This semester, I truly appreciated being able to look at a variety of texts through a transnational lens. My understanding of the term itself has changed tremendously from our first discussion to now. While I still believe that the task of distinguishing cosmopolitanism, nationalism, transnationalism, and the global that we attempted in our first discussion will never be less challenging, the understanding of crucial distinctions I have gained do make this task appear much less grueling. Especially interesting were the differences and parallels that were drawn between transnationalism and globalization, as even our literature discussed that there is a fine line and a multitude of differing opinions on defining this distinction. I now understand that this fine line is drawn by the transnational attempt at working ‘beyond’ distinct borders of the nation state, something that is often crucial in discussing globalization. The works we read, including Spanish, German, and English texts, were a transnational combination in and of themselves, while highlighting how these processes occur and interact to create a new forms of meaning.

One of the main texts that has changed the way in how I approach literature from a transnational standpoint is Homi Bhabha’s article on the concept of the ‘third space’, ‘liminal space’ or ‘interstitiality’. While his jargon was quite complex and difficult at times, this idea seems to have struck a chord in my understanding of transnational processes, especially in regards to the creation of meaning and identity. Having previously been exposed to mostly post-colonial theory and criticism, this new notion posits an entirely new way of examining and understanding literature. I no longer consider texts solely in regards to oppression or privilege, though this still may often be the case even in this age. Instead, I am now able to grasp and appreciate that the occurring contact in itself is an exchange. More specifically, I now see this border where opposing cultures, ideas, and forms collide as creating a productive exchange. The liminal or third space in which this occurs is not bound by previous conceptions or schools of thought, but rather creates a space where novel imaginations, identities, and belonging can thrive.

This interstitiality can indeed be applied to every text we have discussed this semester, but I will name just a few here. In Open City, Julius’ past experiences and daily motions contest in this liminal space, giving new meaning to his identity which cannot be placed within the confines of his ancestry, travel, or current location. He narrates his thoughts while engaging in discussions that often transgress beyond ideas of the past, present, and future. In Borderlands, Anzaldua uses language as a means to navigate this third space between her English and Hispanic language. This productive exchange results in a new hybrid language which is an authentic representation of her lived experiences. In Axolotl Roadkill, Mifti is trapped in a space between reality and imagination. She attempts to make sense of her own belonging by interweaving her current situation with an often hallucinatory, but authentic narrative. While all of these texts are products of different languages and cultures, they share the central concept of working outside fixed borders to create new meaning.

Lastly, I believe the exposure and introduction to the digital humanities is something that will shape the way that I approach my academic work. With an undergraduate degree in Communication/German, I had been searching for ways to merge the two fields of my interest and knowledge. That being said, I immediately felt drawn to the ability of combining these two fields. Digital humanities is an emerging field that draws on the ever-increasing prevalence of technology in our lives. It is only natural that we should be discussing and researching the ways in which this affects the collective imagination of people and nations. The ability to draw on large data sets undoubtedly combines well with the humanities, especially in regards to collating large amounts of research. While the tools are fascinating, just a quick glance shows that actually being able to use these tools successful may require much more practice and research.

Overall, I am grateful for having had the ability to enroll in this course. This course would be beneficial for students in any discipline, even outside of the school of languages, as it opens up an entirely new way of thinking about the world and its exchanges of cultural forms, and will undoubtedly shape the way in which I approach my academic work in the future.

At one point or another, I am sure all of us have overheard someone say “I’d rather wait for the movie to come out”. According to Ezra and Rowden, “film is rapidly displacing literature (in particular the novel) as the textual emblematization of cosmopolitan knowing and identity (3). While as a medium it is quite distinguishable from traditional literature, one cannot deny that its transnational appeal may have an even greater outreach than that of a text. Cinema as a medium has become a more prevalent form of exposure to the concept of transnationalism, especially for the younger generations that do not remember a time without television or the internet. Furthermore, as a visual portrayal, the potency of transnational outreach is intensified by expanding accessibility. This semester, we have had a few discussions about transnationalism and privilege in terms of who has access to information and who does not.  In regards to reception, film can thus serve as a means to ameliorate this criticism of privilege based on access which is often encountered in literature, as it mostly does not require literacy or a complex comprehension of lengthy texts.

However, the advantages that film may hold over traditional texts in both transnational production and reception also come with a new set questions and implications. Ezra and Rowden quote Jigna Desai and make a great point about reception by saying that “those films most likely to circulate transnationally are those that are more ‘Western friendly’, adopting familiar genres, narratives, or themes” and thus function “as ‘tasty, easily swallowed, apolitical global cultural morsels’ (6). In terms of production, it is also important to consider Ezra and Rowden’s point that “more heavily financed films tend to cross national borders with greater ease (5). So while film as a medium may increase exposure to a greater audience on a transnational level, these proposed considerations may hamper transnational depictions within the production process itself.

In order to illustrate this point, I would like to use a recent film series in order to demonstrate how both production and reception can be influenced by ongoing transnational discourses, both within and outside of the nation. An example that immediately comes to mind is the Harry Potter series, which gained even greater notoriety after being transcribed into to the world of cinema. For the purposes of this post, I will assume that most have heard of, or are quite familiar with, the Harry Potter franchise. I would like to draw specific attention to a character named Lavender Brown, a fellow Gryffindor in Harry’s year. She plays a minor role in the books, and makes even rarer appearances in the first five Harry Potter films. The ethnicity of her character is never truly specified in the books, and is left largely open to interpretation. However, in her few appearances in the first five films, she is played by an African American (or Afro British) girl, as can be seen below:

This, in itself, did not become controversial until the cinematic version of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (book 6) came out, where viewers suddenly found a completely different actress cast as the character of Lavender. If you take a look at the picture below, it becomes obvious why this casting decision raised numerous concerns:

It becomes apparent that a decision was made to replace Lavender’s previous character with a Caucasian actress. Her role in the series becomes most prominent in this film, as she has a brief relationship with one of the main characters (Ron). It appears that now that she becomes (even briefly) the romantic interest of Ron, the producers of the series assumed an interracial relationship would not be what Ezra and Rowden describe as ‘Western friendly’ or a ‘tasty […] easily swallowed morsel’. They are essentially maintaining their “homogenizing imperative” in order to “neutralize transnational cinema’s more fundamentally destabilizing potential” (Ezra and Rowden 11). Afraid of losing profit due to potentially deconstructing the preconceived notions and imagination of a transnational audience, homogenizing the discourse and relationships within the film seemed of greater importance. In this way, the decision defines the film as one that “narrates the nation as just this finite, limited space, inhabited by a tightly coherent and unified community, closed off to other identities besides national identity” (Higson 18).

This decision is even more so striking, when remembering that Ron and Harry took the Patil twins (two girls of Indian descent) to a grand Ball in the fourth installment of the movie series titled Goblet of Fire. It seems that to the producers, the portrayal of the latter interracial relationships is fine, especially since the twins were essentially what would be considered ‘last resort’ dates for both Harry and Ron. We see an exemplification of the process Higson attributes to certain branches of cinema dealing with ‘foreign commodities’, in that “it will not be treated as exotic, but […] will be metaphorically translated into a local idiom” (19). The ‘foreign commodity’ as a love interest is homogenized to conform to a universal and apolitical imagination in order to prevent loss of profit, while it is seen as perfectly acceptable when the ‘foreign’ or ‘exotic’ illustrated as an object of last resort. So while the possible advantages of transnational cinema over traditional literature in contemporary culture are indisputable, taking a closer look at certain examples can also unearth problematic implications for both the production and reception of transnational discourses within the world of cinema.

The above article appeared in the German Bildzeitung on October 22^nd, 1967, with the headline translating roughly to ‘Eggs against Demonstrators’. The supporting image shows the snapshot of a student protest occurring in the United States. As can be expected from any sensation-seeking tabloid, the global protest phenomenon was described as an “army of opposition… extending to the capital of the United States (Washington D.C.).” It continues to list (mostly peaceful) student demonstrations in cities such as Munich, Paris, Oslo, and Amsterdam.

I specifically chose the above article in an attempt to visually portray that both benefits and limitations can be found in viewing the events of 1968 as a transnational occurrence. After the many discussions we have had thus far on notions of transnationalism, I immediately felt a strong opposition to the thought of historicizing the events that occurred in 1968 into the scope of a single year. Starting with the stark contrast that several scholars place between transnationalism and the advent of globalization, in addition to the heated debate of the role that the past should or should not have in examining the contemporary and beyond, I have come to an understanding of the term ‘transnational’ that includes broad historical contexts and narratives that span across real and imagined borders.

In 1968 in Europe. A History of Protest and Activism, Klimke and Scharloth speak in support of situating the events of this year within the historical framework that led up to what we now collectively call 1968. Above all, they make a valid point in arguing that “The roots of many of these movements reach back to the beginning of the 1960s and the previous decade.” In their opinion, the year 1968 “thus stands as a metaphor used to capture the broad history of European protest and activism “ (Klimke and Scharloth 3). I absolutely agree with positioning these events within a broader historical context; one that shaped the imagination and agency of protestors for years prior. However, a considerable fault can be found in their focus on events that unraveled exclusively in Europe. While historical context plays a large role in understanding the transnational, the movement of ideas across borders may hold the same, if not greater, valence. Klimke and Scharloth do support a semi-transnational framework by mentioning that “Mediated exchange between student organizations from all over Europe lead to a permanent diffusion of ideas (Klimke and Scharloth 4).” However, how ‘transnational’ can such an assumption be without considering the diffusion of such ideas beyond European borders? While the introduction of the internet and rise of social media strongly facilitate imagination and collective identity across borders in the 21^st century, such an exchange is also made possible and demonstrated in 1968 through means of media such as the Bildzeitung. It is crucial to remember that ideas move back and forth between borders fluidly, creating a productive exchange. So just as the German readers of the Bildzeitung gained a sense of transnational unity from the reports of protestors across the globe, consumers of media outside of Europe gained the same sense of solidarity by their consumption of media coverage about the European movement.

While considering 1968 as a sole temporal standpoint has proved problematic as situated above, it cannot be denied that focusing solely on the year 1968 in regards to transnationalism reaps the benefit of giving agency to a collective movement of people sharing similar perspectives. While the idea of agency is not always parallel to choice, these movements and protests transcended borders by standing in a simultaneous opposition to differing oppression. The transnational reality of this movement was further enhanced by what Appadurai coined as the ‘mediascape’. In this context, the above article from the Bildzeitung demonstrates the ability of the media to transform our imagination of reality. The main actors during the 1968 movements found strength in seeing and thus the imagining of social lives and social projects across the Atlantic. Witnessing these other ‘elsewheres’ created a sense of community in protesting injustices on a transnational scale. In Revisiting the Revolution: 1968 in Transnational Cultural Memory, Klimke describes the result of this collective imagination as giving “rise to a collective identity based on political orientation, socio-cultural allegiance and the vaguely defined image of generational cohort” (Klimke 32). Through circulation of these mediascapes, we thus see the imagining and creation of an identity that stands in solidarity against oppression, an identity that transcends both borders and time.

To summarize, it becomes apparent that regarding 1968 as a temporal standpoint in a transnational framework holds both benefits and limitations. The prominence of the year 1968 cannot displace the fact that many vital events occurred prior to, and led up to, the culminating key movements. However, the focus on the events of 1968 also gives this movement an unprecedented agency by understanding how the exchange of ideas across transnational borders facilitated a collective imagination of opposition.

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*For those that may be interested in German media coverage of 1968 events, Axel Springer published a searchable database that includes media coverage, comments, letters to the editor, political cartoons, reports, and interviews from 1966 to 1968. You can find it here.

Anzaldúa’s Borderlands exemplifies the notion of transnational literature and understanding that we seek to understand in our course of the same name. She authors her narrative as a transnational subject in the process of redefining the concept of a ‘border’ identity that is created in those liminal spaces where differing people engage in cultural exchange. For this post, I specifically want to focus on Anzaldúas use of language and the effect it achieves. I firmly believe that she gives a new voice to the understanding of what is means to be both a transnational author and subject, outing her experience in a form of unique self-expression. Her amalgamation of Spanish prose and personal anecdotes with her narrative in English is quite intentional, and she blatantly expresses the need for such a juxtaposition early in the text:

“Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity – I am my language. Until I can take pride in my language, I cannot take pride in myself”… Until I am free to write bilingually and to switch codes without having always to translate, while I still have to speak English or Spanish when I would rather speak Spanglish, and as long as I have to accommodate the English speakers rather than having them accommodate me, my tongue will be illegitimate… I will overcome the tradition of silence” (Anzaldúa 59).

She describes her use of language as a mechanism ‘toward a new consciousness’. This is a solid argument when we take into consideration that culture is created and maintained by the means of storytelling. Hence, relating her culture and experience in strictly the English language when her Spanish and Indian heritage were so intently shaped by the languages she experienced would solely serve to devaluate the authenticity of her lived experiences. As an author of Spanish and Indian descent, the production of a narrative to conform to expectations of an English speaking audience would thus be no more than confirming and accepting the subjugation of transnational identity to that of an English speaking, westernized world.

In this sense, it is not incredulous to argue that Anzaldúa brings into question our own role as students and scholars of transnationalism. We must realize that transnationalism speaks for moving beyond traditional boundaries while examining those areas in between imagined borders that become zones or areas of cultural interrogation. In this case, Anzaldúa contributes to our often discussed idea of so called ‘border zones’ be redefining them as ones that are not limited to fixed spaces between nations. Language becomes the borderland for her, both as a transnational subject and author. It is a boundary between the expected and the lived, the expectation to conform and the reality of lived experiences in need of being legitimized. Her weaving of language and experience of both English and Spanish paints a representation of how liminal spaces are created and negotiated between borders of language. It showcases the exchange between culture and language as a productive one, an exchange that results in a new hybrid identity which cannot be placed within one boundary or another and must be recognized as such.

With that being said, I find it of importance to briefly mention that Anzaldúa not only problematizes this border, but actively attempts to redefine it:

“Subconsciously, we see an attack on ourselves and our beliefs as a threat and we attempt to block with a counter stance. But it is not enough to stand on the opposite river bank, shouting questions, challenging patriarchal, white conventions… At some point, on our way to a new consciousness, we will have to leave the opposite bank, the split between the two mortal combatants somehow healed so that we are on both shores at once and, at once, see through serpent and eagle eyes” (Anzaldúa 78).

While Anzaldúa focuses on a binary opposition between the ‘patriarchal, white’ and her own cultural background and identity, such a clash can be extended to apply to our studies of all transnational literatures. It signifies a first step towards acceptance of ameliorating the dissonance that is dramatically increasing with the advent of globalization and competing fields. It is not dissimilar to the critical position Spivak takes on the growing opposition between area, ethnic, cultural, and comparative literature studies. Relevent here is Spivak’s position that “the proper study of literature may give us entry to the performativity of cultures and instantiated in narrative” (Spivak 13) while still holding an awareness that “crossing borders… is a problematic affair”(Spivak 16). Reading Anzaldúa in this light creates a work that supports Spivak’s position on the cooperation between these formerly divided fields. As Spivak puts it: “we stand outside, but not as anthropologists; we stand rather as reader with imagination ready for the effort of othering, however imperfectly, as an end in itself” (Spivak 13). In other words, being able to fulfill our role as readers and scholars without predetermined expectations highlights the insight one can find in the creation and expression of identity that one would be oblivious to if confined to one specific field of focus. I thus believe that both Anzaldúa’s production of a legitimized identity through interrogating borderlands of language and the reception thereof by us, as readers and scholars of the literature, play an equally important role in our discussion of transnational studies and their role in an ever globalizing context.