Now is not exactly the time I would have predicted for me to develop an interest in my native roots: Texas. Distance has a way of healing old wounds, and soothing inflamed emotions of childhood. Not that I am suddenly enchanted with the state, nor do I have some overwhelming desire to reside there in the near future. But for once I can step back from it and see more nuance in its flavors and offerings.
There are things about me that are still "Texan," in spite of the fact that I did my best to obliterate the markings of my origins when I attended UCLA. Every now and again, particularly when tired or intoxicated, the old twang will come out. And then there is a certain vocabulary and cadence of speaking of which I was not fully aware until later in life. And by the time that I knew of its presence, it seemed somewhat original and interesting to be a liberal, Arabic-speaking, naval officer from Texas. In other words, there was no need to expunge it from speech.
Texas frustrates me. Being from Texas, especially while living abroad, is perhaps even more frustrating. The American stereo-type abroad is the gun-slinging, Wild West, open-plains, horse-riding, cowboy. Texas conjures this image on steroids. It baffled people when I used to exclaim that I did not even own a pair of cowboy boots--a declaration I could make until this past Christmas when my family decided it was high time to give me a pair (and I admit, they are classic, stylish, and gorgeous). Being from Texas while abroad was particularly stressful during the era of George W. Bush. "Oh Texas! Like Bush!" No, not like Bush...though yes, I am from Midland.
But I do not live abroad now. I have lived in the United States for two consecutive years. It is the longest I have resided in my own country since I left in 2009. Maybe this fact has something to do with my new interest in Texas and even America at large. I am a Middle East historian, but for whatever reason it has been interesting to turn my now trained historical eye to all that American history and mythology of my grade school education. Of course, I questioned the myths long before. But, this was my reactionary time--where anything that was part of my origin story I considered to be soiled, immoral, and not something worth being explored. I still have many of these feelings now...but the search for greater depth and understanding now accompanies these other sentiments. Americans are neither more nor less evil than any other people on earth. So why is it that we behave the way that we do?
Lawrence Wright, the author of The Looming Tower, recently published a book about Texas that has provided an epiphany-moment for me. God Save Texas explores parts of Texas that I know well, and other areas that I never noticed nor understood. In the audible version, he reads the book himself, still carrying a slight Texas accent even though he admits that he too was an ashamed Texan who tried to obliterate any accent after he left the state for college. Funnily enough, he too lived in Cairo for a few years--teaching English at AUC. His book is not just an interesting read, it evokes a gut reaction in me. It conjures pangs of understanding Texas as my home, but also suddenly seeing what is familiar in a new light. It is as if someone has finally nailed down in words the sensations that I could never (or have never tried to) put a finger on. It scratches an itch.
But the book goes deeper. I was never really cognizant of the deep literary scene in Texas. Nor, the liberal politics of the region--something the conservatives have done a good job at concealing, especially with redistricting a few years back. I did not realize that Houston was an epicenter of diversity or that it had such a high standard of living. I never understood Dallas's deep reaction to the Kennedy assassination and how it developed over the decades. Apparently, Dallas is one of the most successful cities in the country when it comes to having a low rate of shootings by police, particularly of African Americans. Texas was not even close to being one of the first states to pass open-carry gun laws, even though you might think that it led the charge on such a matter. I know now that I was previously over-convinced by the mainstream narrative that Texas tells about itself--which also feeds into the stereotypes produced and reproduced by non-Texans.
But I have no doubt that Texas is also that place that I ran away from--the one full of crack-pots like Alex Jones and his bombastic Infowars. It is a land with a streak of proud ignorance, no-nothingism, rugged individualism, and paranoia about government that goes one step too far. It is the boom and bust of the oil industry, with money coming fast and furious, producing smug self-assuredness from a bit of luck. Texas, in many ways, resembles the *rentier* economies of the Middle East. Or at least, perhaps Midland does. Or, maybe I am making a sloppy comparison. But I can't help equating all those Latino laborers and man-camps with imported Pakistani workers and others in the Gulf states.
Texas is a place where women's reproductive health is in danger, in spite of anomalies like the fact that Cecile Richards, the daughter of former Texas governor Ann Richards, is the President of Planned Parenthood. It is a place where the lax laws allow me to blaze down roads with 80 mph speed limits. Though mesquite-covered, oil-well spotted, Midland is generally hideous by daylight, I enjoy watching the sunsets over the plains--there are perhaps none prettier. Texas is a land that produces questionable and overtly biased textbooks for schools, and because of its relative size, influences what books will be available in smaller states. It is a land with amazing cuisine, my favorite being that deeply influenced by Latino culture. But, the same white cowboys who eat daily at their favorite Mexican restaurant will continually complain that whites are no longer (or soon to be no longer) the majority. Or they are threatened by the amount of Spanish spoken in their area.
Texas is a land of contradictions. My feelings about it are contradictory and blended. For me, Texas is, and probably always will be, a bitter-sweet conundrum. But my interest, at least for the moment, is peaked.
There are things about me that are still "Texan," in spite of the fact that I did my best to obliterate the markings of my origins when I attended UCLA. Every now and again, particularly when tired or intoxicated, the old twang will come out. And then there is a certain vocabulary and cadence of speaking of which I was not fully aware until later in life. And by the time that I knew of its presence, it seemed somewhat original and interesting to be a liberal, Arabic-speaking, naval officer from Texas. In other words, there was no need to expunge it from speech.
Texas frustrates me. Being from Texas, especially while living abroad, is perhaps even more frustrating. The American stereo-type abroad is the gun-slinging, Wild West, open-plains, horse-riding, cowboy. Texas conjures this image on steroids. It baffled people when I used to exclaim that I did not even own a pair of cowboy boots--a declaration I could make until this past Christmas when my family decided it was high time to give me a pair (and I admit, they are classic, stylish, and gorgeous). Being from Texas while abroad was particularly stressful during the era of George W. Bush. "Oh Texas! Like Bush!" No, not like Bush...though yes, I am from Midland.
But I do not live abroad now. I have lived in the United States for two consecutive years. It is the longest I have resided in my own country since I left in 2009. Maybe this fact has something to do with my new interest in Texas and even America at large. I am a Middle East historian, but for whatever reason it has been interesting to turn my now trained historical eye to all that American history and mythology of my grade school education. Of course, I questioned the myths long before. But, this was my reactionary time--where anything that was part of my origin story I considered to be soiled, immoral, and not something worth being explored. I still have many of these feelings now...but the search for greater depth and understanding now accompanies these other sentiments. Americans are neither more nor less evil than any other people on earth. So why is it that we behave the way that we do?
Lawrence Wright, the author of The Looming Tower, recently published a book about Texas that has provided an epiphany-moment for me. God Save Texas explores parts of Texas that I know well, and other areas that I never noticed nor understood. In the audible version, he reads the book himself, still carrying a slight Texas accent even though he admits that he too was an ashamed Texan who tried to obliterate any accent after he left the state for college. Funnily enough, he too lived in Cairo for a few years--teaching English at AUC. His book is not just an interesting read, it evokes a gut reaction in me. It conjures pangs of understanding Texas as my home, but also suddenly seeing what is familiar in a new light. It is as if someone has finally nailed down in words the sensations that I could never (or have never tried to) put a finger on. It scratches an itch.
But the book goes deeper. I was never really cognizant of the deep literary scene in Texas. Nor, the liberal politics of the region--something the conservatives have done a good job at concealing, especially with redistricting a few years back. I did not realize that Houston was an epicenter of diversity or that it had such a high standard of living. I never understood Dallas's deep reaction to the Kennedy assassination and how it developed over the decades. Apparently, Dallas is one of the most successful cities in the country when it comes to having a low rate of shootings by police, particularly of African Americans. Texas was not even close to being one of the first states to pass open-carry gun laws, even though you might think that it led the charge on such a matter. I know now that I was previously over-convinced by the mainstream narrative that Texas tells about itself--which also feeds into the stereotypes produced and reproduced by non-Texans.
But I have no doubt that Texas is also that place that I ran away from--the one full of crack-pots like Alex Jones and his bombastic Infowars. It is a land with a streak of proud ignorance, no-nothingism, rugged individualism, and paranoia about government that goes one step too far. It is the boom and bust of the oil industry, with money coming fast and furious, producing smug self-assuredness from a bit of luck. Texas, in many ways, resembles the *rentier* economies of the Middle East. Or at least, perhaps Midland does. Or, maybe I am making a sloppy comparison. But I can't help equating all those Latino laborers and man-camps with imported Pakistani workers and others in the Gulf states.
Texas is a place where women's reproductive health is in danger, in spite of anomalies like the fact that Cecile Richards, the daughter of former Texas governor Ann Richards, is the President of Planned Parenthood. It is a place where the lax laws allow me to blaze down roads with 80 mph speed limits. Though mesquite-covered, oil-well spotted, Midland is generally hideous by daylight, I enjoy watching the sunsets over the plains--there are perhaps none prettier. Texas is a land that produces questionable and overtly biased textbooks for schools, and because of its relative size, influences what books will be available in smaller states. It is a land with amazing cuisine, my favorite being that deeply influenced by Latino culture. But, the same white cowboys who eat daily at their favorite Mexican restaurant will continually complain that whites are no longer (or soon to be no longer) the majority. Or they are threatened by the amount of Spanish spoken in their area.
Texas is a land of contradictions. My feelings about it are contradictory and blended. For me, Texas is, and probably always will be, a bitter-sweet conundrum. But my interest, at least for the moment, is peaked.
No comments:
Post a Comment