Sunday, September 22, 2013

Reflection One


“We are what we collect, we collect what we are.” ~ Elizabeth Kaplan

For thousands of years the histories of people have been written down, and (in some lucky cases) preserved. From the ancient Egyptians, to the Renaissance and Reformation in Europe, to yesterday’s news, records have been taken about the occurrences from the past. Whether or not that information makes it beyond the paper is in our hands. As author of Archives Power, Randall C. Jimerson wrote, “ By preserving some records and not others, archivists affect society’s collective understanding of the past, including what will be forgotten.”
            As the great-granddaughter of Polish immigrants my family history has been passed down through the generations. If it weren’t for the stories, the letters, and the photographs, I’d be missing part of who I am. Finding this class spoke to me in that sense: preserving parts of unknown history that are important to understanding the past.
            I’ve taken courses on feminist theory, and my first encounter with Chicana feminism was in Gloria Anzaldua’s writing “La conciencia de la mestiza.” Part of her focus centered on the domination that is culturally specific, using her own ethnicity as a Chicana. Anzaldua discussed how men in her culture face suffering and shame because of the color of their skin. To regain some sense of masculinity they “breed a false sense of machismo” (Anzaldua 83) and oppress their women. I will qualify that 1) not all Chicano men are like this 2) this same repression occurs in various forms in all cultures and 3) oppress is a strong word, but I find it fitting, considering the circumstances of our class in the sense that very little is known about the Chicana women who brought so much to the movements for Chicano rights.
 For me however, it’s beyond resurrecting that untold history; it’s about bringing this group of women into the light. Our history is speckled with stories of women like Joan of Arc, Sor Juana, Amelia Earhart, etc. But that’s all; they’re the few blips within a long history of male heroes. George Washington wouldn’t have won the War for Independence without the women who fed, clothed, and tended to the sick. The Resistance against the Nazi’s didn’t benefit from just men; women were involved in all sorts of underground organizations during World War II.  Rosie the Riveter is a prime example of the thousands of women who worked long hours in factories while their husbands, fathers, brothers, and uncles fought overseas. Without these women and many more, historical events may have taken a different turn. Women have always been on both sides of any movement, and it’s time more of their stories start being told.
Currently, I am working on my own project for my History Honors Thesis, which focuses on women in the Michigan Migrant Ministry and their interactions with the Chicano communities in the rural parts of the state during the 1940s. I introduced myself to Oral History by doing one of my own for the project; it was quite a learning experience to say the least. For one, patience is a virtue. Working with older persons requires an understanding that you may not get all of your questions answered in one interview, but at the same time they may give you a jack pot piece of information that you wouldn’t have found otherwise. I am excited that the upcoming semester will further refine my skills in Oral History, and aid my overall development as a Historian. But even more than that, I’m looking forward to being apart of this movement to document the untold stories of these women who did so much for the causes they believed in. Their histories will not only bring to light a new dimension of their own history, but they will also show the strength that women bring to the past.
That excitement and goal has kept me from focusing on my fears for the project, which aren’t really fears (since I believe that is a strong word), but more concerns. I want to make sure I ask questions without offending anyone; I am referring to the idea that curiosity killed the cat.  

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