Multiple forms, images, expressions, intentions, and interpretations connect to narrators, listeners, and readers throughout the sound recording genre.
I continue to learn the works of Gloria Anzaldúa from a gringo interviewer’s perspective: work to record and to archive narratives –– and document stories about United States Mexico borderlands.
Appropriation of culture, language, and land remain antiquated “custom” tied to false notions of ownership, dominion, and control. Concepts that remain entitled to those that choose exclusionary rhetoric and geographic legibility to remain clear and away from the industrial Mexico Americas which ensnare generations of people.
Slavery, legibility, and gunboat diplomacy outside and inside the United States brought this conversation to our shared human drive to catalog memory, experience, and timelines of literary and journalistic text; and to remember appropriated territory, living space, and laws of localized justice principles isolated to geographic areas unrecognized by many Americans.
How can we connect to the present while not imposing sanctions of time, place, and memory upon a future generation of international citizens?
In seeking to record perspective and experience from both sides of the border (any fence or institutional legibility) my work hopes to speak for itself through the voices of shared memory, equal access, and reciprocal communication.
By the time I got to Las Cruces, the study of narrative, storytelling, and public history demanded political discourse and, therefore, public record. A few years earlier, seeking journals, ledgers, box-files of company comment on the Ludlow Massacre at the Colorado Fuel & Iron Archives with its executive director Tim Hawkins, it clear to me how easy it is to escape history; to perhaps skip a day, a week, possibly much longer, and to be free from the responsibility of transparency, truth, and good standing factual information.
Not by chance, after beginning master’s research, the town of Morenci, Arizona increased and, perhaps not unfortunately, further sentimentalized my understanding of the mining industry, Mexican-American workers rights, and the brutal history of resource management in United States’ territories. A colleague advised me to revisit the interviewing and documentation style of Gloria Anzaldúa’s Auto-Historias, and to read Suffer Smoke by Elena Díaz Björkquist . Díaz Björkquist’s narrative-prose style of interpreting oral history remains as talented as it is, itself, unique to the genre or discipline, as you like, of public history.