If language is desire, if syntax and rhythm and tone and color create worlds of desire, if we see, if we live out on the margin, then how come we so often write between the lines? We who are ostracized, estranged, despised, denied rights of every kind? Why do we write as if we were inside?
Why does realism equal verity? And whose verity is this? Why does realism equal accessibility? Might there be ways outside the standard models that could afford both reader and writer a few more options?
Would disrupting or upsetting the lexical surfaces, and the deeper structures, disrupt other contracts (social, political) we have entered with those who have continually tried to dismiss us?
If we joyfully violate the language contract, might that not make us braver, stronger, more capable of breaking other oppressive contracts?
Might our pleasure, our delight, our audacity become irresistible finally?
Would celebrating through the invention of new kinds of texts—ones that insisted on our own takes of the world, our own visions, our own realities—would this finally convince both us and others that we are autonomous, we are not them, but we are nonetheless joyful and free? In short, we are complex human beings and cannot be so simply reduced or read.
MIGHT WRITING BY WOMEN, BY PEOPLE OF COLOR, BY GAY MEN AND LESBIANS AND TRANSGENDERED PEOPLE BE AN ACTIVE REFUSAL OF THE DOMINANT CODE, A SUBVERSION OF MEANING AS IT HAS BEEN TRADITIONALLY CONSTRUCTED, FOR SOMETHING MORE STRANGE, ELUSIVE, OTHER?
Why does realism equal verity? And whose verity is this? Why does realism equal accessibility? Might there be ways outside the standard models that could afford both reader and writer a few more options?
Would disrupting or upsetting the lexical surfaces, and the deeper structures, disrupt other contracts (social, political) we have entered with those who have continually tried to dismiss us?
If we joyfully violate the language contract, might that not make us braver, stronger, more capable of breaking other oppressive contracts?
Might our pleasure, our delight, our audacity become irresistible finally?
Would celebrating through the invention of new kinds of texts—ones that insisted on our own takes of the world, our own visions, our own realities—would this finally convince both us and others that we are autonomous, we are not them, but we are nonetheless joyful and free? In short, we are complex human beings and cannot be so simply reduced or read.
MIGHT WRITING BY WOMEN, BY PEOPLE OF COLOR, BY GAY MEN AND LESBIANS AND TRANSGENDERED PEOPLE BE AN ACTIVE REFUSAL OF THE DOMINANT CODE, A SUBVERSION OF MEANING AS IT HAS BEEN TRADITIONALLY CONSTRUCTED, FOR SOMETHING MORE STRANGE, ELUSIVE, OTHER?
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