© Please note: Glenda Mae Green owns the copyright for the dissertation below. You may download and print one copy for educational purposes only. These pages may not be duplicated, distributed, redistributed or republished in any manner without express permission from the author.
On Thanksgiving eve 1989 a petite 20-year-old walked into my
office for the first interview. Jade had graduated from high school
two years before, recently returned from a year of college in
France, and was then a sophomore psychology major. Before the
interview began, she regaled me with the delightful and sometimes
catastrophic mechanics of preparing for a field trip to South
Africa the following week.
Jade had worked with me for three of her five high-school years.
She had heard about my plans for this study during a class which
I had taught and she had attended almost two years before. Coming
to campus for the American Thanksgiving weekend, she expressed
delight that my research plans were finally being implemented.
She intimated that she would not mind being included in the study.
Eagerly, I agreed to include her. The tape recorder, however,
was not as compliant. Hers is the only interview at which I recorded
every word by hand. Eye contact, in consequence, was not a constant.
The relationship that we had developed over the years, however,
overcame what might have been a problem.
Jade's parents divorced when she was about 4 years old. She is
her mother's only daughter. Her mother remarried sometime after
she and Jade emigrated to Canada.
Our Own Little World: Mother-Ties
The close bond between Jade and her mother is apparent in much
of her dialogue. Jade recalls her early childhood.
When I was small, it was just the two of us. We did everything
together. Go to the zoo. Go to the sea wall along the coast. She'd
take me to her work place. She did everything with me. When I
was younger, we were all the other had. We had our own little
world. She was the only one I interacted with.
In 1997, Jade's stories and photographs continue to illuminate
the mother-ties of her early childhood. Pulling out a small black-and-white
photograph of herself as a little girl with head tilted to one
side, she explains her asymmetrical pose. "My mom tells me
that when she wanted to take this picture of me, she tilted her
head and said, Smile for Mommy.' And then, she said, this
is what I did. I think it's so cute."
Jade shares no high-school stories reflecting the mother-bond.
She does, however, reflect on her mother's insistence on schooling.
"She emphasized school and getting an education. She was
always encouraging or pushing me to do good in school. Get A's
and stuff like that."
When she was accepted to the university of her choice in the United
States, her mother and stepfather moved to the university town
to ensure that Jade need not live in the residence hall, a lifestyle
she had grown tired of, having lived in residence for all 5 of
her high-school years.
In the 1997 interview as Jade grapples with her memory bank to
find a story which reflects her mother as the perfect mother,
she lists her parent's strengths instead.
One of the things I admire about my mom is her perseverance. I
think coming from her background . . . she struggled a lot to
raise me. Made sure I had a good education. I admire that she
didn't give up. She persevered even when it was tough. And it
was hard. She was tired and exhausted, working. She still kept
on. I admire her for persevering. Even when it got hard, she didn't
give up. She kept on.
Jade makes no reference to her mother's second divorce but
talks instead about the lessons she learned from her mom. "One
thing I have learned from her is to stand up for myself. To persevere.
. . . If she got pushed back a bit. OK." Jade sips at her
drink, then continues. "And she kept going, you know. I liked
that. She was an example to me that I could do whatever I set
my mind to do."
Thinking back on her mother as role model, Jade notes, "Sometimes
I say, I'm my mother's daughter. I'm gonna persevere. I'm not
going to let so and so tell me that, put me down, or something
like that!"
Ethnic Identity Awareness
In the 1989 interview Jade reminds me that her mother is not
Black, so she calls herself mixed. Delighting in her multiracial
identity which combines to effect the skin tone she describes
as "café au lait," she lists her ethnic componentsPortuguese,
Amerindian, Asian-Indian, and Black. Amused, she recounts the
typical "What are you?" encounter of a first meeting
with her college peers. "When people ask, Where are
you from?' I say I'm Canadian. I know what they really want to
know, so I play along. Then they ask, What's your background?'"
Moving to my point, I ask her what it means to be Caribbean. With
a glimmer in her eye, she answers almost instantly. "That
I'm not dry. That I have a spice for life." Later, she writes
an addendum to her transcript: "That there are spices in
my food!"
Jade begins to talk nostalgically about her homeland and the happy
years she spent there. The pull of her homeland is only strong
enough to create beautiful memories. "Our house had fruit
trees in the backyard . . . , beautiful nature. I remember watching
the sunrise, the sunset, the lights of the fishing boats way out
on the sea. I remember the taste of the fruit. I'd like to return
to visit, but it's not a compelling need," she tells me.
Almost reverting to my college teacher mode, I tell her about
Louden's immigrant stage typology (described in chapter 3), and
then seek her opinion on her classification by Louden's stages.
After a moment, Jade nods to confirm her personal recognition
of the stages and suggests that the precocious-independent seems
most appropriate for her. She hastens to add: "But I have
a greater respect for my parents. What they think is very important
to me."
Describing the preparation for emigrating, she portrays her anticipation
through a melding of her voice and her mother's eyes. "We
were looking forward to a better place though ours was a
beautiful landin terms of education and economics."
The mischievous child-rhetor comes through as an addendum. "We
could get bubble gum." Her grin reflected the delight she
experienced more than a decade ago.
She tells her "Coming to America" story which supports
her classification in Louden's typology. Recalling her first memory,
she says. "It was January 10. We arrived at my aunt's in
New York. We saw snow and I played with it. I rejected the mittens
they
gave me. I remember being amazed at the cold. The trees didn't
have leaves. I knew then that everything was going to be different."
Eight years later her self-description involves her revised self
in terms of her metaperceptions of her ethnic identity.
If I feel that because I am a woman of color, people aren't gonna
listen to what I have to say, or what I have to say means absolutely
nothing, it's gonna come across that way. If I come across as
someone who has something important to say, then my interactions,
you know, with people just as people, people interact with you
naturally. If I come across feeling not up to par, it will come
across that way. It really depends on what you feel inside. What
you think makes the difference. And because I don't think being
a woman of color brings me down a notch or something like that,
I don't think I come across that way.
In my journal, I note, "Jade has come to accept her foreignness
as an asset (Kapka, 1995) to her interpersonal relations, particularly
at her work sites." To bolster her meager paycheck, she also
worked as a part-time sales clerk in an upscale women's fashion
boutique. She recalls, and I once observed, that many of the returning
customers often asked for the tiny curly-haired woman who seemed
to know so much about coordinating outfits "just for me."
She tells me about her recent decision to maintain her ties with
her heritage by compiling proverbs from her homeland. "I
love them because I love what they say." I am reminded of
what she said in her 1989 interview: "Everyone keeps a bit
of the motherland inside."
Settling on the straight-backed chair, she shares a few of her
favorite proverbs. I note that they reveal the saliency of internal
locus of control, intentionality, and foresight. "When yuh
see rain on yuh neighba step, prepare yuh house." Her favorite
proverb epitomized my perception of her: "Action speak louda
than voice." Another proverb, "Yu see sumt'n in de day,
tek fire stick, look fe it a' night," gave me pause. Jade's
interpretation when she came into my office the next day, "acknowledge
that this is what's going on," did not help. My dulled perception
needed more assistance. When she mailed back the verbatim transcript,
her elegant cursive penned an explanation which uncovered the
true meaning as she saw itcareful, solitary scrutiny is
essential to planning. "Face up to reality. First impressions
require more investigation. Take the time when you're alone."
As the interview winds down, the recorder stops. The tape has
run out. About to fetch another, I hear her continue talking about
her role models. I revert to the note-taking mode of 1989. She
concludes with a wistful note which made me swallow. Hard. "There
is one woman I wish I had known. My maternal grandmother. She
was a respected landowner in her village who would feed the needy.
She didn't have a formal education but her everyday living was
an incredible testimony. I wish I could have sat at her feet like
you did with your grandmother." I had not remembered that
she and her mother were often frequent visitors at my mother's
house.
Later that evening, I wrote: "There is something that I had
taken for granted: my grandmother's stories. Jade showed me what
I suspect many daughters of immigrants miss in their formative
yearsa maternal grandmother and the stories that connect
them to a lingering legacy: the Motherline."
Her Seed Story
Jade's seed story reflects the mother-bond which seems to have
come naturally to her from early childhood. She recounts a story
her mother told her about a time when she was 3 or 4 years old.
In the story are hints of the empathy that imbue her life today.
She told me a story about one time when I was little. It was Easter
Sunday. We both wore hats to church, and the frilly dress, and
everything. And we were walking down the road. Either from the
bus or something. But we were walking down the road. The road
had a trench beside it. The wind blew her hat off, and it blew
it into the trench. And she's like, "Oh, my goodness."
And she kinda ran after her hat but then it went too far into
the trench so she couldn't get it. And when she turned around,
apparently I'd taken my hat off and thrown it into the trench
too. And I said, "It's OK, Mommy. Mine's gone too."
At that moment little Jade-as-mother had taken on the role
of comforter, soothing the distress her mother reflected. The
gaps in Jade's storying intimate similar soothingby omission.
She makes no mention of her mother's second divorce. She makes
only passing reference to the struggle her mother endured to put
her through high school and college.
Jade describes herself in 1997 as a comparative reflection of
her mother. "I don't see myself as overtly happy, sanguine,
WOOH [emphasizes with tone her phoneme of an outgoing nature].
She likes everything big. But that's not me."
Showing her picture collection, Jade brings out a portrait of
her mother as a very young woman. "This picture of my mom,"
she muses, "I've always loved how she looks in this picture.
Not that I wish she would be like that, but this is when she was
younger. I've always loved it because it's kind of like a Mona
Lisa smile. Not a big grin thing. Just a Mona Lisa smile. She
looks very sedate." She stops to correct herself. "Not
sedate, like a Mona Lisa. A sort of a smile that makes you think
there was something behind her. It wasn't out there, spoken. [She]
communicated it softly or silently."
In that nostalgia-driven moment, Jade captures the meaning of
her signature maxim, "Walk softly but carry a big stick"
which is discussed below. When she mailed back the authenticated
transcript, Jade had written beside that description. "Simple
and elegant. A time when she was like that." The implication
that times have changed remains a silent subtext.
Education: A Watershed for Success and a Conduit for Travel
Jade had spent some time in school in the Caribbean before
arriving in Canada. In the 1997 interview, she reflects on the
sense of peace and order that she experienced at a school that
her mother felt was important for her to attend. "Because
we were not Catholic, she had to enroll me when I was born so
I would get a place there. She wants the best for her daughter.
This school had a nice group of kids. And it was a very good school.
A very good place for kids to go."
Jade considers her own evaluation of the school.
I always thought of it as a very beautiful, calm, quiet and serene
place. It had beautiful gardens; was very quiet. The furniture
was Victorian. The nuns were so proper, so ladylike and perfect
kinda thing. I wanted to be a nun because of the beautiful place,
the nice gardens. It was such a wonderful place, kinda like a
refuge.
Talking about the difference in schools from one country to
the next, Jade talks about her early school experience in Canada.
"The teachers watched out for me. I was quiet and shy. The
kids were different. There were no nuns, no uniforms. They put
me back a grade."
Jade recalls a poignant memory of discriminatory labeling at school.
She recalls her powerlessness to do anything about a personal
injustice. "I was in grade 4 or 5. A kid punched me in the
stomach. They treated me differently because I was . . ."
She seems unable to go on. Visibly summoning up courage, she continues,
". . . because I came from somewhere else. I stood there.
I cried. My friend helped me." She has no recollection of
any school personnel coming to her rescue.
Her helplessness did not become learned, however. "As I got
older, I started fighting back more. Became just as aggressive.
When they called me [names], I called them [equally disrespectful
ones]."
Not all her school stories leave negative impressions. When I
ask her, "If you could do anything without failing what would
that be? Describe a typical day in that scenario."
Jade pauses to reflect. "A typical day? When I succeed at
chemistry or physics! Oh, my goodness! Well, that would mean that
I understand what the teacher was saying. One thing that stands
out in my memory in Mr. P's physics class. That was in grade 11."
The tones in her voice mandate a playlet script.
Mr. P: What is the source of energy?
(People said things like water, heat, electricity. Stuff like
that.)
And I, quietly, under my breath: The sun
Some people snickered.
Some guy in front of me, I think it was C said. "She says,
the sun!"
Mr. P: Well, she's right! She's exactly right!
Turning to me, Jade explains. "The one time I got something
right in physics class! Chemistry and physics were just not things
I could relate to. That was stuff I never did well at in school."
There was jubilation in her voice about a tiny remembered success
almost a decade ago. Jade notes that despite this account of an
affirming high-school science teacher, she had no secret yearning
to venture into the hard sciences. Echoes of "She's exactly
right!" urged her to continue her search for success in her
choice of a majorpsychology.
Jade applauds her mother's insistence on higher education. "My
mom always emphasized education." Her mother, as she tells
it, used education as a protective and preventive device. "She'd
say, You can go a long way if you have an education.' She
said, I never got to do a lot of things because I don't
have a degree. You can get a better job. A better-paying job.
The people you meet will have important things to say'."
Even when she went to school in France, Jade and her mother's
relationship remained tightly intertwined. She illustrates with
this story.
When I was in France, my mom wanted to buy this dress but it cost
$100 and she wanted my opinion, so she didn't buy it. And then
I went shopping one time and I saw three pairs of shoes that fit
me. I don't usually find shoes my size on sale. And I knew she
couldn't see them, but I had to know her opinion so I called her.
I had all the information ready for any questions she'd ask me.
I wanted her blessing.
Describing her social support network at college, Jade lists four
special people. Her mother tops the list. "My mom is very
much a part of it. My supervisor at workshe's in her forties.
I have two close girlfriends."
In Jade's stories, travel and school are inextricably intertwined.
In an E-mail response to a question about her greatest learning
experience, she shared this sacred story.
The trip that catapulted my first learning experience was a trip
I took with the choir to Mexico City when I was in grade 12. A
couple of my friends and I were walking down a street near our
hotel. We wanted to get rid of the few Mexican pesos we had left.
We saw three children (ages three to seven, eldest was a girl,
younger brother, baby sister) selling dolls on the sidewalk. They
wore dirty torn t-shirts, shorts, or dresses. They themselves
were sooooooooo dirty that the dirt had become a dark layer on
their skin. I was drawn to these children. I reached out to give
the eldest sister money. She would not take it. I could not believe
it! If I were in her place, I would have grabbed the money and
run! I tried a couple times to give her the money, but she would
not take it. I tried a different approach. I gave her younger
siblings the money, then I offered money to her. She accepted
it!!!
What a lesson in sharing that was to me!! I will never forget it. Being in such close proximity with those children, I realized that I could easily have been one of them. I could have been poor, dirty, without a home, begging on the street. I wondered, why was I so lucky? How much more was expected of me?
Jade is exuberant when she talks about her school-abroad experience.
"And when I went to Collonges, I finally got the chance to
[go to Europe]." As noted earlier, she had spent 3 months
touring South Africa on a field trip. Returning home, she took
a detour to Copenhagen by herself. "I prayed that God would
protect me. I must be honest, I thought it was quite a presumptuous
prayer, and took the night train to Copenhagen with only a chocolate
and an orange in my backpack."
Right after she graduated with her master's degree, Jade volunteered
to go overseas for a year as a missionary teacher.
The trip has been the epitome of learning experiences for me.
One Sabbath I went to the largest refugee camp established thus
far in that country. It was home to approximately 25,000 people.
As we drove through the camp, I saw children running around half-naked
and covered with the red dirt characteristic of Rwanda. I saw
women comforting their severely malnourished babies. Those scenes
really impacted me. The thought came to my mind, next Sabbath
I will be back home in the U.S., sitting in a huge church with
people, some of whom their greatest worry that morning was not
having the exact matching shoes to go with their new dress. After
all that I saw in my eleven months, I had changed. I was no longer
one of them. How could I fit back into their world, when I measured
the cost of an item by how many pairs of children's shoes it would
buy? Tears came to my eyes. I asked God why He had allowed me
to experience the two polar ends of the world. The seed had been
planted. I would have to return. At sometime in my life, I had
to do something.
For Jade, it was travel that provided her with her greatest learning experiences. "It taught me things no book, teacher, or course would ever teach me. There are still numerous countries to visit. There are lots more lessons to be learned."
Personal Vision for the Future
At 20, Jade had a clear vision of her future. She would become
a child psychologist, get married, and have three or four kids.
What was essential was warm family relationships. She explained:
I want to be happy. Whatever I do; I want to be happy doing it.
I want to be a mother and friend to my children. . . . Have a
very good relationship with my husband. . . . Get along well with
my in-laws. . . . No family squabbles. . . . I'm very idealistic,
I guess. I want to have a home where other kids can come and enjoy
being there.
Her acuity sharpens with the decade. In 1997, having attained
at least two of the pieces of the puzzlea master's degree
in psychology, and a husbandJade refines her dream:
Eventually my husband and I will live overseas. I would love to
work with other women, encouraging them, teaching them how to
raise their children, run a little businessthings like that.
What gives me warm fuzzies is encouraging young women so that
they [can] take care of themselves. They can do whatever it can
be for them. As long as they know they are free. Free inside.
Regardless of what they are doing. Staying at home; raising children.
That's success. I would like to encourage them to reach their
goal. To realize [their dream of] success.
The Picture Show
On July 15, 1997, Jade arrives at my house with a package of photographs
culled from her mother's collection, her own album, and her husband's
files. She has been married for less than a month. A phrase which
is constantly on her lips, simple but elegant' is an apt
description of her persona. She now describes herself as petite,
with thick curly hair, and crooked eyebrows. Reluctant to verbalize
her personality strengths, she resorts, at my prodding, to listing
them on the back of the transcript I later sent her for a member
check. Noting that she always thought of something to say long
after the interview was over, she scribbled. "Friendly; care
about my friends; supportive; not extravagant; try not to draw
attention to myself; dependable."
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" I ask
her at the start of the interview to quell the breathlessness
I hear in her voice. She hesitates, and only responds a month
later when she returns the revised transcript.
I guess when I look in the mirror, I see a young woman of color
who wants to represent Christ; have a close relationship with
Him. A woman that is unique. I am petite; a rainbow of ethnic
backgrounds. I am a woman who is the product of the sacrifices
and struggles of other womenmother, grandmother. Someone
who was fortunate to have a home full of love.
My journal jottings noted how precisely this description captured her essencea
petite, beloved, God-led ethnic woman.
Success Defined
Jade's definition of success is unequivocally gender-specific.
Interpreting success as an independent woman who can take care
of herself, Jade elaborates: "Any woman who can stand up
for herself; not a person that any man, or other person, can push
around." She pauses to take a breath. "If she has a
job, she can buy her own car, take care of herself. To me, that
is a successful woman. She is self-sufficient. Regardless of what
she does, if she can take care of herself, to me she is successful."
In her definition of success, Jade's imagery and praxis intersect
as she remarks sotto voce that this interview "put breath
into words she had thought about but not in a sentence."
She elaborates with simple elegance. "My view of success
is not climbing a ladder. It's maybe walking down a road. It's
not vertical so that this stuff is lower than the other one. Success
is be-ing. Success is living a simple, good life."
Moving to the more personal level, Jade continues. "To me,
a degree or a
position . . . My goal is not to be like CEO or things like that.
Achieving more [is not success]. It's like peace of mind. Being
content with who I am." In her revision of the 1997 transcript,
her elegant scrawl postulates, "Each success you have builds
upon the one before."
She becomes more inclusive as we work on her horizontal graphic
(Appendix G) which is more symbolic of the natural ebb and flow
of the current she alluded to earlier than to a staircase. "It's
more a continuum. It's not going up and down. It's a continuum.
I think successes just build like a day-after-day thing."
As she extends the pole to make room to write more, she adds.
"Each success builds upon the one before." After more
tangential conversation, she returns to her definition. "Success
is just day to day. Being content with who I am. Being happy where
I am at the time. Being at peace inside."
When she mailed her revised transcript, she included a note with
a maxim she had just seen in a catalog at her office. "I
found the perfect metaphor for my definition of success,"
she wrote. "I felt it was what I tried to say in all the
attached ramblings: Success is a journey; not a destination'."
Describing her personal journey, Jade begins with her starting
point. "It's being born in a way. Learning my ABC's was one
step." She pauses again to instruct me.
I think you have success all along the way. The little successes
along the way is what adds up to being successful. It's not the
big one at the end. It's the little ones along the way that make
up for the other ones along the way. None is more important than
the other. Learning my ABC's was important when I was 7. It was
not more important than me earning a bachelor's degree at 22.
They are inter-relational. They all tie in. They build on each
other.
Past Successes
In the 1997 interview, Jade's photographs, her chart, and her
stories illustrate her success development. They fall into two
categories. Most are school-related. The others are reminders
that she has been bitten by the travel bug. Picking up a picture,
she remarks fondly: "This is a picture of my mom and me when
I graduated from college. It was more like success for both of
us."
With uplifted eyebrow I seek an explanation. She complies.
I think it was a success for me because I did get my education.
It was something I wanted to do, but for my mom it was a success
because all her encouragement, and all her prodding paid off!
Her sacrifice, and things like that, paid off. I did get my degree.
And my master's too, but I think this one was it.
Interrupting the picture show, Jade moves to the staircase
graphic and highlights in a concise fashion the most important
and recent symbols of her success. "First graduating from
high school. Then college graduation. Travelling to Europe. That
was important." She pauses, then elaborates: "In a way,
I think I proved to myself that I could survive on my own."
The individuation theme emerges as her benchmarks to success continue.
"Starting to work. Another important thing was getting my
own apartment."
Turning toward me, she answers an invisible audience. "Yes,
I'd lived on my own in foreign countries, but I never did it back
at home And I think that having my own apartment, paying my own
bills, making ends meet, and stuff like that was an accomplishment
for me. It helped me prove myself. I'm not saying, forsake all
friends or forsake all assistance, but I know I can take care
of myself."
Implicit in her dialogue is the tacit knowledge that her success
before she moved out of her mother's house was largely due to
her mother's struggle to provide for them both. In her retrospective
dialogue, the individuation theme makes its presence felt once
more. Developmental stages are interwoven in her success continuum,
which ends with what she terms a milestone. "I think getting
married, not that I trapped somebody. I don't think of it as a
success or accomplishment. But it's a milestone."
Reshuffling her pictures, she resumes the picture show. "This
one is of me in Paris. One of the things which I've always wanted
to do is to go to Europe. And when I went to school there, I finally
got the chance. The only thing I really did want to do!"
More of her dreams materialized as her narrated picture show indicates.
"This is me at the airport. And that was another thing I
wanted to do. I wanted to go as a missionary." Her voice
is laden with realized dreams. "I had the chance to go to
Africa, and even though she would miss me terribly, my mother
supported me. That was something I appreciatedan opportunity
like that!"
Pausing to reflect on her mother's strong will, Jade adds. "She
didn't cry at the airport. I did. But then, she went home and
cried. She didn't let me see her. And I think that's hard for
a parent to dobe supportive yet know that they're going
to miss their child."
Jade describes a missing picture that she had wanted to include
in her collection. "It kind of represents my adventurous
spirit. It was a picture of me sitting in a water jar on a small
incline. With sunglasses and an Indiana Jones style hat. I was
wearing khaki shorts and a t-shirt."
She reiterates, "This picture represents my adventurous spirit.
My love for travel, different cultures, people, etc." There
are a few limitations to this free-spiritedness, however, as her
epilogue reveals. "I made sure there were no spiders in it.
If spiders were in there, I'd jump out!"
Her picture collection ends with photographs of her wedding and
honeymoon. She explains why these few are special to her. "Here
I am, touching up my make-up just before the ceremony and he's
like, Gotta get a picture.' He always calls this my beauty
ritual. It's the little details."
The final photograph was taken on her honeymoon. It is a picture
of her hatted, bikini-clad self on the beach, arms thrown out
to embrace the sky. "I think in this picture, I was feeling
free. I think whenever I go to the Caribbean or somewhere tropical,
I feel free."
I do not understand. Jade explains. "I guess it reminds me
of the formative years. Of where I've come from. Any time I go
somewhere warm or tropical, I feel like I'm half way home."
Her ethnic roots seem to beckon and Jade elaborates, "I've
lived here for 21 years. But there's a part of me that enjoys,
feels warm inside whenever I go somewhere tropical."
As she stacks up her collection, I ask why there are no pictures
of her in workplace settings. Her answer is brief. "My work
is not me. It's not where the real me, the true me is." A
later phone conversation brought an addendum. "Work makes
me feel independent. I can make my own money, support myself,
buy whatever I want. Work is a means to being independent."
When she talks about an interpersonal struggle she encountered
at work, she recalls, in her mother's voice, a proverb her grandmother
had often shared with her mother. "When yuh han' in de tiga
mout', rub he head." (When your hand is in the tiger's mouth,
rub his head.)
Herself as a Success Coach
After graduate school, Jade became a high-school counselor,
and later, an overseas missionary. Her stories suggest that she
has found her niche. She describes how she planned the academy
graduation address she was once invited to give:
When I thought about what I was going to talk to them about, I
wanted them to think about their future. Because so many times
kids look at the here-and-now, which is fine, but there are decisions,
things that they do when they're young [that] will affect what
they do when they're older. If you see yourself as a successful
person when you're young, you will be a successful person.
I think I hear her mother's voice in her words. She reflects on how successful the address was. "I guess the kids really loved it." She attributes part of its appeal to two sayings that make up her motto. "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord" and the poem which concluded her speech. She reminisces, "I don't know where I found it. It's not a big prayer. It's simple. It's my everyday prayer." She recites it reverently:
Moving into new territory, she shares what she told the girls
she taught in the African country in which she had worked.
There were these three girls. Very intelligent. They're incredible
girls. If they put their mind to it, they can be incredible women.
And I wanted them to see that. I know it sometimes came across
as pig-headedness, but [I had to] channel it into something good.
And I encouraged them. I said, "You girls can be whatever
you wanna be. You're smart." But when they were lazy and
didn't want to do their school work, I was straight up. I said,
"Listen. The work's not gonna get done unless you do it.
You have to get off your lazy butts and do it."
Transcribing tape one night, I scribbled in my journal: "The
forcefulness of her words belied the gentle delivery. I'm sure
those girls felt that. I think I have found the context of her
maxim Walk softly but carry a big stick'. It is a pervasive
influence. The soft gait is the presentation, the delivery of
the message; and the big stick is self-determination."
Jade ruminates on what she wants to tell women when her dream
of working in development in some Third World country materializes.
"I would like to think that I am working in programs where
I am teaching women, encouraging women to use their potential
to be something. Whatever it might be for them. Encouraging them
to reach their goals."
Through it all, I see how she shaped her mother's dream for her
success into one that is uniquely her own. I resort to my journal
to record my musings. "Her mother wanted education to pave
the way for an easier life; a quicker trip upward on the social
and economic ladder. Jade wanted her education to make an impact
on women in developing countries. She wanted to touch their lives
so that they could enhance their potential."
God-Themes
Jade's transcript is riddled with God-themes. She quotes Bible
texts knowing that our shared knowledge will fill in whatever
blanks she might leave. During the 1997 interview, she refers
to texts from Prov 15 (Speaking the truth from the heart'
without frills). Her graduation address summation from Josh 24:15,
"As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord" captures
her life plan.
She illustrates how instrumental her mother was in developing
a relationship with
God. "She'd tell me how important it was to have God. She
showed me how God has led her from past to present."
In 1997, when she lists her mother's strengths, she recalls fondly:
"I admire her faith in God and her relationship with God.
One memory that I [will] always have is my mom praying. Sometimes,
you'd walk by her bedroom and she's kneeling by the bed, praying."
Later in the interview, I fashioned a question designed to understand
how she practices improvisation. "What happens when you have
a plan and something happens to forestall it?"
Her response was instantaneous. "Plan B. You always have
to have a plan. First you have to analyze why plan A didn't work."
She explains with examples the mundane analysis that is often
a part of everyday living. My ears perk up when she becomes specific.
"First you have to analyze, is this God telling me, This
is not what I want for you to do.' Or is it, this is life. Things
are gonna break down. Do something. Don't sit down and cry."
On the transcript I sent for her verification, I scribble the
question I should have asked during the interview had not the
momentum of her dialogue precluded that. "How do you know
if it is God's voice?" Her response was simple and powerful.
I do believe God has a way of closing doors and opening windows.
Prayerfully ask God to lead you where HE wants you to be. I always
remind myself that God knows me better than I know myself. He
knows what is best for me. That thought keeps me focused on God's
will. With constant prayer and listening, you slowly see where
He is leading.
Emerging Metaphors
The moving current theme is a strong one in Jade's stories. She
reflects on that at the end of the 97 interview as the tape
ends and her words flow faster than my pen. "The life current.
Current in a river; nice and quiet in the storm. The constant
motivator that does not want the limelight but simply is. Constant.
Strong. Full of integrity. Current grounds the person. [They're]
Not all over the place. They know what they are."
Her metaphors continue. She uses the melting process of a burning
candle to describe the tension that the thought of being married
initially caused her.
When people get married, they lose their identity. To me, a metaphor for that is melting away; losing your shape, your form. It's not something that happens instantly. It slowly happens. Of course, I've been married less than a month but I know my husband, and he's not the type of person that would encourage me to lose my identity. So I won't melt and lose my personality.
Jade adds a story in a playlet script which supports the thesis
that her identity is not in jeopardy:
One day I was complaining. "Oh, I have to change my driver's
license, my social security card, my credit cards, and all those
things. I have to change my name."
He said, "You don't have to change your name if you don't
want to."
And that just really shocked me. I said, "You don't mind
if I don't change my name?"
He said, "No, we're still married to each other."
And I thought that was really something neat, you know, that he
felt that way. Because there are a lot of people that don't see
it that way. I treasured that.
Using a tulip analogy, she describes the ideal self. "They're
simplethey don't have ruffly things going on. They're beautiful.
They catch the eye." Adding the giraffe to explicate, she
notes: "They're stately. They're peaceful. Not growling like
lions or tigers. Rffggh, growling and king-of-the-field kind of
thing." Her phoneme of aggression helps me get the picture.
So does her smile-evoking codicil. "They have simple linespeaceful
and stately. They have lovely long eyelashes."
It is, however, the metaphor in her oft-repeated proverb, "Walk
softly and carry a big stick" that holds my attention. She
explains that the big stick is character, integrity, wisdoma
symbol of the proverb depicting "there are wise people who
don't say much, but when they say something, it's good advice."
Moving into a philosophical mode, she continues. "People
listen because it's not someone who just prattles all day long
or tells big stories. To me there is no need for all of that.
Just say what you need to and get out, kind of thing."
At my request, she elaborates further. Using paraverbals, she
declares:
I can tell you what it's not. It's not being abrasive. It's not
BRABRAHAR [growling sounds]. You know, having a big voice. Just
bulldozing people. I think you can have an impact on people just
by the way you carry yourself. The few words that you do say,
it makes a difference. I've always liked the saying. I don't know
what it is exactly, but it basically boils down to "a wise
man doesn't say much, but what he says is good." That's something
I try to practice.
Further explication is mediated through her dialogue on success, a dialogue that becomes increasingly specific. "Success is encouraging, especially other women, other young women to be independent. Give them hope."
Analysis of Her Stories
Five major themes undergird Jade's stories. First is the intense
closeness she shares with her mother: the mother who shouldered
the financial burden so that her daughter could reap the benefits
of education. Second is her intense love for travel. Third is
her philosophy that what is on the insidepeace, joy, serenityis
what actually counts. Fourth is the empathy which flows into service
for underprivileged women. Finally, and what she insists takes
priority and informs the other themes, is her God-reliance. All
her stories bear her trademark: simple yet elegant.
Jade is a master at omission, delicately avoiding troubling questions,
or answering only by implicit comparison. Refusing to allow words
to betray her mother's trust, she uses phonemes. For example,
when she describes her mother's showy extroversion, the non-word
"WoooH" is used instead. The invisible audience of which
she is acutely aware must interpret it for themselves.
The synthesis of Jade's stories, the essence of her persona, and
her definition of success development, are mediated through the
poem below. It is now a collaborative effort. When she mailed
the poem back to me with her revisions, she complained: "It
sounded frilly and a little disjointed. It needed that Maya Angelou's
guts' to it."
In response to her feedback, I reviewed the poem. Her critique
highlighted a dialogic tension between the text in mystory (Denzin,
1997) and herstory. I sought my journal and thought with my pen.
There is indeed more guts' to her poem revision than I had
shown. I had muted the quiet strength of the little immigrant
girl who rejected her aunt's mittens almost two decades ago. Or
the eleventh-grader whose quiet answer in Physics class stilled
the snickers of her peers. Or the co-ed who hitch-hiked through
Europe sometimes with a friend, sometimes aloneoften
with only an orange and a bar of chocolate in her backpack. Or
the petite graduate who spent a year of service in an African
country while the warring drums were beginning to beat. Or the
June bride who refused to bow to tradition and moved down the
aisle on her mother's arm. Yes, the courage that I saw and heard
is indeed her strength. I will retainif only in my mindveto
power. But not this time.
The italicisized lines reflect her revisions in the poem below. The mother-line theme, down to the futuristic final stanza, is illuminated in her developmental sequencing of the verses.