Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Carlisle Indian School. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Carlisle Indian School. Mostrar todas las entradas

viernes, 30 de julio de 2021

We had never seen such people before: Puerto Rican literature and the writing of the other (segunda parte)

 



Puerto Rico had been a colony of the Spanish Empire since 1493. The sense of a local literature and a creole specificity is older, but during the 19th century there was, in spite of censorship and political persecution, an emergent literature written in Spanish, nurtured by cultural institutions established in the last third of the century and by a number of periodicals and literary journals that had networks of contributors in Latin American countries such as Argentina, Chile and México, as well as connections with publishing houses, journals and newspapers in the United States. New York, for example, was a major publishing center for Spanish language books, and the literary events of the city were known and reviewed in Puerto Rican literary journals.

The construction of a national or regional identity was a complex issue. ‘Pureza de sangre’, institutionalized racism, was an infamous practice. Slavery was abolished as late as 1873. Many authors did not write or speak from a “we” that included peoples of color, although the best writers, the more aware and cultivated people, were advocates for the abolition of slavery and for women´s rights.

In the early twentieth century the complexities of national identity and the factors of gender, race and class were present in the literature written by black working class writers and by women, socialists and labor agitators like Tomás Carrión Maduro and Luisa Capetillo, but they hardly entered the canonic corpus of writers studied at the university and the schools. I guess the same is true of American literary studies,

Black slavery is one of the threads that connects cultural spheres between the Caribbean and the United States. Derek Walcott in the poem Omeros, follows the thread from the Caribbean to a Georgia plantation. The Harlem Renaissance was inspired by Caribbean intellectuals like Marcus Garvey and the Puerto Rican Arturo Alfonso Schomburg.

But back to Osuna, who is buried with his wife, in the neighboring town of Orangeville. He was obviously an intelligent young man and was offered a scholarship to study in the United States in the year 1901. Due to his naiveté and his youth, he sharply experienced the sensation of being an alien. 

His trip to the United States was inserted in the educational policies of the United States government toward the population of the island. The first decades were marked by a strong emphasis on radical and swift transculturation (la americanización) and the need to train native teachers who would be fluent American English speakers. Osuna was not prepared to even envision the atmosphere of his destined school, Carlisle. As some of you may know, I am referring to the Carlisle Indian School. Carlisle was established in 1879 on a former military base. (Other Puerto Ricans, were sent to the Booker T. Washington The Tuskegee Negro Normal Institiute at Tuskegee, Alabama, which seems to have followed similar pedagogical goals.)

Decades later, Osuna still remembered his culture shock. About his reaction Pablo Navarro Rivera wrote:

Juan José Osuna arrived at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (CIIS) in Carlisle, Pennsylvania at six o'clock on the morning of May 2, 1901. He was fifteen years old, stood four feet six inches in height, and weighed just 80 pounds. Osuna, who would become a noted Puerto Rican educator, wrote of his arrival at Carlisle: “We looked at the windows of the buildings, and very peculiar-looking faces peered out at us. We had never seen such people before. The buildings seemed full of them. Behold, we had arrived at the Carlisle Indian School! The United States of America, our new rulers, thought that the people of Puerto Rico were Indians; hence they should be sent to an Indian school, and Carlisle happened to be the nearest.

Of course Osuna was “seeing and feeling” from the false consciousness of his own racism and prejudices, the despicable “pureza de sangre” heritage, but nevertheless his displacement was the result of a trial and error policy. About sixty other Puerto Ricans were also subjected to the experiment at Carlisle, which closed in 1918. Carlisle was a trade school and its stated objective was the radical transculturation of children from first nations that had been secluded in reservations. Its founder Richard Pratt surely saw himself as a liberal, enlightened educator when he wrote: “A great general has said that the only good Indian is a dead one, and that high sanction of his destruction has been an enormous factor in promoting Indian massacres. In a sense, I agree with the sentiment, but only in this: that all the Indian there is in the race should be dead. Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.”

From Carlisle, Osuna was sent to Orangeville, near Bloomsburg, as an apprentice to the house of a person named Mira Welsh. The Welsh family is an old local family, according to the book Historical and Biographical Annals of Columbia and Montour Counties. In this environment he learned English and seems to have developed a passion for this region and its history as well.

Osuna returned to Puerto Rico where he was a Dean at the University. In 1923 he wrote his dissertation. In it he he denounced the absurdity of imperial educational policies that could be described by the Carlisle mission statement. “Kill the Puerto Rican to save the Puerto Rican.” And the truth is that these policies were defeated in practice while continuing to create havoc and confusion for decades to come, sometimes as comically absurd as the  decisions documented by Osuna in his dissertation.


miércoles, 28 de julio de 2021

We had never seen such people before: Puerto Rican literature and the writing of the other (primera parte)

 


                                                                                                         Marta Aponte Alsina

A Pablo Navarro

What could the literature of Puerto Rico share with the very distinct culture of this region in Pennsylvania, itself a crossroads of peoples and cultures? Usually connections are subtle or hidden underground, like the roots of trees or the waters of underground rivers. According to certain mythologies there is a father or a mother river from which other rivers spring. There is also a tree whose roots embrace the earth. Narrations and myths are related since prehistory, when as you know, people gathered to hear stories.

In spite of their antiquity myths are very much alive. They survive and thrive in pop culture. The science of ecology also reveals the interaction between all regions of the earth. However, the cultural history of nations seems to have moved in the opposite direction, stressing difference. But we don’t have to look back into mythic origins to find a unifying story between this region of the Susquehanna River and the literature of an island in the Caribbean Sea, between the Appalachians and the Valley of Caguas, Puerto Rico.

When professor Hidalgo told me about Juan José Osuna I thought that in spite of Kipling´s verse, east and west do mix. East is East because a capitalist adventurer decided that West is West. Rather the West is one and the other, and the East is also one and the other. The same failure of binary opposition holds true for North and South. They have always mixed, in economic and cultural geography, even though the borders are policed and the lines are drawn.

This common story between a Caribbean island and Bloomsburg begins in the last decade of the 19th century. Caguas, Puerto Rico, was a sugar cane and tobacco producing region. An orphaned young man served as an apprentice at a tobacco warehouse. You can imagine his waking and sleeping hours pervaded by the acrid smell of dry tobacco leaves and cigars. He was an orphan and had to work to help support his family, a fate typical of families and communities all over the world. What was not typical was a destiny imposed by territorial imperative. In 1898 the US Army invaded the island and substituted a very short lived autonomic government under the Spanish Empire for a military government and later for a mixed electoral system with the governor appointed by the president of the United States until 1948. Cuba and Puerto Rico were the last territories in America under the Spanish flag. They also were the first territories South of Texas to be invaded by a power that still sees itself in official discourses as exceptional, according to a historian Jackson Lears, and that after its civil war, embraced its “redemptive responsibilities in the drama of world history” (Jackson Lears, Divinely Ordained, London Review of Books, 19 May 2011, p. 3). Redeeming Cubans and civilizing Puerto Ricans was part of a “manifest destiny”. Taking over the island as a coaling station and stepping stone in the control of Central and South America was, of course, seen as a right.  

But the US could not accept without doubts its imperial role. There was then the need to create an empire without seeming to do so, while carrying out a civilizing mission for countries “not prepared for democracy.” How could this be accomplished? The story was written by the judges of the Supreme Court. According to scholar Amy Kaplan, from the University of Pennsylvania, the so called insular cases, which defined Puerto Rico as an unincorporated territory that belongs but is not part of the US, “turned the space of Puerto Rico into a buffer zone, a blurred borderland between the domestic and the foreign onto which project the threats of hybridity… of a phantasmic invasion of the US. The ambiguous space of Puerto Rico as “unincorporated”, as “foreign to the United States in a domestic sense”, both embodies and allays these fears of foreign bodies” (Kaplan, The Anarchy of Empire, Introduction).

But this intricate political novel of the insular cases is not the common story I would like to share with you. The historical personage who was Juan José Osuna has, to my mind, a more immediate pertinence to our exchange. Osuna´s story is worth telling. Here, at Bloomsburg, we are at the university that received his papers, part of his legacy and that is remarkable. Moreover his story sets the stage for a look at the relationship between literature and its place of enunciation or the place –geographical and cultural and ideological- from where a writer writes and the mode of her or his writing the other.


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Recuerdo cuando recibí el envío de mi sobrina. Leí su letra en una nota breve: quizás me interesaría conservar aquellas cartas. No pensé en ...