(Im)Possibilities

The origin of words is something that is studied extensively through history and as we move further away from them they can sometimes regain their meaning or completely lose them as they age. Like words the idea of one’s own origin can be either realized or left behind as they move through the acts of their life. The origin of ones can be looked at like a seed shape. A seed shape being the beginning of something. That beginning can be thought to be either when a person is born or the life a person leads before beginning a new life. The course concept of culture and one’s background heavily play into some of the stories we read and what one is leaving behind or regaining plays into its foundation. Two pieces of work that go into these kinds of topics would be, “Everyday Use,” by Alice Walker and, “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave,” by Frederick Douglass. When observing “Everyday Use,”  the character Dee can be seen as someone who struggles with her cultural identity as she at first resolves to leave it behind before returning to it later in life. In the “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave,” we witness the retelling of a life that Douglass left behind.

In “Everyday Use,” Dee lives among her family and grows a dislike for the culture she grew up around, eventually leaving home and not returning for multiple years. Dee in her earlier year’s shows a distaste for the life she was currently living as can be seen when her mother made the comment towards her, “Why don’t you do a dance around the ashes? I’d wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much,” (Walker, p.g, 1798). The meaning of these words can be looked at as Dee hating where she came from. The house is almost a representation of a life she doesn’t think suits her and that she wants. Everything Dee represents is so far removed from the humble upbringings that encompassed her childhood, to the nice clothing she demanded for her graduation, to the way she treats her sister as if she are lesser than her. When talking to her sister Maggie she talks as if she can’t understand larger concepts. “”Maggie can’t appreciate these quilts!” she cried. “She’d probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use.”” (Walker, p.g, 1800). Maggie is far more rooted in the cultural upbring that surrounds the quilts that are to be passed down in her family but because they can be used as memorabilia Dee doesn’t seem to understand why they’d ever be used. I’ll further delve into what Dee’s return to culture looks like in the next paragraph but it’s important to note that her idea of culture turns into someone who is on the outside looking in. Even as someone who has personal connections to the history she’s looking at she doesn’t feel any true connection to it. 

In the text Dee is painted as someone who wants nothing to do with her upbringing before she eventually returns to the home she had once lived in. Once returning home she seems to be enthralled with its whole existence. “She stoops down quickly and snaps off picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included,” (Walker, p.g. 1799). The current house that Dee is taking a picture of is almost an exact replica of the previous house that she had hated so much. One could question why Dee would bother including the house when it should remind her of something she never particularly liked. Dee’s return in a way symbolizes her return to origin, or the seed shape. The house, the inhabitants, and what’s inside of it represent her childhood and the culture surrounding it. “”This churn top is what I need”,” “”Mama,” Wangero said sweet as a bird. “Can I have these old quilts?”,” (Walker, p.g. 1800 & 1801). Dee remembers things about her childhood, but actively tried to remove aspects of it from her life. When previously offered the quilts Dee had turned them down, saying they were out of style. Dee’s interest in her background is newly founded and while reconnecting with one’s cultural heritage should be celebrated, Dee wants to use it as some sort of display. “Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. “You just will not understand. The point is these quilts, these quilts!” “Well,” I said, stumped, “what would you do with them?” “Hang them,” she said. As if that was the only thing you could do with quilts,” (Walker, p.g. 1800). When observing Dee’s point of view one could make an argument that she just wants to preserve the quilts as a form of respect but based on how the other characters receive the idea that seems to be out of the norm for their culture. Dee likes the aesthetic of her culture and doesn’t quite understand the inner workings of it. She’s an outsider in every sense of the word that is trying to reconnect but doesn’t seem to want to learn from those who she deems lesser than her.

When looking into the, “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave,” one can gleam a very different perspective of what looking back at one’s background can look like. Douglass was someone who had grown up in and thoroughly experienced the ins and outs of slavery but had escaped it and lived to tell his story. Douglass however when recounting his experience doesn’t do it to reconnect with his background but to help others understand the hardships he had to endure while trying to help other people who were enslaved escape. “I never saw my mother, to know her as such, more than four or five times in my life; and each of these times was very short in duration, and at night,” (Douglass, p.g. 276). Douglass appeals to the heart’s of specifically white women with husbands in power to try and make change in the times he was living in. It was all that he could do when with the color of his skin he was seen as half a person.With a background like Douglass’s, it’d be hard pressed to find a person who would want to return to it, even if it’s just in memories. Many would argue that Douglass has every right to move on from his background and pretend like it doesn’t exist and yet he doesn’t. Douglass recounts every aspect of his life, forfeiting some information as he isn’t in a privileged position to share the full narrative. To Douglass it might have been seen as his responsibility to share his story in order to help free his people and so he relieved it all. In his writing he tends to give a lot of information, so much that you may miss important details. “ I will take to the water. This very bay shall yet bear me into freedom. The steamboats steered in a northeast course from North Point. I will do the same;” (Douglass, p.g. 299). In his writing he takes risks in giving exact instructions for how to escape and yet he takes that risk because he knows that it must be done in order to help others.

Looking back at one’s background and culture is an individual choice that varies from person to person and one may ask why the reason someone does it at all matters. Looking back helps us grow and understand aspects of ourselves, others, and the world around us that we may not have fully grasped before. Doing so for the wrong reasons can damage what we cherish in the end though. With Dee it seems like she ends up hurting others within the narrative with how she sees her heritage as a display piece. She can’t see past how she views her culture and refuses to learn from the people who would most likely know more than her as it doesn’t fit her current life to actually learn properly. Douglass on the other hand does it for very selfless reasons that one may praise him for. There aren’t only two ways to go about looking back at someone’s culture and background but when doing so it’s important to think about why it’s being done.

The concept of the fractal “seed shape,” as explained by Ron Eglash in “African Fractals,” serves as a foundational pillar in understanding the intricate and interconnected nature of African design and culture. Eglash opens chapter one with this explanation of fractal geometry, “Fractal geometry has emerged as one of the most exciting frontiers in the fusion between mathematics and information technology.” (Eglash, 3). In Eglash’s exploration, the term “seed shape” refers to the initial motif or pattern that undergoes self-similar transformations, giving rise to complex and visually stunning fractal patterns. Eglash’s research reveals that African fractals are not just aesthetically pleasing designs but also embodiments of mathematical concepts such as recursion, symmetry, and self-organization. Moreover, his work sheds light on the cultural significance of fractals in African societies, where they are used to convey complex ideas and cultural values through visual representations.

The fractal “seed shape” thus becomes a metaphor for the way in which simple, iterative processes can lead to the emergence of complex and diverse forms, mirroring the organic growth and development seen in nature and human societies. Simply put, a fractal is a shape which is infinite, and is very often seen in nature, and recursively meaning it repeats forever. In this essay, we will focus deeper into the concept of the fractal “seed shape” and explore its implications for our understanding of African design, culture, and mathematics, while also focusing on the specific triangular “seed shape” out of the plethora of ones which exist, and comparing it to our course. 

In regards to the triangular “seed shape”, I believe that our class is, in a way, comparable to the upside down triangle “seed shape”. It starts big and scary, meaning in my case, I have never taken a class like this. Us jumping right in was thrilling and a bit scary for me (but I needed this change). I say “In a way” because I truly do not think we will ever come to the ‘point’ of this triangle, which I see as an end to our learning. Our course could even be compared to the very intricate star Koch curve seed shape, on page 11 of Eglash’s African Fractals. I was overwhelmed with anxiety and happiness to see, first, the in depth module one posted. Not only were we provided a full syllabus and course calendar, but we were given breakdowns of each section which went more into depth. While this is not content based, I wanted to include this observation being that it truly did give off the best first impression which thoroughly continues to shape my interest for this class and the content that comes with it. I also believe that as the class progresses, and we are to encounter more and newer material, we will obviously retain the knowledge in which we have previously acquired. This can be compared to individuals who find it challenging to maintain their cultural identity while assimilating into societal norms. 

There are five components of fractal geometry: Recursion, scaling, self-similarity, infinity, and fractal dimension. The one that I would like to pay explicit attention to is recursion. Recursion is defined as a repetitive process. Eglash states, “We have seen that fractals are generated by a circular process, a loop in which the output at one stage becomes the input for the next. Results are repeatedly returned, so that the same operation can be carried out again. This is often referred to as “recursion,” a very powerful concept.” (Eglash 17). I chose to pull this quote out of the whole paragraph regarding recursion because again, this quote and recursion can be comparable to our course. To any outsiders reading this our Professor, Beth McCoy, for example in our first module on Brightspace states “You’ll be constantly looping back to previous modules and concepts even as the course moves forward.” In addition to this, she also verbally tells us at least once a class to refer back to for example within the past few days, Frederick Douglass’ and Harriet Jacobs’ respective slave narratives, and how Jacobs’ was ‘less believable’ because she was a woman. 

Another text in which we see recursion in, and that we refer back to ourselves is Bernice Johnson Reagon “Nobody Knows the Trouble I See”. In this text, Reagan discusses the plagiarism allegations about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. We spoke of it being dangerous to put people who hold a high standing in the eyes of the public in a sort of heroic view, as its hard to see humans as perfect. This concept itself is recursion, the simple speaking back on Dr King Jr. We looped back to Reagons’ text a multitude of times, where we compared her piece to James Snead’s “On Repetition in Black Culture”.

Through the rest of this semester, my goal is to hopefully have a better idea of which seed shape I associate with this class, because as of right now I see it in two different ways. The concept of a “seed shape” as introduced in Ron Eglash’s “African Fractals” is a metaphor for growth and development in a plethora of ways, but for the sake of this paper, growth in our class. Just like my indecisiveness on where to place this class as a seed shape, it is ever changing.

In any culture, there are deeply embedded traditions that display a sense of meaning in the history of distinctive groups of people. These cultural representations are constantly adjusting according to modern times, yet still remain a reflection of their origin; This idea mirrors a seed shape fractal, which, as paraphrased from author Ron Eglash of African Fractals, is a structure composed of a repeated pattern. Accordingly, one of the most important seed shapes is the expression of African American culture. The adaptability of traditions, such as quilting and song, two large themes instituted in the culture, is representative of the concept of this fractal because the expression of culture is continually built upon. It is not merely as a remembrance of a complex history, but as an important component of modern being.

            African American culture, like any, is rich with complexities. There are many approaches to incorporating history into modern lifestyles and, while there are some buried aspects of culture, there are recognizable customs. One example of this is the practice of quilting. Quilting is both a literal tradition passed through generations, as well as a representation of African American culture as a fractal, in a less literal sense. As taught by Professor Elsa Barkley Brown, a historian who wrote an article on African American Women’s quilting, there is a specific methodology passed down from teacher to student when one learns to quilt; there is a lack of symmetry and an increase in intricate patterns. “… the symmetry in [African American] quilts does not come from uniformity as it does in Euro-American quilts; rather, the symmetry comes through the diversity.” (Brown, 924) There is a distinctness in the activity of quilting. Its descendance through generations signifies a central theme of seed shaped fractals because, not only do quilts often carry the physical components of fractals, but they also tell a tale of history that has been adapted to current generations. In other words, it has been recreated in a contemporary way.

Author Alice Walker wrote “Everyday Use”, a short story that symbolizes the importance of African American culture and quilting, and how the two concepts are interwoven. In the story, it follows three women: a mother and her two daughters. The oldest arrives with a newfound appreciation of her history and desires a quilt that has been passed down through her family. The mother and daughter’s dispute over which sister should obtain ownership leads to the debate over whether an artifact of prior generations, such as the quilt, should remain seen but untouched, or used and recreated if need be. Walker wrote, “’Your heritage,’ [Dee] said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said, ‘You ought to try to make something of yourself too, Maggie. It’s really a new day for us. But from the way you and Mama still live you’d never know it.’” (Walker, 1801) It is clear that there are significant traits that embody culture in this family’s life and it is being adapted to fit into their present lifestyles by the way Dee encourages her younger sister to take her past and make a life from it. The two different approaches to life within this family displays both stagnancy and growth at the same time, similar to the way historical culture is embedded today. This incorporation of history into their current lives allows for stories told by representative objects to impact many generations to come; history remains part of the past, but the pieces that are held onto are both recreated and cherished. Again, stagnancy and growth, together. Ultimately, the seed shape of culture has its origin, then its continual adapted reconstruction. It is built upon and becomes an integral part of modern culture. When applying the concept of quilting to other themes, there may be a production of understanding how themes unrelated to quilting in African American culture all circle back to a main concept in the way a fractal does.

            Another large element of African American culture is song. Throughout history, it has been a call for freedom, the creation of community, and a mode to tell stories. There are many songs that have been passed through generations without modification, or with very little change, and it is the core for many religious and social communions. There are modern poems and songs created more recently that represent both historical struggles and current ones. This is the display of the fractal: the original concept of the music being adapted into modern culture and added onto. Songs are a way to share experiences and tell narratives meaningfully. Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon, a renowned singer, recognized largely in the black community, discussed in an interview the importance of song in African American culture throughout time and contemplated the relationship modern society has with it. There are many who remember the classic freedom songs and, as implied by the concept of fractals, many who cherish those classics and create something new, yet reflective. Reagon’s interview covered her musical group’s, Sweet Honey in the Rock, devotion to sharing black music and existence. Reagon educated her audience on music’s connection to identity, and how it brings people together, now and during a turbulent past. Songs, as subsystem of African American culture, is an important idea concerning fractals because it is such a large part of history. Its ability to tell stories and bring people together in both the past and present creates that sense of a loop or cycle. There is a repetition each time a song is remembered or created because they are all connected in the complex way that the seed shape is.

            African American culture is one of the most important representations of the seed shape because it is a central idea for many less general ideas. That is, culture is a big picture idea that supports many more specific integrations of fractals. Many concepts discussed throughout the course carry themes of traditions passed along through generations and they may be related to the importance of history in modern culture. By connecting future work back to the idea of repetition regarding the expression of African American culture, there may be an evident reflection of modern activity that tells of its origins. Therefore, there may be a better understanding of a multitude of concepts regarding both African American culture and literature.

When thinking of a seed, plants are likely to come to mind; all genetic material needed to form a plant nestled into one tiny tear. The same principle applies to seed shapes of mathematical fractals which are “characterized by the repetition of similar patterns at ever diminishing scales” (Eglash 4). Just as seeds contain the genetic material of the plant, but one could not, at a glance, identify said plant by its As, Ts, Cs, and Gs, the seed shape of a fractal is often lost in its progression. By looking at the smaller elements and perhaps digging a little, however, one may identify the starting point, the connections, and the central movement. The nature of a course containing a wide variety of materials spanning hundreds of years is that there is no singular, central seed shape like the triangle of a Koch Curve; thus recursion also becomes more complex. Ironically, course materials are defined by this tension between simplicity and complexity, the “Twoness of things’” expressed by W.E.B Du Bois, or the threeness and fourness of things as expressed by Bernice Johnson Reagon. 

Tension in this instance is used somewhat loosely. The identification of tension between movements, ideas, and themes is driven by a notion of homogeneousness of culture, which often can be traced back to a white American and European cultural script. Several texts we have reviewed in class reflect this idea, even those well-intentioned such as James A. Snead’s “On Repetition in Black Culture,” which sets a strict line between all of Africa and all of Europe. The idea that difference exists within a cultural framework challenges absolutism and employs the reader to identify context, as well as recognize the misuse of “authenticity,” as a singular way of “performing” culture. Class discussion gave rise to the idea that minority groups are often “not allowed the privilege of multifacetedness” as a result. Evaluation of what first appears to be tension yields complexity and offers deeper insight. 

A small contradiction between texts, and also the first discussed in class, is an aesthetic difference. “African-American Women’s Quilting” focuses on the cultural aesthetic of asymmetry in quilting, of “unpredictability and movement” (Brown 922). She describes “A people’s cultural aesthetic [as] not different from their economic or political aesthetic” (Brown 926), which adds a tremendous amount of weight to the aforementioned aesthetic leanings in African American quilt making. However in Alice Walker’s “Everyday Use,” quilts are described as having a Lone Star pattern and a Walk Around the Mountain pattern. Both patterns are symmetrical, raising a question of authenticity and presenting a false tension. Although the pattern choices may be commentary on assimilation, a central theme in the story, they may also be a contradiction that is not a contradiction at all, but rather a result of differences that occur inside of every group, whether that be aesthetic or contextual, natural or forced. 

Much larger tensions between cultural ideals crop up in Bernice Johnson Reagon’s “Nobody Knows the Trouble I See,” which seems in conversation with Alice Walker’s “Everyday Use.” The tension lies not between the texts themselves, but in the ideals which are addressed. The struggle between assimilation and community and comfort, which Reagon describes as a matter of survival, and “sanity threatening for the elders and the children” (Reagon 113), is addressed in both texts. “Everyday Use” sets a dichotomy between the two, between returning college student Dee’s (or, rather, Wangero’s) views of her childhood home as full of potential decor, and her mother’s view that such items are meant for everyday use. Walker’s description of a churn Dee is determined to take as still being full, still being put to practical use, emphasizes this difference. Reagan, however, also highlights how some may be able to “straddle” this line between cultures that Walker sets as diametrically opposed. Those who straddle “don’t move totally from one place to the other place, but we construct a new network of rules, regulations, and standards that are a shifting blend” (Reagon 115). This presents a new space not addressed in “Everyday Use,” a space in which there is no singular choice between worlds, but instead a third space between. Though the difference between a “home” space and an “other” space remains, the apparent dichotomy becomes more nuanced. 

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave and Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, Written by Herself are often compared. Incidents narrates an experience of slavery unlike Douglass’; Harriet Jacobs contends with sexual violence and the jealousy of her enslaver’s wife, and several chapters and a number of years are spent hiding, (441) compared to Douglass’ more rivoting escape, something which readers lean into. The unimaginable conditions of Jacobs’ 9 by 7 foot hideout in which she “suffered for air even more than for light…was tormented by hundreds of little red insects” (Jacobs 453) and could see her children only through a small hole, was the primary reason it was declared in the white academic world to be fiction. The tension between the narratives, and the differences that lead Doughlass’ narrative to be generally favored, do not delegitimize Jacobs’ experiences, but instead speak to the diversity of horrors of enslavement.  

Both narratives required a preface by a white person, and Incidents was accepted as a true narrative only after the research of a white historian, Jean Fagan Yelliln, was completed, demonstrating how white people must attest to the validity of Black struggles in order for them to be taken seriously. This “looming” that we discussed in class prevented full stories from being told overtly. It prevents both Douglass and Jacobs from naming many individuals in their stories, as they “deemed it kind and considerate towards others” (Jacobs 435). On one occasion, Douglass omits the names of children who helped him learn to read, as “it might embarrass them; for it is almost an unpardonable offense to teach slaves to read in this Christian country” (Douglass 289). The protection of the reputations of people, particularly white people involved in the lives of Douglass and Jacobs, reflects the constant pressure of white publishers, scholars, and a general white audience. 

This looming also leads to a number of creative decisions in regards to audience. Upper class white women were the particular audience for many slave narratives, in the hopes that they might be moved to speak to their power-holding husbands. This can be seen in many places throughout the narratives, such as in how Douglass opens his narrative by telling his audience about how mothers and children were separated, and Jacobs speaks of how her children do not know she is so close to them when she is hiding out in the same house, how she “longed to tell them [she] was there” (Jacobs 452). Targeted also was the fear that they, too, might become like Dr. Flint’s wife, like Mrs. Auld, a “woman of the kindest heart…changed to one of harsh and horrid discord; and that angelic face gave place to that of a demon” (Douglass 287). Decisions made directly to cater to a certain audience demonstrate the friction between author and audience in the case of slave narratives and adds layers to said narratives. 

Module 4’s epigraph is a Lucille Clifton poem asking the question “is there under that poem always//an other poem?” This begs the question: what layers lie beneath surface tension? From questions of aesthetic to assimilation to narrative, beneath tension lies difference, lies context, suffering, and joy. Beneath tension lies a seed shape that is, in and of itself, based in variation. The fractal emerging from such a shape reflects the same purposeful disorder. Questions generated from complexity are new with each text, discussion, and revelation, and, as the fractal continues to grow, it becomes more important to remember the root idea. Taking the next step past the initial cultural script of inauthenticity or confusion is essential in learning within a community of students, where conversation is fruitful above argument.

Fractals are mathematical structures that take a seed shape, or a base shape, and build more of that shape onto itself. Fractals can be used by algorithms to create things or, in culture, it can be used in day to day life. For instance, in African culture, fractals are used in architecture to separate sacred structures from everyday ones. In his book “African Fractals,” Ron Eglash talks about how the more sacred areas or pieces of architecture are placed at the center, and are the seed shape, while everything around it builds off of its structure, the sacredness of the areas decreasing with each layer. However, the idea of fractals can be applied to other aspects of life, such as literature. Literature can be connected through the use of fractals. Key concepts can be applied to several other texts, connecting them through one “seed shape” that is found in these similar texts. This course, African American Literature, involves topics that continually build off of each other, are connecting one to the other, and relate back to the beginning. For this reason, the course works similarly to that of fractals. Whereas in fractals shapes are used to build off of each other to create something, in this course, our texts and writings are connected to each other by, and are built on, key concepts. These key concepts, therefore, become our seed shape.

When approaching literature, it is important for people to read with an open mind, and be aware of what is being laid out for them. People can turn a reading into something it’s not, by being unaware of the author’s intentions. Furthermore, people can glance over important details that the author strategically places for the readers. For this reason, it takes close reading skills to be fully aware of what is being laid out for you in the text. This is also why it was so important to use close reading when approaching texts such as “Bloodchild” by Octavia Butler, “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave” by Fredrick Douglass, and “Everyday Use” by Alice Walker. These readings are made up of sensitive text, and therefore it is important to have awareness of what you are reading, and understand how to interpret it. 

Octavia Butler’s “Bloodchild” is a science fiction story about humans on another planet, where a family is owned by a bug-like creature called T’Gatoi. Although there are many different ideas for why the story was written or what its underlying meaning is, there are a few parts of this story that some people may think could hint towards the story being about slavery. For example, the T’Gatoi has ownership of the family. If they ask something of someone in the family, they do it with no questions asked. Furthermore, the older brother in this text attempts to run away, but fails to do so because there is nowhere left to go. Lastly, the T’Gatoi withholds essential information about the future of the main character’s life involving pregnancy and the contents of becoming pregnant. These three components of this story correlate with many stories about slavery, and for this reason it may be easy for some to assume that it is about slavery. However, this story is followed by the afterword, in which the author explains their intentions for writing the story, and what the main idea is versus what it is not. And Butler explains that this story is not, in fact, about slavery. In her afterword, Butler says “It amazes me that some people have seen “Bloodchild” as a story of slavery. It isn’t. It’s a number of other things, though”(Butler, 30). There are those who would read “Bloodchild” and interpret it as a story about slavery, but because they would not take advantage of the information available and laid out to them, they interpret the text incorrectly. This is just one example underlying the importance of being aware of the information provided to you.

Another example of this key concept is in the “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave” by Fredrick Douglass. In this text, Douglas shares his experiences when he was a slave. In his text, Douglass claims to keep information from his readers about how he escaped from slavery, specifically the path he took. The readers, myself included, may have been disappointed in this withholding of information, despite his efforts to make sure people could still use that route to escape by keeping the route a secret. However, Douglass does, in fact, provide this information for his readers. “I will take to the water. This very bay shall yet bear me into freedom. The steamboats steered in a northeast course from North Point. I will do the same; and when I get to the head of the bay, I will turn my canoe adrift, and walk straight through Delaware into Pennsylvania. When I get there, I shall not be required to have a pass; I can travel without being disturbed”(Call and Response, 299). The readers may pass over this text, as he is describing what he would do if he were to escape, but in reality he is explaining the route he took when he escaped. Douglass provided this information to the reader, hiding it in his text. This is another example of why it is important to pay attention to the text, and be aware of what the author is providing in their text.

My last example of this key concept is in “Everyday Use” by Alice Walker. This story is from a mother’s perspective when her eldest daughter comes home to visit her mother and sister. However, when she returns, she is different. She is dressed differently, and she changed her name, saying she doesn’t want to be “named after the people who oppress me”(Call and Response, 1799). She asks for her grandmother’s quilts that were supposed to be given to her younger sister to use for what they were made for, but she wants to hang them up in her house. In this text, the older sister is depicted as being ungrateful, and wanting to escape her biological culture. However, what the text doesn’t show is the struggles of a Black American woman trying to assimilate to the culture around her, as well as remain true to Black culture. The readers are provided with only the mother’s perspective, and she is an unreliable narrator. For this reason, it is important to be aware of who is telling the story that you are reading, and whether or not that narrator is reliable. This is once again an example of the importance of being aware of what is available and given to you, and to make your own conclusions about the text instead of relying on the original narration. 

This key concept matters because it can apply to future texts, as well as other aspects in life. Though it is very important to be aware of the information given to you in texts, whether that means taking advantage of what the author is giving you or being aware of who is narrating a story, it is just as important to apply this concept to everyday life. It is also important to be aware of what people say, where you get your information, who is giving information, etc. Not everyone is reliable, and at the same time, it is important to look closely at and pay close attention to what people say. Therefore, the idea of being aware of what is laid out for you is an important key concept when reading as well as in real life.

When first introduced to N.K. Jemisin’s novel The Fifth Season, I did some light research. I quickly found that it was a science fiction text. I had very little knowledge of science fiction, so I dug for a little more information. As defined by Dartmouth Libraries, science fiction is defined as “stories involving conflicts between science and technology, human nature, and social organization in futuristic or fantastical settings.” (Dartmouth Libraries, 2024) As I began engaging with the text, I found this definition to be true of what I had been reading, but soon realized this text was much more than imaginative and futuristic concepts. Themes of power, oppression, and prejudice began to emerge that parallel the real world.

            Jemisin uses orogenes, people who have power to control seismic events, to portray hierarchies and inequalities very similar to the ones that surround us. The Fifth Season takes place on a continent referred to as The Stillness, where seismic activity occurs regularly. Throughout the text, we meet several orogenes who face discrimination for their powers, typically from “stills”, those who do not have powers. Non-orogenes fear orogenes and view them as monster-like creatures. Non-orogenes are taught to view orogenes as threats to society and feel as though they have the right to hurt them if that is what is deemed necessary to protect others from orogenes powers. However, there are even inequalities within the orogenes that seem to be represented in a hierarchy.

            As far as racializing we see amongst orogenes and stills, one prime example creates the overall plot for the text. Jija, a non-orogene, killed his own son Uche after finding out he was an orogene. We see this on page 58 when it says, “these people killed Uche. Their hate, their fear, their unprovoked violence. They. (He.) Killed your son. (Jija killed your son.)” We see the prejudice in this quote as the words “hate” and “fear” are used to describe non-orogenes feelings towards orogenes. Uche was killed due his ability to control and create seismic events. This control over something that seems incontrollable allows non-orogenes to feel threatened in their society, causing them to react through violence.

We see another instance of discrimination against orogenes when Syenite and Alabaster, both orogenes, are sent on a mission to remove coral for non-orogenes. While on this mission, Syenite and Alabaster converse with the deputy governor of Allia, a community on the shore of The Stillness, named Asael. Asael speaks with the orogenes as people beneath her. The orogenes are told to make stills feel safe. However, Syenite quickly becomes frustrated by the lack of respect she is receiving from Asael. (Duerheimer, 2024) Syenite says, “And yet you haven’t shaken our hands, Asael Leader. You didn’t look us in the eye when we first met. You still haven’t offered that cup of safe that Alabaster suggested yesterday” (215). It is clear that Asael is leery of the orogenes, too afraid to touch them and look them in the eye. While this is an interaction between one still and two orogenes, Asael’s biases are learned and reflect those of the other stills in her community. Therefore, while this is an interpersonal example of inequality, it stems from something much deeper, structural inequality imbedded within the society. (Duerheimer, 2024)

            Beyond non-orogenes discrimination for orogenes, there are even inequalities amongst orogenes themselves. The hierarchy of orogenes is based on rings. Orogenes can work up to ten-rings. The more rings one has, shows the deeper level of control they have over their power. Due to these levels, one-ring orogenes are often treated beneath ten-ring orogenes. Orogenes often reside in the Fulcrum. The Fulcrum is much like a military boot camp that trains orogenes to control their powers. Orogenes who just enter the Fulcrum are referred to as “grits.” Grits are referred to as “…an unimportant bit of rock ready to be polished into usefulness, or at least to help grind other, better rocks—“ (191). Here, Jemisin uses a metaphor connecting geology to inequality. Grit refers to sand sized grains and small pebbles. The “newbie” orogenes are viewed as something that does not consist of much substance yet, but with training and control can be morphed into something much stronger and useful. In this hierarchy, groups have specific roles that they are to follow. Hierarchies limit freedoms and promote inequalities amongst the orogenes causing problems to arise if anyone chooses to rebel.

            Overall, we see Jemisin create a text where orogenes are racialized by their powers. Orogenes powers are what marginalize them from the rest of the those on The Stillness because fear of them is embedded deep within the society. In the course epigraph, a particular line from Geraldine Heng resonated with me as I read The Fifth Season. It reads, “My understanding, thus, is that race is a structural relationship for the articulation and management of human differences, rather than a substantive content.” Throughout the novel, orogenes were put in a box as something that was to be feared. Non-orogenes used this ideal of orogenes to structure their thoughts and lives. By non-orogenes treating orogenes as less than human, they are able to remain in power. Therefore, while I do believe non-orogenes were taught to fear orogenes for their powers, the ultimate reason they continue to view them as less than is to keep their society and power structures in order. If non-orogenes ideals of orogenes shifted, power dynamics and hierarchies would change, sending people into a time of disorder. This relates back to Hang’s quote because orogenes are discriminated against not because of “substantive content,” but because it is a way manage human differences to create order within a society.

            Jemisin writes this text not to make an interesting novel, but instead to parallel the real world. By using orogenes as a marginalized group, readers can digest the text and view the discrimination occurring in a way that refrains from bias. By embedding themes of power, oppression, and hierarchy into a fictional text about orogenes, readers are able to read through a lens with limited preconceived notions. (Duerheimer, 2024) Similarly to how orogenes are viewed as less than non-orogenes to keep order, in the real-world, society perpetuates racism by giving some more powers than others. While it may not be everyone’s intention, structural racism continues to occur because of a desire to keep order. Giving some power and putting down others creates a sense of order that society feels as though they need. To change that hierarchy or power structure, small changes would not be effective. Instead, the entire system itself would need to be rebuilt.

References

Duerheimer, A. Hughes, L. Laughlin, G. Lepsch, V. Licata, A. (2024) ‘ENGL 111 Mini Collaboration 1’. SUNY Geneseo. Unpublished Paragraph.

Hall, L. M. (2022, May 23). Research Guides: Film Genres: Science fiction. Researchguides.dartmouth.edu. https://researchguides.dartmouth.edu/filmgenres/scifi

Jemisin, N. K. (2016). The fifth season : the broken earth. book one. Orbit.

As we look at the concept of recursion, Eglash guides us in African Fractals through what a seed shape truly is—a loop that goes on carrying the result from the last phase onto the next. Eglash makes us attuned to what seems to be an endless process that produces a shape that may be simple or complex and self-similar or differing. In a sense, a leading seed shape of the course that shows up repeatedly is spoken tradition as a way of liberation. Black poets, singers, and artists use their chosen forms to free themselves in the face of anti-Blackness.

Toni Morrison once stated in an essay from Self-Regard, “Black Matters,” how inclusion within the traditional literary canon would open a world where “all of the interests are vested” (Morrison 170). In an essay, “Literature and Public Life,” thereafter Morrison says literature asks us to experience ourselves fully as “multidimensional persons” (Morrison 104). So we keep the thought in mind and when we read the words of W.E.B Du Bois and Bernice Johnson Reagon, it becomes clear to us how song as a method, in whatever form it takes, has been used to resist suffering. 

If we turn to Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois moves us through his commentary with paratextual music sections that flow easily with what he suggests on spiritual strivings. The speaker thinks of his experience in the shape of a vast veil as he is isolated from the rest, “[t]hen it dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing, but shut out from their world by a vast veil” (Du Bois 738). A longing that is later presented as contempt for the White society on the other side, which fades into the realization that he and other Black youth are held down by the society. Du Bois goes on to discuss the two-ness of self concept for Black people, which causes them to constantly fluctuate between how they see themselves as White and Black society does. The inclusion of songs is used to introduce the tone of the experience that Du Bois is about to share. For instance, as we read aloud Symon’s poem/song, we hear the struggle and emotion associated with the time. Though, the repetition of mourning and ache in the outcry implies there isn’t much resolution to what is felt and endured, the idea that one can contend for freedom is a hope itself. 

In the class notes from February 12th, Professor McCoy reminds us that the “sorrow songs” as Du Bois calls them resemble Reagon’s “freedom songs,” of which the song leader says they are often about love and resistant effort, but as much about the internal process as the expression. In The Songs Are Free, Reagon suggests that there is a commitment that comes with the song that Black folks engage in as she represents the practice one does if they “start to run the sound through [their] body,” it goes separate from how they would decide it would, but it was that “[they] get together and sing to do this to the body.” A greater purpose in the sound is how to get to the act of singing. The singing belongs to you as much as it means to me and us. Yet Reagon doesn’t ignore a concern people have with the tradition’s future that figures without the song, Black narratives would not get to the next phase of society. It is then apparent how the song makes way for layers of experience and self-inquiry along with the embrace of a larger group. Reagon frequently refers to singing in the way that it nurtures the African American experience while it furthers reverence and gratitude for the life before us. When she says, “you cannot sing a song and not change your condition,” we are reminded of the significance of these spirituals as they adhere to the cultural “call” to alter what position they find themselves in. Reagon tells us of the world that resonates about “[Black people’s] specialness in the universe” when they have the access to their own voices. Often the most spirited thing to do in the face of violence and cruelty is provoking the structural powers that suppress one’s freedom, for demanding freedom is “the most-the highest risk” to have the chance of it. 

In these texts and others that have informed us of the African American literary tradition, we see references to Call-and-response; such a form that encourages a community by calling upon all people involved. The repetitive interaction emulates what we saw with African fractals, which were brought into effect by the “circular process…referred to as ‘recursion,’ a very powerful concept” (Eglash 17). A dimension of power found in the seed shape of song is its ability to affect the receiving end, partly depending on the singer’s knowledge of it or not; it has value that writers know their readers and listeners closely enough that it may be more than what they are aware of. Here, Gerard Genette’s notion of the paratext comes through as we unknowingly superimpose our own ideas of what song is and means, of what territory should be and conveys. Paratext assumes a process embedded in another —much like when we read, our own thoughts precede and interrupt the words, or lay underneath affecting us. The effect Reagon states in Nobody Knows the Trouble I See, is quite the intentional move of a writer, “[w]ithin African-American culture, there is a very high standard placed on the moment when one not only makes a solid statement of the song or the sermon, but the offering is given in one’s own signature” (Reagon 118). On that same note, in the interview with Reagon, she proposes that the exercise of song for the body is a part of the culture solely because the culture believes it is critical to being a developed person. Whether by personal and structural need, Black artists know how their work can be affective (felt) by employing the power of subtlety in other spoken word. And though the response is mostly expected, it is from this need that the call for it makes itself known to us. 

When we proceed to look for the importance of the seed shape within the literature, we find it right in front of us. It is the Call-and-response we are involved in by interacting with the texts. Seeing how said shape varies not just in its look, but also how it is read and iterated onto the next form challenged what I had thought about songs and more generally art in all of its purposes. Based on what is represented to us as an image of a repeated pattern, we see it as such and become accustomed to how it seems to be. So I’m left knowing that a handful of stories I may have encountered thus far and I tried to reach true understandings of were heavily influenced by who told me them regardless.

I mostly think about the saying that goes something like, if you want a new outcome, change the algorithm as well as Lauryn Hill’s speech from 2000 where she states to “think in doses, think in experiences, and don’t be afraid of experiences that teach you.” With the rest of our course, I want to test what I thought I knew about the literature alone, I want to test the understandings I currently have and had on narratives and movements within a story. I wonder about the ways in which Call-and-response could not just adhere to spoken or literary traditions, but also other traditions and forms within vast cultures we can learn from and almost infinitely.

Google document including Works Cited

The concept of a Fractal “seed shape” stems from Ron Eglash in “African Fractals” which refers to a fundamental geometric form or pattern that serves as the basis for the generation of intricate fractal structures. Fractals are geometric shapes and patterns that repeat at different scales, displaying similarity, meaning that each part of the fractal looks similar to the whole when magnified. Fractals can be as simple as a straight line or as complex as a pattern. In the case of seed shape fractals, the pattern replicates branching structures and curves like nature and natural seed formations. These fractals are typically generated using iterative mathematical equations or algorithms. The process is repeatedly applying a transformation of shapes, which, as a result, creates complex, self-replicating patterns. The level of detail and complexity in seed shape fractals can vary depending on the specific algorithms. In literature, seed shapes are present and help create growth and technique. In my opinion, I believe that recursion is a fundamental concept that we discussed in class. In Ron Eglash’s words, “a sort of feedback loop, with the end result of one stage brought back as the starting point for the next.”(Eglash, African Fractals). Within a seed shape, recursion occurs because one shape is the start of the next, and so on.

Recursion in African American literature, particularly in the context of “seed shape,” can be interpreted through various lenses. In class, we experience recursion every time we start a conversation on the topic of our previous class and use those ideas to lead into the current class topic of the day. We experience this every class, but it is never acknowledged as recursion. Life as well constantly consists of recursion, and it never stops. As said before, recursion can be seen as a pattern of repetition or self-reference. Similarly, systems of racial oppression and injustice can exhibit recursive patterns, perpetuating themselves through cycles of discrimination, bias, and unequal power dynamics. Patterns of oppression often have deep historical roots that perpetuate over time. For example, systems of slavery and colonialism have had long-lasting effects on societies, creating recursive patterns of disadvantage for certain racial groups that persist across generations. Within the idea of racial injustice and oppression for recursion, there is a psychological part of it. Individuals who experience racism and oppression may internalize these experiences, leading to recursive patterns of self-doubt, low self-esteem, and limited opportunities. This psychological recursion can further establish injustice. 

Patterns of oppression often have deep historical roots that perpetuate over time. For example, systems of slavery and colonialism have had long-lasting effects on societies, creating recursive patterns of disadvantage for certain racial groups that persist across generations. In our readings, we discussed these issues. In “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl” by Harriet A. Jacobs, recursion is constantly considered. Jacobs explores the recurring themes of oppression and the desire for freedom throughout the narrative. These recurring themes throughout the autobiography start the struggles that Harriet Jacob faced. These themes are echoed in various episodes of her life, such as her attempts to resist sexual advances, her struggles as a mother to protect her children, and her eventual flight to the North to secure her freedom. Repeatedly, Jacobs emphasizes how enslaved individuals resisted their oppression, whether through acts of defiance, escape attempts, or efforts to maintain their dignity and autonomy in the face of dehumanizing conditions. Jacobs often parallels her experiences and those of other enslaved individuals. For example, she compares her relationship with her master to that of other enslaved women, highlighting the recurring patterns of exploitation and abuse. The institution of slavery perpetuates itself through generations, with enslaved individuals often experiencing similar hardships and injustices as their predecessors. This pattern reinforces the systemic nature of slavery and the challenges faced by those looking to break free from its bonds. By implementing recursion, a narrative structure that reinforces the central themes and experiences depicted in “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl,” provides readers with a deeper understanding of the impact of slavery on individuals and communities. 

Not only does racial injustice occur in “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl”  but also in “Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglass”. In class, we used recursion when discussing these autobiographies; it started with Fredrick Douglass and used his ideas and concepts to move into Harriet Jacobs. This representativeness was a matter of pain and harm because the experiences of enslaved people were not the same. This repetition and expansion reinforce the narrative’s central messages and provide a more comprehensive understanding of Douglass’s life and the institution of slavery. Douglass’s reflections on his growth and development could be seen as a form of personal recursion. As he recounts his journey from slavery to freedom, he frequently reflects on his past experiences and the lessons he has learned along the way. This process of self-reflection and self-examination can be likened to a recursive loop, as Douglass continually revisits and builds upon his thoughts and experiences.

Seed shapes serve as the foundation upon which fractals are built, representing the initial element from which recursive iterations unfold. Recursion in African American literature, particularly in the context of “seed shape,” can be interpreted through various lenses.  As said before, recursion can be seen as a pattern of repetition or self-reference. Similarly, systems of racial oppression and injustice can exhibit recursive patterns, perpetuating themselves through cycles of discrimination, bias, and unequal power dynamics. There are many new things to consider for the rest of the semester. In class, we experience recursion every time we start a conversation on the topic of our previous class and use those ideas to lead into the current class topic of the day. We experience this every class, but it is never acknowledged as recursion. The idea of recursion will be fresh in my mind for the remainder of the semester. I will always try to connect everything together with what we have learned. 

When I was in elementary school, my sixth grade teacher introduced me to my first ever seed shape in the form of a plot diagram. It’s a simple looking shape: two horizontal lines with a triangle in between them, representing the five stages of a plot. Starting on the left straight line is your exposition. How will your story begin? Where will it take place? Who are your characters? Then, as you start to climb up the triangle, you find yourself embarking on your rising action. Things are getting exciting. You’re building up to something big. Then, before you know it, you find yourself on the very tip of the triangle. The peak. Your climax. This is when things are at their most intense. From here, the only way you can go is down, so you find yourself in your falling action. This is when your story starts to wrap up any loose ends, before leveling back out on a horizontal line, and arriving at your resolution, or end. This seed shape was always very helpful for me. I used it to write my own stories, and to place other author’s stories into points on the diagram. I felt comforted by the seed shape. I knew what to expect, and roughly when to expect it. But what happens when authors tell a true story? Can a person’s real life mold into a predictable shape? When dissecting two slave narratives, “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave” written by Fredrick Douglass and “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl” by Harriet Jacobs, I tried to do just that. 

Frederick Douglass’s narrative begins in the way most slave narratives do; “I was born…”. This beginning, or exposition, sets the scene on a young Fredrick Douglass, living in Maryland. Douglass was born enslaved. At this point, I would like to introduce another seed shape. Imagine a dome is drawn over the triangle seed shape. On the left side, at the first point of our dome we have “order”. Then arching over our triangle to the right side is our final point: “order restored”. In the middle is “disorder”. Young Fredrick being enslaved is considered “order” during this time period in the south. Now, as Douglass moves away from his exposition of childhood, and up the triangle in his rising action, we are approaching “disorder”. Douglass’s rising action is when he moves to Baltimore and embarks on a journey to learn to read and write. This was discouraged, since white people were scared that once enslaved people learned how to read and write, they would become “unmanageable”, “unhappy” and begin to fight against slavery. Mr. Auld, Douglass’s enslaver at the time, said in response to Douglass learning to read, “It would forever unfit him to be a slave. He would at once become unmanageable, and of no value to his master. As to himself, it could do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It would make him discontented and unhappy.” (Douglass 287). This takes us to our climax of the narrative. Learning to read and write empowered Douglass, just as Mr. Auld feared. He wanted to fight, and he did. He fought his next enslaver, Mr. Covey. “I resolved to fight; and, suiting my action to that resolution, I seized Covey hard by the throat; and as I did so, I rose.” (Douglass 302). The decision to fight Mr. Covey is an intense part in Douglass’s narrative, and fits into the “disorder” portion of the diagram because of Douglass’s act of rebellion. Douglass wrote, “This battle with Mr. Covey was the turning point in my career as a slave.” (Douglass 302). We have now reached the turning point on our triangle, which takes us to the falling action. The falling action in this narrative is when Fredrick Douglass puts a plan to run away into action. Douglass’s plan to escape first fails, landing him in jail, thus resulting in more “disorder”. It is not until his second attempt, that he successfully makes it North to New Bedford, which is our resolution and “order restored”. Douglass’s arrival to the North is considered to be “order restored” because the entire narrative leads up to this moment of freedom.

Harriet Jacobs’ slave narrative can also be plotted on the triangle seed shape. We start the same as Douglass with, “I was born…”, where Jacobs shares that she was born enslaved, and hadn’t realized for her first six years of life, due to her childhood being a relatively happy one. This narrative (like Douglass’s) starts on the side of “order”, and begins with the exposition of a young Harriet (who calls herself “Linda” in the narrative), born into slavery. Our rising action, and beginning of “disorder”, is when Jacobs’ “kind mistress sickened and died.” (Jacobs 436). After Harriet’s “kind mistress” died, she became enslaved to Dr. Flint’s daughter. Dr. Flint was not a good man, and he took advantage of Harriet sexually. This takes us to our climax. In a chapter titled “The Jealous Mistress”, we see how Dr. Flint’s wife’s jealousy affects Harriet. “She felt that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had no compassion for the poor victim of her husband’s perfidy. She pitied herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed.” (Jacobs 442). The watchful, jealous eye of Mrs. Flint, along with the sexual abuse of Dr. Flint eventually led to Harriet having children with a white man named Mr. Sands, due to a desperate desire to be free of the Flints. Shortly after having the babies, Harriet decides to run away. Our falling action is when Harriet runs away and stays hidden in the crawlspace of her grandmother’s house for seven years. Eventually, when the opportunity and help arose, Harriet takes a boat North, thus escaping enslavement and finding freedom, giving readers a resolution and “order restored”. 

This exercise of putting true narratives about real people into plots on a seed shape diagram got me thinking. Can real lives truly be placed so neatly onto this triangle seed shape? The answer is both yes and no. Yes, I can plot an “exposition” to my own life, but there are so many beginnings to choose from. I could start with my own birth, or perhaps my first day of high school or college. Where you start your story changes the trajectory of your points on the shape. Depending on where I start and end my story, my rising action, climax, and falling action are all different. If I start my story at birth and end at my own death, there is guaranteed to be more than one rising action, more than one climax, more than one falling action, some even going on at the same time. It becomes a repetitive, fractal-like pattern that continues to go up and down through the ebbs and flows of real life. Ron Eglash defines fractals as being “characterized by the repetition of similar patterns at ever-diminishing scales.” (Eglash 4). Imagine off of every straight line, another triangle appears carrying the same points: rising action, climax, falling action; repeating infinitely. Life, like fractals, are repetitive. One’s life could not completely be summed up if using just one triangle seed shape. We have multiple seed shapes going on in multiple directions, infinitely, since our lives are long, complex, and can not be summed up perfectly on one plot with only 5 plot points. We need fractals; we need infinity. By saying all of this, I mean to point out that the authors of these narratives picked where to start and end their story, which was their birth to their freedom. Had the narratives continued past freedom, the triangle seed shape would go on, with new rising actions, new climaxes, new falling actions, and a new resolution. Life was not perfect, and order was not fully restored when Fredrick Douglass and Harriet Jacobs made it to the North. There were still struggles, there were still obstacles to be overcome. Their lives, stories, and legacies do not stop when their narratives reach their resolution; their hardships are not limited to the ones they chose to share; they go on much further and much longer, with lots more “disorder” in the middle.