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Melting
pot or mosaic?
A nation's folklore
reflects its values and concerns
Any group's identity is formed and defined largely by its folklore
-- the heroes, stories and traditions that its members hold in common.
And Americans are no different in that respect.
What does distinguish Americans is the wide diversity of their
cultural backgrounds. The melting pot and the mosaic represent two
ways of conceptualizing this diversity.
In the melting-pot model of American identity, prevalent at the
beginning of the 20th century, immigrants were encouraged to completely
discard the cultural heritage they brought with them. In the mosaic
model, people of different backgrounds can fit together without
losing their original identity.
In this age of multiculturalism, celebrating diversity and teaching
tolerance, the mosaic model has gained precedence -- which is particularly
interesting, considering that folklore is both reflective of and
responsive to the needs of the times, as Simon J. Bronner '74,
distinguished professor of folklore and American studies, as well
as coordinator of the American studies program and director of the
Center for Pennsylvania Culture Studies at Pennsylvania State University
at Harrisburg, explained. Many children's books focus on ethnic
and community folktales. Cultural identities that were cast aside
in the past -- or even, as in the case of Native Americans, forcibly
taken away from people -- are enjoying a revival.
For example, the hula culture native to Hawaii has gained great
prominence in that state, as evidenced by the now ubiquitous halaus,
or schools of hula. "Hula is a narrative dance, a way of telling
a story both through songs and movements," explained Cristina
Bacchilega, MA '80, PhD '83, an English professor at the University
of Hawaii. "Hula stories are often about places, very specific
valleys or waterfalls. That is not simply an indication of a love
for nature; it's related to an understanding of land and place grown
out of a totally different sensibility from that seen in the dominant
culture, which looks at land in terms of what it costs and what
it can produce. Now these stories are being looked at, retold and
talked about, in books or through hula, to make people aware of
how tied these stories are to Hawaiian sensibility to their land.
They are used to raise people's consciousness about what's happened
to Hawaii and the wrongs that have been suffered."
Opponents of multiculturalism would argue that the emphasis on
promoting such understanding and appreciation of ethnic cultures
within the broader American landscape is too prevalent, and as a
result, our identity as Americans has become diluted. "Critics say
multiculturalism feeds fragmentation, and that we should be teaching
a common culture, not a lot of little communities and identities,"
said Bronner. These thinkers believe greater emphasis should be
placed on promoting established American folk heroes such as Daniel
Boone, Davy Crockett and other national heroes.
"Before 9/11, there already was dissension about our destiny:
Should we continue to build tolerance around the idea of a lot of
separate communities working in some kind of commonwealth, rather
than the nation state model?" Bronner said. "Arthur Schlessinger
Jr., for example, has said that all these ethnic tales and food
ways are actually a sign of cultural weakening.
"And
then we had 9/11," continued Bronner. "That brought people together."
Unequivocally, the events of Sept. 11, 2001, have elicited the
strongest outpouring of American nationalism witnessed in many years.
As Americans, we share the stories, the heroes and the widespread,
communal sense of loss and the ongoing rituals associated with all
of it. Together, we're drawing on past examples to create new traditions
-- memorial gardens; patriotic themes in folk art and clothing; concerts
and other gatherings to observe the anniversary of that terrible
disaster.
However, this outpouring of nationalism also has its darker side,
in the form of jokes and stories that ridicule and denigrate the
"other" ("other" being whomever is viewed as responsible). As Bronner
explained it, these function to create an identity for one group
-- in this case, Americans -- by setting up a negative identity for
others -- often Arabs.
A lot of this negativity is circulating via e-mails and the Internet.
"With 9/11 and terrorism, we're definitely seeing a lot of anti-Arab
jokes and stories, including several that connect Saddam Hussein
with Al-Qaida," said Bronner, who has been helping other folklorists
collect 9/11 stories and humor.
"There are different ways to interpret this," added Bronner.
"People may say, 'Oh, how awful, there's humor about this!'
But is this a psychological response, a social response, as much
as the mourning and other serious approaches to it? Is it an anti-Arab
response? Or is it more a need to build ourselves up at a time when
we may feel our reputation is in decline?"
Folklore tells us about who we are, about what our fears and concerns
are. "Maybe, at bottom, the richness of folklore in our contemporary
age is that it tells us about our beliefs and values," said Bronner.
"What we liked about Davy Crockett for years was his sense of individualism,
his sense of daring, which we thought of as necessary to an American
character. Now the needs may be different. What we tend to pull
out of the [Sept. 11] hero legends is the sense of service and duty
-- the idea that these firefighters and policemen didn't have to
do this, they could have played it safe. But they cared for other
people."
Sept. 11 has changed so many aspects of our lives and our beliefs
and attitudes -- but it's still too early to tell what attitudes
will prevail, in the end. "It's sometimes very hard to tell what's
a story and what may have actually happened," said Libby Tucker,
associate professor of English at Binghamton University. "And often
there is some truth to a story that is not all true. Folklorists
often don't even ask much about what the truth is, but look at the
pattern, watch the way the story grows and changes over time. What
is most important to people? What's the living core of the story
that pulls people? Only time will tell us what will be the longer
pattern."
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| In
Remembrance, 34.5" square. Photo courtesy of the
American Quilter's Society. |
Star-spangled
quilts: a merging of folklore and nationalism
The events of Sept. 11, 2001, were followed by a visible
and resounding reaffirmation of Americans' sense of identity
as Americans. The flag has been the most prominent symbol
of this identity.
"If I had to look toward one central symbol that tends to
pull people together and that has been used spontaneously
and deliberately for American nationalism, it would be the
American flag," said Libby Tucker. In addition to displaying
the flag on flagpoles and car antennae, Americans have clipped
flags from the local paper and displayed them in windows.
At a soccer game where the American women's national team
played against the national soccer team of Norway, Tucker
saw fans wearing flags as shirts or shawls and young children
who had their faces painted with flags.
Many patriotic quilts that pay tribute to the heroes of Sept.
11 also incorporate the flag or elements of it into their
designs. Here, a quintessentially American folk art is combined
with our strongest symbol of American unity and strength.
"The quilt is a very powerful American symbol of warmth,
family and community," noted Simon J. Bronner. "People aren't
necessarily going to do a quilt in Eastern Europe; it wouldn't
have the same impact. The AIDS quilt tried to raise awareness
and symbol building. And now we're seeing these nationalistic
memorial quilts."
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Memorial
wall near the World Trade Center site, January 2002.
Photos by Geof Gould.
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Tradition
unifies through shared symbols
People look to tradition for ways to express themselves and
to acknowledge and to process what has happened in the wake
of momentous events and great tragedies.
"We need to interpret experience, the meaning of events,"
said Simon J. Bronner. "Folklore provides symbols for us to
express ourselves. Through telling about the events and memorializing
them, we have a sense of their fuller meaning."
Folklore and the familiar symbols it provides help people
to compact events into understandable units, said Bronner.
"A lot of the memorials and shrines [at the sites of the Sept.
11 attacks] were based on our notions of burial and mourning.
We weren't waiting for some great artist to put up the sculpture.
What seemed to be very emotionally resonant during that time
were these spontaneous and impromptu shrines that relied on
traditions we're all familiar with and that other people can
relate to."
Libby Tucker and her husband, Geof Gould, former director
of parent relations, and, prior to that, director of undergraduate
admissions at Binghamton, were drawn to visit the site of
the World Trade Center and the memorial wall near it in the
months following Sept. 11.
"There was a focus on gathering meaningful objects to express
the grief and to try to make some sense out of a difficult
time," Tucker said. "There were a lot of teddy bears, for
example, that had been gathered to show the feeling of loss
and try to find comfort. A lot of objects, including cards
and letters, had been sent in by children across the country.
There were posters created by relatives and friends of people
who had died in the disaster. The communal need to share the
sadness was brought out very eloquently by the shrines on
the memorial wall. It was heartbreaking to look at them. But
it seemed very important to share that experience."
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