Monday, February 3, 2014

Writing About Faith While Chicano

Recently I was notified that my memoir/autobiography which is tentatively titled "A Journey Commenced: The Early Years of an Engaged Life" will soon be sent out to reviewers to see if makes it to the following stage. This is the second time that my manuscript makes it to this stage, though the earlier version was less about my faith and more about my growing up Chicano. The reviewers' recommendations were mixed though both thought it was a good book project. The one reviewer that did not fully recommend publication did so because he/she wanted me to extend the book to cover all of my life and to say more about my faith. I had no desire to add more pages to it, and I also wanted to follow the lead of great autobiographies in my field which are usually limited to the early life. I also hoped that the manuscript would be the first of a number of works dealing with some of my private thoughts and with other personal experiences.
At the time there had not yet been a "Mormon Moment", Mitt Romney had not gotten past the Republican primary, and the Mormon musical had yet to appear and break all kinds of attendance records on Broadway. Needless to say, the press was unsure of the book's reception and so they eventually rejected it. Three years later I met the same editor who had recommended refusal and she apologized. "I was green and did not know who you were", etc.. She asked me to resubmit but after some discussion with her decided that it was good that I had not gone with that particular press. At the end of the past year, however, someone recommended that I submit it to another press, one that was interested in Mormon studies. I hesitated because my work is not Mormon studies, but I was convinced--by others--that it was a legitimate work in the larger context of works on Mormons given that I'm a recognized scholar that happens to be Mormon.
By then, I had already decided to write more candidly about my faith which is foundational to my scholarship and my activism. While I had a specific chapter in my first manuscript on my beliefs I had mostly focused on my growing up years, Viet Nam and my involvement in the Chicano Movement. This time I simply chose to ignore what others said and to interjected discussion of my faith's role wherever it fit naturally while retaining much of the earlier manuscript. In a way, it was a response to one other reviewer--a friend--who had characterized the original manuscript as too "religious" after only a quick perusal. A born-again Christian, I believe she over-reacted as sometimes religious people do to what other's might think. The two reviewers that actually read it came to the opposite conclusion.
The only thing that the new editor wanted was a short discussion on how this might fit into Mormon studies. Easy enough, I assumed. But the reality is that it was much harder to write that part than I thought. I became conscious of the fact that the press was taking a gamble simply because this was a book that spoke to two different audiences. A middle ground is really missing. If it had been a Catholic/Chicano discussion, it might be easier to imagine an audience. But Mormon/Chicano is a stretch. At the same time Mormonism's intellectual thought has been lacking color since its beginning. Even when Mormon intellectuals engage the issues of race or ethnicity, with few exceptions, they write as outsiders and rarely ever get to the heart of how people of color themselves think and act. They also rarely have the credentials to deal with the topic.
Where I come in is that I am an endowed professor of Chicano studies, a life-long member, a former bishop (twice) and someone who has publicly engaged in the issues that affect Latinos in the church for over three decades. I also happen to be the only Chicano (in the political and cultural sense of the word) at BYU.  So the gamble has been taken that the reviewers and hopefully then the readers will bridge the gap by realizing that Latinos are now the largest group within the church and are projected to possibly become the majority of Mormons worldwide.
As a scholar who has always sought to write from the bottom up, it has not been difficult to write about religion because religion is such a big part of those on the bottom. Sometimes churches are the only allies people down there have. At the same time, some people might see a Chicano Mormon as an oxymoron. While most people familiar with me or my work know I'm a Chicano Mormon few of them understand what that means. If I was lackadaisical in one or the other, or if I'd abandoned one because of the other, it would be easier to write about it. But I'm neither lackluster in my religion nor have I abandoned my activist scholarship. I am a product of both and to untangle their influence within me would entail laser-like surgery that would leave me a lifeless mess.
So, how do you speak to two audiences that are miles apart? At first I thought that would be the difficult part, but then I realized that the challenge came because I had never truly written about--outside my journals-- or articulated publicly the duality of my life experience and its foundational value to my principles. I had hinted at it here or there, made comments during a presentation or two but never fully engaged the subject with an audience outside a few friends.
As I began to write my second version of the manuscript I realized that I needed to make stops along the way to explain things that in the first version I did not have to because there was an assumption that those who read it had knowledge of what I wrote, or at least thought it important because I was a well-known Chicano historian. But when I began to engage a broader discussion of my life I knew that I had to explain to myself as much as to others, what my experiences growing up Mormon and Chicano really meant, and how they informed my actions, beliefs and biases. I discovered that "on the ground" experiences were often the things that gave meaning to my Chicanismo and Mormonismo. Given that I was experiencing things as one person and not two, both "ismos" were evolving together and becoming one. I realized that given situations caused one "ismo" to rise above the other but that the other remained close by.
Then last year I gave my first public lecture on being Mormon and Chicano. It was liberating to speak to two things dear to my heart and I was pleased with the reaction. In the audience was the head of BYU Church and Doctrine department and also a dear friend who directs the Center for Western Studies. They later asked me to give the plenary keynote to open the Mormon History Association conference this summer, probably one of the first nonMormon-Studies scholar to do such a thing. And I've just gotten asked to contribute an essay for a book on 21st century Mormonism with the suggestion that I speak about my participation in the Chicano civil rights movement.
All of this has caused me to look deeper inside of me, to uncover those hidden thoughts and actions, and to blend more tightly the experiences which have made me what I am. While all of my work has been informed by who I am, it is only recently that I have tried to understand how deep this intertwining goes. Now, rather that to speak to two audiences, I simply seek to speak to whomever listens. After all, most of the times audiences don't make writers or presenters, it is usually the writer who invites people to listen, read and discuss what they've heard or read and thus become an audience. And of course, the writing itself can transcend a given audiences--if it is any good--and create larger ones. My sense is that I've gotten a new opportunity and I've always made good on them. If the manuscript doesn't go anywhere it will still have been a good exercise in learning to write and think more clearly about who I am.