I DECOLONIZED MY BOOKSHELF
(and now I’m a terrific person)!!!!
O
nce upon a time, I used to think Great Literature possessed the immortal power to transcend time, space and culture. I used to believe those precious tomes from across the ages were veritable séances — where the dead spoke with the living — articulating Truths that touch the mystical chords of our shared humanity.
In more extravagant moments, I was genuinely excited by those great works of the Western Cannon; excited by their offerings of timeless wisdom and enjoyment that imbued my little life with a deeper sense of meaning and wonder.
But all of that was before I read Juan Vidal’s Your Bookshelf May Be Part Of The Problem.
As he writes:
You may have seen the phrase “decolonize your bookshelf” floating around. In essence, it is about actively resisting and casting aside the colonialist ideas of narrative, storytelling, and literature that have pervaded the American psyche for so long.
Although I’m still not sure what he’s talking about, it sounded deep and virtuous. Accordingly, I continued reading:
take a moment to examine your bookshelf. What do you see?
I diligently followed his instructions. As I looked at those quiet sentinels of culture and beauty, they suddenly took on the menacing appearance of a Ku Klux Klan rally. My eyes ventured back to my laptop where Vidal continued his powerful Socratic questioning:
What books and authors have you allowed to influence your worldview, and how you process the issues of racism and prejudice toward the disenfranchised? Have you considered that, if you identify as white and read only the work of white authors, you are in some ways listening to an extension of your own voice on repeat?
These searing inquiries and observations punctured the depths of my soul. Firstly, I didn’t know you could “identify as white.” Given this new possibility, I suspect people of lesser moral fiber would simply identify as black if only to continue reading their books — but not me!
Nay — Vidal’s words plunged daggers into the heart of my vain foolishness. For so long, I was judging “great” works on their actual merits — when all the while I should have been judging them on the most important thing: the skin pigmentation of the authors themselves. Infused with newfound zeal, I immediately got to work.
Here are some of the more salient texts that I’m happy to have purged from my life:
The King James Bible (written by Jews & translated by people with white skin):
The whole story is about God wanting to establish His kingdom here on earth. Clearly God is nothing more than a supernatural colonialist and we must resist! Besides, every character — from Abraham to King David, from Jesus to St. Paul and the other apostles — never spoke out against racism or the police. “Their silence,” to cite Black Lives Matter, “IS violence.”
May God damn those Nazis (and Himself for being a Nazi.)
The Odyssey (authored by white-skinned Homer):
Odysseus, that wile wanderer of the waves, traveled from island to island meddling in the affairs of local inhabitants. That is very problematic.
(While I tore up most of the book, I did keep the section where Circe turned men into pigs as that was pro-feminism. I’d like to believe Homer imagined Circe to be a transsexual woman of color.)
The Inferno (written by white-skinned Dante Alighieri):
Dante’s Inferno is out! Aside from the author being white, there just weren’t enough people of color in hell. As a newly woke convert, I want to see minorities suffering eternal damnation with equal representation as white people! (Although white people do deserve it more…)
Shakespeare (a white-skinned person):
Though the Bard pioneered hundreds of new English words and expressions, he is the Grand Imperial Wizard of white authors.
Take the play Othello. Even though the tragic Black protagonist is cast as an upstanding moral person; even though he’s in an interracial relationship, the bad-guys say racist things about the good-guy and that’s bad. Besides, to play this part, English actors had to do black-face. Black-face done in the 16th century is just as bad and as wrong as if it were done today (except if you’re Justin Trudeau).
I bite my thumb at thee, Shakespeare!
I vote for thee, non-racist Justin Trudeau!
Don Quixote (authored by white-skinned Miguel de Cervantes):
This book is about enduring friendship, human dignity and the rich inner world of the imagination. It is also about an old white man who reads too many books. Guess what happens next?
Because Don Quixote didn’t decolonize his bookshelf, he took up weapons to reorder the world according to his racist world-view. Typical.
(Too bad our aging Don Quixote wasn’t put into one of Governor Cumo’s nursing homes. That way, Covid would have put an end to his wretched colonizing ways.)
War and Peace (authored by white-skinned Tolstoy):
With monumental vision, Tolstoy masterfully delves into the complex emotional lives of members of Russia’s nobility — situating these infinitely relatable characters within the context of the sweeping historical forces of Napoleon’s war with Russia.
But Tolstoy had white skin and the Napoleonic Wars were nothing but colonialism. Besides, wasn’t there something about the Russians colluding with Trump?
History of China (written by the presumably yellow-skinned Deng Yinke):
Full disclosure: I hesitated on this one. I’m assuming Deng Yinke doesn’t have white skin. That said, this book does deal with China’s conquests and centuries of imperialism. Also, it directly references the city of Wuhan. In these racist times of COVID-19, “when in doubt, throw it out!”
[note: Although I mentioned Wuhan, please know I’m not suggesting anything negative or racist about that city or China whatsoever. Indeed, nothing bad has ever come out of Wuhan — except of course racist white tourists who infected the city with Covid-19 (and possibly syphilis).]
Catcher in the Rye (written by JD Salinger, who although fought in WWII against the Nazis, also had white-skin just like the Nazis):
Catcher in the Rye pretends to be about an alienated young man trying to hold on to the innocence, ideals and beauty of childhood. Of course the story is actually about a white, heterosexual privileged male living in New York — a geographical region that once belonged to the Natives. Having this book on my shelf would be like proudly displaying Mien Kampf.
Thus Spake Zarathustra (written by white-skinned Friedrich Nietzsche)
Nietzsche’s sister liked the Nazis and whatever the Nazis like — I hate — including dogs, children and vegetarian meals.
(two notable exceptions to this rule are destroying books and my newfound obsession with race).
Fahrenheit 451 (written by white-skinned Ray Bradbury)
This book is about a white male who burned books. He sounded like such a Nazi, it made me burn Fahrenheit 451 in protest of Ray Bradbury’s obvious Nazism. Enough said!
1984 (written by white-skinned George Orwell):
This book is about a person caught in a nightmarish Stalinist dystopia where people’s thoughts are controlled, individual dissent is crushed and propaganda is used to distort truth to rile the masses into frenzies of hate against imagined, invisible enemies.
(Aside from these thematic features, it’s nothing like watching cable news)
In any case, there were no people of color in the book and it was written by a person with white skin — which means it has no relevance in today’s world.
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In the end, all I was left with was Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary. However, that book was possibly put together by white people. Also, it had the word colonial in it — making me feel racist.
Anyway, though my lengthy purge resulted in many plaudits on social media, I am still feeling uneasy.
Though Vidal discourages reading books by white-skinned authors, I don’t think he goes far enough. After all, many books are written (or at last translated) into English — a language that comes from Latin/Germanic origins — both of which have ugly colonial pasts.
Moreover, our “phonetic” alphabet comes from the Phoenicians — who were also very colonial. In addition, I worry that using aspects of their alphabet is a racist form of cultural appropriation.
Suffice to say after this article, I vow only to communicate in high-pitch squeals, inoffensive grunts and wild gesticulations as a way of demonstrating my completely anti-colonial virtue.
Purging myself of all traditional forms language means I have forever rid myself of the main tools of racial oppression. That makes me more terrific than you.
Gureafefahhha! (or “you’re welcome” in post-colonial grunt-speak)
