Home(s) Abroad:
Diasporic Identities in Third Spaces


Sura P. Rath

Louisiana State University -- Shreveport

Copyright © 2000 by Sura P. Rath, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of U.S. Copyright law, and it may be archived and redistributed in electronic form, provided that the editors are notified and no fee is charged for access. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.

    … it is from those who have suffered the sentence of history–subjugation, domination, diaspora, displacement–that we learn our most enduring lessons.

    Homi K. Bhabha, Redrawing the Boundaries

  1. Call me American. Having lived in the United States of America since August 31, 1975 -- first as a ‘non-resident alien’ student (F-1) and then as a trainee (H-1), as a permanent resident (‘resident alien’ or holder of the coveted ‘Green Card’), and finally as a naturalized citizen -- with papers documenting my legal entry and continued stay, I have never had any doubt about my immigrant identity, at least in a political and legal sense. Armed with a number of papers–a passport that bears my picture and assigns it a number, a social security card with a nine-digit number that identifies my status as a wage earner and a tax payer, a driver’s license that certifies me as a person qualified to operate a motor vehicle, a voter ID that recognizes me as a mentally sound person eligible to exercise my civic rights and duties by electing representatives to the state and federal legislatures, a school ID that signifies my position as a university professor, not to mention the many credit cards that fatten my wallet in testimony to the trust of several financial institutions in my financial affairs and to their willingness to extend me the privilege of buying things on credit (at a cost) -- I am constantly assured of who I am: a middle class, tax-paying, white-collar worker. Like the other roles I play in my private life as a husband, a father, a neighbor, a friend, a son and son-in-law, a brother and brother-in-law, etc., I take these public roles seriously, and obviously my total self emerges from a composite of all these over-lapping roles and images. But beneath these masks of transient identities, the true identity whose central concern is the whatness or thisness -- in Latin idem or Sanskrit idam--of my self remains problematic and contested.

  2. My self-description as an American is a spatial identity; constructed from the external territory, it has nothing to do with my whatness, my essence or being as a person, until the larger dominant culture readjusts itself to accommodate my presence. For the time, it is a contractual domicile arrangement: in exchange for my willingness to accept the subject-hood of the sovereign nation called the United States of America, I am ‘subjectified,’ branded with a territorial marker of citizenship that, like a stamped emblem on the back of the visitor’s palm in an entertainment park, allows me access to certain privileged areas of political, social, and economic life. Yet the territorial persona, as a mask of my identity, cannot fully represent the subject/object of my person, the material body and the psychic being. Additionally, leaving aside the larger and more complex question of an unambiguous and unequivocal definition of the non-descriptive term ‘ American’ that I have used to describe myself, I must also resolve the secondary problem of my relationship with the two spaces, two geographic regions, that are externally located on the opposite sides of the globe but overlap each other in the internal space of my body and, even deeper, in my mind.

  3. In their recent work, Displacement, Diaspora, and Geographies of Identity (1996), Smadar Lavie and Ted Swedenburg have argued that there is no ‘immutable link’ between cultures, peoples, or identities and specific places. Yet the most common manifestation of one’s other-ness in an alien culture is a question one encounters from time to time: ‘where are you from?,’ not ‘who/what are you?’ Its follow-up is often ‘ No, I mean where you are really from.’ An explanation of one’s being ‘ by origin/birth’ leads to an ambivalent rejoinder such as ‘what brought you here from there?’ signifying sometimes a naïve curiosity but oftentimes a resigned resentment. Such encounters, common I should say for people of Indian diaspora in the United States but perhaps also for immigrants in countries such as the United Kingdom or Canada, will serve as the springboard for my reflections in this paper on the formation and development of diasporic identities and their retention. As I begin to theorize this defunct home/abroad or here/there binary both to understand and to explain the complexity of the diasporic experience, I will draw from my personal experience of a quarter century as well as from the literary and non-fiction works that bear upon my discussions. I will propose that Trishanku, the character from the Indian epic Ramayana who went ‘embodied’ to heaven but had to settle at a place midway between the earth and the paradise, serves as a metaphor for the modern expatriate/immigrant inhabiting the contested global-local space, and I will explore the ‘globloc’ geography, the surface and depth of the individual as an intersection of the global (cultural) and the local (material).

  4. I present the three following anecdotes in order to re-conceptualize home as both a concrete location (a place or space in a geographic/cartographic sense) and an abstract space in the conceptual realm (an imaginary construct, at best) circumscribed by cultural and/or historical boundaries.

  5. In the first incident at Delhi, as a person with the unmistakable physical features of an Indian -- eyes, nose, skin, face, and all -- I am mystified by the Indian immigration officer’s question at the airport. Leaving aside the possibility that its tone is skewed by the infelicity in translation -- a particular example of the perils of the linguistic hangover of British colonialism -- the question begs some reflection: truly, why have I come here? On the surface, it is my homecoming. I am here because my home is here; I am here because my mother, the source of my being, is here, and my brothers and sisters and their families are here, and because my friends and acquaintances and their families are here; I am here because my investments of the first twenty-five years of my life are here; I am here because I am at home here, because it is here, because family, friends, relatives, childhood experiences, formative influences -- all these are inalienably allied with our concept of home. One could say perhaps that home-ness and here-ness share the same psycho-lingual deep structure, and the officer’s question drew my attention to a radical separation between my home and myself.

  6. Yet the officer’s seemingly rude question, on further reflection, seems appropriate and necessary because of his and his agency’s historical experience with people who take advantage of their Indian origin and appearance to engage in activities injurious to India. To me, however, the more challenging aspect of the question was the here-ness of the here: where is my here? Those elements of my ‘home’ that I consider to be still in India seemed to need revalidation, since embedded in the officer’s question was an implicit separation between the speaker’s ‘here’ and the ‘ here’ of a visitor such as myself; the problematic here reminded me of my difference. My American passport separates me from my Indian identity, yet naturalization, essentially a transfer of one’s territorial identity for legal purposes, does not dissolve the other/earlier identities, even when it is accompanied by a change of name. Physically and spiritually Indian, but politically and perhaps intellectually an American, I stand at the crossroads where two nationalities/localities intersect. Both merge in me, yet each remains sovereign. In me the two engage in conflicts and tensions that are sometimes subsumed under my ‘internationalism’ or globalism.

  7. The second experience at Dallas is a corollary of the first. Dislocated from my birthplace home in the Indian city state -- i.e., I am no local and I have no locale in India–I return to my workplace home. Irrespective of the surface of my appearance and of his own personal views toward immigrants and naturalized citizens, the INS officer performs his duty by being pleasant to a fellow American citizen. Upon reflection, I realize that the homecoming welcome at Dallas is as empty a signifier as the matching of the passport picture with my face in Delhi. In each instance, surface meets surface.

  8. Now, to the third anecdote. On the university campus, where I am a part of the institutional statistics of 3.9% international faculty, presuming to enrich our students’ undergraduate global experience and collaterally satisfying the base-line expectations of the accreditation agencies, I am anything but local. The onerous burden of this token role becomes all the more painful when some colleague teaching International Business requires her students to interview a ‘foreigner,’ and advises the student working on India to knock on my door for an interview; or when I am invited as a panelist on the College of Education’s cultural diversity symposium to extol the virtues of cultural assimilation; or when I talk to a Sociology of Minorities class about the political injustices meted out to early Indian immigrants in Canada and America. During the international culture celebration, inquisitive students want to know about my encounters with tigers in nature around my village in India, but are disappointed to learn that the ones I saw were in Nandan Kanan (a zoo in the eastern state of Orissa in India) and the San Diego zoo. A few students who have had the privilege of traveling to London say, with patronizing voice, they love Indian food. These are the boundaries of my foreign-ness: the tiger, the cobra, the red dot on the Indian woman’s forehead, the spicy food, and naked children begging on the streets. To my neighbors, as perhaps to my colleagues and students, I represent the alien global culture fantastically framed by/in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, where the superstitious people of a whole village terrorized by a bully sadhu are rescued from their own fear by the American anthropologist Professor Jones, where raw brains of live monkeys are served as dessert on fine banquet tables, and where in the popular imagination the professor becomes an incarnation of Vishnu, a savior of the pagan flock. To them, my mind is a cultural production of some nebulous globalism that waits outside the municipal boundaries of my city, parish, and state. The reality of the body, a material production of one local culture, and the abstraction of the mind, a cultural sub-text of a global experience, provide the intertwining threads of my diasporic life, a neither/nor condition parallel to that of Trishanku. This is a third dimension of my multivalent identity. In The Location of Culture Homi Bhabha has called this the third space, a hybrid location of antagonism, perpetual tension, and pregnant chaos. Lavie and Swedenburg tell us "[I]ts products are . . . results of a long history of confrontations between unequal cultures and forces, in which the stronger culture struggles to control, remake, or eliminate the subordinate partner" (9).

  9. Bhabha’s analysis of this turmoil-rich hybrid space illuminates my point here by historicizing the dimensions of my individual experience. Bhabha sees these individual/local experiences as a part of the larger processes of historical change. He notes that "it is in the emergence of the interstices -- the overlap and displacement of domains of difference -- that the intersubjective and collective experiences of nationness, community interest, or cultural values are negotiated" (2). Another way of looking at Bhabha’s views, then, is to say that to keep the momentum of the identity dynamics going we need to maintain the cultural exchanges or even the conflicts in the ‘in-between’ space of our communities, because precisely in this region "the negotiation of cultural identity involves the continual interface and exchange of cultural performances that in turn produce a mutual and mutable recognition (or representation) of cultural difference":
    Terms of cultural engagement, whether antagonistic or affiliative, are produced performatively. The representation of difference must not be hastily read as the reflection of pre-given ethnic or cultural traits set in the fixed tablet of tradition. The social articulation of difference, from the minority perspective, is a complex, on-going negotiation that seeks to authorize cultural hybridities that emerge in moments of historical transformation. (2)

    Diasporic identity formation serves as a primary and fundamental step in the larger transformation of history, though Lawrence Phillips, who traces Bhabha’s ‘third space’ philosophy to Derrida’s differance, finds fault with this dialectic description of history because it privileges the process of production rather than guarantee a product:

    Bhabha seems to suggest that history is not made or lived as a temporal process in material space, but as the fluctuation of meaning that characterizes the signifier’s displacement along the chain of signification. This can be recognised as a temporal process, yet history, in this formulation, must be analogous to the deferral of absolute signification. Since the deferral is limitless, or at best circular, history itself can never signify absolutely; have any absolute meaning. (6)
    Such a schematic representation of history, Phillips argues, is untenable because it presents history as perpetual flux, its structures of difference leading to nothing beyond endless difference and deferral. But in The Nature and Context of Minority Discourse Abdul JanMohamed embraces such a position on history for that very same reason (1-16).

  10. Lavie and Swedenburg point out, however, that displacement "is not experienced in precisely the same way across time and space, and does not unfold in a uniform fashion." Instead, they suggest, "there is a range of positionings of Others in relation to the forces of domination and vis-à-vis other Others" (4). The recent Indian diaspora in the United States -- that is, the wave of immigration in the post-Vietnam period of the mid-1970’s, of which I am a part -- is a case in point. It has a complexity uncharacteristic of the diasporas of the earlier times, especially of the neocolonial and postcolonial world. Unlike the first immigrants to the new world, who were running away from religious and other political or social persecution, the post-Vietnam Indian was going in search of a better life, greater promises of prosperity and material success. Unlike them, s/he did not have to burn the bridge and travel with a one-way ticket; the new immigrant was a colonizer in a twisted but true way, the initial motive in many cases being to harvest the fruits of one’s skills and send money home, a motive still guiding many unskilled and skilled laborers who travel to Iraq and Iran on short-term assignments. These were highly trained and well-educated people -- engineers, physicians, scientists, technicians, teachers, academicians, mostly -- who met the demands of the wartime labor market, but they had no intention of ruling over the land. When there was enough savings in the bank, it was time to visit home, or to reverse the equation one might say that money had to be saved because there was a home to go back to. Even when the motive was not travel, many chose to keep their national identity, opting to remain permanently as ‘resident aliens’ without ever changing their citizenship. Ironically, the ‘resident alien’ abroad (mostly in the USA and the UK) is also called a ‘non-resident Indian’ (NRI) at home, a term synonymous lately with people who hold the power of investment capital for development projects in developing nations. Professor Amartya Sen, winner of the Nobel prize in the Economic Sciences for 1998 and a vocal theorist of ‘ identity politics’ together with Gayatri Spivak, was recognized in the international press for maintaining his ‘Indian’ identity even after working the last several decades in the United Kingdom and the United States.

  11. The other Asian diasporas in the United States had radically different experiences, and their histories are unique. In Troubadours, Trumpeters, Trouble Makers: Lyricism, Nationalism, and Hybridity in China and Its Others, Gregory B. Lee offers some revealing instances of how the Chinese American was constructed as an Other in the mid-nineteenth century. He quotes the following from the New York Daily Tribune of 29 September 1854:
    Any of the Christian races are welcome . . . [in California], or any of the white races. They all assimilate with Americans . . . and are gradually all fused together in one homogeneous mass. . . . Take a look at Chinamen in San Francisco. . . . They are for the most part an industrious people, forbearing and patient of injury, quiet and peaceable in their habits: say this and you have said all the good that can be said of them. They are uncivilized, unclean, filthy beyond all conception, without any of the higher domestic or social relations; lustful and sensual in their dispositions; every female is a prostitute, and of the basest order; the first words they learn are terms of obscenity or profanity, and beyond this they care to learn no more. Clannish in nature, they will not associate except with their own people . . . the Chinese quarter of the city is a by-word for filth and sin. Pagan in religion they know not the virtues of honesty, integrity or good faith; and in Court they never scruple to commit the most flagrant perjury. They have societies among themselves . . . by whose edict they are governed, and whom they dare not testify against for fear of secret death, thus rendering our very laws powerless. (4)

  12. As Alberto Memmi has noted, this language reflects a fundamental kind of racism based on the ‘absolute negation of difference.’ It rejects anybody different from an implied ideal of homogeneity, which serves as the norm, and considers all difference as negative. A similar mindset is reflected in the following New York Times article of 3 September 1865:
    we are utterly opposed to any extensive emigration of Chinamen or other Asiatics to any part of the United States. . . . The security of free institutions is more important than the enlargement of its population. The maintenance of an elevated national character is of higher value than mere growth in physical power. . . . With Oriental thoughts will necessarily come Oriental social habits. . . . The free institutions and Christian virtues of America have a sufficiency of adverse elements to contend with already. We have four millions of degraded negroes in the South . . . and if, in addition . . . there were to be a flood-tide of Chinese population -- population befouled with all the social vices . . . with heathenish souls and heathenish propensities, whose character, and habits, and modes of thought are firmly fixed by the consolidating influence of ages upon ages . . . we should be prepared to bid farewell to republicanism and democracy. (1)
    In the case of the thousands of Vietnamese ‘boat people’ who came to the United States as political refugees, the experience was different from that of either the Indian or the Chinese, complicated as it was by the American military engagement in Vietnam, the inglorious defeat, and the subsequent moral compunction of a nation haunted by its ethical lapse masquerading as national interest. The diasporic experiences for the Mexican Americans, the Cuban Americans, the Eastern Europeans, the Africans -- each is different. The African diasporic experience in America is especially poignant because of the Africans’ experience with the institution of slavery and the subsequent segregation politics. As Zora Neale Hurston has said, "Slavery is the price I paid for civilization, and the choice was not with me. It is a bully adventure and worth all that I have paid through my ancestors for it"(375-76).

  13. This is the central issue, the core of my argument: the construction of the Other, the necessity for this Other, and the importance of the presence of the Other to a continued definition of the Self. In Margins of Philosophy Jacques Derrida says: "Philosophy has always insisted upon this: thinking its other. Its other: that which limits it, and from which it derives its essence, its definition, its production"(x). I would like to take a somewhat different route here, though, using as my springboard a model of the self provided by Jean-Paul Sartre in Being and Nothingness. Sartre offers a three-part model of the Self: Being-for-Itself, Being-for-Others, and Being-in-the-World. Later embraced by Maurice Merlau-Ponty, Georges Gusdorf, and Ernst Cassirer, this model of the Self helps explain, I believe, the subjective postcolonial experience and the postcolonial world view in a more inclusive and less traumatizing way; it also enables the postcolonial, himself/herself ‘othered’ in a hegemonic dominant culture, to engage the othering forces themselves as Others and to express them as supplements to the subjective self-consciousness.

  14. We begin with "the perceiving ‘For-Itself’ which is constituted as consciousness by distinguishing itself from the world of which it is conscious and to which it is present" (Kinneavy 398). This ‘For-Itself’ is therefore in need of the world to establish itself as consciousness; in fact, "to establish itself as a knowing self-consciousness it must be aware of other knowing consciousnesses from which it is also distinct, and these other consciousnesses are the ‘Others.’" As Being-for-Itself, the Self is constituted by its past, present, and future; it is an image of the self that has its genesis in history but that encompasses the fluid uncertainty of the present moment as well as the unrealized potentials that lie far in the future. Thus it combines both the concrete and the abstract, the known and the knowable unknown, the genesis and the apocalypse; it is the sum-total of the ‘I’ as seen through my own eye (Sartre 152-72). As Being-for-Others, the subject Self constructs an image of itself as an object, as it is observed by everybody beyond the borders of itself. This reverse virtual image lies in a twilight zone, for the Self’s apprehension of the Other’s perception of itself is at best partial and incomplete, and more likely mistaken, though the benign ignorance is likely to follow one to one’s grave. The Being-in-the World derives from my consciousness of the world as the sum of the possibilities. These possibilities, Sartre says, are "something which the For-Itself lacks in order to be itself" (125), instruments of supplementation. The Self remains splintered in a million consciousnesses as the bits of potential for-itself.

  15. In this model of the Self, the consciousness has three components, two of which -- the second and the third -- are outside the subject self’s total comprehension; the first, Being-for-Itself, incorporates the subject self’s action, will, and idea. Yet to satisfy its hunger for complete self-knowledge, the Self seeks to supplement its self-image, to fill the absence(s), the missing pieces, by constructing an ideal Other against which it can articulate its identity, see its own mirror image, an image confirming the subjective view already projected into the consciousness. In my earlier work I have examined the obsession in each culture to discover and maintain its own tribal past as a means to gauge its progress from the savage stone age to its present ‘civilized’ status. I have argued that the self’s irrepressible desire/need to define itself in terms of an Other results in the ubiquitous images of romanticized and idealized portraits of tribes and tribal lives in works such as Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and James Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tales. In order to fit the historical processes of transformation to conform to the myth of our cultural origin and evolution, we sometimes have to modify or even imagine the exact outlines and features of this Other. Always polarized between the civilized (here) and the primitive (there), this inter-dependence is a curious bond that binds the colonial power and the colonized.

  16. The following passage from Erich Fromm’s preface to Marx’s Concept of Man reflects a mindset that exorcises history in favor of a first world hegemony over the third world in an area where neither politically nor philosophically the west holds high grounds:
    The alternatives for the underdeveloped countries, whose political development will be decisive for the next hundred years, are not capitalism and socialism, but totalitarian socialism and Marxist humanist socialism. . . . The West has much to offer as a leader of such a development for the former colonial nations; not only capital and technical advice, but also the Western humanist tradition of which Marxist socialism is the upshot; the tradition of man’s freedom, not only from, but his freedom to -- to develop his own human potentialities, the tradition of human dignity and brotherhood. (viii)
    Though Fromm’s rhetorical strategy is designed to package Marx for the consumption of the capitalist Western readers, in retrospection his neo-colonial position belies the historical record of colonialism in the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries.

  17. In "A Borderless World? From Colonialism to Transnationalism and the Decline of the Nation-State," Masao Miyoshi has examined the gradual ascendancy of the nation-state around 1800 in the West as ‘a function of colonialism’ :
    as the industrial revolution increased production efficiency, urban areas received the influx of a large percentage of agricultural labor, creating a pool of surplus population. These potentially rebellious unemployed and displaced workers needed to be depressurized in the marginal areas of the labor market. Toward that end, the organizers of colonialism had to persuade their recruits and foot soldiers about the profitability as well as the nobility of their mission. (82)
    These ‘recruits’ had to believe that the country they were working for was superior to the colonies where they worked, that they themselves were superior to the people in these colonies because of their role in the material production system, that they earned their compensation -- including the luxurious lifestyle, the pecuniary benefits, and the exercise of power and privilege. Their exploitation and plunder were, in essence, highlighted as charity and benevolence. The fact that they might be the bottom of the totem pole in the class structure back home was easy to forget in the state of amnesia caused by both distance from home and by the presumption of their new role as the missionaries of progress and civilization. The blind spot in the whole scene is the heart of their own darkness; the language of humanism merely plasters the surface of there (the colonized) with the interests of here (the colonizer).

  18. Why not leave the border groups and the margins to encounter their clashes and find solutions to their mutual satisfaction, and then let them become acculturated? Two answers are readily suggested: first, historically, such resolutions have never taken shape. Left to themselves, the border groups form their own circles, and in course of time threaten the centrality of the center. As Lavie and Swedenburg note, "strategies for coping with and articulating the historicity of experience, working with and against post-modernist fragmentation, fracture not only the binaristic linear narrative of the relation between Third World Self and First World Other, but also the linearity of the Eurocenter’s Self and Other as well"(5). On any national scene or on the international scene, the disenfranchised challenge and rupture the fabric of national homogeneity. As Mike Featherstone has noted, the failure to recognize the political complexity and cultural intricacy behind the disagreements, conflicts and ‘clashing of perspectives’ inevitably leads to the emergence of pockets of localism in the global body politics:
    It can be argued that the difficulty of handling increasing levels of cultural complexity, and the doubts and anxieties they often engender, are reasons why ‘localism,’ or the desire to return home, becomes an important theme -- regardless of whether the home is real or imaginary, temporary, syncretized, or simulated, or whether it is manifest in a fascination with the sense of belonging, affiliation, and community attributed to the homes of others. (47)

  19. In a 1993 interview with Jerry Brown for the Spin magazine, Noam Chomsky similarly identifies two tendencies in global capitalism going in opposite directions:
    There are tendencies [in global capitalism] going in opposite directions. On the one hand, there is a tendency toward this international centralization of power. There is also an opposite tendency. All around the world, there is much more involvement in grass-roots organizations, there is regionalism [and moves toward developing] more local autonomy. (qtd. in Rob Wilson and Wimal Dissanayake 1)
    One might see the traces of such localism in the rise of fundamentalism around the world, as well as in the rise of small splinter groups barricading themselves against the center in trenches along the border. On a more benign scale but in a more radically political level, the clamor for localism manifests in school boards, in county commissions, and sometimes even in colleges and universities whose traditional modus operandi is threatened by challenges from ‘outsiders.’ The second, more important and far more significant, answer is that the peripheral dissipation inevitably reduces the diametric expansion of one’s territory (or empire). Hence, the loud echo of a local Muslim plight in Croatia or of the domestic economic crisis in Indonesia is heard in the political and fiscal fortresses of the world. The globalization of the local has localized the whole globe.

  20. Against this context I submit the following positionings of diasporic identities from three points of view:

  21. And I too am a third space. As I define my diaspora as a transplanted Indian in the United States, I see myself as a colonizer as well as a colonized. In formulating that part of my self that draws on my Indian heritage, I am keenly conscious of the postcolonial blood I share with the millions of Indians. If from half a world away I have the privilege and the luxury to ‘ objectify’ India and my own past, I am not alone. In a public opinion poll published in the 18 August 1997 issue of India Today, a question on whether the ‘present law and order situation in the country was better than under the British rule’ drew the following response: 36% of the respondents said it was worse; 11% said it was the same, and 36% said it was better. For the 60+ year-olds, those who actually lived under the British Raj, the past was certainly more peaceful and less turbulent than the present. In assimilating my present role as a university teacher and higher education administrator, I not only channel the thinking process of thousands of my students but also evaluate and sometimes redirect the professional activities of my colleagues and friends. Perhaps in me, as in thousands of other immigrants of diaspora who inhabit the third space, live the third culture, and shape the third history, postcolonialism has come full circle, and the trauma of postmodernism has a final relief.

Works Cited:

Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso, 1983.

Bhabha, Homi. The Location of Culture. London: Routledge, 1994.

Brinker-Gabler, Gisella, ed. Encountering the Other(s). Albany: SUNY Press, 1995.

Derrida, Jacques. Margins of Philosophy. Trans. Alan Bass. Chicago: U of Chicago Press, 1982.

Featherstone, Mike. "Localism, Globalism, and Cultural Identity." In Rob Wilson and Wimal Dissanayake. 46-77.

Fromm, Erich. Marx’s Concept of Man. 1961; rpt. New York: Frederick Ungar, 1975.

Hagedorn, Jessica. "Introduction to Tenement Lover." In Between Two Worlds. Ed. Misha Berson. New York: Theater Communications Group, 1990.

Hurston, Zora Neale. "How It Feels to Be Colored Me." In The Critical Reader, Thinker, and Writer. Ed. W. Ross Winterowd and Geoffrey R. Winterowd. Mountain View, California: Mayfield, 1997. 374-77.

JanMohamed, Abdul R. and David Lloyd, eds. The Nature and Context of MinorityDiscourse. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Kinneavy, James L. A Theory of Discourse. New York: Norton, 1971.

Kondo, Dorinne. "The Narrative Producton of 'Home,' Community, and Political Identity in Asian American Theater." In Smadar Lavie and Ted Swedenburg. 97-118.

Lavie, Smadar. "Blowups in the Border Zones: Third World Israeli Authors’ Gropings for Home." In Smadar Lavie and Ted Swedenburg. 55-96.

Lavie, Smadar and Ted Swedenburg, eds. Displacement, Diaspora, and the Geographies of Identity, Durham: Duke UP, 1996.

Lee, Gregory B. Troubadours, Trumpeters, Trouble-Makers: Lyricism, Nationalism, and Hybridity in China and Its Others. Durham: Duke UP, 1996.

Martin, Biddy and Chandra Talpade Mohanty. "Feminist Politics: What’s Home Got to Do With It?" In Feminist Studies, Critical Studies. Ed. Teresa deLauretis. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1986.

Memmi, Alberto. The Colonizer and the Colonized, New York: Orion Press, 1965.

Miyoshi, Masao. "A Borderless World: From Colonialism to Transnationalism and the Decline of the Nation-State." In Rob Wilson and Wimal Dissanayake. 78-106.

Phillips, Lawrence. "Lost in Space: Siting/citing the in-between of Homi Bhabha’s The Location of Culture." Scrutiny 2: issues in english studies in southern africa 3.1 (1998): 16-25; reprinted in Jouvert 2.2 (1998).

Rath, Sura P. "La vision romanesque de la tribu: des stereotypes litteraires a l'actualite des cultures tribales." Diogene 148 (1989): 57-74. "Romanticizing the Tribe: Stereotypes in Literary Portraits of Tribal Cultures." Diogenes 148 (1989): 61-77.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. Being and Nothingness. Trans. H. E. Barnes. New York: Washington Square Press, 1966.

Williams, Raymond. Marxism and Literature. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1977.

Wilson, Rob and Wimal Dissanayake, eds. Global/Local: Cultural Productions and the Transnational Imaginary. Durham: Duke UP, 1996.

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