The Shadow of Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann

Books alter our states of mind, infuse our lives with emotion and experience. When I was reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, I was breathing in the life of locals in Williamsburg, immersed in empathy for Francie as she watched the slow demise of her father, feeling her pride as she became an independent woman with an education and a career, transcending tenement life and moving on with hope into Francie's future past the end of the book.

But roughly around the same time as Francie's story, in the early 1900's, a more menacing reality was unfolding. Over a thousand miles southwest of Brooklyn is Osage County, Oklahoma, where David Grann's Killers of the Flower Moon takes place. In this book, instead of romance or relishing in the past, there is regret and resentment. Instead of poverty and drunkenness as central conflicts, the driving forces of American Expansion, greed for money and land, and systemic injustice are the main culprits of an entire people's loss and suffering. In this book, Grann exposes the true crimes against the Osage Indians. He tells the stories of their families who lived peaceful lives in harmony with the land on which they lived until the disruption of Western Expansion that robbed them of their homes and attempted to obliterate their existence.

Mollie is one of four sisters born to Lizzie and Ne-kah-e-se-y, Osage Indians who had grown up on their ancestral land in southeastern Kansas. Their people were forced to cede nearly a hundred million acres of their land to the United States and find a new homeland. They settled on unoccupied territory where they believed they could be happy because "White man cannot put iron thing in ground here... white man does not like country where there are hills, and he will not come" (40). The family settled in an area called Gray Horse. The troubles caused by the forced migration and diseases such as smallpox led to the tribe's population falling to a third of what it had been seventy years earlier (41). The list of troubles they endured was seemingly endless: mandatory assimilation, the dwindling of buffalo, a major food source, unfair government mandates such as having to learn Western farming in order to receive annuity payments, and an overall status quo attitude of the white settlers that the Indians were unintelligent savages who didn't deserve to live on the land they had been living on for generations.

Already by page 44, I was outraged. How could this be allowed to happen? I know superficially that the Native Americans were ravaged, slaughtered, brutalized, and dehumanized much like African slaves were in this country. However, to learn about how deeply entrenched this was in the culture of America is disturbing, enough to make me feel shame for this country. I realize, though, that I cannot blame the country for the injustices. The evils uncovered and revealed in this book have to do with numerous immoral individuals and the culture of expansion and supremacy that protected people who committed atrocious crimes toward the Native Americans.

The situation worsened for Mollie's family after an ironic twist in the tribe's lives. The land they newly inhabited turned out to be above one of the largest reservoirs of oil in the country. As a result, they began to accumulate a fortune from leasing the land and receiving up to millions of dollars a year. In the 1920's, "the Osage were considered the wealthiest people per capita in the world" (6). Their wealth made them easy targets and victims of deceptive individuals who married into the Osage to inherit their money and other scheming swindlers who manipulated their way into Osage money, often through poisoning and murder plots. The tribe's tremendous wealth came with tremendous tragedy. Mollie's sister, Anna Brown, went missing and was found dead in a ravine. Then there were other murders of Osage Indians that went unsolved: Charles Whitehorn, her other sister Rita, and her mother, Lizzie. A pattern emerged and the details of the deaths came together throughout the book.

Reading this, I was disgusted by the lawless criminals, corrupt local officials, and the greedy white men who abused their power, deceived the Osage, and took their money, and most importantly, scores or most likely hundreds of the tribe's human lives. At the same time, I admired the courageous, upstanding lawmen such as Agent Tom White who helped to unravel the mysteries and find culprits to some of the murders. I learned about how J. Edgar Hoover hired White and others to investigate the Osage murders and how much control Hoover had over the handling of the case and how carefully he tried to craft the reputation of the FBI. However, while there was success in resolving Anna Brown's murder, there was so much left unresolved. The bureau estimated only 24 Osage murders, though the number must have been much higher. The FBI seemed to have closed the case too early, shortly after trying and convicting criminals responsible for Anna Brown's death, and they failed to continue bringing other murderers to justice; "at least some at the bureau knew that there were many more homicides that had been systematically covered up, evading their efforts of detection" (282). One of the bureau agents who was investigating the Osage cases, acknowledged the culture of killing and revealed that "There are so many of these murder cases. There are hundreds and hundreds" (283).

At the end of the book, David Grann writes about his encounters with current members of the Osage and descendants of many killed during the Reign of Terror. He learns about many more deaths that were not investigated, including Mary Jo Webb's grandfather who may have been slowly poisoned by his wife who was white but was ultimately killed by a hit-and-run. He also met Marvin Stepson whose grandfather was killed, possibly by one of the convicted felons mentioned earlier in the book. It is clear that countless families have suffered from lack of peace and justice regarding their murdered ancestors.

These accounts of cold-blooded murder are not mentioned in American History textbooks or general school lectures. These deaths are not memorialized by people outside of the tribe. I assume that the majority of Americans do not know of the Osage murders nor the specific details of systemic oppression that affected the daily lives of Native Americans during the expansion of this country and still today. As citizens of this nation, we need to understand and confront the many violent truths of our history. Our land is "saturated with blood" (291). We must acknowledge this, not for the reason of resentment or animosity, but for the reason of education and wisdom.

I am grateful for writers such as David Grann who help uncover a truth about this nation's history. This book helps galvanize ongoing civic engagement. While the murders of the Osage cannot be undone, we must work toward a nation where policies and practices are in place to ensure that all people's rights and lives are respected and protected, and we must insist on uncorrupted support from our local and federal governments.
 

  

Crossroads in American Street by Ibi Zoboi

         Fabiola Toussaint, the protagonist of Ibi Zoboi's debut novel, often finds herself stuck at crossroads where opposing worlds and places converge and collide. She and her mother, Valerie, have left their home in Haiti to live with Valerie’s older sister Marjorie and her daughters Chantal, Donna, and Pri in Detroit, Michigan. However, the journey does not go as planned, and instead, Fabiola and her mother are separated by a glass wall and Customs in Kennedy Airport. Her mother is being detained while Fabiola, born in the U.S., and thus, an American citizen, is allowed to continue to her destination, but now she is alone. At the airport in Detroit, her cousins pick her up, and they must all accept the absence of Valerie. They do not dwell on this reality and try to reassure Fabiola that their mother, her Matant Jo, will bring her mother back.

          A moment that clears the path for a new road is when Chantal, the eldest of the three sisters, acts with tenderness toward her cousin; it is a winter night, and she "takes off her thick, long scarf and wraps it around my shoulders - a gesture that only my mother has ever done for me. Back in Haiti, it was always just me and Manman. But now, my world has ballooned and in it are these three cousins, and my aunt, too. Family takes care of each other, I tell myself. We will get my manman. We leave the airport. It feels like I'm leaving part of me behind - a let, an arm. My whole heart"(13). The rest of the story involves Fabiola's struggle to get her heart back.

          As a high school teenager, Fabiola must traverse many roads on her own, without her mother's guidance. She must learn to live the American way of her cousins and aunt in her new home at the crossroads of American Street and Joy Road, surrounded by abandoned buildings, a "liquor place", and a "God place" (36). She must adjust her eating: "There are only eggs and sliced bread. There are no plantains and avocados to make a complete Haitian breakfast" (36). She must get used to the new landscape: "Nothing here is alive with color like in Haiti. The sun hides behind a concrete sky... But God has painted this place gray and brown. Only a thin white sheet of snow covers the burned-out houses and buildings" (47). She must adjust to a new school, the private school that Donna and Pri attend. She meets new people at Dray, Donna's boyfriend's birthday party. Here she encounters archetypal characters who she had often been warned about in Haiti: vabagon, people who lead to nothing but trouble, and malfekte, people who are evil. But she also meets Kasim, a charismatic shapeshifter who associates with Dray, the malfekte, but in reality, is a lover, and he helps to fill the void left by her mother's absence. While there are many conflicts caused by the convergence of divergent paths and characters, Fabiola settles into her new life with great determination to find the way to her heart, her mother.

          Another crossroad where conflict exists is between reader and narrator. Throughout the book, I doubted and questioned Fabiola's trust in the Iwas and her belief that Bad Leg, the local vagabond who sings on the corner outside her house, is Papa Legba. She explains who this religious deity is to her cousins: "He is the Iwa of crossroads. When there's no way, Papa Legba will make a way. He opens doors and unlocks gates...I have to pray to him so he can help my mother come to this side" (34). Fabiola listens to this homeless man's songs and believes they are prophecies, and she bases many of her choices on his lyrics. To me, she is naive, and it frustrates me that she makes decisions based on spiritual reckoning rather than reason. At the same time, this tension keeps readers engaged and committed to Fabiola's journey.

          For a short while, her life moves along a peaceful path. She is able to unite her Haitian and American cultures as she makes Thanksgiving dinner for the first time. As Fabiola concocts her own versions of traditional dishes, she finds herself "at peace" and in her element: "I let the warmth of the house wrap around me. I let the scents of my food fill me up with nothing but joy, because this moment is like a hug from God" (230). I, too, relish this moment because I can relate to the power of food to stir up sentiments of belonging and familial love. The kitchen is a place where cultures can cross and meet in surprising ways, where people, especially recent immigrants, can find comfort despite the strains of assimilation and alienation.

          

          Soon after this meal, Fabiola collides with several unexpected obstructions. The obstructions involve truths about her Detroit family, a female law enforcer named Detective Stevens who enlists her help to arrest suspects involved in the death of a white female from a lethal cocktail of designer drugs, and Dray and Kasim. A series of unfortunate events occur and she struggles to find her way out of the wreckage. In the end, we find where the roads lead to, and we are left wondering, does Bad Leg/Papa Legba really open up the way for her or is it the manifestation of the American Dream? What roads will open for her now?

         

           

Continued Ruminations on American Identity

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My Prius is a vehicle for distance learning. After dropping off and before picking up kids, I have at about two hours to freely explore a full range of topics without concern over appropriateness. I often listen to audiobooks, music with explicit language, podcasts such as This American Life, The Moth, Alt Latino, and All Songs Considered. Two books that I’ve recently listened to on public library-borrowed e-audiobooks relate to different aspects of my own identity: the memoir Fresh off the Boat by Eddie Huang speaks to my upbringing as a second-generation Asian-American, and I can connect to the strong, female voice of Amy Schumer in The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo.

Listening to Eddie Huang narrate his story felt like listening to a neighborhood friend talking about growing up. Like many people I grew up with, he curses emphatically, gets into fights, represents hip-hop culture, and has immigrant parents. Huang’s parents migrated from Taiwan, and his family lived in the D.C. area then moved to Florida. As an East Coaster born to Asian parents, I can relate to the importance of food in his family. Food is what keeps the family together and is its own language through which they can communicate their love and appreciation of one another. His father was a successful restaurant owner, and his mother cooked traditional Taiwanese food. His parents often fought and his mother seemed unhappy, but her meals helped unite the family.

Many of the regular conflicts he experienced also existed in my household. His father was physically and verbally abusive like my father, a style of parenting that was common and accepted in many other immigrant families. And while his father did not give much emotional or moral support, he gave him material things such as a luxury car. Another motif in the immigrant experience is the clash of traditional and American cultures that comes about in humorous and awkward ways. One hilarious part of Huang’s story is when his mother has green bean casserole for the first time. She did not eat American food, and when she ate the casserole from Eddie’s friend’s mom, this is what transpired:

"Oh! Oh! Oh my God! What is this?"

"I told you! Green bean casserole."

"Casser- who?"

"Casserole, Mom. Like when Cantonese people put stuff in clay pots. That's a casserole."

"What's it mean, though?"

"I dunno, it's just casserole."

"We need more! How do we make this casserole?"

"I don't know, I'll call Warren."

Later that day, Warren came over with a huge dish of green bean casserole for my mom. He was so happy she liked it since she was so picky most of the time. For the first time, my mom was eating food from a non-Chinese home and she loved it. Who would have known it would be Mrs. Neilson's green bean casserole?

This incident prompted Huang to dedicate himself to making delicious Thanksgiving meals. He watched cooking shows and learned to brine turkey. Figuring out how to cook American meals is a typical struggle for immigrant families and represents the rich flavors of America’s melting pot. We need to embrace and appreciate the mingling of different cultures in this country.

It’s fascinating to follow Huang on his journeys throughout childhood and adulthood. While he ultimately created his own well-respected food establishment, BaoHaus which serves Taiwanese food in NYC, he experienced many other career paths including hustling on the street selling CD’s and drugs and becoming a corporate lawyer. He describes all the events in his life candidly and unapologetically. While he had many years of being involved in illegal activity and failing in school, Huang had moments of important self-discovery including a trip to Taiwan which helped him connect to his cultural roots. An important part of my young adulthood was going to the Philippines and traveling on my own, speaking broken Tagalog, taking jeepneys, and socializing with people my own age. Visiting lands of our ancestors is an important phase in understanding one’s identity.

Amy Schumer’s personal narrative is comical, well-crafted, and inspiring. It gave me a more nuanced understanding of her celebrity personality and reminded me that every person, famous or not, experiences suffering and loss as well as happiness and success. I was surprised to learn about her family’s struggles. Her father was an alcoholic later diagnosed with MS, and her mother seemed to enter into one unhealthy relationship after another. Schumer also struggled with relationships and was a victim of domestic abuse for many years. She tells her story with such grace and wit and admits her weaknesses yet manages to persevere and succeed in the field of comedy.

Listening to her story, I was inspired by her hustle and courage. She started out struggling to do stand up and ended up selling out large arenas such as Madison Square Garden. I could relate to her love for New York City. She grew up on Long Island then moved to the city as a young woman and has chosen this city as her permanent residence. She went from struggling to pay rent for a tiny apartment to owning her own terrace apartment in Manhattan. I, too, am a native and proud New Yorker. I grew up in Queens and have lived within the five boroughs all my life and love the multicultural and cosmopolitan culture of this city. Another commonality we have is a love of drinking wine and eating.

A characteristic I admire about Schumer is her openness in discussing all things female and sexual. She writes candidly about her romantic relationships including losing her virginity. One hilarious part of the book is when she describes her only one one-night stand:

I’m so sorry to disappoint anyone who thinks I walk around at all times with a margarita in one hand and a dildo in the other. Maybe the misunderstanding comes from the fact that, onstage, I group together all my wildest, worst sexual memories—a grand total of about five experiences over the course of 35 years. When you hear about them back-to-back it probably sounds like my vagina is a revolving door at Macy’s during Christmastime. But I talk about these few misadventures because it’s not that funny or interesting to hear about someone’s healthy, everyday sex life. Imagine me onstage saying, “So last night I got in bed with my boyfriend and we held each other in a supportive, loving way, and then he made sweet love to me.” The crowd would walk out, and I’d walk out with them.

I appreciate how casually and nonchalantly she writes about her sexual experiences and her body, communicating the idea that women should not be ashamed of or reticent about their bodies and relationships. She emphasizes the importance of being honest and open.

Schumer also confronts and shares her experiences of being physically and verbally abused by a man she loved. While her book is not a self-help one, she does empower women to be open and honest about their own relationships and to be strong. She states, “I know my worth. I embrace my power”. This could be a mantra for all women. It reminds us that we need to use our power to create and maintain healthy relationships and to succeed in our pursuits of happiness. And that in order to use our power, we must embrace and love our selves, regardless of our impurities, insecurities, and weaknesses.   

These two texts help break stereotypes and expectations of how certain people behave based on their ethnicity or gender. They offer broader understandings of what it means to be American. No matter where we are from or where we live, our families, values, and actions affect and reflect who we are, and the more we share and listen to each other’s stories, the richer we are.  

More Ruminations on American Identity

It’s been 22 days since my last post. I am sorry that I have not made time to sit and write. However, I did use my time to complete final projects for sabbatical classes, bake cookies for parties, make jars of trail mix to give as presents to the kids’ teachers, and spend time with friends and family at parties and restaurants. It’s been festive and frenetic. But alas, the holiday vacation has arrived, and I will be sure to do the hardest work of writing, sitting down for an extended period of time and letting my fingers tap along rows of buttons as I contemplate and communicate the ideas on my mind. At the moment, while my husband and children watch Elf, I sit at the dining room table and write.  

In the vast landscape of American culture, there has been a growing representation of diverse cultures and voices in literature and media. I want to continue writing about identity which I began writing about In an earlier post, “What Does America Stand For?”. One book that deepens my understanding of this question is Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi.

Anyone who calls America home should read this novel. Yaa Gyasi artfully weaves together several characters’ stories of the slave trade in Ghana, the Middle Passage, slavery in the U.S., the Great Migration in America, and modern day. The book takes the readers through the harrowing and heartbreaking lives of families forcefully separated, the savage treatment of slaves, and the repercussions of slavery on race relations. It forces us to confront the trauma and scars left behind by over two hundred years of the brutal business of slavery.

The novel begins with an unlikely union between Effia, daughter of an Asante, and James, a British man of power who captures women and holds them in a dungeon before shipping them as slaves to the New World. While young girls are trapped in the dungeon, Effia, daughter of a tribal leader, is forced to live a lonely life in the Cape Coast Castle as the wife of James. This is one example of bondage seen in the text. Each subsequent chapter focuses on a different character who has a connection to this character and this place.

The next chapter is about Esi, a fifteen year old girl trapped in James’ Castle Dungeon. She is the daughter of a warrior but was captured and now stands ankle-deep in excrement, wishing to be freed, then later raped by a British officer. Her child will go on to be a slave in the U.S. These characters’ lives and legacies continue throughout the book. Much later in the story, Sonny, a descendant of Esi, struggles with segregation and drugs. For him, “the practice of segregation meant that he had to feel his separateness as inequality, and that was what he could not take.” (244).

The story moves mostly in chronological order and by the end, it is modern day Alabama and New York. We, the readers, can see how the characters’ lives are linked. Marjorie and Marcus, two college students who meet at a party, return home to their roots in Ghana. Marjorie holds the black stone necklace, a family heirloom, the stone that Esi, in the beginning of the novel, hid in the “river of shit” in James’ Castle. Marcus, visiting this country for the first time, becomes immersed in its elements. Together, they confront where their ancestors suffered as slaves but also learn that they can rise above the past and float in the present.