Suheir Hammad

Suheir Hammad:

Exploring the Voice and Identity

of a Contemporary Palestinian American Poet

Diplomarbeit

Zur Erlangung des

Magistergrades Mag. phil. an der Kultur- und Gesellschaftswissenschaftlichen Fakultät

der Paris-Lodron-Universität Salzburg

Eingereicht von

CORNELIA SIPURA

Gutachterin: Ao. Univ.-Prof. Dr. Hanna Wallinger

Fachbereich: Anglistik und Amerikanistik

Salzburg, Februar 2021

Eidesstaatliche Erklärung

Ich erkläre hiermit eidesstattlich [durch meine eigenhändige Unterschrift], dass ich die vorliegende Arbeit selbständig verfasst und keine anderen als die angegebenen Quellen und Hilfsmittel verwendet habe. Alle Stellen, die wörtlich oder inhaltlich den angegebenen Quellen entnommen wurden, sind als solche kenntlich gemacht.

Die vorliegende Arbeit wurde bisher in gleicher oder ähnlicher Form noch nicht als

Bachelor-/ Master-/ Diplomarbeit/ Dissertation eingereicht.

______Datum, Unterschrift

Acknowledgments

I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my advisor Ao. Univ.-Prof. Dr. Hanna Wallinger for her support and guidance, particularly during the last stages of my studies.

Furthermore, I want to thank my family, most importantly my parents who supported me every step of the way. Without them, this journey would not have been possible.

CONTENTS

Introduction...... 1

1 Overview and Terminology

1.1. Biographical Insights...... 5

1.2. Defining Memoir...... 11

1.3. Memoir: Drops of This Story...... 13

1.4. The Racialization of Arab Americans in the United States...... 18

2 Literary Classifications

2.1. Arab-American Women’s Writing...... 23

3 Analysis and Discussion: Hammad’s Poetry

3.1. Overview Published Poetry...... 28

3.2. Style & Poetic Oeuvre...... 30

3.3. Born Palestinian, Born Black...... 33

Conclusion...... 47

Works Cited...... 50

INTRODUCTION

The poem “First Writing Since” (2001) by Suheir Hammad, indeed, ushered in a new era for Arab American women’s writing post 9/11. “First Writing Since” addresses the local and global repercussions of 9/11 for Arab American people in the U.S. (Harb, Articulations 150). The poem’s publication was subsequently followed by the 9/11 attacks. Very importantly, “First Writing Since” arguably both changed the succession of both Arab American literature and Arab American women’s writing more specifically. Above all, 9/11 changed the lives of many Arab American people living in the United States for good. The aim of this diploma thesis is to analyze key parts of the memoir Drops of This Story (1996) and selected poems of Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996) by Palestinian American poet Suheir Hammad through the lens of feminism and race. Besides the analysis of the primary sources, the paratext, in particular, adds substantially to the analysis of the two publications. Moreover, the analysis of these two distinct genres complicates a straight-forward analysis; meaning the genre memoir and the specific poetic style of Suheir Hammad. The poetic style in Drops of This Story resonates on many levels with poems of Born Palestinian, Born Black. This includes but is not limited to the omission of capitalization and punctuation as well as addressing issues such as the racialization of other ethnic minorities and Blackness; as well as the comparison of the shared struggle of Palestinians in the Gaza strip and African Americans in the United States. Considering that Hammad’s Drops of This Story represents an Arab American woman’s articulation of autobiographical writing, this trajectory gets even more complicated. The critics Carol-Fedda Conrey and Keith Feldman, in particular, discuss the still under researched domain of Arab American women’s autobiographical writing in the anthology Arab Women’s Lives Retold: Exploring Identity Through Writing (2007). The editor Nawar Al-Hassan Golley of the same anthology moreover offers insight into the domain of contemporary Arab women’s autobiographical writings.

The analysis of Hammad’s memoir Drops of This Story (1996) is informed by the theoretical framework of Smith and Watson (2010) and accompanied by the research insights of critics Carol-Fadda Conrey, Keith Feldman and Nawar Al-Hassan Golley. Taking into account these implications, I am going to investigate the manifestations of a double-consciousness and diasporic consciousness in Hammad’s memoir Drops of This Story (1996) and in selected poems of her poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996). I argue that the narrating I in these publications demonstrates a consciousness that navigates between a double-consciousness and an almost diasporic consciousness. To detect the identity formation and how this resonates in the writing of Suheir Hammad - who confirms Palestinian roots, states an affiliation with American culture and a chosen identification as African American (cf. Bauridl 229) – represents an endeavor that is fraught with several ambiguities. Many critics and scholars have spotted manifestations of a Du Boisian concept of double-consciousness (Moshen et. al 2016; Metres 2015; Bauridl 2012; Lubin 2014) in Hammad’s poetry; recent scholarship, however, also places Hammad in the field of transnational studies and geopolitics. In contrast to Hammad’s poetry, her memoir Drops of This Story, yet, poses the difficulty that memoirs as such are always fictitious; as a result, the reader is left wondering whether and to which degree autobiographical truth can be assumed (Smith and Watson 15). Smith and Watson (2010) offer a comprehensive discussion for the interpretation of life narratives. The authors particularly point out the difficulties of defining people with “multiple identities” in their subchapter “identities as intersectional” (Smith and Watson 41). Watson and Smith stress that postcolonial writers have been eager to come up with terms that characterize identities with a history of oppression (Smith and Watson 42). Among the terms the authors list, two terms describe best what could be considered the circumstances of Suheir Hammad: “diasporic” and “minoritized” (Smith and Watson 42).

Yet another miscellaneous point of discussion is the question of “exile”; whether there is a definite diasporic consciousness in Hammad’s poetry or even in her memoir, is, on any account, also a question of whether Hammad should be considered as in a state of exile in the first place. These examples of Hammad’s early poetry offer an insight into her development as a writer and poet as well. As is the case with the poetry of Born Palestinian, Born Black, facets of a double-consciousness and diasporic consciousness can also be spotted in her memoir Drops of This Story. My main area of interest lies in Hammad’s claimed racial and cultural identification as Black and the related Arab and African American histories of solidarity. Hammad explicitly states “I was born a Black woman [...]” (Hammad, Born Palestinian, Born Black ix) in her poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black. Suheir Hammad was particularly intrigued by the last stanza of June Jordan’s poem “Moving Towards Home”. Hammad quotes Jordan in her author’s note of Born Palestinian, Born Black:

I was born a Black woman

And now

I am become a Palestinian

against the relentless laughter of evil

there is less and and less living room

and where are my loved ones?

It is time to make our way home (Hammad, Born Palestinian, Born Black ix).

It is widely acknowledged that June Jordan substantially influenced Hammad’s poetry. Hammad, however, already claims an African heritage in her first piece of writing Drops of This Story (1996) by stating that she is a “descendant of Africans”. In the author’s note of her memoir Drops of This Story Hammad writes: “Still my parents’ daughter, child of God, Palestinian, descendant of Africans, woman” (Hammad, Drops, n.p.). It is beyond the scope of this thesis to discuss and analyze all three of Hammad’s published poetry collections; therefore I am not able to discuss her second and third published poetry collections ZaatarDiva (2005) and Breaking Poems (2008). As well I investigate several interviews with Suheir Hammad, which in particular provides an additional, useful source of information for a broader understanding of Hammad’s literary legacy. Moreover, for the analysis, I am going to examine the peritexs1 in Drops of This Story and Born Palestinian, Born Black. The peritexts in Drops of This Story include the author’s note, one poem (“an olive pit [...]” and several photographs that depict Hammad’s childhood up until adulthood; the peritexts in Born Palestinian, Born Black include the acknowledgments and the author’s note. As far as a definition of the genre of Hammad’s poetry is concerned, a definite categorization of the published poetry is rather difficult to determine. First of all, it is crucial to note that Hammad should not be primarily subsumed under or even restricted to the canon of traditional Arab American literature due to her Palestinian roots only. Secondly, the reason why Hammad’s poetry style is so unique, is because she combines a variety of literary styles which I will outline in the chapter “Literary Classifications”. The styles and techniques include hip-hop aesthetics and the omission of capitalization and punctuation.

1 “Peritexts are the materials added in the publishing process that accompany the text in some way, including such elements as cover designs, the author’s name, the dedication, titles, prefaces, introductions, chapter breaks, and endnotes” (Smith and Watson 99-100).

1 Overview and Terminology

1.1. Biographical Insights

Suheir Hammad was born in a refugee camp in Amman, Jordan in 1973. Being the daughter of “1948 Palestinians”, as Knopf-Newman points out, Hammad’s family moves to Beirut and eventually emigrates to Brooklyn, New York in 1978 (Knopf- Newman 71). It is important to note that Hammad and her family did not flee the country to escape the Civil War but emigrated since they did not have economic opportunities neither in Jordan or in Lebanon. She is the daughter of parents from “1948 towns” and the eldest of five children (Knopf-Newman 73). Moreover Hammad particularly explains being raised in the neighborhood of Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Hammad points out that she is, indeed, glad “to have been raised in a working-class, multicultural, of color community and to see all of these stories get excluded” (Knopf- Newman 75). In an interview with Natalie Handal, Suheir Hammad elaborates on the implications of growing up in a multicultural place such as Sunset Park in Brooklyn and how Hammad was influenced by this, in fact, multi-ethnic, -racial community. Among the most common minority groups were Puerto Ricans, African-Americans, Dominicans and Haitians (Handal n.p). According to Handal, Suheir Hammad, indeed, demonstrates a strong will to “to transcend cultural and religious barriers” and that Hammad “unifies diversity” (n.p.). Suheir Hammad manages to demonstrate her “different lives” and most importantly, “her union with people of many cultures, with the world, with poetry, and with God.” in her poetic work (Handal n.p.). Hammad in the interview with Natalie Handal yet makes another crucial remark that, once more, reflects her indebtedness with African culture by sharing the following memory: “‘the first time I wrapped my hair in a gele, an African head wrap. Using material from Senegal, I wanted to wrap myself in the beauty of sisterhood. The ancestors remembered my name and whispered it to me under the material.’“ (Handal n.p.).

Safaa Abdulrahim remarks in his dissertation thesis “Between Empire and Diaspora: Identity Poetics in Contemporary Arab-American Women's Poetry” (2013) that growing up in a neighborhood such as Brooklyn has not only separated her but completely disconnected her from other Arab Americans living in the United States (Abdulrahim 190). Even Hammad herself does not refrain from emphasizing, in the interview with Marcy Knopf-Newman, that being raised in Brooklyn just does not reflect that of a traditional Arab American writers’, of “living in white suburbia” (Knopf-Newman 79). Therefore, Hammad explains to never have been able to completely relate to the literary work of fellow Arab American female writers such as Naomi Shihab Nye and Etel Adnan, who, as Hammad emphasized, were not addressing her urban, lower-class experience (Knopf-Newman 79). She concludes by stating to have felt the need to express her views on the world and very specifically from her being the daughter of Palestinian refugees; at the same time she also realized that the Puerto Rican and Haitian, Italian and Jewish people in her neighborhood were part of her story (Knopf- Newman 79). Abdulrahim also points to the fact that Hammad’s identification as a Palestinian woman from Brooklyn on the one hand, distances her from the Arab American community and on the other hand, leaves her to forge connections with both African Americans and other colored communities living in Brooklyn (Abdulrahim 190-191).

Palestine belonging

In the article “Out of the Ashes, Drops of Meaning: The Poetic Success of Suheir Hammad” published in the Washington Post, author Natalie Hopkinson states that Hammad’s roots in Palestine go back two generations in time and points out that Hammad as a child was told by her Brooklyn public school teacher that there was no such thing as Palestinian ethnicity (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). Hopkinson gives more detail about Hammad by giving specifics of her upbringing which constituted living in the reality of inner-city Brooklyn and being raised as the oldest of five other siblings while her parents tried to make a living as a homemaker and grocer (Hopkinson n. p. 2002). In addition, Hammad as well began to embrace American culture while growing up, being an “all-American girl” who was wearing Nike sneakers, door-knocker earrings and gold chains (Hopkinson n. p.). Besides engaging in typically American merchandising goods, Hammad also started to try out graffiti spraying in hallways and spent time with people from that area including beat-boxers, break dancers and rappers (Hopkinson n. p.). Hopkinson also states how Hammad got intrigued by the language of hip-hop which Hammad says were “the economy of the language” and “the validation and the self- affirmation.” (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). Using hip-hop language, however, also implied the self-confidence to admit that one is poor and colored (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). When Natalie Handal asks Hammad about her remark “[...] Longing for a land I have yet to feel under my feet.” and what Palestine means to Hammad, Suheir Hammad replies that Palestine mainly represents “an association” she was born with (Handal n. p. 1997). In the interview, Hammad continues to elaborate about her Palestinian roots. She states to not even know what Palestine looked like and what Palestine tasted like while stressing the fact that it is important to know where one comes from: “it is something that is in your blood and we all carry ancestry around with us.” (Handal n. p. 1997). Hammad also points out that throughout her childhood she was constantly told of looking different from other people because she was Palestinian. The poet also states that growing into a woman helped her to understand that being Palestinian could eventually be what she makes out of it. Hammad ends her statement by pointing out that being different from other Palestinians for her does not need to be that bad after all. On another level Hammad states to have realized that we live in a society to this day where we still have to claim nationalities and religions (Handal n. p. 1997).

Thus, Hammad’s background of both being a Palestinian refugee and a woman of color living in Brooklyn leave Hammad to share with African-Americans and Puerto Rican neighbors: “experiences of dislocation, exile, alienation and political, social and economic isolation” (Abdulrahim 199). Abdulrahim also notes that living in Brooklyn made Hammad engage in hip hop culture which at the same time separated her from the Arab community in the United States (Abdulrahim 199).

Hammad’s affiliation with activism

It is noteworthy that Hammad is also committed to political activism besides her artistic endeavor. Hammad has been committed to fight for the freeing of political prisoners in the U.S. and has specifically worked with an organization called “Critical Resistance” which is dedicated to end the Prison Industrial Complex (Knopf-Newman 83). Andrea Shalal-Esa points out that Hammad is more than appalled to systems of oppressions and injustice and simply cannot turn her back on these issues (2003 n.p.). Moreover, the journalist Shalal-Esa points out the changing legacies of former exiled Palestinian poets and that of younger generations. She strikes a crucial difference by stating that while earlier Palestinian poets tried to cover issues such as the tragedy of Palestinian existence, the younger poets are increasingly eager to build alliances and connect their experiences with that of American culture and very specifically that of other marginalized communities (Shalal-Esa n.p.).

What does “marginalization” mean to Hammad?

Hammad transcends the boundaries of the marginalization of ethnic communities by comparing the outsider status of minority ethnic groups to that of political prisoners. Shalal-Esa in her article confirms Hammad’s strong political agenda (n.p. 2003). She has been particularly committed to free the notorious political prisoner Mumia-Abu Jamal. Apart from this, Hammad was also active in raising donations for Afghan children, fighting for free health care for injured Palestinians in the Intifada war, and volunteering in both juvenile detention centers and prisons (Shalal-Esa n.p.).

Finally, Suheir Hammad elaborates on what she believes the label “Arab-American” means and speaks about her father’s rather harsh comments on her ethnic identification and how Hammad would not fit any ethnic label - be it Hispanic, Black, or Palestinian:

So it's this sense of holding up a mirror to Palestinian American society, which is what I

come from. I mean, I've met Arab Americans -- I mean, I didn't grow up Arab American

- what the fuck is Arab American? I grew up Palestinian and Brooklyn, really

specifically. And my father's like you're not Hispanic, you're not black, you're not this,

you're not that. And then I'd meet other Palestinians and he'd be like, yeah, but you're

not like them either. (Knopf-Newman 85)

Hammad concludes her statement about the struggle of defining her ethnic identity and not being able to relate to issues that were dealt with in the traditional Arab American literature. Hammad also states that the circumstances of her specific immigrant experience in that particular time period made it difficult for her to develop a “pure” Arab American poetic style. Compared to other writers, she points out to just not have happened to have a “half- white parent or a white parent” (Knopf-Newman 85). She particularly states to not have felt any cultural clash with regard to her outward appearance, but then says to still have had it outside of her body (Knopf-Newman 85). The reason why Hammad did not feel like she was different is because she grew up among Puerto Ricans, Italians or “light-skinned black people” (Knopf-Newman 85). Thus, Hammad also found herself not having the right literature that she could identify with and instead had to come up with an alternative at the age of fifteen; she started to write raps because that is what other kids her age were doing as well (Knopf-Newman 85). Hammad stresses that it was very common for kids to write rhymes in their books and to do graffiti which served as a way for kids to express themselves (Knopf-Newman 85).

Towards the end of the interview Hammad makes a very intriguing remark about how society seems to be prejudiced when it comes to identifying a person’s heritage. She personally experienced such an incident when she had to perform a poem called “Brooklyn” which centered around her “two homelands” Palestine and Brooklyn. Hammad states having been annoyed by people’s judgmental attitude and explicitly states how she believes her “exiled refugee status” was usually dismissed as a status that implied she was not able to contribute or was even influenced by her surroundings (Knopf-Newman 86). She states to have felt to be a static person who, due to her “right to return” - which she says she demanded, was not capable of assimilating. This, Hammad believes, goes back to fundamental racism (Knopf-Newman 86).

1.2. Defining Memoir

Prior to analyzing Hammad’s memoir Drops of This Story, it is crucial to define the term Memoir itself. The analysis of Drops of This Story is informed by the theoretical framework of Smith and Watson (2010) who further distinguish the terms “life writing” and “life narrative” in relation to memoirs. First, the memoir is defined as follows: "the term refers generally to life writing that takes a segment of a life, not its entirety, and focusing on interconnected experiences" (Smith and Watson 274). In addition to this, a memoir shares the following elements: “Historically, a mode of life narrative that situated the subject in a social environment, as either observer or participant, the memoir directs attention more toward the lives and actions of others than to the narrator.” (Smith and Watson 275). Drops of This Story could also be categorized as an “ethnic life narrative” when considering the following definition of ethnic life writing by Smith and Watson: “A mode of autobiographical narrative, emergent in ethnic communities within or across nations, that negotiates ethnic identification around multiple pasts and multiple, provisional axes of organization” (269). Smith and Watson, however, stress the very fact that scholars and critics as well have been consciously differentiating between “immigrant narratives” and “exile narratives” (269). Leaning on William Boelhower and Werner Sollor’s “transethnic schema of descent and consent”, through which immigrant narratives can be read, Smith and Watson point out that narratives of exile “inscribe a nomadic subject [...], who may or may not return ‘home’ but who necessarily negotiates cultural spaces of the in- between where ‘hybrid, unstable identities’ are rendered palpable through the negotiation ‘between conflicting traditions— linguistic, social, ideological’” (269). The authors explicitly state that these distinctions should be borne in mind when detecting the autobiographical “I” (Smith and Watson 275). Smith and Watson refer to Lee Quinby who said, that while autobiographies typically instruct a narrating I that “shares with confessional discourse an assumed interiority and an ethical mandate to examine that interiority”, memoirs promote an ‘I’ that is explicitly constituted in the reports of the utterances and proceedings of others. The ‘I’ or subjectivity produced in memoirs is externalized and. . dialogical” (qtd. in Smith and Watson 275).

Before concluding the discussion of the theoretical framework a definition of life writing will be cited; since it could be the appropriate categorization for Drops of This Story: “In life writing, subjects write about their own lives predominantly, even if they write about themselves in the second or third person, or as a member of a community” (Smith and Watson 5). Other miscellaneous points that need to be considered when discussing autobiographical texts are the elements of “autobiographical truth” and “paratextual apparatuses”. Autobiographical texts are embedded in a “paratextual surround” which is widely received as to be the framing of a publication including the reception and circulation (Smith and Watson 99). The concept of “paratext” was originally coined by Gérard Genette who defined paratext as to consist of a “peritext” meaning all the material that is inside a book and an “epitext” which includes material outside the book, such as interviews and reviews (Smith and Watson 99).

Smith and Watson also point out that paratextual materials – peritexts and epitexts - tend to be easily neglected by readers for they seem to be ‘neutral’ elements of a text (Smith and Watson 100). However, making reference to Gérard Genette, Smith and Watson emphasize the fact that the paratextual materials influence the interpretation and the reception of the different readers (Smith and Watson 100). To conclude, an explanation of the element “autobiographical truth” will be offered. Smith and Watson state that when a person is both the narrator and the protagonist of the narrative, “the truth of the narrative becomes undecidable; it can be neither fully verified nor fully discredited. We need then to adjust our expectations of the truth told in self-referential writing” (Smith and Watson 15-16).

1.3. Memoir: Drops of This Story

Hammad wrote Drops of This Story at the age of nineteen (Oumlil 850). The memoir gives insight into Hammad’s life growing up as a young Palestinian in Brooklyn (Olwan 850). According to Hopkinson Drops of This Story represents Hammad’s exploration of growing up in a refugee family, which included alcoholism and physical abuse (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). Therefore, Hammad even had to blur the face of some of her family members in the photographs that are included in each chapter of Drops of This Story (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). In the interview with Hopkinson, Hammad reflects on her publication of Drops of This Story and states to have been concerned that “Drops” was in fact too personal and too private (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). The peritexts in Drops of This Story include the author’s note, one poem: “an olive pit” (Hammad, Drops of This Story 86) and photographs. Hammad conveys a narrative that is accompanied by several pictures. She includes pictures that depict her starting with pictures from her childhood, all through her adolescence and into adulthood. The photographs in the memoir include a picture of Hammad as a little child (Hammad, Drops 7), followed by a photograph depicting her at the age of 18 visiting her aunt in Jordan (Hammad, Drops 8). The next picture shows Hammad at the age of 18 “dressed up for a wedding” (Hammad, Drops 12). The next photograph shows a break in what seemed to follow a chronological order of her life span. The picture depicts her at her8th grade graduation (Hammad, Drops 21). This is followed by a picture with her father at her 1st grade science fair (Hammad, Drops 24). After this, Hammad includes a picture where she is five years old visiting Coney Island (Hammad, Drops 31), followed by a picture of Hammad and her grandfather (Hammad, Drops 40). After this short excursion into her childhood, Hammad jumps back into the life stage approaching adulthood, depicting her at the age of 17 where she demonstrates Nike sneakers (Hammad, Drops 47). This circle of photographs is closed with a picture of Hammad being 19 years old “writing Drops” (Hammad, Drops 54) and picture of Hammad and her sisters Sabrine and Buyan (Hammad, Drops 70), at the age of 20 at a restaurant (Hammad, Drops 84).

In order to provide a bigger picture of Drops of This Story, the quotes in the following pages should serve as intriguing examples of the narrating I’s views and beliefs. It must be born in mind that Drops of This Story represents a constructed narrative. The dialogical manner of the narrative is consistent throughout the memoir. Moreover, through the dialogical character throughout the memoir, closeness is created between the reader and the reading audience. This is accompanied by the sharing of personal details about family relations which includes description by the narrating I of the relationship with the father, the mother and the siblings. It goes without saying that Hammad does not refrain from articulating her political stance on issues such as skin color, racism, sexism and identity, only to name a few, which will be further discussed in this chapter. It is crucial to note that the epitext of Drops of This Story mainly consists of interviews. In the interview “Drops of Suheir Hammad. A Talk with a Palestinian Poet Born Black” (1997) by Natalie Handal, Hammad explains her idea and intention behind Drops of This Story. The reason why Suheir Hammad became inspired to author Drops of This Story, in fact, goes back to the need to deconstruct common stereotypes held about Palestinians (Handal n. p.). Hammad states that Palestinians particularly used to be vilified as “hijackers” and “sheiks” during her childhood (Handal n. p.). Hammad furthermore explains that people usually generalized Palestinians and did not differentiate between different Arab speaking cultures and people; although people from Arab speaking countries indeed represent a heterogeneous community (Handal n. p.). Moreover Drops of This Story has the underlying theme of “water” throughout the life narrative. In the article “Out of the Ashes. Drops of Meaning. The Poetic Success of Suheir Hammad” by Natalie Hopkinson, Suheir Hammad states that the words “wet” and “wetness” are full of “love and energy”, and that everyone originally “comes from water” (Handal n. p.) Hammad gives some more examples of the underlying meaning of water and says that water is “healthy” and “cleansing” and says that it, indeed, represents one of the “first mediums that you are every really in, in your mother’s womb, full of liquid” (Handal n. p.). Therefore, the water could be seen as as symbol for the very essence of being and existing.

However, it could also be argued that the water also refers the narrating I’s tears, in relation to the instances where the narrating I in talks about the father’s physical abuse in certain chapters of Drops of This Story. The reading and analysis of Drops of This Story is largely based on inductive reasoning, as well as informed by the theoretical definitions outlined in the previous Chapter “Defining Memoir”. Moreover, the following discussion of key parts of Drops of This Story is not carried out in a chronological order.

First, one of the themes in “Drops” includes the issue of skin color. Moreover the narrating I seems to be preoccupied with its outward appearance. The following extract illustrates the narrating I’s self-perception as well as other people’s perception of its outward appearance. The following example also speaks volumes about related interethnic perceptions amongst the different ethnicities. In the extract Latin women and Puerto Rican girls would confuse the narrating I’s Arabic traits with Spanish culture:

The sun turns me a deep bronze in the summertime. My mother was always yelling at me to stay inside. I was samra enough. With my black hair, thick eyebrows, and little mustache, I looked foreign enough. Most people can never guess what language I speak, or which flag I kneel to. Old Latina women always thought that I was one of them new, newfangled Puerto Rican girls who didn’t speak Spanish. Hindi women were always talking to me in their curry tongue, and when I’d let them know I wasn’t Indian, they’d talk to me in Bengali. Anyway, I was supposed to stay out of the sun. I was dark enough. (Hammad, Drops 53)

Moreover, labeling as to identifying the self is something the narrating I has been confronted with in many instances. Here the speaking I also criticizes “outside” forces that disconnect people from foreign countries such as “manmade borders”, “language” or even “hair types”:

Scrub all the labels and names that cling to me. Too bad we gotta call ourselves by

manmade borders, languages, or hair types. But if I didn’t name myself Palestinian, who

would? Too bad we can’t go by the names of our spirits rather than the width of our

noses, and whatever is resting between our legs. (Hammad, Drops 91)

Early experiences of racism in elementary school:

By the time I graduated elementary school, I’d read most of Shakespeare’s works. My

teacher would tell me that I should be reading Judy Blume or Archie comics, like the

other kids. This is the same teacher who refused to call me Palestinian, ‘cause, she said,

it didn’t exist as an ethnicity.[...] Those teachers wouldn’t admit that a Black, Asian,

Latino, or Arab kid could read the Western masters and understand them. (Hammad,

Drops 50)

Identity:

The white kids in Staten Island got me thinking about all their questions. What am I? I

asked wise women. Some answered, you are the place you are born. I was born in a

refugee camp in Jordan, but never belonged to those hills. Others said, you are what

your family tradition wants you to be. I’m Palestinian, even though I have yet to set lips

on that land. My heart drips with the blood of a nation called Palestine, even if I have

yet to feel her between my toes. The wisest of these women answers. You are what your

experiences make you. (Hammad, Drops 85)

Racialization of ethnic minorities experienced by Black, Asian, Indian and Mexican-American people in the film industry:

Little kids wanted to grow up to be movie stars. Acting out famous movie scenes on

Brooklyn stoops. Too bad all Latina girls had to play sluts. Asian boys had to be

grocers. Black boys, thieves and pimps. Someone always had to play the Indian. Too

bad the slut was always shot, the grocer always robbed, the thief always lynched, and

the red land was always stolen. (Hammad, Drops 87)

Furthermore the narrating I switches between 1st person and of 3rd person throughout the whole narrative. In the following extract it says “I write wet poetry. About Hammad and Sunset Park”:

Ethnicity vs. Race:

I write wet poetry. About Hammad and Sunset Park. On how Palestinians need to get

over our internal colonialism. The British taught my mother to hate and to flatten her

butt. Taught my father that he wasn’t quite white, therefore not quite right. How we

need to accept the Asian, the Mediterranean, the Crusader, and the African in us. Accept

and deal with it. (Hammad, Drops 45)

1.4. The Racialization of Arab Americans in the United States

In order to conduct a comprehensive analysis of Hammad’s poetry it is necessary to provide an overview of the history and context of Arab American racialization in the United States. The racial status of Arabs in the United States is rather difficult to pin down since Arabs “fit uneasily into a racial schema that identifies individuals and groups as either ‘black’ or ‘white’ (Hartman, Sweet Music 145). The following discussion of the complex history of Arab Americans’ racial status also helps facilitate an understanding of the literary solidarities between Arab Americans and African Americans (Hartman, Sweet Music 146). Hartman also explains the implications of the shared issues Arab Americans and African Americans are confronted with which include feeling alienated; and just generally being racially classified as non-white has prompted many Arab Americans to align themselves with other communities of color (Hartman, Sweet Music 146). Critic Lisa Majaj in her article “Arab Americans and the meaning of race” tries to answer the crucial question of what ‘race’ means to Arab-Americans (Majaj, Arab- Americans 320). According to Majaj this question becomes increasingly important taking into consideration that Arab Americans are denied being categorized among both the categorizations of “minorities of color” and “white ethnic groups” (Majaj, Arab- Americans 320). Given the complex history of ‘inconsistent racialization’ of Arab immigrants the issue of Arab-American racialization is, indeed, full of ambiguities and contradictions in terms of both the cultural and the legal level (Harb, Articulations 2-3). Harb elaborates more specifically by stating that the exclusion and inclusion of Arab Americans were made based on a number of shifting criteria such as ‘free and white” as well as cultural translatability, religious affiliation and skin color (Articulations 2-3).

Moreover, it is crucial to note that Arab Americans may not be viewed through the traditional lens of racialization – and not positioned on the same level with ethnic groups such as African Americans, Mexican Americans, and Chinese Americans - for Arab Americans are, instead, being racialized according to current American foreign affairs and interventions in Arab countries (Harb, Articulations 3-4). In fact, U.S. and Arab interventions substantially affect processes such as racialization and “catalyzing mainstream configurations of Arabness through Orientalist and neo-imperialist frameworks” (Harb, Articulations 3-4). Yet another critical voice comes from Nadine Naber who brought into the discussion the term of an ‘invisibility’ of Arab immigrants (Naber 37). Naber explains that the ‘invisibility’ of Arab Americans “is primarily addressed in terms of Arab Americans’ paradoxical positioning within the US racial/ethnic classification system” (Naber 37).

Definition anti-Arab racism by Steven Salaita

Arab American critic Steven Salaita in particular analyzed the repercussions for Arab Americans and its implications in the context after 9/11. Moreover, Salaita also refers to Nadine Naber’s concept of the ‘invisibility’ related to Arab Americans in his own discussion of a similar issue, primarily “anti-Arab racism”, in his book Anti-Arab Racism in the USA. Where It Comes from and What It Means for Politics Today. According to Salaita a general definition of the so called “anti-Arab racism” represents a difficult undertaking for it is fraught with various ambiguities. In his introduction of his book Anti-Arab Racism in the USA. Where It Comes from and What It Means for Politics Today he begins his analysis in which he traces the roots of anti-Arab racism back to the first arrival of Arabs in North America (Salaita, Anti-Arab 7). However, since the attacks of 9/11, Salaita points out: “anti-Arab racism is, to use a cliché, America’s elephant in the living room –an enormous elephant, at that.” (Salaita, Anti-Arab 7). Steven Salaita continues to distinguish anti-Arab racism from similar related concepts, juxtaposing anti-Arab racism vis-á-vis Islamophobia. Salaita states: “Islamophobia appears to be the equivalent to Muslims of what anti-Semitism is to Jews, at least in its current usage: at its most basic level, an inherent dislike for, or hatred toward, Islam and Muslims.” (Salaita, Anti-Arab 9). Salaita, however, does not thoroughly explain the meaning of anti-Arab racism. Although Salaita does not offer a complete definition of “anti-Arab racism”, which he argues is a question he cannot answer. Therefore Salaita approaches an explanation of what he means by the term only when applying it in his book Anti-Arab Racism in the USA. Where It Comes from and What It Means for Politics Today (Salaita, Anti-Arab 12), and states that anti-Arab racism generally speaking includes acts of physical violence against Arabs which is not based on chance but for a large part on the ethnicity of a victim in every day places such as schools, civil institutions and the workplace (Salaita, Anti-Arab 12)

Salaita continues to explain the implications of the Othering process of Arabs which can be traced back to biologically determined ideology; but the Othering also includes the constant condemnation of Arabs as terrorists (Salaita, Anti-Arab 12-13). Salaita gives several examples of how the blatant racism of Arab Americans manifests itself on a daily basis, which is largely based on “exclusionary conceptions of Americanness” (Salaita, Anti-Arab 12-13). The name-calling ranges from sand nigger, dune coon, camel jockey, towelhead, and raghead (Salaita, Anti-Arab 12-13). Accompanied by this is as well the racial profiling of Arabs based on their name, religious affiliation or home country (Salaita, Anti-Arab 12-13). Critic Salaita frames his discussion of anti-Arab racism by stating his personal experiences with anti-Arab racism. After studying the phenomenon, Steven Salaita concludes that anti-Arab racism can, in fact, be traced back to the foundings of the United States (Salaita, Anti-Arab 5). Salaita himself states to be of Arab ethnicity with a Hispanic cultural background on his mother’s side (Salaita, Anti-Arab 5). He also points out that he did not have to experience anti-Arab racism during his childhood on a daily basis; however, he would get called an Indian, as well as Asian and American, and confronted with various stereotypes related to these ethnic groups (Salaita, Anti-Arab 5). Salaita gives a very personal insight into the reality of the racism he experienced:

I was asked a few times whether I am “White or nigger.” I’ve heard a frightening range

of Mexican jokes. I was even once called a dago. All of these examples are the result of

my moderately brown skin. In turn, I learned at a young age, without the benefit of any

formal education, that it is foolish to decontextualize any potentially interrelated social

phenomena, especially when they inform notions of Americanness and the peculiar

modes of Othering that arose during the settlement of North America and continue in

modern forms today. (Salaita, Anti-Arab 5)

Finally, Salaita extends his definition of anti-Arab racism by stressing the fact that anti- Arab racism is on the one hand, usually closely linked to other forms of racism such as anti-Semitism and on the other hand, influenced by the interplay of Arabism and Americana (Salaita, Anti-Arab 5). According to Salaita’s definition, the origins of American racism, in fact, are a combination of European colonial values and the interaction with both Blacks and Indians (Salaita, Anti-Arab 5). Furthermore, the racialization of Arab Americans in the United States needs to be dated back to a time period before the attacks of 9/11. Thus, racism and xenophobia against Arab Americans should not be solely seen as a 9/11 backlash against Arab- Americans (Pickens, Mic Check 9). Indeed, before 9/11 Arab American scholars just started venturing out to establish connections between Arab Americans and the field of ethnic studies (Salaita, Ethnic Identity 147). Due to the little scholarship done before 9/11, scholars are today confronted with a “manifold community” post 9/11 (Salaita, Ethnic Identity 147).

2. Literary Classifications

2.1. Arab-American Women’s Writing

In her article “Arab-American Writers Identify with Communities of Color” Andrea Shalal-Esa elaborates on the burgeoning field of Arab-American literature that has been growing since the turn of the 21st century (Shalal-Esa n.p.). Although Arab American womens’ lives and their literary legacy are still in the early stages, it is worth examining writers such as Abu-Jaber, Nye and Hammad who offer deep insights into their lives. (Shalal-Esa n.p.). The last decade has been highlighted by a growing body of immigrant literatures of Arab American female authors, who began to “interrogate their own, often fragmented, identities” (Shalal-Esa n.p.). Shalal-Esa makes a crucial remark by stating that contemporary Arab American writers are in contrast to previous generations of Arab American writers, increasingly seeking alliances and building bridges with other communities of color. They seek insights from black theorists, feminists and postcolonial thinkers in order to make aware of systems of racism, oppression and marginalization in the United States as well as investigating their own ethnic histories (Shalal-Esa n. p.). In the essay “Carrying Continents in Our Eyes: Arab American Poetry after 9/11” published in the anthology A Sense of Regard. An essay on Poetry and Race (2015), Philip Metres elaborates on the repercussions of 9/11 on Arab Americans as well as on Arab American writers and emphasizes that 9/11 marked a moment in which Arab American writers began ‘outing themselves’ meaning that they began claiming solidarity with other Arab Americans and with those facing injustices and oppression in the Arab world. Very importantly, Philip Metres points out that it is above all wrong to overstate the turning point of 9/11 for Arab American literature. According to Metres, Arab Americans have been negotiating a complex double consciousness that not only troubles the American but Arab as well, especially in terms of literary traditions and political ideologies (Metres 124).

Scholar Philip Metres also points out that Suheir Hammad, indeed, represents one of the only writers that explicitly claims an African American identity and makes use of related African American poetry strategies (Metres 126-127). The critic also refers to Arab American writer Lawrence Joseph’s iconic poem “sand nigger” which is still widely received and can be considered one of the first poems addressing the racialization of Arab Americans (Metres 127). Similarly, critic Steven Salaita emphasizes that certain topics tend to reoccur throughout the work of Arab American authors; meaning that the topics Arab American writers address try to discuss controversial issues such as racism, xenophobia and marginalization in the United States and are not restricted to themes of immigration and assimilation (qtd. in Metres 125). Furthermore, it is important to locate Hammad’s poetry with regard to the development of Arab American literature in the last decades. Hammad belongs to the “third stage” of Arab-American literature, which typically includes writers that originate from Jordan, Palestine, Egypt, and Morocco, and other countries (Harb, Articulations 11). The third stage of Arab American literature covers issues of racialization, transnationalism, sexuality, citizenship, and belonging (Harb, Articulations 11-12). The Arab-American writers of the third stage moreover tend to develop other genres and address issues which are typically faced by the Arab-American community. It has to be noted that Arab Americans are particularly surrounded by the conflicting spaces of the United States and the Arab homeland (Harb, Articulations 11-12). Sirene Harb lists the different genres and their implications which include but are not limited to fiction, memoir, poetry collections and help locating both the collective and individual struggles of Arab Americans in national and transnational frameworks (Harb, Articulations 11- 12).

In order to provide some political context, Sirene Harb states that such political negotiations stem from the involvement of the United States in the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, the First Gulf War (1990–1991), and the 2003 Iraq war (Harb, Articulations 11- 12). In order to resist and fight again these accusations as well as fear and hatred, Arab Americans increasingly began to challenge generalizations about their cultural and racial backgrounds and instead started being vocal about their complex history and locations (Harb, Articulations 11-12). Many Arab Americans also spoke at U.S. colleges across the country in an effort to circulate poems, essays, and letters online, before and after 9/11 (Harb, Articulations 11-12). It is crucial to note that the themes addressed in the third stage of Arab American literature were not only passed on to the next generations but issues of the first and second stage were discussed and revised as well; related themes such as exile, alienation, nostalgia, self-division, and cultural translation (Harb, Articulations 11-12). However, a discussion of these issues in the third stage of Arab American literature is different due to the political context of to the US’ intervention in the Arab countries and Arab Americans’ constant shifts of their attitude in terms of the processes of assimilation and racialization (Harb, Articulations 11-12). Finally, the third stage of Arab American literature has also noticed a shift from the dominance of novels to a larger focus on poetry (Harb, Articulations 11-12). Harb emphasizes that this period also ushered in a new era for Arab-American women’s literature including writers such as Kahf, Leila Lalami, Hammad, Jarrar, Pauline Kaldas, and Susan Abulhawa, only to name a few (Harb, Articulations 12). Harb, in addition, points out that these younger writers make usage of key elements such as memory, voice, subjectivity and power (Harb, Articulations 12-13). Apart from the focus on themes of reclamation, survival and resistance, the third stage of Arab American literature also represents the beginning of discussing discrimination, generational transmission and comparative racialization (Harb, Articulations 13).

Many Arab American writers also embed historical documents, family letters and oral testimonials to bring silenced aspects about their Arab American experience to the forefront and reveal the complexities of Arab Americans’ identities compared to official historical and political discourses (Harb, Articulations 13). Similarly, Arab American critic Lisa Majaj points out that recent Arab American women writers have increasingly sought to investigate the intersections of gender, race, ethnicity, sexuality, class, and politics in recent writing” (Arab-American Literature 7). Arab American women’s literature is on a steady increase and scholarship and other crucial work on the subject matter are well under way (Majaj, Arab-American Literature 7). The so called MIT Electronic Journal of Middle East Perspectives, in fact, helped facilitate this process and uplift Arab American feminism with their special issue “Gender, Nation and Belonging: Arab and Arab-American Feminist Perspectives” (Majaj, Arab-American Literature 7). Raising awareness on Arab-American feminism facilitates the process of deconstructing stereotypes of gender oppression, exile and belonging. (Majaj, Arab-American Literature 7). Majaj concludes by emphasizing that there is, however, no common ground of what constitutes Arab American feminism as well as Arab-American literature (Majaj, Arab-American Literature 7). Some critics argue that Arab American identity can be seen as a “transplanted Arab identity” which seeks to preserve Arab culture, language, and sensibilities (Majaj, Arab-American Literature 7).

Moreover, Majaj states that some critics demand that Arab American literature has to cover Arab-identified topics in particular (Arab-American Literature 7). Majaj concludes by explicitly stating that, in fact, Arab American identity should be considered a transnational rather than a hyphenated identity (Majaj, Arab-American Literature 7). By the same token, Syrian-American writer Lubna Safi remarks in her article "On the Brink: Identity and Language in the Poetry of Arab-American Women" that Arab American women writers tend to use language as a mechanism to express their struggle of living with a “multi-faceted identity” (Safi 321). Safi also states that Arab American women writers use language as a tool to reimagine their homeland to diminish a general definition of an identity that turns to one region or another (Safi 321). Language, therefore, serves as an identity marker for Arab American women writers (Safi 321). As well Safi makes a crucial remark when she quotes critic Lisa Majaj who said that Arab American literature will most likely always be put into a box as the narrative of the never-ending inner conflict of dual identities. Thus, Arab American literature will most likely always be a narrative about an identity leaving behind one identity and getting a new identity (Safi 322). Safi continues to refer to critic Lisa Majaj who counters that for many other critics Arab American literature is clearly positioned on a global scale, being part of an international Arab diaspora of which cultural ties can be restored (qtd. in Safi 322). Safi concludes her article by stating that by the approach of identity through poetry representing an enclave of writers: “that find the solution to their confrontation of social, cultural, and political tensions within the framework of a poetics of identity that stresses their role as apparatuses of translation and simultaneously the law of translation” (Safi 322)

3 Analysis and Discussion: Hammad’s Poetry

3.1. Overview Published Poetry

Hammad published three poem collections: Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996), Zaatar Diva (2005) and Breaking Poems (2008) (Oumlil 850). Kenza Oumlil points out that Hammad not only stands out for the interesting content of her texts but in particular due to the fact that her poetry did circulate through print as well as on television and online media (Oumlil 850). Her memoir Drops of This Story and the poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black were published at the same time in 1996 (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). According to Oumlil a diasporic consciousness can be noted in several of Suheir Hammad’s poems and as a matter of fact, the articulation of a diasporic dimension is a key elements throughout Hammad’s poetry (Oumlil 852). Interestingly Oumlil points out that the diasporic dimension of her poetry is most apparent in the hybridity of her texts; these particularly imply Hammad’s insider/outsider status in the American as well as Arab community and reflect her political agenda of in shedding light on the history of colonialism and racism as well as patriarchy and sexism (Oumlil 852). Oumlil also makes reference to Butler’s notion of the ‘derealization of the other’ (Oumlil 854). This concept refers to the state of stereotypes about Arabs and Muslims that are applied to Arab people who tend to be dismissed as to be beyond humanization (Oumlil 854). Butler frames the concept of the ‘derealization of the Other’ basically means that the bodies of Arabs “are neither alive nor dead” (Oumlil 854). Therí Pickens points out that Hammad’s other collections even more so, continuously further complicate the intersections of being Arab (Palestinian in particular) and African American (Pickens, New Body 27). Yet Oumlil argues that Hammad’s interventions should be conceptualized as “counter-hegemonic” which in turn has the potential of influencing a younger generation of poets who, as a matter of fact, increasingly lean on Hammad’s style and form (Oumlil 856). Other stylistic features of Hammad’s writing include colloquial language as well as demonstrating a conscious omission of punctuation and capitalization (Oumlil 856).

Several women writers including Kellie Leonce, Olivia Kahn, Stephanie Apollon launched an online site with the title ‘Suheir Hammad Imitation’ and published comments on “Sbribd”, a social publishing site for exchanging original writings and documents (Oumlil 856). The comments about Hammad made by these young writers include but are not limited to Hammad’s style of a lack of punctuation. The lack of punctuation in turn though offers more possibilities for the interpretation of her poems (Oumlil 856). Moreover the young writers wrote about Hammad’s gift of being able to possess different communities who can relate and identify with her poetry (Oumlil 856). By opening up about very personal issues Hammad also manages to capture the attention of these writers who appreciate the authenticity of her work and making her stories relatable (Oumlil 856). Since Hammad has written about her family life at length – especially in Drops of This Story - such as her relationship with her father, as well as her brothers and sisters and her past; many readers particularly appreciate the details of her stories, rather than addressing general issues only (Oumlil 856).

3.2. Style & Poetic Oeuvre

According to Harb, Hammad’s work may be located in the context of Black and third world feminisms (Harb, Naming 73). Hammad’s poetry was published two decades after June Jordan’s and the key issues of her poetry are the global repercussions of the prison-industrial complex, the economic racialization of Blackness, and histories of displacement and exploitation in the United States and Palestine (Harb, Naming 73). Moreover, Therí Pickens points out that Hammad’s work is highly influenced by her experiences as an Arab American living in Brooklyn and Palestine (Pickens, New Body 19). Hammad’s style is a combination of Arabic poetic elements and hip-hop aesthetics and draws on the political notions of the Black Arts Movement (Knopf- Newman 72). In addition Knopf-Newman stresses that Hammad consciously experiments with language and the controversial representations of Arabs and Muslims in the media (72). Similarly critic Keith Feldman remarks that Hammad’s style includes contemporary avant-garde hip-hop while using a spoken language that thematizes the Arab American diaspora and transnational belonging (Feldman, par. 826-827). Scholar Michelle Hartman points to Hammad’s tendency of sound play, which she frequently uses, since the majority of Hammad’s poetry is meant to be performed and read aloud (Hartman, Breaking Poems 65). It is therefore crucial to note that Hammad is affiliated with Spoken Word Poetry as well. Contrary to scholar Sirene Harb, Therí Pickens argues that researchers tend to locate Hammad within the fields of Black and Brown feminism and activism (Pickens, New Body 21-22). Hammad’s first poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996), and her memoir Drops of This Story (1996) represent Hammad’s examination of racism in the United States and how exiled writers deal with finding their place (Pickens, New Body 21-22). Shalal-Esa moreover states that Hammad, indeed, completely identifies as a ‘woman of color’ which becomes most evident in the naming of the title Born Palestinian, Born Black (Shalal-Esa n.p.) Moreover, Therí Pickens notes that Hammad “encourages cross cultural conversations between Black and Arab people about different social and political issues” in her poetry and essays (New Body 21). The main influences used to establish these conversations are hip hop, Arab oral poetic tradition and spoken word (Pickens, New Body 21).

It goes without saying that Suheir Hammad draws upon Black feminist traditions, in particular of the African American writers June Jordan and Audre Lorde (Pickens, New Body 21). June Jordan arguably utterly influenced Hammad’s poetry since Jordan particularly engaged in writing poetry about the injustices in Nicaragua and Guatemala during the 1980’s and compared these injustices on a global level with Palestine and the United States (Pickens, New Body 21). Despite the fact that June Jordan and Suheir Hammad both lived in Brooklyn they never had the opportunity to get to know each other (Harb, Naming 72). Harb points out that their similarities in terms of literary legacy and commitment to social justice have resonated in many regards (Harb, Naming 72). Pickens ends her discussion by stating that Hammad’s literary work tackles issues such as the social and political injustices perpetuated against various marginalized groups of which people of color and women are affected by the most (Pickens, Mic Check 8). Very importantly, Pickens emphasizes that Hammad as well advocates for equal rights not only on behalf of the Arab-American community but above all, of other marginalized communities. Born Palestinian, Born Black for instance is symbolic for building cross-cultural bridges with African Americans and Puerto Ricans as well as other ethnic minorities that were living in Brooklyn during the 1980ies (Pickens, Mic Check 8). Therefore, Hammad should also be credited for discussing women’s issues since her poetry is not only about fighting for acceptance but about fighting against patriarchy as well (Pickens, New Body 28). Overall, it should not be overlooked that Hammad also seeks connections with other Arab women writers, most notably with the writers Ahdaf Soueif and Hanan al- Shaykh (Pickens, New Body 28-29). Pickens refers to Hammad’s essay “In My Mother’s Hands” (1998) in which Hammad states to have “‘explored [her] otherness among mostly Black and Latina girlfriends, [and] began to understand that what [she] wanted to do most, was write [her] stories.’” (Pickens, New Body 28-29).

June Jordan’s influence

Many critics and scholars alike have been emphasizing the influence of Jordan on Hammad’s poetry (Keith Feldman (2007), Michelle Hartman (2008) and Marcy Jane Knopf-Newman (2006)) (Harb, Naming 74). Harb points out accurately that there are no details about how June Jordan specifically influenced Hammad’s poetry and how Jordan’s and Hammad’s literature overlap or have similarities (Harb, Naming 74). Sirene Harb argues that their work has only similarities in terms of articulating their stance about oppressions and in dealing with these forms of oppressions and how poetry can facilitate collective empowerment (Harb, Naming 75). Their most apparent similarity is their home in Brooklyn which should not be taken literally since it is rather representative of the multicultural place that Brooklyn represents (Harb, Naming 75). Seeing eye to eye with other critics, Pickens concludes by stating that Hammad’s main goal is to make oppressed people around the globe need to pursue solidarity and cross- cultural coalition (Pickens, New Body 26). Hammad’s own explanation of her affiliation with June Jordan reveals something interesting with regard to the influence of June Jordan’s poem “Moving Towards Home”. In the interview with Marcy Jane Knopf-Newman she explains that she was not only intrigued by the fact that an African American poet would write about the massacres of Sabra and Shatila. However, June Jordan, in fact, tells a little anecdote about a woman who is looking for her husband “Abu Fadi” in her poem “Moving Towards Home” (Knopf-Newman 77). Before the opening lines of the poem June Jordan includes the question “Where’s Abu Fadi” referencing a quote from the New York Times; in the lines following, Jordan begins the poem by writing “We’re not going to talk about the bulldozed earth and the limbs” (Knopf-Newman 77). Hammad explains when she read this particular stanza as a young eighteen-year old girl who herself was from Brooklyn, was also fascinated by the fact that June Jordan herself was an immigrant to Brooklyn (Knopf-Newman 77). Moreover, Hammad states that it was a poem so different than any other she has read before. Hammad states that it was not a typical “freedom” poem meaning that it was not about obvious issues such as borders, resolutions, justifications and rights; but it was all about humanity, nothing more than humanity (Knopf-Newman 77).

3.3. Born Palestinian, Born Black

The poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996) represents Hammad’s first collection of poetry, and was published in the same year as her memoir Drops of This Story (1996). In the author’s note of Born Palestinian, Born Black Hammad expresses her view on the power of “labels”:

Labels can be empowering or threatening, self-defined or imposed. And in reality, even

self-defined labels can be oppressive, limiting. We don’t live in a stagnant world. My

generation has seen many changes involving technology, environment, and ideology.

Yet with all the changes and upheavals, life basically stays the same. People love, hate,

kill, and die. People sing, dance and write. (Hammad, Born Palestinian, Born Black

ix)

In her essay “Weaving Poetic Autobiographies: Individual and Communal Identities in the Poetry of Mohja Kahf and Suheir Hammad” Carol Fadda-Conrey Hammad addresses issues such as Palestinian displacement, makes connections to the culture of African Americans and Puerto Ricans. The underlying theme of violence is another issue she discusses in some poems; it is violence she had to experience while being in Palestine and violence she witnessed, most notably through the Arab-israeli conflict, and through living in the inner-city of New York, and being devoted to the disfranchisement of peoples of color all around the world (Fadda-Conrey, Weaving par. 1966-1967).

As far as the title “Born Palestinian, Born Black” is concerned, Hammad states to have been scared to trigger off a dispute between the different fractions since her book contract with Harlem River Press already did (Hopkinson n.p. 2002). The title “Born Palestinian, Born Black” was borrowed from a poem by June Jordan who was born in Brooklyn as the daughter of Jamaican immigrants and strongly supported the Palestinian cause (Hopkinson 2002). The poem is called “Moving Towards Home” which Jordan wrote in response to the massacre of Palestinians in Lebanon in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps after Israel’s invasion in 1982. This poem became inspired by Jordan’s lines, “I was born a Black woman and now I am become a Palestinian” (Shalal-Esa n.p.). Considering Hammad’s own explanation of the title it can be noted that she believed people could in a way transcend their labels: ‘“The idea is in the title that you don’t really become all of these things, you are born these things and you realize it through life and your life experiences. You are all these dynamic, contradictory and amazing things” (Hopkinson 2002). June Jordan’s legacy continued to influence Hammad’s writing and activism. However, Born Palestinian, Born Black is not entirely devoted to June Jordan. Hammad also takes up issues pertinent to the U.S. such as the death penalty and police brutality (Hopkinson n. p. 2002). The poet also hopes to inspire people by stating that she wants people to look at the moment of which the poem is talking about and her different use of language and to give an idea of what life was like during the growth of hip-hop in the 1980ies (Hopkinson n. p. 2002). Keith Feldman suggests another explanation of the title of Born Palestinian, Born Black by explaining that Hammad in a way creates a mode of transformation from the present of being biologically “born” to the historical “am become” (Feldman, par. 830-832). Feldman believes that Hammad was trying to convey the process of from becoming ‘Black woman’ to ‘Palestinian’ (Feldman, par. 830-832). According to Feldman this process reflects a movement from racialized and gendered descriptors of the speaker in the first line to a more politically vocal self-determination in the last line. (Feldman, par. 830-832)

Influence of writer Piri Thomas in Born Palestinian, Born Black

Furthermore, in Born Palestinian, Born Black Hammad makes reference to Puerto Rican-Cuban writer and poet Piri Thomas. In the author’s note section, Hammad writes the following: “Language is power, politics. Words can be, as Piri Thomas says, bullets or butterflies.” (Hammad, Born Palestinan Born Black ix). The saying “Words can be bullets or butterflies” indeed references a popular quote by writer Piri Thomas. In an interview Piri Thomas elaborates on the meaning of the saying by stating that words have the power to trigger off the consciousness of people and action. In an interview with Ilan Stavans, writer Piri Thomas states that words are important in the sense that they have the power to raise consciousness and inspire action (Ilan and Thomas 351). Concerning the meaning of the saying “Words can be bullets or butterflies” Piri Thomas elaborately explains in the interview with Ilan Stavans that one has to be careful how he uses words for they can be bullets or butterflies (Ilan and Thomas 351-352). Piri Thomas continues to talk about racism and elaborates on the meaning and the issue of the color of one’s skin (Ilan and Thomas 351). In the end of his explanation, Piri Thomas states that everyone, no matter their skin color or heritage, has to wage the same struggle and that at the end of the day, we all share our humanity:

And this is the struggle that we have had to wage, to allow all the colors to express their

humanity through literature and the other arts to learn from each other, as a people, for

we are not only geographic locations, colors, sexes, or preferences. We are earthlings

who share a common bond - our humanity. (Ilan and Thomas 351-352)

In addition to the influence of iconic female black authors such as June Jordan, Hammad is, thus, also influenced by male black literary figures such as the poet Piri Thomas. When taking a closer look at Piri Thomas’ literary and cultural background, it gets clear that his literary legacy and persona must have had a major impact on Suheir Hammad; in particular with regard to Hammad’s first poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black published in 1996, in which she cites Piri Thomas in the author’s note of the collection.

Relationship of being Arab and Black

In her interview with Hammad Natalie Handal was particularly interested to find out about Hammad’s relationship of being Arab and Black. Hammad explains to Handal in the interview that she talks about the various meanings of the word “black” in her author’s note of Born Palestinian, Born Black. Hammad mentions poet Audre Lorde who said that being black entailed a political and a cultural identity. Hammad states that she elaborates on the meaning of the word black in different cultures in the auhtor’s note to Born Palestinian, Born Black (Handal n. p. 1997). Hammad recounts that she studied Audre Lorde’s definition of “black as being a political identity and cultural identity. Hammad goes on to explain that within the boundaries of Palestinian culture the concept of “black” is associated with black being something negative and it is unfortunately seen like that in other parts of the world as well (Handal n. p. 1997). She concludes by saying that Born Palestinian, Born Black is trying to take back these negative energies that are linked to “black” and to more or less reclaim it and stress its positive associations which means that this is also about survival (Handal n. p. 1997). Alex Lubin argues that Hammad’s affiliation with Blackness refers to her own double-consciousness of having Arab and African American connection (Lubin, Geographies167). Lubin refers to a short poem Hammad includes in her author’s note of Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996) in which Hammad elaborates on the many usages of the word ‘Black’ (Hammad, Born Palestinian x). In this poem Hammad lists various examples of the usage of the word ‘Black’ which includes antiblack stereotypes as well as positive black diasporic images (Lubin, Geographies167). Lubin argues that Blackness for Hammad is “multivocal” and so she lists a range of thoughts and ideas ranging from ‘Black September massacre of Palestinians’ to ‘the Arab Arabic expression ‘to blacken your face.’ (Lubin, Geographies167). Even though Blackness usually implies notions of negativity in both Western and Arab contexts, Hammad tries to stress its positive associations by listing elements that she links with the word Black, such as in the last stanza of a poem in the author’s note of Born Palestinian, Born Black (Lubin, Geographies 167):

Black like the genius of Stevie, Zora and Abdel-Haleem

relative purity

like the face of God

the face of your grandmother. (Hammad, Born Palestinian x)

In the following lines of the latter poem, Hammad writes in her author’s note: “Choose as many definitions you want. Make up your own, and get comfortable in it. But use it responsibly, consciously. Have respect for the energy behind words. The history behind labels. Never let them be chosen for you” (Hammad, Born Palestinian x). According to Lubin, Hammad’s as well as Jordan’s “shifting between blackness and Palestinianness” represent a “political consciousness that brings urban black America and occupied Palestine into imaginative contact” (Lubin, Geographies 167).

Where is home located?

Keith Feldman raises a central question when he assesses the manner of “displacement” and “exile” of Syrian-American poet Etel Adnan who moved several times throughout her life –from Beirut to Paris to the United States, back to Beirut, before returning to the United States again and Hammad’s displacement in life. Hammad, however, only experienced physical displacement once when Hammad and her family emigrated from a refugee camp in Jordan to settle in Brooklyn, New York (Feldman, par. 822-823). Therefore, Feldman raises the crucial question as to where home is located for Hammad, followed by the question “From what space has the black Palestinian woman been exiled?” (Feldman, par. 841). According to Keith Feldman, Hammad conveys the message that she has two homes that are hailed through diaspora in both of her memoir Drops of This Story (1996) and Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996) (Feldman, par. 841). Feldman explains the implications of Hammad’s specific state of displacement. He explains:

The first is a self-determined Palestinian borders in which people displaced after 1948

and 1967 might construct a viable democratic state. The second is access to the rights of

full citizenship in the United States-indeed, a revaluation of the terms of citizenship-for

working-class colored women generally, and Arab American migrants specifically.

(Feldman, par. 841)

However, both June Jordan and Hammad do not mention or idealize home as a possible site to which they could return to (Feldman, par. 841). For Jordan it represents a space that has to be ‘made’ and ‘constructed’ and therefore Born Palestinian, Born Black can be considered as to make its way home (Feldman, par. 841).

The question of Hammad’s exile, displacement and homeland are difficult to answer but in the following essay the author approaches the issue by comparing the diasporic consciousness to a double-consciousness. In his essay “Feminine Diasporic Consciousness in the Arab-American Poetry after 11 September 2001” Abu Zaid juxtaposes a “diasporic consciousness” and “double-consciousness” with regard to Arab American poetry. Abu Zaid argues that many of these poets followed a certain strategy as turning point for their lives in the United States by either “negotiating the possibilities of the reconciliation between the American 'Self' and the Arab 'Other’” or by “objecting to the American silencing to and intolerance against the Arab-Americans especially women” (Zaid 17). The poem “First Writing Since” which received much criticism, particularly serves as a good example for the strategies Arab American women poets adopted in the wake of September 11, “out of their diasporic consciousness and the dilemma of their hybridized identities in America and their fears because of the consequences of the attacks” (Zaid 29).

Poems in Born Palestinian, Born Black

The 1996 published edition of Born Palestinian, Born Black contains twenty-nine poems. Hammad deconstructs “the misconceptions and the stereotypes of Arab men as brutal beings, the exoticization of the Third World women etc.” (Gosh 531). The following chapter covers an analysis and interpretation of the poems “usage of the word Black (poem in the author’s note), followed by the poem “taxi”, and the poems “brown bread hero”, “may I take your order”. Among the various topics addressed in the collection Born Palestinian, Born Black are the mapping of global oppressions and its specificities as they relate to Iraq, Malaysia, and Somalia in her poem “we spent the fourth of july in bed” (Harb, Naming 85; Harb, Articulations 150). Moreover, she writes about the condemnation of the exploitation and exoticization of women in “mariposa” and “may i take your order?” (Harb, Naming 85; Harb, Articulations 150) and about fascism and settler colonialism in “open poem to those who rather we not read . . . or breathe.” (Harb, Naming 85; Harb, Articulations 150). Scholar Michelle Hartman argues in her article “‘A Debke Beat Funky as P.E.’s Riff’: Hip Hop Poetry and Politics in Suheir Hammad’s Born Palestinian, Born Black”” that Hammad’s poetry, similar to other spoken word artists, is strongly influenced by hip hop music (Hartman, Debke Beat 6). Hartman states that Hammad’s audience primarily consists of ethnic communities she is affiliated with, which includes Palestinians and African Americans (Hartman, Debke Beat 6). Hartman explains the spaces Hammad and other ethnic communities’ experience in the, what Hammad calls “urban battlegrounds of African America” of New York and compares them to those in Palestine (Hartman, Debke Beat 6). Hammad for that matter links and compares the everyday reality of urban Black Americans to that of Palestinians who are under Israeli occupation (Hartman, Debke Beat 6). Moreover, Hammad draws links between African American and Palestinian music artists. This is made explicit in the poem “Taxi” in which Hammad combines politics and poetics (Hartman, Debke Beat 6). The juxtaposition of Arab and African American iconic figures such as Malcolm X and Amiri Baraka combined with a musical comparison (Hartman, Debke Beat 6) is best illustrated in the following lines:

so when we read baraka and listen to Malcolm

let’s read darwish and keep on

listenin to malcolm

(Hammad, Born Palestinian, Born Black 13)

Amiri Baraka and Malcolm X represent two key figures of the Black Power liberation and the Black Arts Movement (Hartman, Debke Beat 6). Besides these two influential figures, the national Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish, like Amiri Baraka and Malcolm X, serves as another revolutionary person Hammad is inspired by (Hartman, Debke Beat 6). Michelle Hartman as well points out that Hammad was trying to convey the message that it would not be enough to only hear of these figures; by only mentioning them she believes she does not appreciate them enough but needs to list them in her poetry and recognize their mission which is in particular about the “liberation of the oppressed” (Hartman, Debke Beat 6).

Poem “Open poem to those who rather we not read ... or breathe”

The poem “Open poem to those who rather we not read ... or breathe” reflects the struggle of ‘minoritized people’ who constantly have to fight for their political representation in the United States (Feldman, par. 881-885). Critic Keith Feldman points out the usage of a first-person plural “we” that is striking in “open poem”, as well as other poems of the poetry collection (Feldman, par. 881-885). Feldman gives more contextual information on “Open poem to those who rather we not read ... or breathe” and says that the notion of not only the first-person plural “we” but a strongly politicized first person plural entails a construction of interracial solidarity to enable descriptions of such a community (Feldman, par. 881-885). In the first stanza of “open poem” a certain respect towards the “transnational figures minoritized economically and politically”, as Keith Feldman’s points out, can be spotted:

we children of children exiled from homelands

descendants of immigrants denied jobs and toilets

carry continents in our eyes

survivors of the middle passage

we stand

and demand recognition of our humanity (Hammad, Born Palestinian 81)

The last stanza of “open poem” emphasizes once more the racism these “transnational beings” - personified under the collective “we” – have to experience. The narrating I of the poem compares the living conditions of the “we” to that of political prisoners who presumably are robbed of their freedom even though they are not imprisoned and thus are only allowed to “walk around semi-free”. In line 3-4 the “we” is portrayed as to be dangerous to their opponents, who the ones that are threatened by their “very breath” are, cannot be guessed at first glance.

Presumably the opponents refer to a white person or for that matter are representative of white U.S. society. The threat goes as far as that even “the breath” may be a threat to “those who rather we not read”, meaning that the opponent despises the chance that the “we”, the minoritized ethnic groups, may not gain full access to education and thus, should rather not be more educated than their opponents. Thus, the ones that are already in “power” should or want stay in control. In the next line the “read” of line 3 is accompanied by further actions that the opponent would rather deny the “we” from doing; which is that the “we” should not even “think”, “analyze”, “watch out”, let alone “fight back”. It could be argued that the “we”, the minoritized ethnic communities should only stand by and do nothing, meaning to neither use their knowledge or use physical violence – “fight back”. The last line is the culmination of all the things (mentioned before) the “we” should not do, which is to be a human being at all. Thus, the “we” should be or are robbed of their last inch of humanity.

we be political prisoners walking round semi-free

our very breath is a threat

to those who rather we not read

and think analyze watch out and fight back

and be human beings the way we need to be (Hammad, Born Palestinian 83)

Overall, the poem “Open poem” reflects the shared history of displacement and several migrations between a place abroad and another one in the United States (Feldman par. 887-889). Feldman argues that the same historical background builds the basis for a “central ‘we’” (Feldman par. 887-889). In addition, it hints at the cultural hybridity that many minoritized ethnic groups, in what Feldman describes as “ghettoized spaces of New York City”, experience (Feldman par. 887-889).

Poem “brown bread hero”

The poem “brown bread hero” centers on the issue of one’s color of skin. It can be subsumed under Hammad’s collections of poems in Born Palestinian, Born Black that deal with the overall topic of the deconstruction of (Orientalist) stereotypes and misconceptions. The poem “Brown bread hero” consists of five stanzas and again has a distinct structure, as do other poems in Born Palestinian, Born Black. The author’s intention to use varying structures is probably being used to demonstrate the emphasis of one word over the other. The structure of the poems in Born Palestinian, Born Black appears to usually have been dependent on the specific topic of a poem. In “brown bread hero”, different colors are being described, each of which includes different metaphors such as nuances of the color “brown”; it also includes other colors such as “mustard”, “spicy yellow”, “white mayo”. The aforementioned colors, on another level, also indirectly referen to certain food products such as mayonnaise and mustard. The color “brown” hereby is juxtaposed to the color “white”. In the opening lines it says “may I have a vegetable hero?” (Hammad, Born Palestinian 59), followed by the second line “no white”, which is successively followed by line three “rhye or wheat”, and line four “brown” (Hammad, Born Palestinian 59). The alignment of the words in the lines, as well, reflect a stress on and switch from “no white” to the preferred “brown”, as described in the first stanza of the poem:

may i have a vegetable hero?

no white

rye or wheat

brown

yeah a brown bread hero

brown

born and bred (Hammad, Born Palestinian 59)

In the second stanza the rejection of the color “white” can be read as culminating in a further alignment of colors; in this case spicy food sauces such as mayonnaise, mustard and white mayo are being listed. The poem suggests a dialogical manner, directly speaking to the reader, which can be interfered from the posed question in the beginning of the poem “may I have a vegetable hero”. Thus, in stanza two, there is also an emphasis of the positives of nuances of the color brown and yellow which is reflected in the sauces mayonnaise and mustard; on another level, the two sauces, metaphorically speaking, could be representative of the “mild” mayonnaise” and the hot sauce of “mustard”. Overall, the quintessence of the stanza is that the narrating I should prefer any sauce and color over the “white mayo”:

no mayonnaise thank you

never liked it as much as

mustard i’ll take spicy yellow or

sweet brown mustard over

bland fatty white mayo

anyday (Hammad, Born Palestinian 59)

In third and fourth stanza the speaking I continues to discuss food products with the additional food product of “cheese” stating “no cheese please”, “cheese is to the west” “the spice of the east (line1-3) in the third stanza. In the end of the third stanza the worth of “cheese” is questioned and compared to Orientalist spices such as turmeric, sumac and curry – which should be preferred to the cheese, stating in the last line “no mucous building cheese on my hero”. In the last stanza the dispute over which color may be considered “the better”, is topped off by stating that a brown bread hero is better than the “white mayo”, which is outlined as follows:

a brown bread hero brown born and bred white has has never been my hero (Hammad, Born Palestinian 60)

CONCLUSION

This thesis has sought to investigate the burgeoning field of Arab American women’s writing and very specifically the genres of memoir and poetry as a viable space for Arab women’s articulations of identity living in the United States. In exploring the literary work of Palestinian American poet and activist Suheir Hammad, which included an analysis of her memoir Drops of This Story (1996) and selected poems of her first published poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996) and the related paratext of the latter publications, it can be assumed that Arab American identities in general, and Arab American women writers in the United States, more specifically, are torn living in two different worlds, trying to locate their places of “home” in either their home country or chosen host country. Palestinian American poet Suheir Hammad expresses both a double- consciousness and diasporic consciousness. Due to the specific life circumstances of Suheir Hammad being born in Jordan to refugee parents and emigrating to Brooklyn, New York while being raised and surrounded by a multiracial community, Hammad can be identified as one of the only “Brooklyn Palestinian” spoken word artists (cf. Pickens, Mic Check 12). It is crucial to note that Hammad does not explicitly identify as “Arab American” which can also be inferred from one of Hammad’s remarks in an interview with journalist Marcy Jane Knopf-Newman in which Hammad unabashedly states “’What the fuck is Arab American?’” (85). Although Hammad only relocated once during her life span, she still expresses patterns of a diasporic consciousness. The double-consciousness, on the other hand, is most apparent in her identification and affiliation with African Americans in the United States and a strong affection for hip hop aesthetics and style, after being raised amidst the rise of hip hop in the 1980ies and surrounded by the reality of inner city life in Brooklyn, New York. Thus, it is a rather difficult endeavor to categorize Suheir Hammad’s poetry under a traditional canon of Arab American literature or Arab American women’s writing only. Critic Keith Feldman best explained best how he defines Suheir Hammad’s poetry: “I turn to the early work of Suheir Hammad particularly because she is one of the most prominent figures of post-1967 Palestinian American literature. [...] Hammad's work grapples with the diasporic Arab re-contextualized in a nation in which

Arabs are minoritized” (Feldman, par. 817-820). The analysis of selected parts of her memoir Drops of This Story (1996) and her poetry collection Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996) has revealed that Hammad does not feel like she neither belongs to her land of ancestry, Palestine, or her home in Brooklyn, New York; thus, while Hammad does not identify with Palestinian culture either, Hammad also feels alienated in her home place Brooklyn. It could be argued that this, in turn, even intensified her state of exile, and thus leaves Hammad being diasporic and minoritized in her chosen homeland in New York. Therefore, having analyzed the manifestations of a double-consciousness and diasporic-consciousness, it may be noted that Hammad, in fact, has a stronger sense of exile than initially expected. While the in the Introduction posed thesis statement entailed the investigation of a double-consciousness and a diasporic consciousness, the focus, however, has been set on Hammad’s self-perception as a Palestinian American woman living in the United States – implying Hammad’s strong identification with her chosen home Brooklyn, New York as well as identifying as Palestinian - which is the identity marker she uses throughout interviews and poems. Overall, this thesis has provided insight into a Palestinian American poet’s identity formation and the dilemma of locating home. Moreover, the thesis has sought to provide a step towards developing a framework for reading Arab American women’s literature, in particular with regard to the analyzed genres of memoir and poetry. To conclude, it goes without saying that 9/11 has utterly altered the lives of Arab Americans who have been racialized as neither white, nor black for too long.

I need to talk about living room

Where I can sit without grief without wailing aloud

For my loved ones

where I must not ask where is Abu Fadi

because he will be there beside me

I need to talk about living room

because I need to talk about home

(June Jordan, “Moving Towards Home”)

Works Cited

Primary Sources

Hammad, Suheir. Born Palestinian, Born Black. New York: Harlem River Press. 1996. Print.

Hammad, Suheir. Drops of This Story. New York: Harlem River Press. 1996. Print.

Secondary Sources

Abdulrahim, Safa’a. “Between Empire and Diaspora: Identity Poetics in Contemporary Arab-American Women's Poetry.” (2013). Web. http://hdl.handle.net/1893/19525.

Bauridl, Birgit M. “‘Rowing for Palestine,’ Performing the Other: Suheir Hammad, Mark Gerban and Multiple Consciousness,” Arab American Literature and Culture. Ed. Alfred Hornung and Martina Kohl. Heidelberg: Winter Verlag, 2012, 221–42.

Fadda-Conrey, Carol. Contemporary Arab-American Literature. Transnational Reconfigurations of Citizenship and Belonging. New York/London: New York University Press 2014.

Fadda-Conrey, Carol. “Weaving Poetic Autobiographies: Individual and Communal Identities in the Poetry of Mohja Kahf and Suheir Hammad” Arab Women’s Lives Retold: Exploring Identity Through Writing. Ed. Nawar Al-Hassan Golley. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2007. Kindle File.

Feldman, Keith. “Poetic Geographies: Interracial Insurgency in Arab American Autobiographical Spaces” Arab Women’s Lives Retold: Exploring Identity Through Writing. Ed. Nawar Al-Hassan Golley. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2007. Kindle File.

Golley, Nawar Al-Hassan. “Introduction. Contemporary Arab Women’s Autobiographical Writings” Arab Women’s Lives Retold: Exploring Identity Through Writing. Ed. Nawar Al-Hassan Golley. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2007. Kindle File.

Ghosh, Arunabha. “Energy behind Words, History behind Labels: Poetry as Resistance in Suheir Hammad’s Palestinian, Born Black””An International Journal of Humanities and Social Sciences Vol. 1/3 (2014): 522-536. Web.

Handal, Natalie. “Drops of Suheir Hammad. A Talk with a Palestinian Poet Born Black” Al Jadid (1997). Web.

Hartman, Michelle. ""This Sweet / Sweet Music": Jazz, Sam Cooke, and Reading Arab American Literary Identities." Melus 31.4 (2006): 145-65. Web.

Hartman, Michelle. “‘A Debke Beat Funky as P.E.’s Riff’: Hip Hop Poetry and Politics in Suheir Hammad’s Born Palestinian, Born Black”” Black Art Quarterly Vol. 7/1 (2002): 6-8. Web.

Harb, Sirène. Articulations of Resistance Transformative Practices in Contemporary Arab-American Poetry. New York/London: Routledge. 2020. Kindle file.

Harb, Sirène. "Naming Oppressions, Representing Empowerment: June Jordan's and Suheir Hammad's Poetic Projects." Feminist Formations 26.3 (2014): 71-99. Web.

Hopkinson, Natalie. “Out of the Ashes. Drops of Meaning. The Poetic Success of Suheir Hammad” Electronic Intifada (2002): n. pag. Web. 20. Jan. 2021.

Ilan Stavans, and Piri Thomas. "Race and Mercy: A Conversation with Piri Thomas." The Massachusetts Review 37.3 (1996): 344-54. Web.

Knopf-Newman, Marcy Jane. "Interview with Suheir Hammad." Melus 31.4 (2006): 71- 91. Web.

Lubin, Alex. Geographies of Liberation: The Making of an Afro-Arab Political Imaginary. University of North Carolina Press, 2014.

Lubna, Safi. "On the Brink: Identity and Language in the Poetry of Arab-American Women" The Comparatist 41.1 (2017): 309-24. Web.

Majaj, Lisa Suhair. "Arab-Americans and the Meaning of Race." Postcolonial Theory and the United States: Race, Ethnicity and Literature. Ed. Amritjit Singh and Peter Schmidt. Jackson: U of Mississippi P, 2000, 320-37.

Majaj, Lisa Suhair. "Arab-American Literature: Origins and Developments." American Studies Journal 52 (2008): 2. Web.

Metres, Philip. “Carrying Continents in Our Eyes: Arab American Poetry after 9/11” A Sense of Regard. Essays on Poetry and Race. Ed. Laura McCullough. University of Georgia Press: Athens/London, 2015. 123-136.

Moshen, Hamoud Yahya Ahmed, et. al. “Moving towards Home: An Ecofeminist Reading of Suheir Hammad’s Born Palestinian, Born Black” Asian Social Science Vol. 12/8 (2016): 33-42. Web.

Naber, Nadine. "Ambiguous Insiders: An Investigation of Arab American Invisibility." Ethnic and Racial Studies 23:1 (2000): 37-61.

Oumlil, Kenza. ""Talking Back": The Poetry of Suheir Hammad." Feminist Media Studies 13.5 (2013): 850-59. Web.

Olwan, Dana M.. ”Pedagogies of Solidarity in Suheir Hammad’s “First Writing Since” Muslim Women, Transnational Feminism and the Ethics of Pedagogy Contested Imaginaries in Post-9/11 Cultural Practice. Eds. Lisa K. Taylor and Jasmin Zine. New York: Taylor and Francis, 2014, 110-132. Print.

Pickens, Therí A.. New Body Politics: Narrating Arab and Black Identity in the Contemporary United States. New York: Routledge, 2014. Kindle.

Pickens, T. A. “‘Mic Check. Can You Hear Me?’ Suheir Hammad and the Politics of Spoken Word Poetry”. Al-Raida Journal 1 (2009): 8-14, doi:10.32380/alrj.v0i0.110.

Salaita, Stevens. Anti-Arab Racism in the USA. Where It Comes from and What It Means for Politics Today. London/Ann Arbor: Pluto Press. 2006. Kindle file.

Salaita, Steven. "Ethnic Identity and Imperative Patriotism: Arab Americans before and after 9/11." College Literature 32.2 (2005): 146-68. Web.

Smith, Sidonie and Julie Watson. Reading Autobiography: A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives (2010). Web.

Shalal-Esa, Andrea. “Arab-American Writers Identify with Communities of Color” Al Jadid (2003). Web.

Zaid, R. M. Abu. “Feminine Diasporic Consciousness in the Arab-American Poetry after 11 September 2001” International Journal of Humanities and Cultural Studies Vol. 3/4 (2017). Web.