Years ago, I read an essay about the cultural construction of whiteness in America; the author’s claim was that whiteness is defined as a void, easier to discuss in terms of what it is not, rather than what it is. I can’t remember if this was mentioned in the essay, but I believe this loss is derived from the ubiquity of whiteness itself. Trying to define whiteness is bootstrapping. Even the vocabulary involved in such discussions of ethnicity is insufficient to properly address the issue. By virtue of their minority status, it is possible for folks in a non-white construction to hone their self-awareness in terms of their association with whatever their minority is. So a black folk has an easier time grappling with what it means to be Black because their blackness is less prominent when compared to whiteness. This applies just as well to sex and gender roles, and even works in subcategories of whiteness based on country of origin.
I’m sometimes envious of people who have this kind of associative chance. I have no legacy to use to direct my self-definition. My family, awesome as it is, shows no ethnic traits, like a focus on food from the old country, songs and stories, or even knowledge of distant family over in Europe. This is why that essay resonated with me so strongly, it seemed to be describing my life exactly. Because my cultural background is ubiquitous to the point of meaninglessness, I’m missing out on an entire facet of existence. This was likely the nascent impulse that made me so interested in anthropology.
Something Alixa + Naima said the other night sparked this thought process. In an amazing poem about Hurricane Katrina, they made disparaging reference to being white. After, they explained that it wasn’t a remark about race, but about a certain state of mind they call “white.” To me it seems like this state of mind is the same as the ubiquity/void that I’m talking about. It makes sense, but is also troubling. Their sense of culture and legacy was very prominent in their reading, in direct contrast to whiteness.
Yet where does that leave me? There is no Italian or Polish or Hungarian or Irish or Jewish heritage for me to lean on. I cannot adopt myself into any of those paradigms and be authentic. On the positive side, this void leaves me free to define myself in any terms that I choose; except these always seem to remain in the void and the process gets awfully old after awhile. It is almost easier to just be meaningless.
Your (our) family is very blessed to have a very strong cultural background in Catholicism.….….
(just an opportunity to also say “Hi”)
Hi Mom! You have a great son. Good Job.
My last serious relationship before I got married was with a very WASPy woman that was brought up in Orange, OH. She was so fascinated with my “jewishness” and she was considering converting. She may have when she eventually got married to a MOT (member of tribe) doctor. (Used the same rabbi I did.)
It was amazing how she did not feel any ethnicity despite the Anglo-Saxon roots and she yearned for it. Unfortunately, what ever she chose, it would not really be her. Self-discovery, I think, is the key. Not co-option.
Hi Mom! You’re right, but Catholicism isn’t an ethnicity; which is more of what I’m talking about. There are similarities, sure, but there is nothing apart from our Catholicism that gives us a cultural identity, different from a Polish Catholic or Mexican Catholic for instance. We don’t eat pierogies or celebrate The Day of the Dead. Catholicism alone doesn’t fill every cultural need.
I often describe our family as “classic Italian” without the Italian. We are very loyal to each other; when together, we eat, we drink, we yell.….we eat, we drink, we yell.….)
without the Italian
Exactly my point; no specific cultural background. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not being critical of our family at all! This isn’t something that deserves blame or fault.
I know hon.
Are you forgetting the Native American Indian blood we possess?
Like Uncle Corbin told Heather: “Remember that nose bleed you had a few months ago? That was your Indian blood.”
can’t you just be american? i’m only half-joking. i know what you mean about not being a minority and not identifying with a group in that way. and my comment doesn’t really address all of that. but as a foreigner, i always found it kind of odd how so many americans obsess over “being italian” or “being irish” or whatever when often they have never set foot in the country they (pretend to) identify with, nor have any clue what life there would be like. meanwhile, there is an american culture that these people actually ARE part of. bruce springsteen and mcdonald’s and disney and dylan and overly sugary sweets and jazz and entrepreneurship and can-do attitudes and television and…
When people ask me about my heritage, I say American, since I’m such a mutt. I see what you’re saying, and I think that in other countries, where being American is a minority, it is easier to identify as one. But since we’re soaking in it, people need to be Italian-Americans or Irish-Americans or whatever. I think that is a natural reaction to the melting pot, many immigrants come to the US because they see it as a place to start fresh, with few ties to the old ways, but after a few generations those ties become important again.
It is also troubling to identify as American when there is so much unwelcome baggage that goes along with it anymore.
Wow. When my mom found my blog it was nothing but screaming for an hour and a half.
Adam’s Mom rocks!
(Adam, though, loses some street cred for having to recruit his moms to get more comments on his blog.)
My problem is that I’ve grown tired of my Slovenian (almost Italian) roots and have been slowly trying to become Puerto Rican.
Hey PTB! My mom has not liked many things I’ve written. I hear about those IRL.
Andy, isn’t Steve half-Puerto Rican since he used to be married to one? Maybe he can give you tips?
That’s true about the unwelcome baggage. But maybe we need good people like yourself to proudly say “I’m American!” to show the world and ourselves that not every American is a {insert any number of negative words here}.