Female Identity Formation in New

Female Identity Formation in New York

The city of New York is well-known for its ethnic and cultural diversity, and for good reason. As the eastern gateway to America, New York received many of the country's earliest immigrants, and its sheer size ensures that it will attract people from all backgrounds and regions. However, much like America, the city itself is not a free-flowing mix of individuals, but rather remains geographically and culturally separated, to the point that different neighborhoods might as well be different countries. The lives of the female leads in Sapphire's Push, Angie Cruz's Soledad, and Suki Kim's the Interpreter embody this contradiction, because although all three share the same setting, each character finds herself in a world defined by her ethnic and family history. As Push's Precious, Soledad's titular artist, and the Interpreter's Suzy Park find themselves pushed into circumstances outside their control, they find that the hope for a reconstituted, autonomous identity lies in navigating the space between the ethnic and familial past and the promise of the future. By comparing and contrasting these three characters from the perspective of feminist and psychoanalytic theory, one is able to see how in each case, the successful transition into a fully-realized individual with her own agency and autonomy requires being able to integrate painful histories into one's identity rather than hide from them. Ultimately, the novels demonstrate that what gives the individual freedom is being able to re-conceptualize, in more productive ways, the differences and distinctions that family and history have forced upon her.

Before getting into the novels in detail, it will be helpful to outline some key critical concepts that will be necessary for understanding the process of identity formation demonstrated in each story. Specifically, the notion of difference, and particularly gender and ethnic difference, plays a central role in any identity formation, including in the identities of Precious, Soledad, and Suzy. In chapter five of her book Feminism and Psychoanalytic theory, Nancy Chodorow opens with a quote from anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss: "I would go so far as to say that even before slavery or class domination existed, men built an approach to women that would serve one day to introduce differences among us all" (Chodorow 99). Chodorow uses the quote in order to introduce the notion of gender difference and demonstrate how this difference, while rooted in a kind of genuine biological difference, is itself a social construction and thus is not "absolute, abstract, or irreducible" (Chodorow 100). Instead, Chodorow argues that gender difference is merely a more evolved form of "the first 'me' -- 'not me' division" that develops as part of the formation of the individual subject (Chodorow 101). This idea is rooted in Jacques Lacan's theory of the mirror stage, which he argues is "an identification, in the full sense that analysis gives the term," meaning that this distinction between "me" and "not-me" is in reality an identification with the concept of "me" (Lacan 2).

As such, one can consider gender difference, alongside racial, ethnic, and class differences, as ways that meaning and identity are made. According to psychoanalytic theory, "identity formation and consolidation are an ongoing process […] that begins in prenatal life and continues throughout the human life cycle," and it involves a constant internalization of external stimuli and expectations alongside personal reflections on these stimuli (Mann 213). One can see this process of meaning and identity formation in the lives of the three heroines under discussion here, even if each one takes her own specific path. However, before pointing out this process in the novels, it will be necessary to further explain the notion of difference and how it relates to identity formation. In particular, it is crucial to understand how difference functions as a form of relational meaning, because it is the relationship between different ideas, identities, and histories that constitutes the central character conflict in these novels.

To say that difference functions as a form of relational meaning is to say that difference, as it relates to identity, can only be conceived of within a relationship. As mentioned above, the simplest form this relationship could take is one between "me" and "not me," because this observation of difference represents one of the earliest ways that children come to make sense of the world around them (Chodorow 101). This early relationship is not even one between two people, but rather between the child and the rest of the world, but it is still instructive because it helps demonstrate how the observation of difference lies at the root of meaning. Put simply, one cannot make sense or meaning without relying on differences and distinctions, because it is these differences that allow for definition.

Here it is useful to point out the relationship between difference and the observation of that difference, because meaning does not automatically spring from objective difference, but rather is the subjective mental reaction to the observation of that difference. This distinction is important because the key differences under discussion here, such as gender and ethnic difference, matter not because they represent an essential, immutable distinction but because they are composed of the accumulated social responses to the observation of other differences. For example, to speak of gender difference is to speak of the distinctions between two socially-constructed categories of gender, which is something far larger and more complex than the simple observation of sexual differences in biology.

Despite the fact that gender and ethnic difference are socially-constructed, they nevertheless serve to create meaning by convincing individuals to treat them as meaningful, which in turn reconstitutes these differences and perpetuates the cycle. Thus, on the one hand, the recognition of difference between socially-constructed categories such as gender and ethnicity can be seen as a kind of externally-imposed repression or control, because these categories of difference must be learned, rather than spontaneously observed (as in the case of the me/not-me difference). Society, which includes family as a crucial constituent element, teaches individuals what differences to look for and how to interpret them, which in turn controls what those individuals value.

On the other hand, because these socially-constructed categories of difference are so immediately and deeply tied to individual identity and subjectivity, it can be difficult to identify the point at which social control and teaching ends and individual, intentional selection of these categories begins. Furthermore, individuals might find it difficult to give up their conception of the meaning gained from observing certain differences, because their identity depends on these categories and meanings being maintained. This is why, for example, people hold on to certain beliefs even in the face of evidence that those beliefs are not true, because letting go of those beliefs would actually mean letting go of oneself.

While no one can ever truly escape ideology, individuals can become more aware of the categories of difference they have been taught, and in turn decide whether they would like to continue valuing that category. This point of informed, intentional decision is one of the goals of criticism, because critically evaluating received wisdom allows one to reach this point. In the same way, the process of identity formation undergone by the three main characters of the novels culminates in a point wherein they are able to begin reforming their own identities intentionally, instead of merely reacting to and within the categories of difference handed down to them by their families and society's larger influence.

To begin demonstrating this process of identity formation and reformation, one may start with the role of ethnic difference in the novels, because this distinction represents a somewhat broader and more basic form of distinction than those provided by ideas of family and gender. This is not to suggest tat ethnicity itself is simple or not complex, but rather that the socially-conditioned observations of ethnic distinction are fairly simple to understand, because in a white American hegemony, all ethnic difference is implicitly or explicitly measured against a white, American ideal. The best place to start this investigation of ethnic difference and its relation to identity formation is Push, because Precious' experiences as a black woman help highlight how white American culture teaches people to interpret ethnic difference more generally.

In some ways Precious' experience with ethnic difference is simultaneously the most dramatic and least obvious, because being a black woman in New York means being subject to a centuries-long process of racial and ethnic discrimination, misrepresentation, and disadvantaging that is relatively unique when considered alongside women of Dominican (Soledad) or Korean (Suzy) background. Of course, as will be seen, there are some similarities between the experiences of the three women, Precious' experience is unique precisely because she represents the contemporary legacy of America's founding as a slave state. Unlike families of Dominican or Korean background who immigrated to the United States and settled there, black Americans existed as long as the country did, having been brought to the United States as slaves; in fact, the first casualty of the American Revolution, Crispus Attucks, was a former slave, born to Native American and African parents.

It is for this reason that one could reasonably argue that Precious' entire life, and particularly the trials and tribulations she must endure, including her violent family life, her poverty, and her illiteracy, all ultimately stem from her racial and ethnic background, because the pervasive, institutional racial inequalities that still exist in America served to structure her entire life. Even before she began she was already disadvantaged by being born a black woman in the United States, because the United States maintains a system of social, economic, and political inequality that disproportionately impoverishes the black population. Thus, in broad strokes, one can say that all of the major events in Precious' life are a result of her ethnic background and the meaning American society places on that category of difference.

Perhaps more than any of the novels discussed here, Push manages to make the idea of difference as a form of social control permeate the entire story, because the particular dialect used by Precious as she narrates her story is a direct reflection of the practical, material effects of ethnic difference. Precious grew up in the neighborhood of Harlem and has spent her entire life there, to the point that she and her first baby recovered in the same hospital she was born in (Sapphire 12). She is functionally illiterate as a result of her school and family life, and this illiteracy is rendered explicitly in her narration. In this way, the general realization that Precious' life is the product of her historical context's treatment of race and ethnicity is rendered in the text of the novel itself, because her illiteracy is directly related to the reduced opportunities offered black Americans.

Precious herself is acutely aware of race and ethnicity, which makes perfect sense considering how fully it has structured her life; on this point, it seems worth highlighting the fact that the preeminent luxury afforded to those who enjoy white privilege in America is that race is something they are allowed to consider at will. Implicit in her early narration is a focus on the race or ethnicity of the adults around her, and it seems to anger her that the authority figures tend to be white (even if at this point she lacks the skills to accurately express this anger). For example, she notes that her teacher Mr. Wiener is "a skinny little white man," and she calls Mrs. Lichenstein a "white cunt box" in addition to referring to her "white bitch hands" (Sapphire 5, 7). When Precious points out the whiteness of these characters, she is doing so precisely because the difference is meaningful to her as a result of the institutionalized inequality in the United States. For her, whiteness in the early parts of the story is a sign that these people are different to the point of being alien.

In a similar way, Precious is acutely aware of her own blackness, but early on this awareness is still coded by the language of a category of difference provided by a white society. As a result, even as Precious views herself as black and even has some pride in it, she nevertheless connects that blackness to a kind of isolation and poverty: "This nurse slim butter-color woman. She lighter than some Spanish womens but I know she black. I can tell. it's something about being a nigger ain't color. This nurse same as me. A lot of black people with nurse cap or big car or light skin same as me but don't know it" (Sapphire 12). In addition to the word "nigger," Precious repeats other racist words and phrases in relation to black people, including calling her classmates "coons" and referring to how "some of the other natives get restless" (Sapphire 6). This internalization of a racist society's focus on racial and ethnic difference is one of the primary reasons behind Precious' despair, and she goes so far as to characterize herself as a "vampire sucking the system's blood. Ugly black grease to be wipe away" (Sapphire 34).

As Precious progresses through the story, she gradually begins to see the world through eyes unrestrained by the linguistic and conceptual blinders imposed by society's conception of ethnic and racial difference. By the end of the novel, she has made friends with people from a wide variety of backgrounds, and even finds herself attending an incest survivor support group (Sapphire 140). Where previously she described others first and foremost in terms of their racial or ethnic background, Precious has developed to the point where the race of a person does not tell her anything else about them; "white bitch" is replaced by "white women," and Precious recognizes that the racial or ethnic descriptor is actually not that descriptive at all (Sapphire 142) She stops caring about race and ethnicity at the moment that it stops being useful for her, and it stops being useful for her because she has given herself the opportunity to develop a new language of her own.

Soledad's journey in Soledad bears some similarities to Push, in that the main character hails from a predominantly non-white neighborhood of New York. In this case, the neighborhood is Washington Heights, and the instead of focusing on the meaning given to differences between black and white, the novel explores differences between white American and Latina culture as expressed in the conflict between Soledad's former neighborhood and her new home in the East Village. Thus, this exploration of ethnic difference occurs more subtly than in Push, because in the case of Soledad, the story begins with the central character having already removed herself from her ethnic and geographic background.

The novel lays out this conflict on the first page:

In some ways the travel and leisure fantasy continues because without trying I led my family to believe I left 164th street to live in the school dorms, which I kind of described to be more like high-rises, with a view of the East River and really great showers. For two years, they've had no idea. Every time I step inside my East Village walk-up on the corner of 6th and a, I feel guilty. [….] but if they knew the truth (and how much I am paying for it), they'd declare me insane and send my uncle Victor to tie me up on the hood of his Camaro and bring me back home, kicking and screaming. (Cruz 11)

This passage is instructive because it highlights many of the major themes of the novel while presenting the central conflict as a conflict between accepting one's ethnic background and rejecting it. In contrast to Precious, who accepts her ethnic background but accepts it within the confines of a limited vocabulary and available meaning, Soledad attempts to disavow her ethnic background in favor of a fictionalized identity.

At the beginning of the novel, Soledad is clearly ashamed of her ethnic background, and even makes excuses to justify her efforts at hiding it. One such excuse is particularly relevant because it helps demonstrate the extent to which Soledad has internalized certain negative stereotypes about her ethnic history even as she believes she is combating those stereotypes. When discussing how she relates where she is from to other people, Soledad states that:

Because I knew that people associated what they saw on the news with the place I grew up in -- a war zone filled with cop killers, killer cops, crack dealers, gang members and lazy welfare mothers -- I convinced myself that embroidering the truth about my living on the Upper Upper West Side was my way of keeping nasty stereotypes of Washington Heights out of people's minds. (Cruz 12)

Ironically, by attempting to keep "nasty stereotypes" out of people's minds, Soledad is actually helping perpetuate those stereotypes by ensuring that no positive associations with Washington Heights emerge. Soledad, having accepted the terms for discussing ethnic difference given to her by society, including "what they saw on the news," internalizes the negative stereotypes about her own home neighborhood and ends up working as part of the larger social forces perpetuating those stereotypes.

Of course, Soledad is at least partially aware of this fact, which why she feels guilty about her new neighborhood and worries about being "a blanquita […]: a sellout, a wannabe white girl" (Cruz 12-13). She is essentially a wannabe white girl, having given up any explicit identification with her ethnic past and instead focused on integrating herself into a bohemian, artistic, and, like most privileged circles, predominantly white culture. This fictional experience mirrors empirical research on the children of Latin American immigrants, which has shown that "the second generation's identities are likely to differ greatly from their parents," to the point that conflicts arise when this second generation attempts to establish purely American or "hyphenated" identities (Feliciano 136). The rest of the novel, then, is a process of Soledad coming to terms with her ethnic history, because she gradually realizes that simply hiding her ethnicity with little white lies about her neighborhood does not make it any less a part of her identity. Instead, this attempt to create an identity free from any non-white ethnic history simply adds guilt and deceit to Soledad's existing identity, which only makes it harder for Soledad to generate any kind of healthy, stable self-identification. In other words, by running from her ethnic background, Soledad only ends up making it a more important, albeit misshapen, part of her identity.

In some ways Suzy in the Interpreter has the most nuanced understanding of ethnicity and identity, and this is due to the fact that, like the title says, she is an interpreter, and as a result she rides the fine line between cultures. Like the other two novels, the Interpreter opens with narration that immediately highlights the ethnic differences at play in the story, but where Precious accepts her ethnicity within the confines of white culture, and Soledad attempts to deny her ethnicity within those same confines, Suzy seems to simultaneously identify with her ethnic background while retaining a kind of clinical distance from it. As the narrator notes, "an interpreter cannot pick sides. Once she does, something slips, a certain fine chord that connects English to Korean and Korean to English without hesitation" (Kim 275). The distance accorded by this unique position plays to her advantage, because she is able to simultaneously consider her Korean heritage from a decidedly non-American perspective while occasionally stepping into the position of an American looking out at other ethnicities.

For example, the first scene of the novel demonstrates how Suzy, as an interpreter, is able to slide seamlessly between two different aspects of her identity when confronted with the concept of ethnic difference. Her first reaction upon sitting down across from the only other Asian person in a crowded New York McDonalds is to consider this ethnic difference, but to do it from the perspective of a Korean person, rather than a native New Yorker or American:

She can tell who's Korean from miles away. Of course, she's been wrong before, though only a handful of times, mistaking a Japanese person for Korean. She is not sure why, perhaps something in the history, a possible side effect of the sick affinity between the colonizer and the colonized -- Japan had once rule Korea for thirty-six years, her father never forgot to remind her. Or it might simply be the way their facial bones are shaped, Koreans and Japanese more oval while Chinese seem flatter. (Kim 6)

Suzy's observations are interesting precisely because she is engaging in a process of ethnic-difference meaning making that is entirely outside the boundaries of traditional, white American society. She is imagining meanings that might be generated from the observation of ethnic differences among Asians, rather than the differences between Asians and Americans. Although she is still of course engaged in a system of thought that values ethnic difference as a meaningful distinction, which in itself could be considered negative, her engagement with this system does not harm her own identity or self-conception in the same way that Precious' or Soledad's initial conceptions of ethnic difference do.

This is important because book-ending this consideration of ethnic differences among Asians are thoughts that demonstrate how Suzy is simultaneously engaged with a distinctly American form of meaning making. While she focuses on the other person's Korean heritage and views it within a system of Asian difference, she also sees him as distinctly non-American, referring to him as one of "these immigrant men" (Kim 6). She is grateful that he does not ask "the prying questions that fellow immigrants often feel entitled to ask," but the act of identifying him as a "fellow immigrant" is actually a way of creating a distance between herself and his immigrant status. However, unlike Soledad's complete disavowal of her ethnic history, because this distancing is accompanied by a consideration of difference among Asian populations, Suzy never goes completely one way or the other, but rather straddles the line between disparate and sometimes conflicting elements of her identity.

Suzy's ability to shift between elements of her identity is necessary as part of her work, but it is also challenged by that work because she is confronted with others who might attempt to place her squarely in one category of ethnic identity. This becomes clear in the second chapter when Suzy is confronted by a white man making a bad joke predicated on his own lack of awareness regarding the distinctions between Asian ethnicities. When Suzy says her name as she checks in at court, a young lawyer asks if her name is Suzy "as in Suzy Wong," a fictional Chinese prostitute featured in a novel and film (Kim 10). His question is essentially an attempt to force her into a category of difference and meaning, but this categorization depends on an understanding of ethnicity entirely inconsistent with Suzy's own awareness of it, because it is based on ignorance.

This is a practical demonstration of the difference between a label and an identity, because while "a label may say little about my self-definition, [it] nonetheless determine[s] how you treat me" (Kelly, Shadd, & James 266). The label the lawyer is applying does not correspond to Suzy's identity, and this gap is related to the gap that exists between the two halves of Suzy's cultural influences. Ultimately, however, this interaction helps demonstrate Suzy's own awareness and ability, because "she is the only one in the room who hears the truth, a keeper of secrets" (Kim 12).

In addition to ethnicity, the women of Push, Soledad, and the Interpreter are deeply connected to their families, whether they like it or not. While one's ethnic background is tied to one's familial background, it is worth separating the two because they seem to function on slightly different levels, and work with and on each other in a reciprocal relationship of meaning creation. While ethnic difference corresponds to an external facet of identity that is shown to the public and must be engaged as part of a larger social system, the family's influence on identity seems to be much more internal, and in each novel the characters' identity reformation stems from a reevaluation of their relationship to their families.

Of course, in each novel the main characters' families are largely responsible for those characters' own conceptions of their ethnicity and ethnic difference. Precious learns the words for talking about white people and herself from her mother, even if she is not completely aware of what these words mean: "What's this cunt bucket? (That's what my muver call women she don't like, cunt buckets. I kinda get it and I kinda don't get it, but I like the way it sounds so I say it too)" (Sapphire 8). In fact, it is not until Precious is free from her mother's home and direct influence that she begins to develop a new vocabulary that can create new meaning out of the ethnic difference she observes.

Furthermore, in Push the family takes on a more explicitly destructive role, as Precious' mother and father both abuse her. In the same way that Precious' ethnic background helps constrain the opportunities offered her, her immediate familial context is directly responsible for the bad things that happen to her, such that one may view her family as the immediate, material representation of the larger social problems emerging from the observation of ethnic difference. When Precious and her mother finally confront the origins of Precious' abusive childhood, Precious is able to partially escape from the mental and emotional damage its has caused because she is finally able to admit to herself that her mother "ain' shit" (Sapphire 149). By pulling away from her family, Precious is able to come to terms with their influence on her identity without letting it overwhelm that identity.

In Soledad, the connection between family and ethnicity is presented even before the novel actually begins, because the book truly starts with a kind of epigram from Soledad's mother, ostensibly just before she drops into the coma that leads Soledad to return home: "I remember the way the sunset dropped into the sea at home in Dominican Republic. it's the only place I can remember outside my apartment in Washington Heights, before Manolo, before I became a mother to Soledad" (Cruz 9). This connection between family and ethnic history is what drives Soledad to flee both her family and her neighborhood, and it is her family that ultimately helps her reconcile her perception of ethnic difference with her own identity. The particular character of Soledad's family is in large part the result of her ethnic background, and as a result her family is an essential part of reconstituting that ethnic background in the character of Soledad.

Thus, in contrast to Precious, who must escape her family in order to successfully reconstitute their identity, Soledad must stop fleeing her family in order to come to terms with their influence on her. It is not until the last page of the novel that Soledad is finally able to come to understand herself, because once she has finally decided to stop fleeing her family, her mother opens up to her and reveals her secret history:

About the day I was born, how when she first looked down at me so tiny and vulnerable, she named me Soledad. My name means loneliness in Spanish, the language my mother speaks and reams in. She said this name would open people's hearts to me and make them listen. She thought with a name like Soledad I would never be alone. (Cruz 237)

Essentially, Soledad's mother attempts to imbue an element of her ethnicity into her daughter's name, in an effort to ensure that her daughter will never be without the assistance of family. By finally stopping her flight from her family and instead deciding to integrate them into her own identity, Soledad is made aware of the secret, magical blessing that she has carried with her over the course of her entire life.

Finally, in the Interpreter Suzy is intensely aware of her own ethnic identity and history as a result of her parents and sister, and part of the novel's bleakness and tragedy stems from her inability to reconcile her family's ethnic and political history with the hope supposedly offered by their place in America (Kim 6). By the end of the novel, Suzy finds herself incapable of making this reconciliation and asks "what the hell's an interpreter if she can't even interpret her own sister," even as she recognizes that her parents death presented a kind of liberation: "two girls with no parents, such fine American beauties" (Kim 293-294). For Suzy, who begins her story successfully balancing the line of ethnic difference, resolution means falling on one side of that line, and the loss of her family is what accomplishes this.

In all of these novels, the broad character developments have to do with the formation of an identity within the context of ethnic and family influence. While the main characters all have different relationships to these influences, by the end of their stories their position to their influences has seen a reversal, and this reversal in accompanied by the successful creation of a new, hybrid identity that does not shy away from the past but also does not let that past overwhelm the future. As Raylene Ramsay notes, the formation of a successful hybrid identity depends on allowing one's identity to be "mediated, built up from layers of both collective and personal histories, from an archeology of memory" (Ramsay 114). This means building an identity out of the past while reaching for the future, rather than abandoning the building blocks of the past entirely, or else remaining too tied to them. While the novels do not specify an idealized relationship between the individual identity, the family, and ethnicity, they are congruent in the processes of identity formation and reformation they demonstrate, because they all demonstrate how a successful identity depends on accepting and incorporating the past rather than simply ignoring or wallowing in it.

Precious begins her story entirely constrained by her family and by society's meaning regarding her ethnicity, and by the end of the novel she is free of her family and the meaning that had previously been ascribed to notions of black and white. Soledad begins her story by hiding from her family and ethnicity, and ends it by accepting and integrating both into her own identity. Suzy begins her story by straddling a line between two different parts of her identity, and she ends it by coming down on one side of this line without ignoring the existence of the other. While the circumstances of each character are wildly different, they nevertheless paint a coherent picture of successful identity formation because in each case these successful identities depend on the characters rejecting the ways of making meaning that have been given to them by society at large, and instead opting to make their own meaning out of a reconsideration of their pasts.