Jorge Luis Morejon. USAforeigner performance piece. University of California, Davis.
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The following week, in class, she came in already prepped. I had been performing my “foreignness” through out campus for a week. Without looking into my eyes, as she was fixing her hair, in response to my performance, a sign across my forehead that read foreigner, an American passport hanging from my neck and brutally shorn hair, she sarcastically remarked:
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“Jorge, what a nice costume,” to what I answered:
“Jorge, what a nice costume,” to what I answered:
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“It is not a costume. It is a commentary. The time when people like me (meaning people perceived as the other by the dominant group) wore costumes is long gone.”
“It is not a costume. It is a commentary. The time when people like me (meaning people perceived as the other by the dominant group) wore costumes is long gone.”
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Our professor had walked out of the room. He had given us the forms for us to evaluate his performance during the Fall quarter. Referring to the sign on my forehead and in response to what I had said, she suggestively sneered:
Our professor had walked out of the room. He had given us the forms for us to evaluate his performance during the Fall quarter. Referring to the sign on my forehead and in response to what I had said, she suggestively sneered:
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“Why don’t you print it?,” meaning, why didn’t I print the letters stamped on my forehead on the evaluation form, to which I answered with conscious restrain of my actions and words in order not to provoke further polarization:
“Why don’t you print it?,” meaning, why didn’t I print the letters stamped on my forehead on the evaluation form, to which I answered with conscious restrain of my actions and words in order not to provoke further polarization:
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“If I wanted your advice, I would have asked you, but I rather do it my way. Thank you.”
“If I wanted your advice, I would have asked you, but I rather do it my way. Thank you.”
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I could feel the atmosphere was tense. Sitting around the oval table in the little room we had used for almost a whole semester, my classmates warily gazed at each other as our words battled. Instead of provoking a dialogue that moved her and the class towards an understanding of the implication of labeling someone as a foreigner, an uncomfortable silence permeated the group.
I could feel the atmosphere was tense. Sitting around the oval table in the little room we had used for almost a whole semester, my classmates warily gazed at each other as our words battled. Instead of provoking a dialogue that moved her and the class towards an understanding of the implication of labeling someone as a foreigner, an uncomfortable silence permeated the group.
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This episode has a special importance to me because it involves someone who is in preparation for teaching others. I am aware of the fact that we all to some degrees have poorly understood and not well thought out prejudices and misconstrued stereotypes, however my concern is that this interaction apparently brought no discernible self-awareness to this person. I have greater hope that my performance touched others in the class and on campus in a way that might get them to think about being active in a situation like this rather than being silent. Silence is a way to be complicit with social injustice, not only in the classroom, but in any situation.
This episode has a special importance to me because it involves someone who is in preparation for teaching others. I am aware of the fact that we all to some degrees have poorly understood and not well thought out prejudices and misconstrued stereotypes, however my concern is that this interaction apparently brought no discernible self-awareness to this person. I have greater hope that my performance touched others in the class and on campus in a way that might get them to think about being active in a situation like this rather than being silent. Silence is a way to be complicit with social injustice, not only in the classroom, but in any situation.
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