Chris Denecker: When Narratives of the Past Meet the Present
Slave narratives and the stories of the DALN overlap in that both function as places for reflecting upon “reading and writing practices and values during a fundamentally important time of cultural transition” (Selfe, et al., 2010, p. 39). In many slave narratives, “The acquisition of literacy, the power to read books and discover one’s place in the scheme of things, is treated . . . as a matter of equal in importance to the achievement of physical freedom” (Andrews, 1986, p. 13). The coupling of writings/texts found in African American literature and in the DALN demonstrates first-hand the complex relationships among literacy, power, and independence. To put it yet another way, pairing DALN artifacts with African American slave narratives affords students opportunities to explore not only the concept of narrative but also the impact of literacy acquisition, the transformative potential of perspective, and, ultimately, the question of how our “selves” and our lives are (and have been) shaped by literary, historical, cultural, and social influences.
To begin, the contributions of Williams’s video, “Language as an Expression of Culture,” and Blackburn’s audio file, “Reading and Motherhood,” lend themselves to rich, complex exploration and discussion even when read outside the context of the African American slave narrative genre.
"Williams telling her 'sharecropper story'" Video File
(transcript)
For example, Williams recounts the story of a person raised in a family of sharecroppers. This person received an “abbreviated formal education” but possessed an enduring “depth of understanding” in regard to literacy and the power of learning.
"Williams explaining that 'education is freedom'" Video File
(transcript)
Interestingly, viewers later learn that the person described in the narrative is Williams’s mother—a woman of strength who “clearly understood that education is freedom” and, in turn, taught her children that “applied knowledge is power.” Although Williams provides no explanation as to why she initially veils her mother's identity in these early comments, she gradually reveals additional elements of her mother's literacy story and also verbally unearths the origins of her own literacy narrative as it is tied to her mother’s experience. Taken as a whole, the story of her mother’s acquisition of literacy then exemplifies the reclaiming of one marginalized voice (Williams’s mother) and, to borrow from Michael Bamberg, the “positioning” of another (Williams, herself) as Williams negotiates her relationship to her mother, her mother’s literacy story, and her mother's past. Also evident in this excerpt is Williams's positioning of self in regard to her audience (what to reveal and to what extent) as well as to her own literacy experiences.
Although Williams recounts her story from a grown “child’s” point of view, Blackburn positions her story from a parent’s perspective. In the narrative, Blackburn shares a vignette of her eight-year-old son’s immersion into a book that journals the experiences of a slave boy as he travels along the path of the Underground Railroad.
"Blackburn discusses Son" Audio File
(transcript)
Blackburn’s son was “unwilling to put the book down,” and she, as parent, witnessed a “complication that comes along with literacy”: a “breakdown” of “innocence.” The angst Blackburn experiences as she recounts this formative moment in her son's life is audible in her vocalized pauses and in the deliberateness of her word choices. Here, listeners are privy as Blackburn relives the moment she was forced to negotiate between a maternal impulse to protect her son and an equally maternal instinct for fostering his independence--a characteristic she sees as integral to his burgeoning and compassionate understanding of humanity’s atrocities.
"Blackburn and 'Letting Go" Audio File
(transcript)
In positioning herself as “mother” in this narrative, Blackburn recounts not only her son’s literacy story but also reveals the conscious, sometimes painful, choices she has made to shape at least a portion of that story. Blackburn’s personal revelation ultimately suggests a path not dissimilar to that of Williams’ mother, who also recognized and valued the power of literacy to shape and direct lives.
Williams’s and Blackburn’s DALN narratives stand as powerful tools for study in their own right, when considered simultaneously with or after students’ immersion into the study of slave narratives. However, a joint exploration of the two can position students as individuals who can explore the various literary and theoretical aspects of the narrative form. For example, students can readily contrast the non-linear stream of Williams’s and Blackburn’s oral stories with Drew’s slightly more structured written recordings of first person accounts from fugitive slaves who escaped to freedom in Canada. These narratives can be contrasted again with the highly structured narratives of Douglass and Jacobs who undoubtedly realized, as William Andrews (1986) explains, that “Nineteenth century whites read slave narratives more to get a firsthand look at the institution of slavery than to become acquainted with an individual slave” (p. 5). In turn, these discussions can lead to an analysis of audience, applications of Michael Bamberg’s (1997) theory of narrative positioning, considerations of Kenneth and Mary Gergen’s (1988) notion of narrative self, comparisons of "reading" visual and audio texts versus alphabetic ones, or an unpacking of Cheryl Glenn’s (1997) assertions on the public and private in women’s narratives—all are possible frameworks for extending student learning.
Beyond the discussion of theory and form in reading all these texts is the opportunity for students to open door upon door of creative, social, political, historical, cultural, ideological, and intellectual inquiry when considering the notion of literacy acquisition. For example, how is Frederick Douglass’s definition of literacy as “the pathway from slavery to freedom” (2003, p. 64) or fugitive slave Henry Morehead’s admonition that “’ . . . it is best that colored people should teach their children to read and to write, in order that they may know the ways of the world’” (Drew, 1856, p. 65) voiced again in the tutelage of Williams’ parents who “clearly understood that education is freedom” or Blackburn’s conflicted musings regarding her son’s thirst for literacy—a thirst that eventually exposes him to the harsher elements of the American story? Similarly, how does Blackburn’s resignation regarding her son’s loss of innocence connect back to Douglass’s epiphany that with literacy’s blessings comes its “curse” (2003, p. 68) to reveal sad, unchangeable truths?