When I first got my hands on American Dirt, I was so excited to read it.
First impressions
I’ve loved books ever since I was a child. As an adult, I allowed my “busy” life to get in the way of my love for reading. I lived in survival mode. Like many immigrant families learn to do. My survival mode was separated by a generation and a half, but the later generations still feel the whispers of our family’s immigration, don’t we?
In January 2020, American Dirt came out. She didn’t even catch my attention until Fall of 2022. By this time, I was consuming several book hauls and reviews on YouTube and all of a sudden, there she was. The hype grabbed me right away. And wouldn’t you know, both the audiobook and book were available in Libby. How lucky was I?!
I chose to read American Dirt before listening to the critics
I did one little search and BOOM! Controversy plastered everywhere I looked.
But that didn’t stop me. You see, I had already read the first few pages and I was hooked. That’s one of my biggest reading challenges. It can take me a minute to really get into a book. But not her. I couldn’t get enough of American Dirt.
Obsessed with the storyline of the protagonist in the story and how she owned a bookstore, as she befriended a frequent customer who was not only a fellow book lover, but an overall charismatic gentleman.
As I listened to this non-stop action-packed book, with so many twists and turns, it reminded me of movies like Frontera and Sicario … that’s just it. It was action packed like a Hollywood movie.
As I got further and further into the book, I kept thinking, what is it that is so controversial about this book? All I could think about through this story was my Papi and the stories I had heard from him about his experiences crossing over from Mexico to the Estados Unidos. I felt closer to him because of this book.
Discussed it with anyone and everyone I could.
Right after I finished the book, I was ready to write this review. The blog was going to be titled “I’m a Mexican American and I loved American Dirt”. I knew it would be problematic and I was ready for Myriam Gurba to come for me (please don’t come for me). Myriam was in the first interview I caught a glimpse of. And she was not playing. More on her later.
Time to hear from my people
Bottom line, not your story to tell
Like I mentioned above, it began with panel interviews posted on YouTube, including Latinx literary scholars. And there it was, the author, Jennine Cummins is white. She is a Caucasian woman writing about, to her, a major political issue “to bring awareness and empathy to“. To the Latinx community, a poignant part of our history. One that is ours and one she has never experienced for herself. Adding insult to injury, she wrote it in the viewpoint of Mexicans. From white America’s view of Mexicans.
White Gaze
And you know what? This apparently has a name. Let’s try to approach this with an open mind here. “The white gaze: traps black people in white imaginations. It is the eyes of a white schoolteacher who sees a black student and lowers expectations. It is the eyes of a white cop who sees a black person and looks twice – or worse, feels for a gun”. It goes without saying, this applies to any culture that is not white America.
I even tried the old but faithful, benefit of the doubt, to assuage Ms. Cummins’ book.
How is this different from white male authors who have created female protagonists in very successful books, think Anna Karenina and Memoirs of a Geisha (white male gaze)? Vice versa, women wrote Frankenstein and Wuthering Heights. How is this different?
The difference is the air of superiority. I don’t think I can put it better than poet Rankine, “Because white men can’t police their imagination, black men are dying”. The white gaze is white America’s inherent inability “to police their imagination”.
No different from the male white gaze as authors of female characters. The majority over the minority. A construct coined by a white American sociologist, Donald Young. Did I lose you? There is a hierarchy of this superiority, “gaze“. White men have considered themselves the “majority” in America, then white women over “minorities”, and so forth.
A moment for Myriam Gurba
Myriam Gurba is key to this discussion for her article, “Pendeja, You Ain’t Steinbeck: My Bronca with Fake-Ass Social Justice Literature”, that singlehandedly ignited the wildfire of awareness.
As I watched Myriam discuss her points, and the reasons for her points (this isn’t looking good for you Mr. Santa Maria), it made a lot of sense. Outspoken and unrelenting Author, Myriam Gurba, advocates for the Latinx community and we all heard it loud and clear.
Publishers and their budgets – The nail that sealed the coffin
BookToker, Tomesandtextiles creator, Carmen, devotes her social media to highlighting Latinx and Bipoc authors, books, and news in the publishing world.
In the included seven-minute TikTok, Carmen went on to highlight the disparities in the publishing world.
- Publishers don’t give equal time or budgets to marginalized authors
- Giving budgets outside of marginalized communities to tell our stories
- Diversity information in the publishing community is not made public
- Lee and Low Books conducted their own surveys:
@tomesandtextiles #stitch with @Elena my take on books i will only be accepting criticism on. TLDR; Publishing needs to do better. I’ve opened this one up to stiches . Video on American Dirt: @TomesAndTextiles | Booktokker Video on Carrie Soto is Back: @TomesAndTextiles | Booktokker Video on Ninth House: @TomesAndTextiles | Booktokker . #booktok #booktokcommunity #readlatinxbooks #supportlatinxauthors #diversifyyourbookshelves #diversifyyourreading #diversifypublishing ♬ original sound – TomesAndTextiles | Booktokker
When it came to American Dirt, Tomesandtextiles called it “immigration trauma porn”.
Sooooooo, what is it? Is it our long names?
Does it just cost too much more per letter to even consider publishing Latinx authors?
It’s not in the budget, right?
What if I did like American Dirt?
Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, right?
Gurba and Carmen’s opinions aside, I get my own opinion too, right? Even if it was different from theirs. Would that make me less Mexican? More assimilated? Not really “getting it”? Not standing with mi gente?
That was almost me. Hell, that was me when the book came out. I was working in an admin position for a predominantly white private school. The token Latina as the face of the school. Meanwhile behind closed doors, the white church members were whispering about all lives matter, making jokes referencing black Jesus, making comments about the black teacher I hired, “oh he speaks so proper”.
I knew this was wrong. I was so deep in this job; the racism was eating me alive. It was also keeping me in my place, with their white gaze.
I still purchased the book
From a used bookstore of course.
Did I still enjoy the book? Yes. Like I enjoy fictional Hollywood movies. Like how the Fast and Furious franchise exaggerates the ability of fast cars. Like porn adulterates sex. Like John Wick magically evades every bullet and villain.
I think it’s important to have the American Dirt book smack dab in the middle of my growing book collection from Latinx authors. It’s a big part of the Mexican American history, now. How will I share this story to the younger generations? Like Oparah said, I’ll “lean into it“. I’ll offer it to be read with Mexican Gothic. They’re both books about colonization. One, a fictional fantasy story that compares colonization to a diseased fungus. The later, a fictional fantasy story about how colonizers view Mexicans and immigrants.
So, how assimilated am I? It depends on what point in my life you ask. Up to this point, I was pretty close to being American Dirt assimilated. Maybe why I enjoyed the book? It took a few years for me to be saturated in a white America job, for the lightbulb to turn on. Literally ignoring the red flags and fighting my gut so hard to fit in, I was literally making myself sick.
As a Mexican American, that’s a big part of our identity. How assimilated are we? Who do we identify more with? Everyone entitling themselves to telling us who we are. Who they want us to be. From 1, to American Dirt.
25 Immigration books written by Latinx authors
Everyone Knows You Go Home – Natalia Sylvester
Children of the Land – Marcello Hernandez Castillo
The Undocumented Americans – Karla Cornejo Villavicencio
A Ballad of Love and Glory – Reyna Grande
Somewhere we are human – Reyna Grande & Sonia Guinansaca
The Education of a Wetback – Marcos Antonio Hernandez
Infinite Country – Patricia Engel
Rivermouth: A Chronical of Language, Faith, and Migration – Alejandra Oliva
How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents – Elizabeth Acevedo
Countries of Origin: A Novel – Javier Fuentes
The Veins of the Ocean: A Novel – Patricia Engel
Dreaming in Cuban – Cristina Garcia
You Sound Like a White Girl – Julissa Arce
Of Women and Salt – Gabriela Garcia
Don’t Ask Me Where I’m From – Jennifer De Leon
The House of Broken Angeles – Luis Alberto Urrea
Once I Was You – Maria Hinojosa
Sabrina & Corina: Stories – Kali Fajardo-Anstine
Unforgetting: A Memoir of Family, Migration, Gangs, and Revolution in the Americas – Roberto Lovato
Lost Children Archive – Valeria Luiselli
Fibre Tropical – Juliana Delgado Lopera
From 1 to American Dirt, how assimilated do you feel like you are? Let me know in the comments below.