me,
"Ah, good to have you home, man." Personally, I don't feel that
on a professional level, on an aesthetic level, I don't feel
any culture shock between the United States, Britain, and the
Caribbean. I've been traveling in that triangle for so long.
On a personal level, yes, it would be nice to feel a sense of
belonging somewhere.--Caryl
Phillips (Interview).
I would say that I was a British writer. . .For people like
me and Caz (Caryl Phillips), we are British writers. There is
nothing else we could be. It is quite difficult, though, because
what that entails is another view of Britain. Of Britain as
being a genuinely plural, multi-cultural place, where, somehow,
everything gets different. I think that is quite difficult for
people, English literature having been English, as it were,
in the strict sense for so long. --Hanif
Kureishi (Interview)
I think one has to be comfortable with the notion that one
has one's own cultural identity and that one doesn't necessarily
have to be at "home", so to speak. But having had that cultural
identity, or whatever else it is that is established for you,
wherever you are rooted, whatever you are rooted in. . .I think
we have to accept that we are going to be perpetually wandering.
We are bound to, I think. That's the kind of crisis that we're
in now, that we're forced to be in a state of perpetual wandering.
I mean we can't be at home. Even if we sit at home, we are forced
to travel, just because of what is going on around us.--Sunetra
Gupta (Interview).
- For a generation of writers such as Caryl Phillips and Hanif
Kureishi and Sunetra Gupta, cultural identification is a slippery
and problematic concept. Unlike writers of the first generation
of postcolonial immigrants to Britain, such as Roy Heath, who
after forty years of residency in London still identifies himself
as Guyanese and still writes only of Guyana, this younger generation
finds itself troubled and conflicted as it attempts to create
identities that defy the borders of the modern construct of the
Western nation/state.
Their novels and screenplays move from one nation to another,
from one culture to another, with no clear sense of "home" and
"abroad." And, though Kureishi and Phillips may maintain that
being identified as "British" is an important public and overtly
political act, in fact their work continues to emphasize the catechristic
nature of the term, how it lacks a true referent in a transnational,
diasporic world. Perhaps, then, it is time to examine the work
of these "Black British" writers and to consider whether the nation/state
as a paradigm for the consideration of art has been supplanted
by new, more fluid, transnational and transcultural forces.
- This rush toward finding a politically all-encompassing designation
for these writers raises questions about the nature and utility
of such labels. Does such a label simply become another way of
marginalizing those not recognized as part of the dominant culture's
discourse, particularly in terms of liberal multi-culturalism?
Is "Black British" a facile Manichean opposition to the dominant
culture that essentializes a generation who have cultural origins
as varied as, for example, Pakistan, China, Guyana, Jamaica, and
Nigeria? How do we consider the claim of a "British" cultural
identity of any kind when such a label historically has been a
matter of political administration rather than descriptive of
any recognizable set of cultural practices? (Cohen, 35).
- Though these are important questions, they overlook the influence
of such forces as decolonization, transnational capitalism, transcultural
mass communication, and migration and movement on these children
of the post-colonial diaspora. For what writers such as Kureishi,
Phillips, and Gupta are attempting is not to essentialize the
Black British subject or experience, but rather to unpack how
both "Black-ness" and "British-ness" are culturally constructed
for themselves and for the dominant culture. In doing so they
are, in fact, doing more than simply re-staging the narratives
of English culture that the British state has used to define itself.
It is a project intended not simply to, as Homi
Bhabha writes, "invert the axis of political discrimination
by installing the excluded term at the centre" Instead, he writes,
"the analytic of cultural difference intervenes to transform the
scenario of articulation--not simply to disturb the rationale
of discrimination" ("DissemiNation" 312). In other words, it is
not an attempt to create a separate-but-equal narrative to run
alongside the dominant cultural narrative of the nation, nor is
it an attempt to assimilate the story of the Other into the dominant
narrative. Rather, it is an attempt to disrupt the narratives
forged to define the dominant culture, to hybridize
the discourse, to reconfigure the concept of all cultural identities
as fluid and heterogeneous. Instead of seeking recognition from
the dominant culture or overcoming specific instances of political
injustice, the work of these writers endeavors to reconfigure
these relations of dominance and resistance, to reposition both
the dominant and the marginalized on the stage of cultural discourse,
and to challenge the static borders of national and cultural identity.
- In an age of mass migration and mass media dissemination such
forces have ruptured and blurred the borders of the post-Enlightenment,
modern nation/state. These writers and artists are working in
transnational, transcultural spaces that are defined by what Arjun
Appadurai calls "imagined worlds" (329) where alliances and allegiances
coalesce, dissolve, and coalesce again along the lines of ideas
and images and are continually re-staged across, rather than within,
stable nationalist cultural narratives. In order to understand
this phenomenon, however, it is useful first to see how post-colonial
diaspora in Britain has intensified and accelerated the undermining
and reconfiguring of the dominant cultural narrative.
- Bhabha contends that the construction of the dominant and central
narrative of the "nation" consists of both the appropriation of
repeated arbitrary cultural practices that distinguish one community
from its neighbors along with the strategic "forgetting" of the
violence that was necessary for the dominant culture to "found"
and reproduce itself. In this double act of forgetting the violence
and inscribing with meaning the accidents of territory and daily
life, the dominant culture creates a narrative that defines both
the origins and the present nature of its "imagined community."
- Even as this narrative is constructed in the discourse of the
dominant culture, however, the daily practices of the marginalized
members of the state begin to disrupt the conception of the nation.
The nation attempts to represent itself as both its history and
its inhabitants; yet as the history is written as a coherent narrative
to explain the emergence of the dominant culture, the daily cultural
practices of those on the margins of the state give lie to the
narrative of a homogenous society of a unified people. The consequence
of this is that "The nation reveals, in its ambivalent and vacillating
representation, the ethnography of its own historicity and opens
up the possibility of other narratives of people and their difference"
(300). From such a space, according to Bhabha, the voices from
the margin can begin to be heard both inside and outside of the
dominant discourse. This "destroys the constant principles of
the national culture that attempt to hark back to a 'true' national
past, which is often represented in the reified forms of realism
and stereotype" (303).
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