Homeplaces and Spaces: Black and Brown Feminists and Girlhood Geographies of Agency
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HOMEPLACES AND SPACES: BLACK AND BROWN FEMINISTS AND GIRLHOOD GEOGRAPHIES OF AGENCY Elizabeth Gale Greenlee A dissertation submitted to the faculty at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Department of English and Comparative Literature. Chapel Hill 2019 Approved by: Laura Halperin María DeGuzmán James W. Coleman Daniel Anderson Minrose Gwin Jennifer Ho © 2019 Elizabeth Gale Greenlee ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ii ABSTRACT Elizabeth Gale Greenlee: Homeplaces and Spaces: Black and Brown Feminists and Girlhood Geographies of Agency (Under the direction of Laura Halperin and María DeGuzmán) During the late 20th and early 21st centuries, noted Chicana feminists such Gloria Anzaldúa and Pat Mora, as well as Black feminists like Octavia Butler and bell hooks frequently turned to children’s literature or youth-centric literature as a means to confront social injustice in American society. My dissertation considers this literary investment in Black and Brown girlhoods by examining feminist-authored children’s picture books, middle-grade and youth- centric literary novels featuring girl protagonists. Specifically, I examine how Black, Chicana and Mexican American feminist writers consistently render girlhood in relation to geography. Not limiting my investigation to geopolitical bodies, I pay particular attention to everyday spatial terrains such as the girls’ homes, schools, community centers, and playgrounds. These seemingly ordinary spaces of girlhood merge public and private and constitute key sites for nation building. They also provide fertile ground for the development of Black and Brown girl spatial citizenship: girl-centered, critical vantage points from which readers may view operations of power and privilege. Building upon work in feminist geography and adding age to theorizations of intersectionality and oppositional consciousness, I trace how this girlhood-geography alignment reframes the girls’ social and political marginalization to reveal the situated, embodied knowledge and liberating worldviews produced within these spatial contexts. By attending to the landscapes of literary girlhoods, my dissertation ultimately argues that these girl-centered iii narratives constitute a neglected archive of feminist thought, a creative yet compelling vehicle through which Black, Chicana and Mexican American feminist authors imagine community, resist inequity, and theorize broader social change. iv To Elizabeth Greenlee Harper (a.k.a. “Aunt Lib”), the woman whose name I proudly carry and the first to tell me, “Baby, you’re going back to school.” v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Over the past few years, I spent many days over-caffeinated, staring at the computer, my fingers paralyzed on the keyboard, and my mind lost for words. Despite the necessary isolation, the end product is not mine alone. This dissertation is a labor of love, and I have a dynamic community to thank for helping me bring it to life. First, I extend my deepest gratitude to my dissertation director Laura Halperin, who stuck with me through personal challenges and national disasters. Laura taught me that a mentor can be generous with constructive criticism and praise, that incisive commentary and editorial precision are gifts, and that there are practical strategies and steps to getting the work done. Most importantly, under Laura’s direction, I felt 100% free to be me, to experiment with my writing, and to pursue outside interests without resistance. María DeGuzmán served as my co-director, and for that, I am immensely grateful. She is, without question, one of the most intellectually nimble people I know, and she possesses the rare ability to bring the rigor and the fun. Rumor has it that she never sleeps. Since she reviewed several incarnations of this work and read though my dissertation multiple times (just days before the final submission), there may be something to this departmental lore. Jennifer Ho has been an invaluable mentor since day one, steering numerous opportunities my way, and often treating me as a peer and only rarely as a graduate student. Working with Jennifer allowed me to merge my commitment to justice with my love of community and the classroom. I admire her work as a public scholar and take to heart her reminder that “There’s so much life post-Ph.D.” Special thanks to Minrose Gwin who brought me on board with her Medgar Evers’s project and who remained on my committee long after her vi tenure at UNC. Minrose never fails to speak the truth—straight, no chaser—while expressing her unwavering faith in my ability as a writer, scholar, and researcher. James W. Coleman has been part of my academic journey since my first semester. I appreciate his constant support, his endless patience, and his open-door policy throughout these years. I also credit him for the epiphany that my work is not only literary and political, but also sacred at its core. I must also acknowledge Daniel Anderson, who graciously stepped in at the eleventh hour. His questions and commentary, unexpected and provocative, will stick with me as this project moves forward. In the Department of English and Comparative Literature, I learned from many. Jane Thrailkill introduced me to childhood studies and to many scholars who have influenced my work. Laurie Langbauer affirmed that children’s literature scholarship is legit and that there’s space and a need for me in that world. I also have to give props to Mae G. Henderson and Trudier Harris. I first encountered their work as an undergrad, never imagining that I would ever meet, much less study with, these two luminaries of African American literature. I also cannot leave UNC without expressing my sincere appreciation to Rebecka Rutledge Fisher who was the first scholar to take my love of children’s literature seriously. This project emerged from a casual conversation with her, and she was critical to its early development. My dissertation would not exist without her. Other entities and individuals provided structural, financial, and personal support. The UNC Writing Center hired me as a tutor during my comps and gave me a much-needed boost at the dissertation bootcamp. Outside UNC, the National Center for Faculty Development and Diversity pushed me with its 14-day writing challenges and introduced me to my writing partner, Dawn Woods. Financially, I benefited from the generosity of the American Association of University Women, which awarded me a dissertation fellowship and the AAUW-Orange, vii Durham and Chatham Counties branch, which provided additional scholarship assistance. I also received funding from UNC’s Graduate School through a Chancellor’s Candidacy Award and a Graduate Tuition Incentive Scholarship. And, I am especially indebted to Zandria F. Robinson, a sociologist and undercover lit crit who offered pointed feedback and called my work “beautiful”—her words helped me fall in love with writing again. Any graduate student can attest that you need communities that will embrace and sustain you, as well as places where you feel whole. The Initiative for Minority Excellence (shoutout to Kathy Wood and Maria Erb) provided such a homeplace (with snacks and sometimes puppies) where I could work with other grads of color, bounce around ideas, commiserate if needed, geek out one minute, and talk about Scandal or reality TV the next. The Literature of the Americas working group provided a forum for professionalization, offering feedback, and forging bonds that will live beyond this time and space. Susan Thananopavarn, Bethany Lam, and Jameela Dallis remain invested in my success and offer invaluable insight about pedagogy, publishing, and the job market. Jane Lim (whom I miss dearly) emails encouragement from afar, and Helen Lee stands ready to celebrate with a Korean pork-belly dinner. I have lifelong friends in María Durán and Becka Garonzik who have shared practically every moment and whose willingness to participate in “real-world activities” (smile) brings me joy and peace. I didn’t grow up with brothers, but Andrew Belton, Earl Brooks, Eddie Moore, and Don Holmes inspire me with their #BlackExcellence and will forever my brothas be. Trisha Remetir and Meli Kimathi (“The Collaborators”) keep me rooted in our feminist ethics and shared vision of creating a better world and a just academy. And Imagining America’s PAGE (Publicly Active Graduate Education) fellowship blessed me with a community of scholar-activists and artists who prove that being committed to social justice, research, and political engagement is not just good, but necessary. viii There are too many friends to thank here, but I must recognize three. Donna Singletery, my sister-in-spirit and best friend of 35 years, experienced every high and low of this journey, always ready with prayers, dark humor, and marathon phone calls-turned-impromptu-counseling sessions that feed the soul. Willa B. Carter, a.k.a. “Lali”, a.k.a. my best friend of 38 years, checked on me often from Belgium and gifted me a much needed girlfriend trip to her home. Rodney J. Hinson, the first to call me “Dr. Greenlee” (eons before I ever entertained the idea and just minutes after my defense) insisted that I press on and push through; and for once, I listened. Now, the people who deserve all my gratitude and praise: my family. Graduate school has been a road with many detours, in part because my large family has lost so many people we hold dear: Aunt Lib, Aunt Mary, Aunt Lene, Patrick, Rashaan, Grandma, Aunt Margaret, Aunt Fannie, Alma Jean, Willie Frank, and Uncle Marvin. I am who I am because of who we are as family. This is for you all. Ashé. I am grateful that Mocha (a.k.a. my ride-or-die, million-dollar kitty) has made it to 20 ½ years; God apparently answered my mom’s requests and my cousin Sam’s Unitarian prayers.