[a] pages 87-113, Chapter 6: “Tlilli, Tlapalli; The Path of the Red and Black Ink,“ and Chapter 7: “La conciencia de la mestiza; Towards a New Consciousness“
[b] In Chapter 6, Anzaldúa describes her vision of the writer: a “shape-changer,…a nahual, a shaman“ (88). Writing this book is like weaving and like creating a mosaic; Anzaldúa is interested in “the deep structure“ (88) of things, and while doing this, she has created a book that is a “hypdridization of metaphor“ (88). She calls her book a “female being [that] is angry, sad, joyful, is Coatlicue, dove, horse, serpent, cactus. Though it is a flawed thing—a clumsy, complex, groping blind thing—for me it is alive, infused with spirit. I talk to it; it talks to me“ (89).
Anzaldúa contrasts the view of art by the West with the view of art by tribal cultures. Western art “is dedicated to the validation of itself…is individual (not communal),“ whereas tribal art is “treated not just as objects, but also as persons“ (90). Western ethnocentrism often takes the power away from tribal art by putting it in a museum, making the art “a conquered thing, a dead ‘thing’ separated from nature and, therefore, its power“ (90). Anzaldúa still has hope for art, though: “Let us hope that the left hand, that of darkness, of femaleness, of ‘primitiveness,’ can diver the indifferent, right-handed, ‘rational’ suicidal drive that, unchecked, could blow us into acid rain in a fraction of a millisecond“ (91).
Writing for Anzaldúa is a healing process, a transformation process, a process to bring about joy. It brings about a “metamorphoses into another [person] in a world where people fly through the air, heal from moral wounds“ (92). “Writing Is a Sensuous Act,“ Anzaldúa titles one part of this chapter, noting that “Escribo con la tinta de mi sangre [I write with the shade of my blood]“ (93). People write and create art because of “psychic unrest, in a Borderland“ (95). Writing is about creation for Anzaldúa, “an endless cycle of making it worse, making it better, but always making meaning out of the experience“ (95).
Anzaldúa offers her book as a sacrifice: “This work, these images, piercing tongue or ear lobes with cactus needle, are my offerings, are my Aztecan blood sacrifices“ (97).
In Chapter 7, Anzaldúa advocates for a new mestiza consciousness, one for Chicanas, for women, one “alien“ to dominant culture (99). While a counterstance against dominant culture is “proudly defiant,“ it “is limited by, and dependent on, what it is reacting against“ (100). Counterstance is a great way to fight authority, “[b]ut it is not a way of life“ (100). Instead, a new consciousness is needed.
This new mestiza consciousness is built on tolerance of and embracing ambiguity and contradictions, the acceptance of a “plural personality,“ and a self that “is greater than the sum of its severed parts“ (101-102). Part of this ambiguity and contradiction is that the new consciousness accepts being both countried and country-less, both raced and race-less, both cultured and cultureless (102-103). A person with the new consciousness “reinterprets history and, using new symbols, she shapes new myths… surrender[ing] all notions of safety, of the familiar“ (104). In order to end oppression of women, “The first step [towards this consciousness] is to unlearn the puta/virgen dichotomoy and to see Coatlalopeuh-Coatlicue in the Mother, Guadalupe“ (106). Not only is a new vision of womanhood needed, but so is a new masculinity needed, “and the new man needs a movement“ (106).
This new mestiza consciousness is not just about Chicanos, but about linking people of all races, time periods, and classes together (106). Anzaldúa writes, “We are a blending that proves that all blood is intricately woven together, and that we are spawned out of similar souls“ (107). The psyches of all non-dominant culture peoples “resemble the bordertowns and are populated by the same people“ (109), and before change can occur in the “real“ world, change of consciousness must happen in the “inner“ world, where Anzaldúa places the struggle (109).
Non-whites need white people to “own the fact that you looked upon us as less than human, that you stole our lands, our personhood, our self-respect“ (107-108). A public restitution is needed so that everyone can heal (108).
[c] As a writer, I was very moved by Anzaldúa’s “hybridization of metaphors“ in Chapter 6. I fully agree that Western culture has deadened art in many ways: it is something that hangs on a wall, that is observed, that doesn’t act. This is seen in how books (while I would argue do act in our society) are seen as artifacts, texts, and forms, rather than actions, doings. Writing for Anzaldúa is a healing process and a process of transformation, and I have a very similar view of writing. For me, it has been a healing process for myself and a way to transform myself and learn about myself. Indeed, in writing this Anzaldúa is transforming others as well. There is a violence in reading and writing, as I have read in a few places, that tries to force transformation.
I was also really drawn to Anzaldúa’s description of the new mestiza consciousness, and her critique of the counterstance makes sense: why define oneself and ones views solely as against the dominant ideology? I have read that every time you write against the dominant culture, you are reinforcing its legitimacy. A counterstance is dependent upon dominant culture, and without it, cannot exist. We must discover a consciousness that allows us to exist after oppression has ended, and I fully agree that we must embrace ambiguities and contradictions (indeed, why else would I identify as queer, itself an ambiguous term allowing for ambiguous gender identities).
Part of Anzaldúa’s stance is on education: revealing the truth to those oppressed in order to celebrate the truth and validate experiences and existences, but also to whites in order to end fear and ignorance (107). Anzaldúa notes that many think it is up to whites to force other whites to overcome their fear, ignorance, and prejudice, and I definitely agree with this view. But I also I agree with Anzaldúa that she can “choose to use some of my energy to serve as mediator“ and that oppressed groups “need to allow whites to be our allies“ (107). Otherwise, oppression cannot end. Anzaldúa demands accountability and acceptance of wrongs done; I want the same thing. I want white men to stand up and admit: “We stole land. We lied in textbooks. We didn’t respect you.“
[d] How do we change consciousness from counterstances to a new consciousness? How do we continue to fight against dominant culture and simultaneously say that dominant culture is so wrong that we just need to replace it, not set ourselves up against it? Anzaldúa writes that “[t]he possibilities are numerous once we decide to act and not react“ (101). I agree that reacting is not doing much, and is reinforcing dominant culture’s legitimacy. How can we instead act? What does this look like? With so many “possibilities,“ and with a wondrous imagination of possible futures, why is it so hard to imagine a way to get there?
[e] Anzaldúa has an astute understanding of oppression. When she tells the reader that the new consciousness accepts the self as a whole greater than the sum of the parts (101-102), she shows that she obviously understands that the dominant culture does not view the Other as a whole being. This is also evident when she demands that white men admit they have not viewed Others as fully human (107-108). Anzaldúa also questions the hegemony of white men, who have told lies, stolen land, and claimed legitimacy to that land and to history (107-108) and demands that Chicana women revision history (104).
Anzaldúa also sees the harm that has happened to the oppressor, how oppression harms the oppressor as well as the oppressed. She notes that the Anglo feels “inadequate and inferior and powerless“ (105), which is part of the cause of their oppressive behavior. She notes that men are even more strictly forced into gender roles than women, and that those men who are fighting against the dominant version of masculinity are torn inside by the sexist dominant ideology. A new movement for men is needed, just as one for women is needed (106).
Anzaldúa also understands horizontal hostility and the need for solidarity among oppressed groups: “It is imperative that mestizas support each other in changing the sexist elements in the Mexican-Indian culture. As long as woman is put down, the Indian and the Black in all of us is put down“ (106).
Anzaldúa, Gloria. Borderlands: La Frontera. 2nd ed. San Francisco: Aunt Lute, 1999.
