Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The Power of Words

“Nobody can teach me who I am. You can describe parts of me, but who I am - and what I need - is something I have to find out myself.”
— Chinua Achebe


I find it fitting to start off this discussion of Adichie's TED talk "The Danger of a Single Story" with a quote from one of my favorite post-colonial writers.   Adichie admits that Achebe was one of the main people who influenced the way she told a story.  So who exactly is Chinua Achebe, and why is he vital to understanding Adichie's TED talk? For those of you who don't know,  Achebe could best be summarized as the father of championing the creation of African literature by African writers.  He wrote the novel Things Fall Apart which aimed at reclaiming the colonial history of Africa, which was callously told through specifically the colonizer's perspective ( ie. Conrad's Heart of Darkness).  Adichie points out that what Achebe is trying to do is "balance the art of storytelling" (Adichie, TED TALK).

Why is there such an imbalance though?

First lets consider a very important concept.

What must be remembered when it comes to colonial history, and understanding it, is that there are two sides:

1). Colonial history as perceived and experienced by the colonized.
2). Colonial history as perceived and experienced by the colonizer.

The sad truth is that colonial history, until recently due to the rise of post-colonial studies, has only been taught through the colonizer.  BUT WHY!

To understand why, lets revert back to Adichie's presentation.

Upon listening to Adichie's presentation I felt a great familiarity.  In fact it wasn't the first time I encountered the idea of the "single" story.   The first lesson I learned before I donned the mantle of  a post-colonial (pc) scholar is exactly what Adichie warns about in her TED speech--the danger of only telling one story or perspective and presenting it as absolute truth.

This lesson stems from the first time I read Achebe's novel Things Fall Apart which took place in my undergraduate World Lit. I  class.  Before we even began the novel, my professor first had us do a class exercise.  We were to each take a turn by going to the the chalk board and writing down what we knew about Africa's culture and people. I remember writing the word "lions" on the board.   I must also admit, that along with everyone else, I thought that Africa was indeed a country full of savage wild life, beautiful savannas, and savage people constantly at war with each other.  Notice the repetition of savage, a word that has extreme negative connotations.  That was the way I understood Africa.  Savage, untamed, uncivilized.  I had read Conrad's Heart of Darkness in AP English and only knew Africa as he and all the other history textbooks had presented the picture of Africa and its colonial history.

BUT what I didn't know was that underneath Conrad's beautiful imagery and the historical accounts I had been taught--first in middle school and then in high school--was that these perspectives were what Adichie claims as harmful and powerful stereotypes which create one "definitive story" (Adichie TED talk).  I was prey to the "single" story.  It only took a thorough reading of Things Fall Apart to open my young ignorant eyes.  It was that single story that made me want to become a p.c scholar.

The "single story" is harmful, but in this case it helped me mature as a scholar and humanitarian.

Which brings me to the title of this post.  Adichie is correct in saying that there are grave consequences that come to mind because of the "single story."  IT DOES "rob people of dignity and it denies us the ability to understand all of humanity as equal" as Adichie so beautifully points out.   

However, I would like to add that it is not just the "single story" that creates such consequences.  It's the words that tell the story, the way the story is told, and who is telling the story.

Language creates barriers, and it is through language that we are able to communicate, or not, whether it be through oral or written vehicles.       

It is clear that the definitive power of the "single story" has a profound impact on the way we perceive others and ourselves.

The imbalance of the "single story" therefore stems from the way we perceive others.  Historically, colonization has created a picture of Africans as inferior, savage, and uncivilized.  These stereotypes are deeply graved into the image of Africa most uneducated people perceive.  Eventually, like Adichie warns stereotypes become the defining factor of a people or a group.


I would like to wrap this post up with a warning to myself and others who are looking into becoming p.c. scholars.  Colonization has taken place in many forms and aspects, yet we must never present one colonial story as the universal truth.  For if we do, we deny ourselves the right to call ourselves p.c. scholars.


Who we are, and what we are as humans, is something we must learn together.  We must understand all sides of the story in order to understand our past so that we might better understand our future.

Isn't colonial history every one's inheritance?

Finally, we must never buy into the power of the "single story."


4 comments:

  1. That’s interesting that you bring that up about most postcolonial literature is written by the colonizers and not the colonized, which seems backward to me since we are reading about the experiences of those who were essentially told that they were inhabiting the wrong space, the wrong time, the wrong place. They had no place to meaningfully occupy unless they would, of course, become enslaved or subordinate in some way.

    In the American Lit. class I reference in my most recent blog post, we not only studied the letters of Columbus and other “explorers,” but also texts such as the Native American creation stories. These were a fascinating glimpse into their native culture, however, I was also interested and anxious to learn firsthand accounts from the American Indians as these new white men arrived on their land. We learned that one of the natives spoke English (name? I can’t remember...Massasoit?), but did he know how to write? If so, why weren’t we given his account of what took place? Do such texts even exist?

    And what of the American Indian women? I don’t even think we focused on any in this class. What were their roles in the community? What was the birthing process like? How were events like breastfeeding, menstruation, or gay/lesbian relations handled amongst the tribes? And forget about even considering such literature in other American Lit. courses - at KU, we read writers like Thoreau and Emerson - those that were said to shape the American literary landscape and to help us better understand what it is to be Americans. Unfortunately, I don’t feel that any of this (although it’s certainly quality, worthwhile literature) is satisfactory if we refuse to travel back far enough or deeply enough.

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  2. Ugh, my grammar! It won't let me edit!?

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  3. Gaytri Spivak-a pc scholar of women studies- offers the explanation that "the subaltern cannot speak." Subaltern meaning those lower groups of any society-women, children,gays etc.-that often suffer a second colonization at the hands of their fellow colonized. I find fault in this rather flawed explanation because women and gays have a definite voice but are often pushed aside because men hold a priviliged status. Ugh quite frankly it makes me sick.

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  4. We will be reading that Spivak essay later in the semester. It informs so much of my scholarship. Sean, I love your last question!

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