What is objective
reality? What is truth? Is there one definitive answer or is life, history and
even personal, ethnic and national identity constructed by multiple
interpretations? Theresa Hak Kyung Cha (1951-1982) in her chapter “Melpomene
Tragedy” from her famous novel Dictee
(posthumously published in 1982) addresses these issues of definitive truth and
authority in a postmodernistic fashion. Given the colonial context in which Cha
grew up with relating to Korea (her place of birth) and the colonial education
she has received, she has a lot to say about authority and the way history and
life is represented to us. Cha, in a sense, wants to undermine representation
and how reality isn’t so straightforward, hence placing the reader, and even
herself, in a realm of displacement. And we can see that through the vague
manner of not understanding who is exactly the narrator is (except being
female).
In a letter the
narrator writes to her mother, which may symbolically represent her motherland (Korea),
her language represents authoritarian and deterministic attitudes that she grew
up with. But she feels that despite being part of another nation and adopting
another language (which is hard not to be part of) the narrator longs to return
home. She writes, “Nothing has changed, we are at a standstill. I speak in
another tongue now, a second tongue a foreign tongue. All this time we have been
away. But nothing has changed. A stand still” (p. 34).
For those who have come
from one country and has moved to another, one finds themselves disorientated at
first. But slowly but surely we can’t help to begin following that path of
embracing a mainstream culture by following certain ideas and ways of life. The
narrator sees herself wanting so badly to keep her heritage, her ethnic identity
that she had once grew up with. And in her letter to her mother she finds ways
to justify that she is staying on that path no matter who else tries to impose
another identity on her otherwise. For example, how American culture imposes
itself on others. (Given the fact that Cha immigrated to America at a young age
from Korea and how America played a role in the Korean War and the splitting of
North and South Korea itself during the Cold War in mid-twentieth century, Cha
knows firsthand in what that means.)
Imposing a certain set
of ideas of what is right and what is wrong through authority is setting us up,
as human beings, for failure. We are only seeing one side of the picture.
Because there isn’t a right or a wrong answer as some may want to believe, but
there are multiple versions and variations of how life is perceived and how we interpret
it. And perhaps that is what the narrator was trying to say of American
identity being deceiving because they promote democracy (as they had done with
South Korea) in everyone having free will and choice, but they are taking away and
changing something more valuable and important: their identity.
I pass a second
curve on the road. You soldiers appear in green. Always the green uniforms the
patches of camouflage [referring to Americans]. Trees camouflage you green
trucks you blend with nature the trees hide you you cannot be seen behind the
guns no one sees you they have hidden you. You sit you recline on the earth
next to the buses you wait hours days making visible your presence (p. 38).
…
Arrest the machine that purports to employ democracy but rather causes the
successive refraction of her none other than her own (p. 41).
We possibly don’t, nor mostly
likely can’t, have the answer to the big
questions in life, but simply have answers. There isn’t just one form of
living, but multiple ways. In which case, living with uncertainty and a life
full of possibilities is a choice that we can embrace. And living a determined
life ordered by whatever authority is something we can do away with.
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