Junot Diaz Writer,Activist,Teacher

Author: Yvonne Chen

"The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted so tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don't belong to English though I belong nowhere else." So opens "Drown," a collection of short stories by Junot Diaz highlighted at a reading and lecture by the Dominican writer, activist and teacher held last Tuesday, April 30. The Alianza Latinoamericana y Caribena (ALC), Organizacion Latinamericana y Espanola (OLE), the Office for Institutional Diversity, Political Science Department and Ross Commons sponsored the presentation.

In "Drown," the main character is a young man named Yunior whose negativity and rebelliousness is blamed on his abusive father and his naive conceptions of the American dream. Beset with instances of racism and poverty, these stories tell of his youth in both the Dominican Republic and his struggles with alienation and dislocation as an immigrant in New Jersey.

Through harsh, vivid and unconventional language, Diaz presented readers with the life of Yunior, inside of a group of impoverished Latinos. Called the "ghetto writer" by some critics, Diaz is known for his disregard for English grammar. His use of blatant curses, Spanish interjections, lack of quotation marks and failure to start new paragraphs forces the reader into an emotional bond with Yunior.

At the same time the author challenges America's tendency to suppress outside cultures. In doing so, Diaz's vulgarity brings a new set of aesthetics to the activist drama of his work. It shocks the reader into the experience of rough life in the ghetto. As a result it reiterates Diaz's political causes and exposes the delusion of the American Dream.

After reading excerpts from "Drown," Diaz answered questions from the audience. Diaz presented his personal philosophy about all things great and small — all of which linked back to his writing. When asked what was his favorite comic, he responded, "I learned how to write about Latinos in a comic called 'Love and Rockets.' It was an alternative to the major types of literature available, which was either one of two types — 'I'm the drug dealer, written by people who never sold a nickel of sugar to anyone' or the multi-generational mother's story. Diaz explained that this comic about two Chicano rockers from Los Angeles was unlike anything he had ever read. The comic rose above the flat characters that were more often than not mainstream stereotypes conceived by the majority.

Inspired by this, Diaz's own writing aims to present more representational experiences of what the majority of Latinos actually face. You'll find symbolic portrayals of family life in "Fiesta 1980," as Yunior expresses his inability to accept a new volkswagon after having his hopes broken by abuse: "Brand new and lime green and bought to impress, Oh we were impressed, but me, every time I was in the VW and Papi went above 20 miles an hour, I vomited … that van was my curse. Mami suspected it was the upholstery. In her mind, American things … have an intrinsic badness about them."

Meanwhile, Professor of Spanish Eduardo Bejar posed the question "What is your definition of Latino?" To this, Diaz ambiguously responded, "Can anybody? I'm not being facetious." The writer continued to explain how in the 1950s and still today a similar controversy surrounds the word "black" in the African American community. Instead of defining the term, Diaz admited that it is inherently self-referential and the closest that one comes to a clear definition is when Latinos find themselves having to interact with each other in the bounties of a new land.

Still Bejar argued that as a Latino bombshell Diaz's use of the term provokes a major responsibility for its definition. But Diaz could only give his open-ended version: "My sense of it is … I prefer it over Hispanic. Conservatives love the word Hispanic. Latino has playfulness about it and I use it describe a group that is impossible to fully describe. A group that in not stable in any way, that is in the process of changing. It describes the people residing in the U.S. from these [Latin American] countries. It is not final but clearly we are something."

Diaz also reiterated that he could not speak for the whole community, as he was just one individual.

After much debate, Diaz stayed with a few students to talk. Speaking both in Spanish and English, his laid back composure and genuine voice exuded affability. One student asked him about his visit earlier in the day to Visiting Lecturer in Writing CatherineWright's Writing Across Differences courses. The class focuses on issues of diversity, multi cultural identity and race relations here on campus.

After giving his presentation, two African-American students challenged Diaz's cursing, suggesting that this aspect of his identity perpetuated bad stereotypes against minorities. Diaz responded with a chuckle. He then explained, "These students have what is called a narcissistic wound. Something has harmed them in the past and as a result of this harm they can't detach themselves from the universe ... As for me — I'm mired. I'm a sucker for the people who live around me [where] nine out of 10 is a bad-ass who uses curses."

Proving always to be himself, Diaz contiuned, "What's terrifying about that is that the people only took offense to my cursing. Nobody took offense of what I said about Foucault. Nobody had a problem with the more accepted intellectual aspects of my personality. It's because they only want to see the perfect simple aspect. They never want to see the complex."

Citing a sociological imperial gaze, he said, "I'm a stereotype to them because they are insecure … about those aspects of poverty and things linked to their community and homes. They are only comfortable with things that represent the white community.

"If you're uncomfortable when they come now, you gonna feel it when you come into my environment," he continued.

After around five minutes of discussing this incident Diaz confidently argued against these displaced students' sensitivity towards his method of communication. "Anybody who is intolerant can pretend all they want. Whether that they are punks or nerds, but everybody knows that you are in college because you're a nerd," he said.

ALC member Melissa Liriano, who is both in the class and spoke to the fellow Dominican, said, "He's not a conventional speaker."

Not in the least. I would not be exaggerating when I say that Diaz, who is also professor of creative writing at Syracuse University, caused a ruckus when he came here to this close knit liberal arts school in the middle of Vermont. He challenges convention. Whether through his writing, his activism or just a casual conversation, Junot Diaz challenges our own identities and our interactions with one another.

Not surprisingly, the 27-year-old novelist has already been called by some one of "America's brightest young writers." The New Yorker has named him one of the "20 Writers for the 21st Century" in addition to being honored with the Pushcart Prize and a Guggenheim Fellowship.