THAT's FIERCE: NONHUMAN PASSAGES in LATINX-AMERICAN POETRY and PERFORMANCE. a Dissertation Presented to the Faculty of The
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THAT’S FIERCE: NONHUMAN PASSAGES IN LATINX-AMERICAN POETRY AND PERFORMANCE. A Dissertation Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Cornell University In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy By Lacie Rae Buckwalter Cunningham May 2017 © 2017 Lacie Rae Buckwalter Cunningham THAT’S FIERCE: NONHUMAN PASSAGES IN LATINX AMERICAN POETRY AND PERFORMANCE. Lacie Rae Buckwalter Cunningham, Ph. D. Cornell University 2017 This dissertation engages with U.S. Latinx and Latin American texts through critical theories of the nonhuman as a way of reconsidering the boundaries of Man and of how this might reframe our literary pursuits. In my approach, I focus on the connections and disconnections between emergent poetic, Latinx, Latin@American voices, and Hispanic literary production. Specifically, I look at how often marginalized voices represent and rearticulate both the limits of the human form and their relationship to ideas of canon through nonhuman interlocutors. I suggest that nonhuman figures which transcend the porous perimeters of the human function as figures of passage between ontologies of selves and literary icons. Nonhuman interlocutors and intensities help us to approach reading between the Americas and amongst figures of man in elliptical motions. In my first chapter, “Natalie Diaz, Duende, and Dreamtigers,” I center references to canonical interventions from Federico García Lorca and Jorge Luis Borges as read through nonhuman figures in Diaz’ When My Brother Was an Aztec. “Collaging Kingdoms,” my second chapter, focuses on Aracelis Girmay’s passages between ideas of blackness, hispaneity, and human-nonhuman collages of self-portraiture. Works from latinx Appalachian poets Maurice Kilwein Guevara and Ada Limón comprises the third chapter, which troubles how nonhuman landscapes can destabilize readings of iii periphery and performances of the nonhuman. Chapter Four, “How to Read in a River Without Water Damage” engages Basia Irland’s frozen performances which deforms the idea of texts through the environments of water, which shape and redirect their readings with poetic interventions from Milk and Filth by Carmen Giménez Smith. This final chapter troubles the limits of an approach to reading through nonhuman forms that are neither purely inside language, nor outside of it. iv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH L. Rae Buckwalter Cunningham (Yinzer, 1988) obtained her Bachelors of Arts in Hispanic Studies, magna cum laude, University of Pittsburgh in 2011 and a Masters of Arts from Cornell University in 2014. Her research interests include Critical Theories of the Nonhuman, Poetry, and Performance, particularly in the area of Contemporary Latinx Studies. She currently splits her time between Durham, North Carolina and the Internet. v For all the sensitive poets Beware of paper cuts vi ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This thesis would not have been possible without the thoughtful and rich discussions sustained over the last five years with my mentor and adviser Debra A. Castillo. Without her guidance and generosity this project would have surely been either incomplete, utterly incomprehensible, or excruciating. I thank her for suffering with me on the reader’s behalf instead through many meetings, emails, and lengthy discussions. I also would like to thank Edmundo Paz Soldán, whose energy and enthusiasm for engaging with emergent, young writers influenced this work’s formation substantially. I would like to recognize my committee who worked marvelously together as thoughtful panel and in our individual conversations to orient this project: Debra A. Castillo, Edmundo Paz Soldán and Mary Pat Brady. Each of them have inspired my work in different ways, and I am grateful for our exchanges and for their support throughout my time at Cornell. I indebted to my friends and colleagues from my graduate program. First and foremost, to my cohort; Christina Soto and Geraldine Monterroso. Shortly after arriving at Cornell, some unscrupulous bystander asked me how or why we could be a cohort of “just women” o puras mujeres. Although I’m sure the elaborate eye-roll I gave in response at the time sufficed; I will reiterate my thoughts about “us women” here. These women, as a cohort, as a group could not have been more unique. Some say three is company, three is a crowd—for us it has been one or the other, neither, and both. Regardless, this rule will always apply; it is the rule of threes. Otherwise known as the power of three, which as a principle sustains that things that come in vii threes are funnier, more satisfying, brilliant, wilder, crazier, and more poignantly lived than other numbers of things. Consider: red, yellow, and green traffic lights, clover leaves, wise men, the laws of motion, rock, paper, scissors, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, the stars in Orion’s belt, the unholy trinity, Tolkien’s trilogy, and, lastly, the beginning, middle, and end of all things---for which I owe I debt of gratitude to Geraldine and Christina, just us few women. I would like to thank Rebecca Davidson for her counsel, patience, and spirited ways. And my dog, Lula, and her quirks. Claudia Taylor for her presence and long-distance but long-suffering friendship and whose conversations transplant me daily to my beloved Mexico City. To my home city, Pittsburgh, and family, always. To my father who memorized poetry while he climbed smokestacks and welded our world together in wartimes and at home. To my mother, the smartest person in our family whose love for storytelling and kindness to others never ceases. To my brother, the uber-sibling. I am very proud and only slightly jealous of you, most of the time. Not to any of my extended relatives who asked annoying questions about this work and that ruined otherwise perfectly acceptable holiday chit chat. To my sisters-in-law: Julie and Carolyn; thank you for opting-in to sisterhood and for your continued friendship and support. Jim. To my son, Graham, the brightest light in my small universe. To my daughter, whom I have yet to know and to the mysteries of life that lie ahead. viii TABLE OF CONTENTS Biographical Sketch...................................................................................................... iii Acknowledgements.........................................................................................................v List of Figures……….………………………………………………………………...ix INTRODUCTION: MYTHS OF MAN: NONHUMAN FORMS & FIELDS...........................................................................................................................1 ONE: NATALIE DIAZ, DUENDE, & DREAM TIGERS…………………………..28 TWO: COLLAGING KINGDOMS..............................................................................60 THREE: APPALACHIAN AMERICAS....................................................................101 FOUR: HYDROLIBROS OR HOW TO READ IN A RIVER WITHOUT WATER DAMAGE...................................................................................................................138 Concluding Remarks...................................................................................................177 Works Cited................................................................................................................194 ix LIST OF FIGURES Figure 2.1………………………………………………………………………….….67 Figure 2.2, 2.3…………………………………………………………………...……68 Figure 3.1……………………………………………………………………………110 Figure 4.1……………………………………………………………………………138 Figure 4.2……………………………………………………………………………141 Figure 4.3…………………………………………………………………………....145 Figure 4.4……………………………………………………………………………156 Figure 4.5…………………………………………………………………………....169 INTRODUCTION Myths of Man: Nonhuman Forms & Fields La negra is a beastgirl. From forehead to heel callused. Risen on an island made of shit bricks, an empire. The doctor pulled La Negra from her mother’s throat: a swallowed sword, a string of rosary beads. La Negra’s father is a dulled sugarcane machete. Crowned in her sundried umbilical cord. La Negra claws and wails, craves only mamajuana (Acevedo 12). -- Elizabeth Acevedo, “The True-Story of La Negra a Bio-Myth” This “bio-myth” is taken from Acevedo’s collection Beastgirl & Other Origin Myths, a chapbook which addresses many of the concerns of this dissertation through its demonstration of overlapping myths, diasporas, and how Latinx poets, like Acevedo, position nonhumans as agents in the crafting of origin stories which span across Latin@American spaces. I open with Acevedo’s resounding lyrics to give shape to this project; it occurs to me as appropriate to cite Beastgirl & Other Origin Myths as an introduction also functions almost like an origin story. And so mine will depart with the breath of the Caribbean beast-girl, clawing though the page. Not only the beast-girl, but also her myth-making, too, resonates here. One of the premises that this dissertation departs from are the myths of Man, a theory taken from Sylvia Wynter’s ruminations on the rigidity of an idealized, limited idea of Man. This “myth” is one that sustains a singular and exclusionary limit of the form of Man. Wynter argues this point in her essay “Unsettling the Coloniality of Being/Power/Truth/Freedom Towards the Human. After Man. Its Overrepresentation: An Argument.” She sustains that “The struggle of our new millennium will be one between the ongoing imperative of 1 securing the well-being of our present ethnoclass (i.e., Western bourgeois) conception of the human. Man, which overrepresents itself as if it were the human itself, and