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1 – Detransition, Baby explores motherhood through several lenses. How do Reese, Katrina and Ames’s feelings on motherhood differ and how do they converge?

2 – What does the novel reveal to you about taboos around sex and gender? What roles do class and race play in the book?

3 – How does Katrina’s grief over her divorce and miscarriage inform her thoughts about pregnancy? Do you see any parallels between divorce narratives and transition narratives? If so, describe them.

4 – Discuss Reese’s relationship with the cowboy. What does their relationship fulfill for one another?

5 – Discuss Ames’s decision to detransition. What factors played into this choice?

6 – Discuss the concept of dissociation as described in the novel. How do the kinds of “bad feelings” that trans women cope with by dissociating from their bodies and emotions relate to the kinds of “bad feelings” that other women experience about their bodies or in uncomfortable sexual situations?

7 – How does Ames’s relationship with Katrina differ from her relationship with Reese? How are the dynamics of both relationships different, and how are they similar?

8 – What was your perspective on the ending? What future do you envision for Reese, Katrina and Ames?

Short Bio

Torrey holds an MFA from the University of Iowa and a Masters in Comparative Literature from Dartmouth. In addition to her bestselling novel Detransition, Baby, she is also the author of the novellas Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones and The Masker. She splits her time between Brooklyn and an off-grid cabin in Vermont. 

Visit the author's website.. 

Author Torrey Peters On Seeing Through A Trans Lens

MARCH 2, 20214:00 AM ET By Sam Sanders, Sylvie Douglis, Liam McBain, Jordana Hochman

Women’s prize nominated trans novelist Torrey Peters: ‘Detransitioning needs to stop being weaponised’

As she becomes the first trans woman nominated for the Women’s Prize for Fiction, Torrey Peters tells Susannah Butter her story

SUSANNAH BUTTER @SUSANNAHBUTTER7 APRIL 2021

Torrey Peters calls it the Sex and the City problem: when a woman reaches her thirties and decides she wants to make something meaningful out of her life, she finds herself limited to only four options, find a partner (like Charlotte in the show), have a career (Samantha), have a baby (Miranda) or express herself through art and writing (Carrie). Peters noticed this when she was in her mid-thirties too but her situation was different, she had just finished transitioning.

“The hard part of my transition had ended — the taking hormones,” says the American novelist, 39, who came out as trans aged 26 and started taking hormones to transition at 30. “I was looking around and thinking ‘how do I live?’ I was friends with a lot of cis women who were getting married, having babies, their careers were taking off, and then I was looking at the trans women around me, including me, and we were not doing these things. I thought ‘what’s going on?’.”  Read more..

with Torrey Peters

A conversation with Torrey during her visit to the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor in the fall of 2022.

You spoke last night about “ranting through your characters”—about shaping or cutting their rants to serve the novel. Can you speak  more on that? And can you speak on your relationship with character at large—that complicated process of lending characters your own thoughts and feelings while also creating their own inner lives, their own insecurities and desires and flaws?

Sure. So, the thing I often come to literature for is a sense of urgency. I like books where I’m like, This author really needs to tell me something; they’re desperate to communicate something with me. My favorite books are the kind that have a kind of ferocity to them. And so, you know, occasionally [a writer] is super riled up, and is able to sit down and have that ferocity kind of on tap, because it’s naturally there. But most of the time, I sort of have to work myself up over a process of maybe an hour while I’m writing. Oftentimes, the way to do it is to find some aspect that I’m emotional about, and then kind of key into that, and just let it go. And that’s usually where I find that urgency. After that, it’s a question of shaping it. You know, nobody really likes to be ranted at, so the writing has to be funny, it has to be crafted. But I find it really hard to find urgency through craft. I’m always trying to read books on stylists and like, style my way into urgency. But that doesn’t work for me. It has to go the other way. I have to find the urgency and then style it. 

And on the question of character. Most of the characters have some aspects of myself. You know, I always want to write characters who are totally different from me, but I don’t really discover them. So it’s more like I find some facet of myself, and then I put that character in a situation that’s totally different than anything I’ve ever experienced. And slowly, the accumulation of that character being in situations different than me gives that character a different history. And then—I don’t know—usually a third of the way through a project, I’ll find that character making a different decision than I would make. And sometimes you force a character to make a decision because of the plot. But occasionally, with the sort of accretion of little details and histories that I’ve given that character, even though the spark of them is probably me, I find them doing things differently than me, because they’ve lived differently than me in a certain way. It’s sort of very mystical-sounding, but you know, it’s sort of just the practice.

The characters in Detransition, Baby are f*cked up in the best ways. Could you speak on why it’s important for you to lean into the folly of your characters, and also how folly works to create humor, and the role you feel humor has in your writing?

There’s like three or four reasons why it’s important to me. It probably started out with more of a political reason—which is that writing trans characters, there’s a real pressure to make them heroic; to make them have, like, redemptive stories; to make them, you know, resilient, and something where people can be like, Wow, they’re so great. And that’s so limiting to a character—that a character is always resilient and overcoming. And I really didn’t want characters like that. I mean, I don’t relate to characters who overcome. And so especially at the time I started writing, it felt very freeing to basically be like: I’m not going to write trans stories where people can point to these characters in some sort of like queer round-up of, you know, queer joy and resilience. That’s actually uninteresting to me. I mean, it’s fine for other people who do it, but it’s uninteresting to me. 

And you know, what people say is messy—to me, I accept that word, but I don’t really think it’s accurate. A lot of us contain a lot of contradictions, and those contradictions are human. And in the presentation of ideas, a lot of times those contradictions get ironed out. But for me, those contradictions are what makes those characters feel human, it’s what makes them struggle. Doing anything is hard. And I mean, me as a person, when I make a decision, I’m rarely all for it. I usually have some sort of internal contradiction, where I’m sitting there going, like, On the one hand, This; on the other hand, That—and I have to struggle my way towards any decision that I make. And that’s what’s interesting to me. I’m very passionate about ambivalence, you know? I think that the contradictions and ambivalence in a character reflect what feels to me why it’s so hard to do anything in life.

And so you have these messy characters, and then you break down messiness. For instance: Reese. Reese is an interesting character because people are always like, “You know, Reese is so messy,” when actually, Reese is a very loyal character. She has a great capacity for care. And she’s actually quite constant in her care. What she doesn’t have is sort of a context in which she can activate that care reliably. And so there’s a way in which the problem for Reese is an unreliable context. And that gets attributed to her character. She’s… and you know, she’s difficult…she has all these different things, but like, when people say, “Messy,” I’m sort of, like, In what ways? Like, in what ways is she messy? In what ways is the world messy? In what ways is she forced to make intolerable decisions? I’m very interested in splitting apart all of those things. So when people react to these characters, and Reese’s decisions or Ames’ decisions, the complexity of it is called “messy.” And I’m sort of just like, No, this is what it takes. We don’t get to smooth ourselves out without any contradictions.

You asked about humor, and that wasn’t a very funny answer, but I think the fact that we are absolutely riven with contradictions is hilarious. Like, we’re all hypocrites. I mean, I don’t know, maybe you’re not a hypocrite, but I’ll say I’m a huge hypocrite.   CONTINUE to the rest of the interview from the Michigan Quarterly Review

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1 – The prologue of There There provides a historical overview of how Native populations were systematically stripped of their identity, their rights, their land, and, in some cases, their very existence by colonialist forces in America. How did reading this section make you feel? How does the prologue set the tone for the reader? Discuss the use of the Indian head as iconography. How does this relate to the erasure of Native identity in American culture?

2 – Discuss the development of the “Urban Indian” identity and ownership of that label. How does it relate to the push for assimilation by the United States government? How do the characters in There There navigate this modern form of identity alongside their ancestral roots?

3 – Consider the following statement from page 9: “We stayed because the city sounds like a war, and you can’t leave a war once you’ve been, you can only keep it at bay.” In what ways does the historical precedent for violent removal of Native populations filter into the modern era? How does violence—both internal and external—appear throughout the narrative?

4 – On page 7, Orange states: “We’ve been defined by everyone else and continue to be slandered despite easy-to-look-up-on-the-internet facts about the realities of our histories and current state as a people.” Discuss this statement in relation to how Native populations have been defined in popular culture. How do the characters in There There resist the simplification and flattening of their cultural identity? Relate the idea of preserving cultural identity to Dene Oxendene’s storytelling mission.

5 – Tony Loneman’s perspective both opens and closes There There. Why do you think Orange made this choice for the narrative? What does Loneman’s perspective reveal about the “Urban Indian” identity? About the landscape of Oakland?

6 – When readers are first introduced to Dene Oxendene, we learn of his impulse to tag various spots around the city. How did you interpret this act? How does graffiti culture work to recontextualize public spaces?

7 – Discuss the interaction between Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield and Two Shoes that occurs on pages 50–52. How does Opal view Two Shoes’s “Indianness”? What is the import of the Teddy Roosevelt anecdote that he shares with her? How does this relate to the overall theme of narrative and authenticity that occurs throughout There There?

8 – Describe the resettlement efforts at Alcatraz. What are the goals for inhabiting this land? What vision does Opal and Jacquie’s mother have for her family in moving to Alcatraz?

9 – On page 58, Opal’s mother tells her that she needs to honor her people “by living right, by telling our stories. [That] the world was made of stories, nothing else, and stories about stories.” How does this emphasis on storytelling function throughout There There? Consider the relationship between storytelling and power. How does storytelling allow for diverse narratives to emerge? What is the relationship between storytelling and historical memory?

10 – On page 77, Edwin Black asserts, “The problem with Indigenous art in general is that it’s stuck in the past.” How does the tension between modernity and tradition emerge throughout the narrative? Which characters seek to find a balance between honoring the past and looking toward the future? When is the attempt to do so successful?

11 – Discuss the generational attitudes toward spirituality in the Native community in There There. Which characters embrace their elders’ spiritual practices? Who doubts the efficacy of those efforts? How did you interpret the incident of Orvil and the spider legs?

12 – How is the city of Oakland characterized in the novel? How does the city’s gentrification affect the novel’s characters? Their attitudes toward home and stability?

13 – How is femininity depicted in There There? What roles do the female characters assume in their community? Within their families?

14 – Discuss Orvil’s choice to participate in the powwow. What attracts him to the event? Why does Opal initially reject his interest in “Indianness”? How do his brothers react to it?

15 – Discuss the Interlude that occurs on pages 134–41. What is the import of this section? How does it provide key contextual information for the Big Oakland PowWow that occurs at the end of the novel? What is the significance of this event and others like it for the Native community?

16 – Examine the structure of There There. Why do you think Orange chose to present his narrative using different voices and different perspectives? How do the interlude and the prologue help to bolster the themes of the narrative? What was the most surprising element of the novel to you? What was its moment of greatest impact?

AUTHOR

Tommy Orange

Short Bio

Tommy Orange is an enrolled member of the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma. He was born and raised in Oakland, California. He attended the Institute of American Indian Arts and earned the Masters in Fine Arts. Along with a national bestseller, Orange has written for Esquire, McSweeney’s, Zoetrope: All-Story, Zyzzyva, and many other literary journals. Orange received the John Leonard Prize in 2018, awarded for an author's first book in any genre. In 2019, Orange also received the PEN/Hemingway Award, which is dedicated to first-time authors of full-length fiction books, and the American Book Award, denoting "outstanding literary achievement." There, There also received nominations for various other recognitions, including the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction, the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, the Audie Award for Multi-voiced Performance, and two from Goodreads Choice Awards: Best Fiction and Best Debut Goodreads Author. 

Orange's mother is white, and his father is Cheyenne. As a kid, Orange wasn't much of a reader. But after graduating from college with a degree in sound engineering, he couldn't find work, so he got a job at bookstore where he developed a passion for reading. "I was in my 20s and also searching for meaning," he says. "And I wasn't a reader, so fiction was a super novel thing for me. And I just fell in love with it."

LISTEN: Native American Author Tommy Orange Feels A 'Burden To Set The Record Straight'

JUNE 8, 20185:00 AM ET    Lynn Neary

WATCH: Tommy Orange on "There, There" at the 2018 Miami Book Fair

with Tommy Orange

This interview took place in Santa Fe, New Mexico during the graduation residency for the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA), where Tommy is an alumnus and now faculty in the Creative Writing graduate department and I, Marlena Gates, about to graduate with my MFA. We met in a high-end restaurant in the center of what is called The Plaza of downtown Santa Fe — an art district showcasing endless amounts of Native American art, authentic and not. It was happy hour in the restaurant and we were the only two non-white people in the place, the only Indians. We were put in a dark corner and ignored by our waitress and most of the staff, had to hunt down our waitress to finally get our check, and several attempts to flag down waiters ignored. A rush of stories ran through my head I had heard from IAIA peers and faculty about Indians being treated inhumanely in Santa Fe by the starkly white bourgeoisie, even as our art sells to these people for thousands upon thousands of dollars throughout their downtown boutiques. The irony of colonialist art appropriation practices never lost on us.

During the interview, though, Tommy and I pretended not to see the obvious — that we were the hidden Indians in the room, ignored against an all-white space — so used to being treated as the ghosts we have been. Instead we focused on our work to be done, as always. We conducted our interview with much joy, conversation punctuated by laughter and our bright wide smiles, even as we sat in and spoke on the darkest parts of our historical past and present.

Marlena Gates: What is it to write about the violence and trauma of the Native in the modern sense, and how do you feel about the argument against the writing of Native life as harsh and cruel — a critique coming from inside our own Native literary community?

Tommy Orange: I’m writing to a Native audience and anybody from it knows that these are realities. I’m not making this stuff up based on nothing. It’s a grim, dark world and reality that we struggle through. I tried to have my characters transcend a lot of that stuff. They’re not bogged down by it or it doesn’t define them. I want to humanize all my characters and, sure, they experience things that are a part of our communities; but I wanted to flesh them out and have them experience joy and sadness like all humans do. One thing about Native people is that we’re turned into one dimensional people, a one-dimensional thing; we’re a statistic or we’re a historical image. To make fully fleshed human characters represented in a big way, as something that gets distributed everywhere, does a lot of work to update people on what it means to be [Native], to just treat us like humans, know that we exist now, to just treat us like everybody else. We don’t get regular treatment. We are the minority of the minority. I don’t have any problems talking about the realities that we face.

MG: So making your Native representation all sunshiny bright and rainbows was not a priority?

TO: Violence is such an ingrained part of our history but we’re never able to reconcile with it because people aren’t willing to admit that it was such an important piece of the conquering and the killing that has happened. We aren’t even willing to admit it, as a nation under Americans, and so there is this insidious violence. And there are other practices that aren’t direct violence that affect our lives based on policies. The thinking around us, and the erasure that’s happened, is a different kind of violence. So to represent that, as well as the real violence that happens, I liked.

MG: Then it actually humanizes the Native more to show clearly the dark side of their lived experience?

TO: I think so. That’s one of the functions of the novel — to build empathy for the reader. How do you do that? You have somebody go through an experience by having them walk in the shoes of the characters and fall in love with the characters and feel for them and you hope that that transfers somehow to real life. You hope.

MG: Tell me how you constructed your characters so real and true to life?

TO: I worked a lot with the Oakland Native population, at the Oakland Native American Health Center, but the characters were not pulled from any reality. I was not seeing people and thinking I could make a character based on them. The characters are from an imaginary Oakland. A lot of it was trying out a whole bunch of different characters, like an auditioning phase I called it, where I was just writing every day trying to write a new character, and whatever voice that felt like it would last and stick I would keep and develop those further. I created a lot of characters that I didn’t use and then after a distillation process I figured out which characters were most distinct and most essential to the narrative I wanted to write. There’s a spirit of the people of the Oakland Native community that I was channeling for every character.

MG: This book is getting so much visibility already, nationally and even internationally, with literary powerhouses such as Margaret Atwood calling it an “outstanding literary debut.” It will be read by large swaths of people and is already set to make a huge impact on the literary world as a new American genre. How is the average American reader going to benefit from understanding the plight of the urban Native in particular?

TO: My readership is for Native audiences, but you hope when you’re a writer you’re writing something that can connect to anybody. Not writing in a general way, but there’s this weird thing that the more specific you get the more universal you can be, for some reason, it doesn’t make sense but somehow it does. I think the idea of acclimating to a city environment is something that everyone has gone through. Also the way I frame environment through a Native lens has to do with understanding a way of life — to respect the “all your relations” thing. “All my relations” is a thing you hear in the Native community. It’s a way to have a relationship to your environment that gets to the cities too. It sort of counteracts this “connection to the land” Native trope, it’s a way to have connection to the land. Native people can have a connection to the city in the same way that you would any place. Like the way the sound of the freeway sounds like a river and how you can have that connection to it — a respect and love for the environment no matter where you’re at.

MG: All the urban Native characters of There There are a part of the American poor working class (PWC). In this way, through the details you map in your novel, could it then be an anchor for the PWC American to relate to the urban Native, finally, rather than continuing to see all Natives as mythic creatures in headdresses out on reservations somewhere?

TO: When you look at a lot of literature, if you do the numbers, the data, not only is it crazily white, but so much of the narratives have been upper middle class. As a reader I feel like I never read about people that I know, the people that struggle financially. A lot of the problems have been rich white people problems, and so getting the PWC onto the page was a big deal to me because I just didn’t see it. There was a gap. People do it more now, because there is a transformation happening in literature where representation is getting better. But for a long time you don’t get that many stories about people struggling. You got a lot of white privilege dramas about divorce in New York, or a college campus story.

MG: Can the urban Native genre as a whole help to transcend racial divides on the level of the poor, by creating a picture of the modern Native struggle in a real way, where Natives are right there alongside the PWC?

TO: I would hope so for sure. That’s an empathy connection building possibility. When you read about another culture, or another group of people who have another experience than you, but you can see yourself reflected in them anyway, it does a lot of work on your soul, on your brain. I’m a believer in the power of what books can do and what they’ve done for me.

MG: I can think of so many, but to you, what aspects of the book specifically break into that structural empathy building?

TO: Opal’s mother’s experience of domestic violence, the eviction notices they would pretend they didn’t see, riding the bus, everyone takes the bus. When you read a lot of novels people are driving everywhere, people are taking planes. When you go to an airport there’s a certain class of people at airports; poor people don’t fly. So I think a lot of the little details throughout the book connects people because I chose to have my characters living in this particular class.

MG: In many ways the Native American in general, living in America, surviving under so long a history of policies bent on destroying our bodies and cultures, is a walking contradiction just for existing. On the contradictions of the lived experience of the Native in America, outlined well in many moments across the stories in your book, in some ways are these cultural contradictions felt in the body of the urban Indian more than that of the reservation Indian?

TO: Yes. Reservation people will ask you where you’re from and if you say Oakland they will say “No, where are your people from?” even when some people go generations back in Oakland.

This goes back to the environment thing — what is your environment and what is your home and where do you belong? When you can make Oakland your home. Reservations aren’t home. That’s where we got moved to, shitty land. We got moved there because they thought it was shitty land, and then they found oil and they did more shitty things. So this idea of how to exist somewhere and feel like you belong and feel like it’s home is a contradiction because we feel misplaced.

A lot of Native families came on [the Indian Relocation Act], which had insidious reasons. But not everyone came because they got fooled. Some people were like, “I don’t want to live on the reservation, I want to live a new kind of life.” So I have a line in the book that says, “the city made us new and we made it ours.” It’s a contradiction to be from a people who are thought of to be historical and who live such a contemporary life, but 70 percent of Natives live in the city now.

So many people spend their time looking through glass, and around wires and cement, and that feels like a contradiction. You’re supposed to be Native yet you live in the city, and that’s most of us now. So it’s a contradiction we have to reckon with, and that’s part of the reason why I wanted to represent the urban Indian consciousness. Everyone has to reckon with this.

A lot of reservation Indians now live in cities, and their children probably will too. There’s not going to be some massive move back to reservations, so we have to forge a new identity that’s related to the city in a way that we bring cultural values and ways with us. We must leave behind some of this narrow-minded thinking on what it means to be Indian, because all this reservation identity-based stuff didn’t exist before reservations, and what did it mean then? Reservation consciousness is an adaptation after removal, after being pushed there. Being Indian meant something totally different before reservations. So we can’t just refer back to reservations like we’ve been on reservations forever. We have to think of the new thing that we’re going to be. How are we going to remain Indian and not have to fall back on trope and tired stereotype? We have to make new ways.  ~from ElectricLit, 2018

How did American Indians

and Alaskan Natives

come to live in urban settings?

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1 – What did author Karla Cornejo Villavicencio hate about other books and stories about migrants and how did she intend for her’s to be different?

2 – Why did the author make the decision not to write about DREAMers or DACA?

3 – Why is the prevalent use of the term “undocumented workers” hugely problematic? What troublesome ideas about human value does it reinforce or emphasize?

4 – How did 9/11 “change the immigration landscape forever” and why does Cornejo Villavicencio say that it was the day that her father started dying?

5 – How does the healthcare system fail and endanger undocumented Americans, and what role do alternative medicine and ceremony play in their lives? How else do they seek healing?

6 – What literary device does the author use to highlight the violence enacted on people of color, including those in the undocumented community, by their own government? What effect do you think the author intended for this to have on readers?

7 – Where does the author say that stories about deportation often end and why is this problematic?

8 – What are sanctuary spaces, and what “higher moral law” do these spaces help to enforce? What is life like for those who are forced to live in these spaces and their families?

9 – What moment does Cornejo Villavicencio say she has “been preparing for [her] entire life”? What is life like for aging undocumented immigrants in America? What strain does this place on their children?

10 – When Cornejo Villavicencio asks those she interviews about regrets, how do they respond? What is it that she says they remember of their time in the United States?

11 – Why do you think that the author chose to weave memoir with reportage, creative ethnography, and elements of fiction such as magical realism?

12 – Explore the motifs of trauma and mental illness. What does the author reveal about the relationship between illness—and especially mental illness—and the experience of migration?

Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

“Whatever your thing is, do as much of it as you can — and delight in it.” 

Ecuadorian-American writer Karla Cornejo Villavicencio shared this advice with students during a recent visit to Northfield Mount Hermon, part of the school’s speaker series focused on citizenship and service.

Cornejo Villavicencio’s first book, The Undocumented Americans, was shortlisted for the National Book Award for Nonfiction in 2020. The work of creative nonfiction is in part a memoir about her experience growing up as an undocumented immigrant in the U.S. in 1990s and 2000s and in part a collection of essays about the experiences of undocumented day laborers.  

Cornejo Villavicencio was born in Ecuador. When she was 18 months old, her parents left her behind when they immigrated to the United States. A few years later, her parents brought her to the U.S.and raised her in Queens, New York. Cornejo Villavicencio began writing professionally as a teenager, including music reviews for a New York monthly magazine, and has gone on to write for The Atlantic, Elle, Glamour, The New Republic, The New York Times, and Vogue. “My coping mechanism is art,” she told students during her visit to NMH. “I was willingly engaging with beautiful things. I just started writing and didn’t stop.”

Cornejo Villavicencio attended Harvard University prior to the establishment of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) Program, which allowed certain people brought to the country as children to apply for protection from deportation and obtain legal working status. Her senior year, she wrote an essay, “I’m an Illegal Immigrant at Harvard,” which was published anonymously in the Daily Beast. The piece attracted the attention of numerous literary agents, who reached out to Cornejo Villavicencio asking if she’d be interested in writing a memoir. She declined the requests at the time because she was only 21 and thought she was too young to write a memoir. She graduated from Harvard in 2011 and believes she is one of the first undocumented immigrants to do so.

She began writing The Undocumented Americans in 2016, the morning after the election of President Donald Trump. “The moment called for a radical experiment in genre,” she told Guernica Magazine. “I hope that immigrants of all backgrounds are able to find themselves in [the book],” she told the New York Times. “I hope that people who are not immigrants, who have been considered aliens or undesirables or freaks, will be able to find something of themselves in it.”

At NMH, Cornejo Villavicencio spoke about the freedom that came with being a young writer. “I wrote how I wanted and what I wanted,” she said. “I didn’t have anything to lose. There’s power in that. There’s confidence and a little bit of bravado. There’s even some naivety when you’re young that allows you to stand up for yourself and for your art.” Students should believe that they have something to say and share it confidently with the world — and know that making mistakes is part of the process of improving your craft, she added. “Make as many mistakes as you need to while you are young. Take risks. Expose yourself to as many things as possible.” She also discussed her writing process — which often involves performing a lengthy skin care routine, practicing her eyeliner techniques, or putting on something glamorous like a silk robe before climbing into her bed to write — as well as big ideas such as identity and belonging. ~from 4/6/23 NMH 

The Undocumented Americans

JUNE 24, 202012:08 AM ET  By Shereen Marisol Meraji

with Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

After the U.S. presidential election of 2016, Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, an undocumented American from Ecuador and Yale doctoral student, decided it was time to write her story. Beyond that, she wanted to write the story of other undocumented immigrants who play such an important part in American society but whose lives are often little understood. The result is “The Undocumented Americans,” published in March 2020, which captures the day-to-day lives and resilience of undocumented laborers she met across the country. In an interview with Yale News, she discusses the challenge of being undocumented in the United States, the people she met while reporting the book, and the pressure that comes with writing their stories.

Part of the excitement around your book is that so few stories about undocumented Americans have been told. Why is that?

I think undocumented immigrants are willing to share these stories, but people aren’t looking at the right places. I’m not a journalist, so I’m not bound by conventions. I was able to get involved in people’s lives and gather these stories in unconventional ways. For instance, I didn’t use a tape recorder, which allowed me to build a trust with people.

Publishing houses and Hollywood, they don’t really have an appetite for the kinds of stories I’m telling which don’t have an exciting plot to them. I don’t write about the border. I don’t talk about people crossing to America. There isn’t an industry appetite for the slow, day-in-the-life stories that I’m telling. But the stories are always there, and immigrants are happy to talk to people who are willing to lend a compassionate ear.

One of these families you met was in New Haven. Can you talk about them?

I became a mentor to two teenage girls whose father had taken sanctuary in the local church. They were fully supported by the local community. My relationship with the girls came naturally. I have a brother who is 10 years younger than I am. We grew up poor in Queens and I took him to the MET [the Metropolitan Museum of Art], to the East Village, to MoMA [Museum of Modern Art] on Fridays, when it was free. In my mind, I showed him the world. I wanted him to have the experiences that an upper middle-class child would have

I became close to the parents of these teenage girls and they trusted me. They had dinner every week with me and my partner and they trusted that I would be a good influence. And so I did what I did with my brother — I taught them what I knew. And the girls called them my “life lessons.” I taught them about consent. I taught them the difference between American humor and British humor. It was a relationship that came very organically.

To what degree does being undocumented inform your identity? Can you talk about what that means as a day-to-day experience?

When I was growing up, it was before DACA [the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals] policy, so the possibility that I could get a job was not something that was real to me. That affected my mental health profoundly. I felt like I was driving a car with no brakes. I saw how hard my father worked in the restaurant industry, and how much love and dignity he put into his work, and he didn’t get much back. I thought I was going to end up in the same place, even when I was at Harvard.

As a child, I saw my parents as completely vulnerable. It’s like seeing a hermit crab without a shell. I just knew that there was nothing and nobody to protect them. They couldn’t call the cops. They had no insurance. They were completely at the mercy of whatever or whoever wanted to hurt them. And it was my job to protect them through my lifelong quest to get good grades and eventually achieve enough success that my name would protect them because I couldn’t grant them citizenship.

As an adult, once DACA passed [in 2012], the legal status became an administrative issue. But what doesn’t leave you is the constant fear. So even now, as an adult who is doing well in my career and has a stable life here in New Haven, my parasympathetic nervous system is just shot. I think my parents are in danger at all times. The slightest sound could just send me into a panic. I’ve noticed that that’s similar for a lot of children of immigrants. We’re very high functioning, very hard working, but we have a fight-or-flight instinct that’s very, very fragile.

What were some of the common attributes that you found among the undocumented immigrants you encountered while writing your book?

The people that I have the most in common with are children of undocumented immigrants. Whether they are Latinx or from any other nationality or ethnicity, we probably have pretty similar emotional landscapes. It’s an emotional rollercoaster. We get a text from our parents, we think: Is this about ICE? Did they get COVID and they can’t be treated at the hospital? Will they be the last ones to get the vaccine? Did their electricity get cut and they have to make an emergency payment? Children of immigrants across American history have probably felt this way. Jewish immigrants, Chinese immigrants, Irish immigrants, Italian immigrants. The relationship of children of immigrants to their parents has been very specific in the American story.

Is there a lot of pressure in being a voice for undocumented immigrants?

Necessarily I am the first in a lot of things or among the first. You have to resist the culture’s necessity to tokenize you. You have to just focus on your work and do the best work that you can. Everything else is noise. ~ from 12/22/20 Yale News

What is it like to grow up as an undocumented youth in America?

In the video below, three undocumented youth who arrived as young children — Jong-Min, Pedro and Silvia — share their stories of how they are fighting hard to achieve their piece of the American dream. Their experiences are emblematic of the struggles of millions of undocumented children and youth in America who deal daily with isolation from peers, the struggle to pursue an education, fears of detention and deportation, and the trauma of separation from family and loved ones. This video calls for valuing the contributions of and caring for all members of our society, even those without documentation. 

Answers to Your Questions about Undocumented Youth in America

1. How many undocumented children and youth live in America?

There are one million children under 18 and 4.4 million under 30 living in America out of the estimated total of 11.1 million undocumented immigrants living in America. These young people are not the only ones affected by undocumented status. Nearly half of undocumented adults are parents of minors, many of whom are citizens. There are an estimated 5.5 million children with at least one undocumented parent, 4.5 million of whom were born here making them U.S. citizens. These kinds of “mixed-status” family situations are very common with an estimated nine million people living in families that contain at least one undocumented adult and one citizen child.

2. How does being undocumented negatively affect well-being?

In the video, Jong-Min, Pedro and Silvia all describe the negative impacts that their undocumented status has had on their lives. Jong-Min shared how being undocumented feels like being in an “invisible prison”. Pedro had the traumatic experience of being held in an actual prison for 24 hours for simply being found on a Greyhound bus on his way back to college. Silvia had to go through the ordeal of her mother trying to flee prosecution for being undocumented and having a seizure while doing so. Being undocumented has created significant obstacles for these three bright, ambitious individuals to fulfilling their hopes and dreams. And they are not alone. Many undocumented immigrant children and youth are frequently subject to experiences like :

• racial profiling

• ongoing discrimination

• exposure to gangs

• immigration raids in their communities

• arbitrary stopping of family members to check their documentation status

• being forcibly taken or separated from their families

• returning home to find their families have been taken away

• placement in detention camps or the child welfare system

• deportation

These stressful experiences can lead to a number of negative emotional and behavioral outcomes including anxiety, fear, depression, anger, social isolation and lack of a sense of belonging. And, of course, separation from their families can be particularly traumatizing for children and youth. For young children whose undocumented parents have been detained or even deported, the impact can be severe. Researchers have found that they often experience in the short term, frequent crying, withdrawal, disrupted eating and sleeping patterns, anger, anxiety and depression. Over time, these can lead to more severe issues like post-traumatic stress disorder, poor identity formation, difficulty forming relationships, feelings of persecution, distrust of institutions and authority figures, acting out behaviors and difficulties at school.

3. What does the video tell us about what it means to be an American?

America is a nation of immigrants. Over our history, generations of immigrants seeking a better life for themselves and their families have come to this country and made it what it is today. Pedro, Jong-Min and Silvia demonstrate traits we highly value in American society; they are all ambitious and motivated, intelligent and conscientious young people. They want to do great things and are committed to serving their communities. Jong-Min wants to become a Supreme Court justice, Pedro is a teacher and Silvia does volunteer community art work with children separated from their undocumented parents. This level of engagement and activism represents the American experience that most of us imagine. Having immigrated to the U.S. at such young ages, like so many undocumented youth, they acculturated to the same American language, culture and values that their U.S.-born peers did. However, undocumented youth in America experience a different reality — a different America.  Research vii shows that continued discrimination toward immigrants by greater society can make acculturation difficult and has negative mental health consequences (e.g., depression, anxiety and social isolation). 

4. Why should we as a society care about undocumented youth?

We should care because their opportunities and potential for success are frequently limited, but more importantly, the discrimination, isolation and fear that they go through should not be experienced by any child or adolescent in our society. We should care because the discrimination, isolation,and fear that undocumented youth go through should not be experienced by any child or adolescent in our society. These children have limited opportunities and potential for success. Many of these youth drop out of school and become disaffected, continuing the cycle of poverty. Those who do graduate high school find access to college limited, with few choices or funding opportunities. It is difficult to pursue options for legalization, and they can’t drive, vote or fully participate in the society in which they grew up. In extreme cases, some undocumented youth become so hopeless that they turn to suicide. The detention and deportation of their parents/caregivers can be devastating. Losing their support system severely undermines their potential for future success. Our society should value their rights, mental health needs and wellbeing because it benefits all of us in the long-term. All of our society’s children should be given the opportunity to thrive and succeed regardless of their documentation status. As Silvia said “caring about this matters”. Given the challenges undocumented youth and children with undocumented parents face, showing support through mentoring or volunteer work could make all the difference.

5. Who is to blame for putting undocumented youth in this situation?

People come to this country for a number of reasons (i.e., search for work, family reunification and humanitarian refuge). Most often, it is to provide a better opportunity for their children and families. While some undocumented immigrants do cross the border illegally, about 40 percent are individuals who entered legally on a visa which has since expired. Navigating the U.S. immigration system to gain legal status is extremely difficult. For undocumented parents, returning to their country of origin and leaving their children behind is an option that would be traumatic for all parties concerned. Reuniting with their children may take years, especially when complicated by financial hurdles and immigration regulations. The longer the separation, the more complicated the family reunification and the greater the likelihood that their children will suffer psychologically. The children caught in the middle do not deserve the negative outcomes of family separation regardless of the reasons their parents are out of status. Assigning blame is not productive. What matters most is that undocumented youth and children of undocumented parents deserve the same opportunities for health and wellbeing as any child growing up in America. 

~ from APA, Undocumented Americans

What we know about unauthorized immigrants living in the U.S. – Pew Research

Unauthorized immigrant population for states (and margins of error), 1990-2021 (Detailed table: Excel)

Unauthorized immigrants and characteristics for states, 2021 (Detailed table: Excel)

Unauthorized immigrants in the labor force for states, 2021 (Detailed table: Excel)

~ more Unauthorized Immigration from Pew Research

Catalina: A Novel

available July 23,2024

by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio - Her Debut Novel

“Diabolically charming and magnetic. I enjoyed the hell out of this little exploding geyser of a book.”—Ira Glass

ABOUT CATALINA

A year in the life of the unforgettable Catalina Ituralde, a wickedly wry and heartbreakingly vulnerable student at an elite college, forced to navigate an opaque past, an uncertain future, tragedies on two continents, and the tantalizing possibilities of love and freedom.  When Catalina is admitted to Harvard, it feels like the fulfillment of destiny: a miracle child escapes death in Latin America, moves to Queens to be raised by her undocumented grandparents, and becomes one of the chosen. But nothing is simple for Catalina, least of all her own complicated, contradictory, ruthlessly probing mind. Read more..  

WHY CATALINA? 

Dear Readers:

It is with great and terrible excitement that I introduce you to Catalina, my first novel.

• I wanted to accomplish many things in this book—
• I wanted to write a book that could both impress and destroy Philip Roth.
• I wanted to disturb the ghost of Salinger and challenge him to a duel.
• I wanted to write about a low-income immigrant kid in elite spaces where imposter
• syndrome doesn’t come up at all.
• I wanted to write a coming-of-age story about a girl in which there is no rape.
• I wanted to write a book that made me feel like I was getting away with something.
• In my first book, The Undocumented Americans, I wrote about the day-to-day lives of
• regular undocumented people, not the blessed few. Still, the elephant in the room
• was always there. I was, to put it politely, Miss American Dream. I couldn’t stop
• people from wanting to talk about Harvard. So one day I thought, why not just give
• America what it wants?

Catalina is my humble submission to the category of the campus novel. It is also an example of be careful what you wish for.                        

Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

PRAISE for Catalina

“The Undocumented Americans author Karla Cornejo Villavicencio’s first novel follows the titular character, a charming and cunning undocumented Ivy League student, as she prepares for post-grad life. . . . With Catalina, Villavicencio draws from her own experience as an undocumented person and Harvard grad to give voice to a fierce, but vulnerable character.”—Time

“Diabolically charming and magnetic . . . About once every page of Catalina I found myself pausing to marvel at some incredibly breathtaking sentence.  I honestly don’t know how you write like this. I don’t know how you make something that feels so urgent and driven and alive. I enjoyed the hell out of this little exploding geyser of a book.”—Ira Glass

“Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, one of the most kinetic and ingenious writers of this sorry epoch, has given us a hero among heroes—a young woman as extraordinary and regular as us all, or as we hope to be. Catalina forever. Everybody else is on notice.”—Julianne Escobedo Shepherd

“Smart, charming, funny, ambitious . . . By so enthrallingly and perceptively giving unprecedented individual voice to a defining issue of our time, Catalina seems destined to be a contemporary American classic.”—Francisco Goldman, author of the Pulitzer Prize finalist Monkey Boy

“Wonderful . . . Karla Cornejo Villavicencio has given us two gifts in one, a character so sparkling in her independence, so fierce in her refusal to be confined to stereotype. In prose that bristles with intelligence and wit, we see Catalina facing the uncertainties of undocumented immigrant life and, at the same time, we get the full range of her life—her erudite mind, her questing soul, her desire for love and freedom. Catalina is a funny, tender, and urgent novel.”—Glenda R. Carpio, author of Laughing Fit to Kill

“An unforgettable character . . . Page after page I wrestled with Catalina but she refused to be pinned down, earning my fury and affection. She’s an American original, a fragile and funny powerhouse.”—Quiara Alegría Hudes, author of My Broken Language

“In her first novel, [Karla] Cornejo Villavicencio introduces brazen, smart Catalina . . . irreverent and often laugh-out-loud funny . . . Catalina demands her due from friends, lovers, professors, and familia in Cornejo Villavicencio’s bravura bildungsroman.”—Booklist, starred review

SWIC Students, Faculty and Staff can borrow a FREE copy of the book from the library.

Here's how to borrow a copy from the library. Having trouble? Contact us. We're happy to assist you!

1 - Stella and Desiree Vignes grow up identical and, as children, inseparable. Later, they are not only separated, but lost to each other, completely out of contact. What series of events and experiences leads to this division and why? Was it inevitable, after their growing up so indistinct from each other?

2 - When did you notice cracks between the twins begin to form? Do you understand why Stella made the choice she did? What did Stella have to give up, in order to live a different kind of life? Was it necessary to leave Desiree behind? Do you think Stella ultimately regrets her choices? What about Desiree?

3 - Consider the various forces that shape the twins into the people they become, and the forces that later shape their respective daughters. In the creation of an individual identity or sense of self, how much influence do you think comes from upbringing, geography, race, gender, class, education? Which of these are mutable and why? Have you ever taken on or discarded aspects of your own identity?

4 - Kennedy is born with everything handed to her, Jude with comparatively little. What impact do their relative privileges have on the people they become? How does it affect their relationships with their mothers and their understanding of home?  How does it influence the dynamic between them?

5 - The town of Mallard is small in size but looms large in the personal histories of its residents. How does the history of this town and its values affect the twins and their parents; how does it affect “outsiders” like Early and later Jude? Do you understand why Desiree decides to return there as an adult? What does the depiction of Mallard say about who belongs to what communities, and how those communities are formed and enforced?

6 - Many of the characters are engaged in a kind of performance at some point in the story. Kennedy makes a profession of acting, and ultimately her fans blur the line between performance and reality when they confuse her with her soap opera character. Barry performs on stage in theatrical costumes that he then removes for his daytime life. Reese takes on a new wardrobe and role, but it isn’t a costume. One could say that Stella’s whole marriage and neighborhood life is a kind of performance. What is the author saying about the roles we perform in the world? Do you ever feel you are performing a role rather than being yourself? How does that compare to what some of these characters are doing? Consider the distinction between performance, reinvention, and transformation in respect to the different characters in the book.

7 -  Desiree’s job as a fingerprint analyst in Washington DC is to use scientific methods to identify people through physical, genetic details. Why do you think the author chose this as a profession for her character? Where else do you see this theme of identity and identification in the book?

8 - Compare and contrast the love relationships in the novel –Desiree and Early, Stella and Blake, and Reese and Jude. What are their separate relationships with the truth? How much does telling the truth or obscuring it play a part in the functionality of a relationship? How much does the past matter in each case?

9 - What does Stella feel she has to lose in California, if she reveals her true identity to her family and her community? When Loretta, a black woman, moves in across the street, what does she represent for Stella? What do Stella’s interactions with Loretta tell us about Stella’s commitment to her new identity?

AUTHOR

Brit Bennett

Short Bio

Brit Bennett was born and raised in the Southern California town of Oceanside, where both of her parents worked in law. Her mother was born in rural Louisiana, and her father grew up in Los Angeles. Influenced by stories from her parents’ childhood and upbringings, Bennett’s writing is interested in class, race, and the intersections between.

Bennett was drawn to writing from a young age, and began developing the ideas for her future novels while still in high school. She studied English at Stanford, where she won the Bocock/Guerard and Robert M. Golden Thesis prizes for her fiction. Bennett went on to earn her MFA in Fiction at the University of Michigan, where she was awarded a Hopwood Award in Graduate Short Fiction as well as the 2014 Hurston/Wright Award in College Writing.

Bennett began work on her debut novel, The Mothers, while at Stanford, and continued to rework it while at University of Michigan. The book was published in 2016, when Bennett was 26 years old. The Mothers is a story about young love, ambition, and a big secret in a small community. It’s set within a close-knit, Black church community in Southern California, not dissimilar to the Oceanside community in which Bennett was raised. Bennett has said, “For The Mothers, I was writing about the place that I came from, Oceanside, which is to be fair, a larger town than it feels, but that to me is what it felt like. It felt small and claustrophobic and very local.”

The Mothers received instant, widespread praise and became a New York Times bestseller. Novelist Yaa Gyasi described the book as, “Wonderful—warm and tender and necessary,” and National Book Award-winning writer Jacqueline Woodson called it, “A stellar novel—moving, thoughtful. Stunning.” Bennett was named a 5 Under 35 honoree by the National Book Foundation and the book was longlisted for the NBCC John Leonard First Novel Prize and the PEN/Robert W. Bingham Prize for Debut Fiction.

In 2020, on the eve of her thirtieth birthday, Bennett released her second novel, The Vanishing Half. The story follows the lives of twin sisters, inseparable as children, who ultimately choose to live in two very different worlds, one as a Black woman and one passing as white. The novel is sprawling in scope, opening in a small town in Louisiana in 1954 and moving toward almost the present day. Bennett was inspired in part by stories her mother shared with her about growing up in the South. Read more..

Brit Bennett talks about her book, The Vanishing Half, and answers readers’ questions.

A NOTE FROM AUTHOR

Brit Bennett

A CONVERSATION WITH 

Brit Bennett

The Vanishing Half debuted at No. 1 on the New York Times bestseller list, and there was this huge bidding war over the TV rights. What was that like?

Crazy! All those things happened back to back. It was a really strange and exciting month for me. And neither of those were things that I could have ever predicted with this book. I just hoped that people would even want to read books as we experience this epidemic and this crisis that we’re all in. I just hoped that there would be an audience for the book. And I certainly didn’t expect the audience to be so enthusiastic.

Yeah, it’s hugely enthusiastic. And I think part of that comes from the voice of the book, which is just so rich and pleasurable to read. It feels almost plush, like you can wrap yourself up in it. How did you think about the book’s narrative voice as you were putting it together?

I think I knew that I wanted to play with this omniscience, this kind of all-knowing voice that will dip in and out of the different characters and follow them as they go to different places. But I think I also always thought about that omniscience being grounded in the town where the book opens and the town that the book centers around. It tells the goings-on of the people who live in the town, but also follows the people after they’ve left the town to wherever they end up around the world.

That gossip voice is very similar in a way to the church ladies in The Mothers, your first book, who are the Greek chorus.

I like gossip! I think gossip is a really useful mode of storytelling and a really fun mode of storytelling.

It’s so important. I spend so much of my time on Lainey Gossip. What was it like to write this book that’s so concerned with race in the Jim Crow era, and in the decades afterward, and then have it come out in this moment when the national conversation about race has been so galvanized?

Strange. You spend so long writing a book, you have no idea what the context will be like when the book actually comes out. For me, I kept thinking like, “Oh, this book is going to come out in an election year.” And I thought that would just be the context surrounding the book. And then I started to realize that it was going to come out during a pandemic, and then that felt like a context I could not have predicted, and most of us couldn’t have. And then the book came out maybe a week after George Floyd was killed. And the conversation turned so squarely, in that moment, to race.

So it was strange, but I had to realize that any sort of label of timeliness is something that comes from outside of the book. Timeliness is a label that’s applied externally. And it’s definitely not anything that’s in your hands as the writer. It has to do with the context in which a book is released, and which readers greet the book. So it felt very strange, but again, it felt like one of those things that have nothing to do with you in a way, although they do contribute to the narrative surrounding the book.

So there’s a pretty long history in America of books about passing. And they have some pretty prescribed tropes. There’s Nella Larsen’s Passing. There’s the tragic mulatto. There’s the sort of inevitable crisis at the end. How did you think about those tropes? As you were writing The Vanishing Half, were you interested in reimagining and subverting them?

I was definitely aware of the tropes. I feel like you have to be aware of the conventions of whatever you’re writing into. So I was aware of those tropes, and I knew that most of our passing stories are usually quite moralizing. Usually the person who passes is punished at the end. I knew that I didn’t want to punish Stella per se. I certainly didn’t want to kill her or have her fall or jump or get pushed out of a window. I knew that those were some tropes of the genre I want to avoid.

I knew that I was writing into this long, storied history of passing literature, but I was also writing into it as a writer in the 21st century. And I wanted to look at that genre from my perspective as a young person alive now. And some of that meant trying to skirt some of those tropes in the genre. And some of that meant just trying to reimagine what a passing story looks like in a world where we think of these categories as being inherently fluid.

And that’s one of the things that’s so interesting in the book: There are so many characters who are moving between categories of identity. Not just racial identity, but you also have the characters of Reese, who’s a trans man, and Barry, who’s a drag queen. And even in a way, Kennedy, who is so interested in leaving behind what she thinks of as her identity to explore these new selves as an actress. What is interesting to you about the idea of moving around between categories of identity and fluidity within them?

Once I started to think about this book, I really wanted to just circle around this really huge, huge, huge question, which was just: How do we all become who we are? And that’s obviously a huge question that’s at the heart of probably most stories, in some way. I’m certainly not the first person to ponder this question. But I wanted to write toward that and think about these characters who are all performing in a way, who are transforming in a way, who are making these choices that are big and small but shape them in some way.

I knew that my entry point was going to be these twin sisters who make different choices as far as which race that they want to live and which community they belong to. But I also wanted to explore these other forms of being, other types of identities. To think about passing as something that can be done momentarily, something that can be very temporary and fleeting, something that can be playful, something that can be tragic. I wanted to think about all the different ways in which we make choices that shape who we are, and [think] about the ways in which making those choices and creating ourselves ... can be very liberating, but it can also be very painful.

And there’s the deep ambiguity in Stella in the end, where she’s just so sad, but she’s committed to this life and will never, ever leave it. I think we got some reader questions earlier about that, where people felt that they wanted something more definite to have happened to Stella. But I kind of liked the deep ambiguity of it. I felt like if I wanted to have her make a choice one way or the other, I would read an older passing book.

Stella is so interesting to me. Somebody asked me once, “Do you think that if she had to do it all over again, she would have made the same choice?” And I was like, “Yeah, I think she would have.” I don’t think that she regrets passing. I don’t think that the feeling she has is regret. I just think that she has, as you said, ambiguous feelings about it. She loves and misses her family. But she also feels that she made the best choice for herself to create the life that she wanted to live. She has this feeling that, “It’s my one life, why can’t I live it the way I want to live it?” And I feel very sympathetic toward that argument.

I wasn’t interested in the question of, “Is Stella going to get caught? What’s going to happen when she gets caught?” I wanted to dangle that possibility because that creates dramatic tension, I think. So you want to play with that possibility, which again, is one of those conventions of passing stories: You’re waiting for that moment of exposure. But at the end of the day, to me, that was a less interesting question than, okay, well, “What if she continues to get away with this, then what happens next?” So landing in this place of her continued and deeper ambiguity, to me that was more interesting than “Stella gets caught” or “Stella makes some definitive choice” or “She decides to move back home.” That, to me, was less interesting than just her continuing to burrow deeper and deeper into her own ambiguous feelings about herself.  Read more Q&A.. 

Author Interviews

Brit Bennett Set Her Novel 50 Years Ago — She Didn't Expect It To Be 'Timely'

June 5, 20204:13 PM ET Heard on All Things Considered with Mary Louise Kelly

What is Racial Passing?

What motivates someone to disguise their race, gender, religion, etc.? Danielle explores the complicated history of passing in the United States. From: Origin of Everything; Season 2 Episode 12 | 10m 6s Video |CC; Aired 02/26/2019; From PBS Digital Studios

 A Netflix Film

Based on the novel by Nella Larsen, the movie follows two black women (Tessa Thompson, Ruth Negga) who can pass as white and choose to live on opposite sides of the color line in 1929 New York.

Synopsis

Adapted from the celebrated 1929 novel of the same name by Nella Larsen, PASSING tells the story of two Black women, Irene Redfield (Tessa Thompson) and Clare Kendry (Academy Award nominee Ruth Negga), who can “pass” as white but choose to live on opposite sides of the color line during the height of the Harlem Renaissance in late 1920s New York. After a chance encounter reunites the former childhood friends one summer afternoon, Irene reluctantly allows Clare into her home, where she ingratiates herself to Irene’s husband (André Holland) and family, and soon her larger social circle as well. As their lives become more deeply intertwined, Irene finds her once-steady existence upended by Clare, and PASSING becomes a riveting examination of obsession, repression and the lies people tell themselves and others to protect their carefully constructed realities.

Acclaimed upon its premiere at the 2021 Sundance Film Festival, PASSING marks the directorial debut of Rebecca Hall, who also adapted the screenplay. The film intimately uses the notion of “passing” to explore not just racial identity but gender and the responsibilities of motherhood, sexuality and the performance of femininity. PASSING also stars Bill Camp, Gbenga Akinnagbe, Antoinette Crowe-Legacy, and Alexander Skarsgard; and is produced by Nina Yang Bongiovi (p.g.a.), Forest Whitaker (p.g.a.), Margot Hand (p.g.a.), Rebecca Hall (p.g.a.).

What is Colorism?

Colorism is defined as a prejudice or discrimination especially within a racial or ethnic group favoring people with lighter skin over those with darker skin. From Good Morning American, People of color discuss the impact of 'colorism' l GMA

Many of the characters in The Vanishing Half create and shape the way their identities are perceived by others. The characters are committed to maintaining their identities mainly because of survival — either of society or self. Characters are forced into inauthentic self-creation. In some cases, the characters settle back into parts or their full authentic self while others are unable to accept and live in their truth.

Knowing who you are is crucial for several reasons, as it shapes your self-concept, relationships, decision-making, and personal growth:

1. Clarity of Purpose: Understanding your values, strengths, and passions helps you set meaningful goals and align your actions with your core beliefs. This alignment fosters a sense of purpose and direction, which is essential for long-term fulfillment.

2. Emotional Resilience: A strong sense of self equips you to navigate challenges and setbacks more effectively. When you know who you are, external judgments or failures are less likely to shake your confidence because you draw strength from an internal sense of identity.

3. Healthy Relationships: Self-awareness allows you to set boundaries, communicate effectively, and build authentic connections with others. Knowing your needs and preferences makes it easier to form relationships based on mutual respect and understanding.

4. Better Decision-Making: When you're clear about your identity, it's easier to make choices that reflect your true desires rather than succumbing to external pressures or expectations. This helps reduce regrets and enhances satisfaction with the paths you take.

5. Personal Growth: Knowing who you are is the foundation for self-improvement. By identifying your strengths and areas for growth, you can work toward becoming the best version of yourself while staying true to your core identity.

Ultimately, self-awareness is a continuous process, evolving with experiences and reflections. Embracing this journey not only leads to personal happiness but also contributes to a more intentional and authentic life.

TEDx Talks: Know Yourself- Embrace Your YOU Print

Who Do You Think You Are? 

Is an American genealogy documentary series. In each episode, a celebrity participant researches their family history. The participant often travels to locations both domestically and internationally to research family stories.

• Blair Underwood's ancestor considered himself a messiah! 
• Laverne Cox pieces together the inspiring life of her African American ancestor, who challenged societal norms and bravely pushed the boundaries just years after Emancipation.
• When exploring her maternal family lineage, actress Regina King unearthed an ancestor who was a fervent civil rights activist in Alabama.
• Lionel Richie tracks his great-grandfather from slavery to civil rights activist! 

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1. Elizabeth is locked up in the asylum because her husband does not agree with her religious views. Do you think modern-day America is more or less tolerant of diverse religions (and controversial viewpoints) than in Packard’s time? How free are followers of minority faiths to practice in the US today?

2. Elizabeth employs a variety of tactics --- physical resistance, negotiating with hospital staff, writing --- to protest her treatment throughout the book. Which techniques were most effective for her? What strategies would you turn to in her place?

3. “Novel reading,” masturbation and irregular menstrual cycles are a few of the many reasons that women were admitted to asylums in Elizabeth’s time. Which, if any, of these justifications stood out to you? How has our understanding of these “causes of insanity” changed?

4. Dr. Duncanson, the doctor who supports Elizabeth in her insanity trial, testifies that: “I did not agree with... her on many things, but I do not call people insane because they differ with me.” How relevant is this statement in America today when political opinions are so divided, and what does it do to public discourse when the idea of insanity is brought into politics? Do you think we might ever return to a time when people are locked up for holding an opposing viewpoint to those in power?

5. Elizabeth and McFarland have a complicated relationship to say the least. What did you think of her continuous attempts to redeem him? Did she truly think he would change, or was she just trying to improve her own circumstances? What were the long-lasting effects of the relationship on each of them?

6. When Elizabeth is first released from the asylum, how does her homecoming compare to her daydreams and expectations? Have you ever had a similar experience? How did you handle the difference between your expectations and reality?

7. Elizabeth’s landmark case for her sanity was originally a trial regarding habeas corpus. What did you think of the judge’s decision to shift focus? Is a jury qualified to confirm or deny someone’s sanity?

8. What did you think of the spate of releases that occurred right before Jacksonville came under scrutiny?

9. Right or wrong, McFarland was completely trusted by the Jacksonville Asylum’s Board of Trustees. What impact did this have on his patients? How did the Board respond to Fuller’s investigation and recommendations? Can you think of a way to avoid such conflicts of interest?

10. Governor Oglesby was not required to act on the findings of the investigative committee and planned to keep them under wraps until the next meeting of the Illinois General Assembly. What motivated him to keep the report under wraps? Do you think modern politicians play the same games with important information?

11. The book explores the power of rumor and reputation. Even though Elizabeth is declared sane, rumors persist about her sanity for the rest of her life and were used to discredit her. Can you think of any modern-day examples where, even though someone has been cleared of something, their opponents continue to use that something against them? Do you think this is “fair game,” or is it morally wrong?

12. How did Elizabeth’s status as a woman, mother and asylum patient both help and hinder her lobbying efforts? How did she use men’s expectations of her to bolster her causes?

13. Which of Elizabeth’s many accomplishments do you think she was most proud of? Is there anything else you see as her greatest achievement?

14. Elizabeth writes: “To be lost to reason is a greater misfortune than to be lost to virtue, and the... scorn which the world attaches to it [is] greater.” Do you think this is still true today? The American Psychological Association recently stated that only 25 percent of adults with symptoms of mental illness believe that people will be caring and sympathetic toward them. How can we improve sympathy for those who struggle with their mental health? And which do you think carries more societal shame: having a mental health problem or being “lost to virtue”? Is the answer dependent on gender?

A NOTE FROM AUTHOR

Kate Moore

Dear Reader,

Some stories find you. Others, you have to go in search of.

In the fall of 2017, the world was set ablaze by the fire of the #MeToo movement. Everywhere, women’s voices were raised and, more remarkably, heard. Yet many of the tales told in that cohesive chorus were historic. Why hadn’t we been listened to—and believed—before?

I was inspired by the movement. I wanted to write about the issues being raised. But it wasn’t for me to be a mouthpiece for those women bravely speaking out in that incendiary fall: they were already powerfully representing themselves. Instead, I wanted to examine the movement in a different way, to delve into how women—who have in truth always spoken out—have been silenced in the past, their words devalued so their blazing fire burns out to worthless ash.

Too often, it seemed to me, women had been silenced and dis-credited with the claim that we were crazy. For centuries, whenever we women had used our voices, whether in accusation of abuse or in simple self- assertion, our mental health had been wielded as a weapon against us, used to undermine and control us. Our words and actions, our passions and our politics, even our very personalities had too often and too easily been manipulated through a lens of madness, which fell into focus whenever we acted in a way that challenged the powers that be.

Not for nothing does the word hysteria derive from the Greek for uterus.

As I began my research, it wasn’t hard to find shocking real-life cases I could potentially write about. These stories all too often featured barbaric medical practices that silenced women physically as well as mentally, leaving them irreparably harmed: electroshock therapies, surgical lobotomies, even involuntary sterilizations. I uncovered cases such as that of Gennie Pilarski, a young woman from Illinois who’d simply wanted to live independently from her parents who was lobotomized in 1955, leaving her mute and unable to communicate. Her medical notes prior to the operation explicitly stated that she had “no signs of active pathology,” but her doctors observed she was “unfriendly” and “disagreeable”—supposedly unfeminine attributes that have long been considered signs of female madness…because women are meant solely to simper sweetly. Far too often, as with Gennie, a woman’s psychiatric diagnosis is based not on her state of mind but on her social behavior.

Yet as fruitful as it was, my research was also profoundly depressing. Too many stories had tragic endings. Too many women finished their defiant journeys with their mouths stitched shut, their voices silenced by electric shocks or surgery or the solid brick walls of an insane asylum. “Crazy” was a cul-de-sac, a one-way street that only ever ended with one outcome. Was there any woman in history, I wondered, who had been declared insane by a patriarchal society for speaking her mind, but who had somehow, against the odds, proved her sanity and prevailed?

I went in search of this mystery woman, hoping she existed. And in a University of Wisconsin essay that I randomly found online, in a single paragraph four pages in, I first read about Elizabeth Packard.

The woman they could not silence.

They tried. Oh, how they tried. Even after her death, they tried. So often in the course of my research into this extraordinary woman, I kept hitting dead ends and obfuscations, smacking up against a century of received wisdom that cast her in a very different light. It was striking how even I struggled at times to fight against that pernicious perspective, how often I felt on the defensive in my defense of her. But I kept on digging, excavating my way through those layers of lies and overtly biased legacies, until the shape of the true woman stood before me.

She cut an hourglass figure in her cage crinoline, her spirit as wide as her skirt. Yet as it had done when she lived, it was her voice that truly resonated, unsilenced through the century and a half since she had fought her battles, and still as strong and as smart as ever.

Her story now lies in your hands. Like a fire, hear her roar.

Kate Moore, 2020

S h o r t   B i o g r a p h y

Kate Moore is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of The Radium Girls, which won the 2017 Goodreads Choice Award for Best History, was voted U.S. librarians’ favorite nonfiction book of 2017, and was named a Notable Nonfiction Book of 2018 by the American Library Association. A British writer based near Cambridge, UK, Kate writes across a variety of genres and has had multiple titles on the Sunday Times bestseller list. Her latest book is the critically acclaimed The Woman They Could Not Silence, which, among other accolades, was named runner-up for Best History in the 2021 Goodreads Choice Awards and a 2021 Booklist Editor's Choice.

L o n g   B i o g r a p h y

As a little girl growing up in Peterborough, England, Kate Moore dreamed of becoming a bestselling writer. She still has to pinch herself that her dream came true. After studying English Literature at the University of Warwick, Kate embarked on a successful career in publishing as a nonfiction editor. Over the next decade, she rose to become an editorial director at Penguin Random House UK. Her authors included Craig Revel Horwood, John Barrowman, Chris Tarrant, Francesca Martinez, Lucie Brownlee and Sarbjit Kaur Athwal. (To this day, Kate still offers occasional editorial services on a freelance basis.) During this time, she also dabbled in writing gift and humor books, and in 2008 had her first Sunday Times bestseller in The Lovers’ Book (later republished as Roses Are Red).

On 4 July 2014 – her very own Independence Day – Kate took a leap of faith and left her full-time role to become a freelance editor, author and ghostwriter. On Day 1 of her new business venture, she had already secured commissions to write four books. She never looked back. Over the next three years she wrote eleven books, both under her own name and as a ghostwriter for some extraordinary people. Many of them became Sunday Times bestsellers.

In April 2017, one of those eleven books, The Radium Girls, was published in America. It became one of the bestselling history books of the year and was an instant New York Times bestseller upon publication of the paperback. It also won multiple awards, including the Goodreads Choice Award for Best History.

The book was a labor of love for Kate, who discovered the girls’ story while directing a play about them. (Alongside her publishing career, Kate has always maintained her love of theatre, appearing as an actress in countless productions over the years.) Wanting to ensure her production of These Shining Lives by Melanie Marnich was as authentic as possible, Kate conducted lots of research on the radium girls and was amazed to discover that no book existed that focused on the women themselves. Feeling passionately that they deserved such a book, Kate decided to write it. Her research took her four thousand miles across an ocean to follow in the women’s footsteps. She stood at the sites of the dial-painting studios, visited the women’s homes and graves and met their families, and remembered the radium girls. She hoped, through her book, that readers would do the same.

Since publication, Kate has personally presented the story of the radium girls in close to thirty states. She has also been lucky enough to continue that writing career she dreamed of as a little girl; her latest book, The Woman They Could Not Silence, was published in June 2021 and became another commercial and critical success, placing second in the Goodreads Choice Awards 2021 for Best History and being named a 2021 Booklist Editor’s Choice.

Her passion as a writer is to help people to have a voice, especially those silenced through injustice. With every book, she hopes to take readers on a visceral journey so that they too can experience the extraordinary lives of others.

She hopes you’ll walk with her, one book at a time.

From Kate Moore, New York Times Best Selling Author

 with Kate Moore

How did you first encounter Elizabeth’s story? When did you decide that you wanted to write about her? 

Before I even knew her name, I actively went looking for Elizabeth’s story. The background to that quest: In the fall of 2017, the world was set ablaze by the #metoo movement and I wanted to write about some of the issues being raised. Namely: Why hadn’t women been listened to—and believed—before? Too often, it seemed to me, women had been silenced and discredited with the claim that we were crazy. Was there any woman in history, I wondered, who had been declared insane by a patriarchal society for speaking her mind, but who had somehow, against the odds, proved her sanity and prevailed? (Because I wanted a happy ending for my book!) I went in search of this mystery woman—only hoping she existed. And on January 15, 2018, after having fallen down a rabbit hole of internet searches about women and madness and insane asylums, I first read about Elizabeth Packard in a University of Wisconsin essay that I randomly found online.

That first reference was just a single paragraph in length, but a few google clicks later, having learned a little more about her life, I was hopeful I had found the central protagonist of my next book. (I noted in my diary she looked “promising.”) Yet it wasn’t until I had completed my due diligence, reading the other books about her that existed at that time so as to be sure that my vision for her story—a work of narrative non-fiction—hadn’t already been published, that I knew for definite she was “The One.”

Elizabeth’s story relies heavily on her personal tenacity. How do you think she cultivated that strength? What resources do you draw on when you feel like giving up?

I think Elizabeth’s strength is absolutely remarkable. Ultimately, I think the bedrock to it was that she knew she was in the right, but even more remarkably, she maintained the confidence to insist on that truth—something with which some of us struggle. Her faith clearly helped too.

What resources do I draw on? Hope, knowledge that things will always get better (because nothing lasts forever), and sometimes (i.e. when writing a book!) the knowledge that you have to put the hard work in to enjoy the outcome. Nothing worthwhile is easy.

Elizabeth is a great role model for standing up for yourself and always following the truth. Who are your role models, historical or modern?

My role models are the radium girls, who I wrote about in another book. These incredible women are, to me, inspirational beacons of courage and strength. Whenever I’m anxious, I always think of how they might have responded to a situation, or simply of what they went through, and they give me the strength to carry on.

You aptly note the ways that our public discourse hasn’t changed when it comes to denouncing opponents by calling them “insane.” Why does that technique have such staying power? How do you think we can combat it?

I think it has staying power because it’s so dismissive. The accuser isn’t even trying to engage with or debate their opponent— probably because they fear they may be bested. I think part of combating it is actually already happening: demystifying those who are genuinely mentally ill and treating them with love and understanding, and with an appreciation that either we or someone we know is likely to suffer with mental health issues. With that changed approach, the former “slur” of being called crazy has less power. And the accusation itself is revealed to be fearful and hollow in nature.

When writing nonfiction, you can’t always expect events to be “story-shaped.” What kind of work do you do to make a cohesive narrative out of complicated true events? What’s the hardest part of that process? The most fun part?

The key thing for me is to complete my research before I write a word of the book. Doing so not only enables me to see the big picture, from which I’ll craft the narrative, it also often throws up intriguing twists that enhance the book’s plot. I first plot all my research into a chronological timeline, and only after that do I plot the book itself, which is different, because for dramatic purposes you may want to include “reveals,” etc. Even as I’m researching, though, I’ve got an antennae quivering for possible endof-chapter slam-dunk quotations and potentially dramatic scenes.

The hardest part of the process? Two answers. One, because I’m writing non-fiction, at times the historic sources simply don’t exist to tell you exactly what happened. That can be really frustrating. Two—almost the opposite problem—the act of sifting through the sources and the data that you do have and deciding what—or perhaps more importantly, what not—to include. It’s essential to know the story you want to tell from those sources and to stick to it, but that’s often easier said than done. I find the editing process is usually essential to help truly distil the narrative you’re crafting.

The most fun part? Hands down, actually writing a scene after you’ve done your research and know all the intimate details that will bring it to life. For example, what the weather was like that day, what clothes the person might have been wearing, the nature of their surroundings and what they looked like, etc. All those details may have come from many different sources and to combine them as the scene flows out from your pen is a wonderful feeling: you can see this historic scene so clearly in your own mind, brought to life by the collected facts.

Both The Woman They Could Not Silence and your previous book, The Radium Girls, required extensive research. How do you work with archives and other sources for primary texts and historical data? What recommendations do you have for other researchers and writers?

I have to give a shout-out to librarians and archivists across the country here: they’re always so knowledgeable and helpful. The how of how I work probably boils down to knowing the story I want to tell and how I want to tell it—so I’ll mine a source for descriptive details, for example. Staying focused helps you to sort through what is always a mass of data. That said, it’s critical to remain openminded too because until the research is finished, you don’t necessarily know what is important!

As for tips, I would say, be inspired by those who have come before you down a research path. When you’re taking your own first steps, it can be useful to consult bibliographies of other books in order to find out what archives even exist. Some of them may prove useful to you too. Secondly, relish pursuing the various serendipitous trails that pop up along the way, whether that’s “following the money” to discover corruption and influence, or simply saying yes to opportunities for further research that, for example, those wonderful librarians may suggest!

Speaking of research, were there any surprising facts that didn’t make it into the final book? What was the most interesting thing you discovered but weren’t able to include?

There was so much that didn’t make it in! I had to cut an entire part as the first draft was too long. (It was the original part one, which I’d written as a Crucible-esque witch-hunt, as Elizabeth’s religious community tightened the noose of alleged insanity about her neck until she was committed to the asylum.) Similarly, at the other end of the book, I did a heap of research into twentieth century facts around the book’s themes. Here, a surprising fact to me was that it wasn’t until 1974, with the passing of the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, that independent women could get credit cards themselves. Until then, a single, divorced or widowed woman had to get a man to cosign any credit application before it would be granted.

I also regretted deeply that I wasn’t able to write more about how Black people face increased prejudice when it comes to alleged insanity. Statistics show that Black women are institutionalized far more frequently than white women with exactly the same symptoms, and they’re also disproportionately affected by extreme “treatments”—such as, in former times, involuntary sterilizations. Black women made up 85 percent of those legally sterilized in North Carolina in the 1960s; in other operations, Black children as young as five were lobotomized. These things occurred after Elizabeth’s time, however, and I wasn’t able, in the end, to find a place for them in the postscript (they had featured in my first draft).

What does your writing space look like? How do you keep all your research and drafts organized?

I have written books all over my house so I don’t have a dedicated writing space as such; I wrote The Radium Girls at my kitchen table. For The Woman They Could Not Silence, I wrote in our very newly decorated, tiny study. It was all very minimalist as our furniture was still in storage from the renovation. I literally just had a desk, a chair, and a side table with a CD player on it so I could listen to music while I wrote (for this book, generally Ludovico Einaudi’s Eden Roc or the soundtrack to The Mission, composed by Ennio Morricone). The study walls are painted a cream color—for the interest of readers of The Radium Girls, it is a shade named Ottawa—and I wrote with four pictures of Elizabeth stuck onto them, so that she was always with me.

It’s a very tidy space. I just have one A4 printout beside me—my book plan—which I check off and annotate as I go along. My research and various drafts are all stored on my laptop, so there are no piles of paper. On that laptop, the research is organized to the nth degree. Every source has a unique reference number that I’ve given it, which is plotted into my chronological timeline. All that time-consuming, painstaking preparation means I can locate a specific quotation from a source in seconds. This also enables me to write fluidly and fast.

What are you reading these days?

I haven’t had much time for reading lately—rightly or wrongly, when I’m deep in the writing and editing process, I tend not to read, so that I only have the one story in my head. But the best non-fiction I most recently read was Karen Abbott’s The Ghosts of Eden Park. And I have Margaret Atwood’s The Testaments waiting for me on my bookshelf once this book is done.                                        ~from Kate Moore

A bill drawn by a woman:’ Mrs. Packard and rights for the insane

On the morning of June 18, 1860 an Illinois housewife named Elizabeth Packard was forcibly removed from the home she shared with her husband Theophilus Packard, a Calvinist minister, and their six children. The reason for her expulsion? Her husband was having her committed to the Illinois State Hospital in Jacksonville, Illinois. Women had virtually no legal status in mid-19th century America and in the state of Illinois, a husband could have his wife committed to an insane asylum without showing any proof that said wife was, in fact, insane. Theophilus and his wife often quarreled over religious doctrines, with Elizabeth insisting that she had a right to her own beliefs and biblical interpretations and this, it seems, was her husband’s primary justification for having her institutionalized and removed from the lives of her children. (Photograph of Elizabeth Packard from Wikipedia.org.)

Elizabeth spent three years in the asylum with very few means to advocate for herself and her sanity. While incarcerated, she met many other women in similar situations, women who had become inconvenient or were socially noncompliant and therefore needed to be locked away by husbands or other family members. Some women did suffer from various mental health issues and Elizabeth frequently witnessed their cruel treatment at the hands of hospital staff. She diligently wrote down her observations and hid her journals to keep them from being confiscated.

Image of the Illinois State Hospital in Jacksonville, from her “Modern Persecution” (1875).

In 1863, she was released from the asylum to the care of her husband who immediately sought to have her permanently recommitted to yet another institution, this time in Massachusetts. In a desperate bid for freedom and with the help of friends, Elizabeth was finally able to obtain legal assistance. After a multi-day trial, she was deemed legally sane in the state of Illinois. Unfortunately, before the verdict affirming her sanity was rendered Theophilus fled to another state with her children. Despite being found officially sane, as a woman she still had little legal recourse to regain custody of her children.

Bereft at the loss of her family, Elizabeth began to publicly advocate for changes to the treatment of those deemed insane with a particular emphasis on the rights of female patients. She published various books drawing from her personal experiences, shedding light on rampant institutional abuse and calling for major reforms. Of particular concern to her was the right of patients to freely correspond with those outside the asylum without said correspondence being censored – or discarded – by asylum officials. For those improperly imprisoned such as herself, communicating freely with someone on the outside meant that inmates could access the meager legal resources and other practical support available to them. It meant that women could no longer be locked up, never to be heard from again.

Title page from one of her books in the Indiana State Library Collection (ISLM RC439 .P16 1875).

Elizabeth also travelled the country lobbying individual state legislatures to change their laws. In 1891, she set her sights on Indiana and promoted a “Bill for the protection of the postal rights of the inmates of insane asylums.” She implored members of the Indiana legislature that such a law was needed as “a potent remedy for the evils of false imprisonment, unreasonably long detention and abuse of patients.” Senator W.C. Thompson of Marion County officially read and introduced the bill as Senate Bill 55 on Jan. 14, 1891 and it was referred to the Committee on Benevolent Institutions for further consideration.

Article from Indianapolis Journal, Jan. 16, 1891. From Hoosier State Chronicles.

Copy of the proposed bill dated Jan. 20, 1891 (ISLO 362.2 no. 61).

Caption to a pamphlet addressed to the Indiana legislature dated Feb. 3, 1891 (ISLI 362.2 no. 61). Note “Compliments of Mrs. Packard” written in pencil at the top of the page.

According to a subsequent news story titled “Mrs. Packard snubbed,” it appears that Elizabeth herself attended the Committee hearing on her bill but was completely ignored by the men in attendance:

“I have this morning met by appointment the Senate Committee on Benevolent Institutions, in room 113 of the Capitol at 7 o’clock, and was there completely gagged, not allowed to speak one word.”

She concluded her description of the event with a strong condemnation of the behavior of Indiana’s male law-makers:

“To the manliness and honor of the American legislators, I am proud to say that thus is the first uncourteous treatment I have ever received from any legislative committee in these United States. In appealing to forty-three different legislatures I have invariably been allowed a manly, patient hearing before they decide how they should report my bill.”

Indianapolis Times, Jan. 27, 1891. From Hoosier State Chronicles.

In addition to silencing Mrs. Packard, the committee caused further offense by severely altering the language of the original bill and stipulating that the only person an inmate could correspond with uncensored would be the Secretary of the Board of State Charities. Moreover, the committee further recommended to remove the phrase “to prevent sane persons being imprisoned in insane asylums” from the language of the bill. The resulting document was a failure as it continued to leave all the power with the very institutions responsible for committing the abuses Elizabeth sought to remedy.

Ultimately, Senate Bill 55 never progressed passed its second reading. Despite this failure, Elizabeth Packard’s entreaties did lay the groundwork for Hoosier legislators to begin considering similar reforms. Eventually, the General Assembly would pass progressive legislation, such as an act in 1895, which required those accused of insanity to stand for an official inquest with proper legal representation.

Elizabeth Packard was reunited with her children – but remained estranged from her husband – and financially supported them with her earnings from writing and public speaking. She died July 25, 1897.

~blog post written by Jocelyn Lewis, Indiana State Library Posted on May 19, 2022

Short video - learn more about the legal principle of coverture, which continues to shape American women’s lives.

Dating back to medieval English common law, coverture was based on the idea that women were unequal to men. This video—adapted from the New-York Historical Society’s Women & the American Story curriculum—explores the history and legacy of coverture in discrimination against women. The video was produced by the New-York Historical Society’s Teen Leaders interns in collaboration with the Untold project.

Coverture: The Word You Probably Don't Know But Should

Written by: Catherine Allgor is the Nadine and Robert Skotheim Director of Education at The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens in San Marino, CA, and is a Professor of History and UC Presidential Chair at the University of California, Riverside. She attended Mount Holyoke College as a Frances Perkins Scholar and received her Ph.D. with distinction from Yale University, where she also won the Yale Teaching Award.

My mother-in-law loves this story. A few years ago, my husband, Andrew, and I went to apply for a mortgage. As a candidate for a house mortgage—and this is the part my mother-in-law loves—I characterize myself as “greater” than my husband. I am older, I have a longer work history, I am more senior in our common profession (we are both professors), I also make more money. I’ve got a longer credit history than he and have owned more houses. Finally (though this is a matter of dispute), I am even a teeny bit taller.

But the only qualification that mattered in this transaction was my status as “wife.” When our broker filled out our application, she listed Andrew first, as the “borrower” and me second, as “co-borrower.” (Did I mention that my last name starts with “A” and his with “J”?). When I pointed this out, our broker, a woman of a certain age with long experience in her profession, sympathized, but stated that if she had made me the primary borrower, the lawyers would “fuss” at her and just revert to the traditional categories. “Honey,” she told me, a professor of women’s history, “it’s a man’s world.”

Point taken. What I had just encountered was a vestige of the legal practice of coverture. This is a term most Americans don’t know but it has been a goal of mine to ensure that all literate, well-educated Americans be as familiar with the idea of coverture as they are with other historical terms such as “liberty,” “democracy,” and “equal rights.”

Coverture is a long-standing legal practice that is part of our colonial heritage. Though Spanish and French versions of coverture existed in the new world, United States coverture is based in English law. Coverture held that no female person had a legal identity. At birth, a female baby was covered by her father’s identity, and then, when she married, by her husband’s. The husband and wife became one–and that one was the husband. As a symbol of this subsuming of identity, women took the last names of their husbands. They were “feme coverts,” covered women. Because they did not legally exist, married women could not make contracts or be sued, so they could not own or work in businesses. Married women owned nothing, not even the clothes on their backs. They had no rights to their children, so that if a wife divorced or left a husband, she would not see her children again.

Married women had no rights to their bodies. That meant that not only would a husband have a claim to any wages generated by his wife’s labor or to the fruits of her body (her children), but he also had an absolute right to sexual access. Within marriage, a wife’s consent was implied, so under the law, all sex-related activity, including rape, was legitimate. His total mastery of this fellow human being stopped short, but just short, of death. Of course, a man wasn’t allowed to beat his wife to death, but he could beat her.

Now, the law doesn’t always reflect real life, and in truth, practice ensured that coverture on the ground was not as restrictive as the black-letter law indicated. Though a woman could own nothing, men who wanted to pass on their wealth through their daughters to grandchildren, devised ways to keep money and property out of the hands of sons-in-law. The demands of commerce also played their own parts. Though a woman could not make a contract, plenty of women did business and trade, either on their own, in a legal exception called “feme sole,” or for absent husbands. Wives often ran businesses alongside their mates, with the local community acting as monitors and enforcers. Finally, we must assume that though husbands had the right to marital relations at will, that there was a great deal of negotiation around sex.

Abigail Adams

CREDIT Benjamin Blyth/ Library of Congress

Coverture was what Abigail Adams was talking about in her famous “Remember the Ladies” letter to John, written in the spring of 1776 as he and the Continental Congress were contemplating what an independent America would look like. Contrary to popular assumptions, she was not asking John for the vote or for what we would understand to be “equal rights.” Rather, when she advised: “Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the Husbands. Remember all Men would be tyrants if they could,” Abigail was talking about the absolute power husbands held in coverture. Abigail even obliquely referred to the shame of physical abuse when she proposed: “Why then, not put it out of the power of the vicious and the Lawless to use us with cruelty and indignity with impunity (?)”

John’s reply dismissed her plea as a joke—he called it “saucy”—but in later correspondence with other lawmakers, he worried about the issue. If the American colonists had a right to rebel against their “virtual representation” in Parliament, why should women be virtually represented by men? But the issue was too thorny for the men of the time and so, even as they created a shiny new machine of government, with a Constitution and modern systems of law on both the federal and state levels, they allowed the creaky, pre-modern device of coverture to remain on the books.

So what happened to coverture? The short answer is that it has been eroded bit by bit. But it has never been fully abolished. The ghost of coverture has always haunted women’s lives and continues to do so. Coverture is why women weren’t regularly allowed on juries until the 1960s, and marital rape wasn’t a crime until the 1980s. Today’s women encounter coverture during real estate transactions, as I did, in tax matters, and in a myriad of other situations around employment and housing. Encounters with coverture can be serious, but often they are just puzzling annoyances, one more hoop to jump. Still, the remnants of coverture are holding us back in unsuspected ways.

Only a few historians and attorneys have understood the impact. What to do? Well, it took a constitutional amendment to abolish slavery and may well take such to free women from this vestige of the past. Educating the public about the meaning and impact of coverture will be a foundational role for the National Women’s History Museum. And that’s just for starters.

~from National Women's History Museum, post September 4, 2012

Try it out!

• Keep a daily journal for a week of your world. You can choose what to write down. Will you record your feelings, the price of a milkshake, the color of the sky, political events, what you ate for lunch—or a mixture of all of these? Here are two journaling tutorials to get you going..

• Research a journal by another figure from history and see what they chose to write down about their life. Here are a few diaries in the SWIC Library collection that you can check out today! There are many more. Search our collection. Need help? Ask a librarian

SWIC Students, Faculty and Staff can borrow a FREE copy of the book from the library.

Here's how to borrow a copy from the library. Having trouble? Contact us. We're happy to assist you!

1. “My mother was always trying to shape me into the most perfect version of myself” (p. 18). What do Michelle’s mother’s habits and beliefs reveal about her as a mother? What value do you see in her approach to parenting, and what would you do differently?

2. How does Michelle’s relationship with her mother evolve over the course of the memoir?  Compare their relationship with other parent-child relationships in the memoir and with your own experience.

3. H Marts and local supermarkets are a regular setting in the book. How do these locations shape Michelle’s experience of food and family?

4. Discuss the difficulty of communicating with family members of different generations, who speak another language and come from a different culture. How do Michelle and Nami bridge this divide?

5. Music has been a key element of Michelle’s life. How does the music that she listens to relate to the events in her life? What playlist would you put together for her family?

6. Food is a prominent motif throughout the memoir.  How does the author use various food references to anchor you to specific locations, memories, and cultures? Which foods in the book were the most memorable to you and why?

7. The reader sees the local Korean community through Michelle’s eyes. How do their lives differ from Michelle’s family’s life?

8. Do you see Kye’s actions as brazen and callous, or are there aspects that are considered acceptable given her expertise? How do her actions compare to other stories or experiences of caregiving?

9. Michelle touches on various incidents of racism and alienation throughout her life, and discusses both idealizing whiteness and fearing that she is not Korean enough. What does this reveal about the complications of growing up mixed-race and with Asian heritage in America? How does it compare to Asian American representation and access to opportunities today?

10. According to Michelle, beauty is an intrinsic part of Korean culture. How has this shaped her upbringing and family dynamic? Discuss your own beauty standards and what you consider beautiful.

11. Crying in H Mart deals with caregiving for someone with a terminal illness and its aftermath. What do you think of the depiction of guilt and grief in this story?

12. How does the family’s support network show up for them during times of crisis? How would you describe the love and support of the people around them?

13. Compare Michelle’s relationship with her father and her aunt before and after her mother’s death. How have they grown closer or further apart? To what extent do blood ties matter?

14. The narrative structure of Crying in H Mart jumps between the past and the present, skipping across time with various anecdotes. How does this reflect Michelle’s reconciliation of her mother’s memory, and what do you think of her emotional journey by the end of the book?

15. Listen to “Jubilee,” the latest album by Japanese Breakfast. Which tracks stood out to you? How does the music complement the narrative in Crying in H Mart?

16. What do you think of the ending and the ways that Michelle has chosen to commemorate her mother? Do you believe in a kind of fate, that her mother is watching over her from beyond?

17. The idea of a “scarcity mentality” (p. 55) is mentioned in the book, relating to a lack of Asian and female representation in the media. Did this impact how you think about representation, cultural differences, and community building? If so, how?

S h o r t   B i o g r a p h y

Musician, author, and director Michelle Zauner is best known as the frontwoman for her acclaimed indie pop band, Japanese Breakfast, and her bestselling memoir, Crying in H Mart. Named a TIME 100 Most Influential Person, Zauner speaks on loss, identity, and how food became a vital source of connection to her Korean heritage and her mother’s memory.

A b o u t   M i c h e l l e

Michelle Zauner is the acclaimed author of the bestselling Crying in H Mart, an unflinching, powerful memoir about growing up Korean American, losing her mother, and forging her own identity. With humor and heart, Zauner describes her adolescence in Oregon, discovering her love of music, and her complex relationship with her mother—from struggling to meet her high expectations to bonding with her over plates of steaming food on trips to Seoul.

When Zauner was 25, her mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Zauner moved home to become her mother’s caretaker, embarking on a journey that would force a reckoning with her identity and eventually a reclamation of the gifts of taste, language, and history her mother had given her. In her vivacious talks, Zauner shares her story of family, food, grief, and self-discovery, along with anecdotes from her childhood and career as a musical artist.

Crying in H Mart instantly rocketed to the New York Times bestseller list, where it has stayed for over a year. It was named one of the year’s best books by The New York Times, TIME, NPR, Washington Post, Vogue, Entertainment Weekly, Good Morning America, and more. President Obama also included Crying in H Mart among his “Favorite Books of the Year.”

In 2022, TIME named Michelle Zauner one of its “100 Most Influential People.” For the occasion, comedian Bowen Yang wrote, “While she intertwines the threads of her art into perfect plaits, she lets us find something in our own lives, a new strand with which to adorn ourselves. It doesn’t get better than that. Everybody wants to love her.”

Zauner initially launched to fame as the frontwoman for Japanese Breakfast, a Grammy-nominated indie pop band that has toured internationally and appeared on Saturday Night Live. They have released three studio albums: Psychopomp (2016), Soft Sounds from Another Planet (2017), and Jubilee (2021). In addition to writing, singing, and performing, Zauner has also directed many of Japanese Breakfast’s music videos.

Zauner is currently adapting Crying in H Mart into a feature film through Orion Pictures. When she is not on tour, she lives in Brooklyn, NY, with her husband, Japanese Breakfast guitarist Peter Bradley.

~from Penguin Random House Speakers Bureau, Michelle Zauner

Inside the Book: Michelle Zauner (CRYING IN H MART)

Michelle Zauner (author of Crying in H Mart) at the FYE® Conference 2023

2022 KACF Gala | Trailblazer Award: Michelle Zauner

Michelle Zauner | SXSW 2022

CBS Sunday Morning: Michelle Zauner on “Crying in H Mart”

H Mart x Michelle Zauner Collab / Book Interview with Author of Crying in H Mart!

Chicago Humanities Festival: Michelle Zauner

with Michelle Zauner

A conversation with Alyssa Jeong Perry on Code Switch, October 2, 2021.

Many people are familiar with the phrase "eating your feelings." But in her new book, Crying in H Mart, author and musician Michelle Zauner explores what it means to cook your feelings. In the book, she uses the lens of food and cooking to explore her Korean identity after she loses her mother to cancer. For Zauner, whose mother is Korean and father is white, recreating family recipes became one of the ways she was best able to connect to her mother after her death.

When your mom passed away in 2014, you started looking more into your Korean side. I'm wondering, growing up, how did you define your Koreanness?

I think growing up, I didn't ever attempt to define my Koreanness. It was just this intrinsic part of me. It wasn't until my mom passed away that I sort of began to question if it belonged to me at all. And I realized that if it was something that I wanted to feel like really belonged to me, I was going to have to start putting work in to preserve it.

If there's one thing we all know about Koreans, it's that we love our food and we're very proud of it, and we show a lot of love through our food. You write in the first few pages of your book that food was how your mom expressed her love. Can you explain what that looked like to you?

Every time my mom and I would travel to Korea, the first thing weeks in advance, my aunt would ask my mom was, "Where are all the places that you want to eat?" So much time was spent making sure we hit up all these different restaurants and got the different types of food that she wanted to eat. It just takes a lot of time and consideration.

And I remember that same kind of love being expressed to me when I would return home from college. My mom would make sure to stock the fridge with all my favorite side dishes, my favorite kimchi, and make sure that they sat out on the counter in advance so they were perfectly soured. She would have a running list of all the places that we'd have to go to eat the things that I loved. She remembered if I liked extra broth in my stew or if I liked extra noodles or extra vegetables.

You mentioned Maangchi, a Korean chef who became popular on YouTube, a couple of times in the book. You write that those videos were how you learned to cook Korean food right after your mom died. When you were cooking with Maangchi online, could you walk me through what her videos did for you?

I found myself smiling for the first time watching this very cute, effervescent, Korean woman explain to me how to take off the little ends of the pine nuts and put them in a dish. It was just a really nice moment. When I found myself craving other dishes, I found myself turning to this woman over and over again. She sort of demystified this Korean cooking process that had scared me. The little things would really move me very deeply and remind me of my mom, from the way that she peeled a pear in a very Korean way by peeling one strip with a giant knife pulled towards her. My mom would always peel fruit this way. Also, the way that she pronounces zucchini really reminded me of my mom. It was just a really pleasant thing to anchor me during this really difficult time.

Do you ever find yourself becoming overwhelmed with emotions or crying while cooking Korean food, since it reminds you of your mom?

I think the thing that made me so sad after my mom passed away was that I could not remember her before she was sick. I moved out of the house when I was 18; I went to college at Bryn Mawr, three thousand miles away from Oregon. So the last concentrated period of time I spent with my family were the six months that I lived in Eugene, Ore., being a caretaker for her.

It made me so sad, because I was having all these dreams of my mother. I would always see her bald and skinny with a chemo port in her chest. I would just have a lot of trauma from caretaking for her. I think that was a big reason why I turned to cooking — and why Maangchi brought me so much joy. I was able to remember these memories of my mom before that happened, and things that we actually really enjoyed together. It made it a lot easier for me to to think about my mother without it being this horrifying, traumatic thing.

Both your music and your book explore a lot of what it's like to be biracial. What was it like for you growing up with a Korean mother and a white father?

When I'm in America, everyone thinks of me as the Asian girl. When I go to Korea, everyone thinks of me as an American. There's this expectation all the time that I just have never really fit in anywhere. Growing up, there were stereotypes being put onto me as an Asian person that I had no control over, and that made me extremely uncomfortable. But when I told my mom this, she was like, "But you're not Asian."

I was like, "Mom, you don't understand it is to be like one of the only Asian kids at my school. I'm like the only Korean girl at my school and it's uncomfortable." She just said to me, "You're not Korean, you're American."

It's hard to explain to your parents this feeling of being other and of being singled out. In a way, I had to make space for myself because no one's going to question, "Where are you from?" when you're in a rock band on a stage. People have paid to come see you. It's like, This is where I'm from, b****!

Author Interviews

In 'Crying In H Mart' Michelle Zauner Grapples With Food, Grief And Identity

April 22, 2021

Heard on All Things Considered

H Mart, the popular Korean grocery store chain, is more than the setting for Crying in H Mart’s illustrative first chapter (and a 2018 essay of the same name) — it’s the catalyst for the entire arc of Michelle Zauner’s new memoir. “Essentially, the whole book is figuring out why I cry in this grocery chain,” Zauner says. In digging for those answers, Zauner, the talent behind indie pop act Japanese Breakfast, wrote a moving memoir about her Korean-born mother, Chongmi, their at-times contentious relationship, and her terminal cancer diagnosis and death in 2014.

Crying in H Mart is a book about family and grief, but as its title implies, it’s also a book about food. Food is the medium through which Zauner forges connections to her mother, her family, and more broadly, her own Koreanness. Zauner writes early on in the book that their “shared appreciation of Korean food served not only as a form of mother-daughter bonding but also offered a pure and abiding source of her approval.” And later, food is a way forward through grief, when following her mother’s death, Zauner turns to Korean YouTube personality Maangchi to learn to cook doenjang jjigae and jatjuk, and ultimately maintain a link to Korean culture in her mother’s absence.

~From website article by Monica Burton

Easy Bulgogi

A dish made by the author's mother.

Ingredients

Serves 2 to 4

• 1 pound beef tenderloin, top sirloin, or skirt steak), slice into ⅛-inch-thick slices
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 green onion, chopped
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 3 tablespoons water
• 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
• 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds, coarsely ground
• ½ teaspoon ground black pepper

Watch the video for cooking instruction:

Easy Kimchi

A dish the author made into a form of therapy after her mother's death.

Ingredients

• 10 pounds baechu (napa cabbage)
• 1 cup kosher salt
• ½ cup sweet rice flour
• ¼ cup sugar
• water
• 1 cup of crushed garlic
• 1 to 2 tbs ginger, minced
• 1 cup onion, minced
• 1 cup fish sauce
• salty, fermented squid (see FAQ, above)
• 2½ cups Korean hot pepper flakes (gochugaru) (to taste)
• 2 cups leek, chopped
• 10 green onions (diagonally sliced)
• ¼ cup of carrot, julienned
• 2 cups Korean radish, julienned

Watch the video for cooking instruction:

Soegogi Miyeokguk

A birthday soup made with seaweed.

Ingredients

Serves 2 to 3

• ½ ounce (16 grams) dried miyeok, soaked in cold water for 30 minutes
• 8 cups of water
• 1 pound beef brisket or skirt steak, cut into thin and small pieces
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons fish sauce (or salt and soy sauce to your taste)
• 2 teaspoon toasted toasted sesame oil

Watch the video for cooking instruction:

Kimshi Jjigae

A dish the author learned to make on her own because it was one of her mother's favorites.

Ingredients

(serves 2 with side dishes, serves 4 without)

• 1 pound kimchi, cut into bite size pieces
• ¼ cup kimchi brine
• ½ pound pork shoulder (or pork belly)
• ½ package of tofu (optional), sliced into ½ inch thick bite size pieces
• 3 green onions
• 1 medium onion, sliced (1 cup)
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 2 teaspoons sugar
• 2 teaspoons gochugaru (Korean hot pepper flakes)
• 1 tablespoon gochujang (hot pepper paste)
• 1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
• 2 cups of anchovy stock (or chicken or beef broth)

For stock (makes about 2½ cups’ worth):

• 7 large dried anchovies, heads and guts removed
• ⅓ cup Korean radish (or daikon radish), sliced thinly
• 4×5 inch dried kelp
• 3 green onion roots
• 4 cups water

Watch the video for cooking instruction:

Soy-Sauce Eggs

A dish that the author remembers from H Mart, the supermarket where she vividly remembers her mother shopping and cooking.

Ingredients

(Serves 7)

• 7 medium or large eggs, put them at room temperature for 1 or 2 hours
• 2 teaspoons white vinegar
• 4 large dried anchovies, guts removed
• ½ a medium onion, sliced thinly
• 1 large garlic clove, minced
• 1 jalapeño pepper (or green chili pepper), chopped (optional)
• 1 cup water
• ¼ cup soy sauce

Watch the video for cooking instruction:

Cold Radish Soup

A dish that the author remembers from h Mart.

Ingredients

• 100 grams (3.5 oz) of thin noodles (somyeon)
• 1 cup of dongchimi radish cut into thin matchsticks and mixed with 1 ts Korean hot pepper flakes (gochugaru), ½ ts sugar, ¼ ts kosher salt, and 2 ts toasted sesame oil
• ½ cup worth cucumber, cut into matchsticks
• 2 cups dongchimi broth
• 1 cup water
• ½ ts kosher salt
• 1 tbs sugar
• 2 ts vinegar
• 3 tbs kimchi juice
• halved hard-boiled egg

Watch the video for cooking instruction:

Japanese Breakfast is an American indie pop band from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania formed in 2013. The project is fronted by vocalist, guitarist and primary songwriter Michelle Zauner, alongside Peter Bradley (guitar), Deven Craige (bass) and Craig Hendrix (drums, keyboards, backing vocals).

Zauner started the band as a side project in 2013, when she was leading the Philadelphia-based emo group Little Big League. She has said that she named the band after seeing a GIF of Japanese breakfast and because she thought the term would be "exotic" to Americans and thought it would make others wonder what a Japanese breakfast consists of.

In 2014, she returned to her hometown of Eugene, Oregon, to care for her ailing mother. She continued to record music and songs, first to cope with stress, then, after her mother died, with grief. The songs eventually became Japanese Breakfast's debut studio album: Psychopomp (2016), released by Yellow K Records. Its critical and commercial success led Japanese Breakfast to sign with the record label Dead Oceans, which released the band's second and third studio albums: Soft Sounds from Another Planet (2017) and Jubilee (2021). Jubilee was nominated for Best Alternative Music Album and Japanese Breakfast for Best New Artist at the 64th Annual Grammy Awards and became the band's first album to chart on the Billboard 200, where it peaked at 56.

~Read more about the band's history & discography.

Japanese Breakfast - Savage Good Boy (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Posing in Bondage (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Be Sweet (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Boyish (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Body is a Blade (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Road Head (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Machinist (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Everybody Wants to Love You (Official Video)

Japanese Breakfast - Jane Cum (Official Video)