Through the Body - Whereas

I will admit that I struggled a bit with Layli Long Soldier’s Whereas. Some of the poems, like “Look” on page 11, have a very abstract feeling. The words are separated from one another and don’t connect into obvious sentences or narratives, and this left my brain grasping at straws to fill in the blanks, and I found myself re-reading poems several times in an attempt to “get” it, or even just reading extremely slowly. This almost lulled me into distraction, reading some of the poems was like word association, and sometimes I would have to pull myself back to the page. But I did feel that there was so much in this book, even if I didn’t get all of it on my first read. Even just hearing what others took away from it gave me so many new perspectives on the work, and I’m excited to see what my second, third, fourth read reveals to me.

Some thoughts on the word “Whereas” itself. Merriam Webster defines whereas as “while on the contrary”, “although”. Or, alternately, “in view of the fact that : SINCE  —used especially to introduce a preamble”. The latter definition fits more precisely with the “apology” documents that Long Soldier is responding to, but the first definition explained a major vibe I was getting throughout the work. When the apology was saying “in view of the fact that this terrible thing happened” I was hearing “although this terrible thing happened”, and then there was a weird void at the end when the sentence was over. Although this happened… what? Nothing is done about it. No actions are taken. “Although the United States committed genocide against the native American people….” end of sentence. What kind of apology is that? And I think that in highlighting this strange legal word, Long Soldier does an incredible job of highlighting the violence and the inaction of the United States, their refusal to make right by anyone’s standards.

This ties into what Long Soldier writes on page 92 about the emptiness of this “apology”. She writes, “in many Native languages, there is no word for “apologize.” The same goes for “sorry.” This doesn’t mean that in Native communities where the word “apologize” is not spoken, there aren’t definite actions for admitting and amending wrong doing. Thus, I wonder how, without the word, this text translates as a gesture” (92). There is no action, only a statement of fact. There is something missing. A word for apology is empty unless it is followed by actions to right the wrong.

I also loved the moment where Long Soldier writes about how opaque sounds like it should mean translucent. “Why this instinct to assign a definition based on sound”, she writes (27). This, like her musings and reflections on the word whereas, the word apology, sorry, shows the crux of her work revolves around language, words, translations, meaning. Her use of native words throughout the book.

I also love how she used words on the page as almost line drawing. She does this all over the book, but I was specifically enchanted by Dilate on page 35. In part II, her words sweep across the page, mimicking the curve of a pregnant person's stomach. “All is experienced through the body, somebody told me”, she writes. Her lived experience, her intellectual experience, her experience of and with the land, this is a reminder that all of these words do not only live on the page, originate on a page. These words come from Long Soldier herself, born from her experiences, from her body.