Identify the most important word in 1 poem (and why), then research its etymology to discover the historical and social meaning of this word as it has evolved over time. Does the etymological value of this word alter how you read its function in the poem? How does a deeper understanding of this word enable you to revisit the meaning of the poem? Discuss how the poem is opened up for you in new ways through your research. (1 paragraph max)
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The word I believed to be most important in “Dancing in Buses” by Javier Zamora is “look”. Throughout this powerful piece, Zamora uses many action words to display commands to the reader. It shows a sense of urgency and lack of control on our part, which would make sense for a tone because this poem is about crossing the US-Mexico border. Look is a more passive verb, in which the reader, or the one “looking” is just perceiving, not reacting or conducting any action. It sets a sense of helplessness. The etymology of the word comes from West Germanic lokjan which meant to “see, look, spy”. This definition including spy really intrigued me. Many people prescribe a guilt onto those who come across the border “illegally” and choose to called them “illegal aliens”. This word- “spy”- could create a sense of otherness, a further telling that they are crossing into a border that is not believed to be their homes. In later 14th century Old English, look began to be used to call to attention and then in in the same century to look after, as in to take care of. This double meaning could be applicable to the poem, as it would show that the poet is calling the readers to be hyper aware of their surrenders as not to get caught, but also that they must look out for the others in the bunch. This connection to the group and an understanding that they must look out for each other not only adds to the othering, but taps into the special borderland that groups in these special circumstances create together, just as Anzaldua discusses in Borderlands.
“Look | Etymology, Origin and Meaning of Look by Etymonline.” http://Www.etymonline.com, http://www.etymonline.com/word/look. Accessed 18 Sept. 2023.
In the poem, “Alabanza: In Praise of Local 100,” I naturally gravitated towards the word “praise.” In the poem, it functions as an anaphora until the shift preceding the second to last stanza, the repetition ingraining a remembrance for the 43 employees who passed in the attack on the World Trade Center. The most current definition of praise is “to express admiration of, commend, adulate, flatter”. The Old French word, preisier, meaning “to praise, value” predates it. The Old French comes from the Late Latin word preciare, earlier pretiare, which means “to price, value, prize,” from Latin pretium “reward, prize, value, worth”. Disassembling it down to the Proto-Indo-European root “per,” it means “to traffic in, to sell”. Tracing it back to that last definition made me think of how immigrants “sell in” so much of their identity and autonomy to function in their new society, yet they are rarely ever praised for their contributions or sacrifices. Through the more modern meanings, I found it interesting to think about the flip side–how immigrants are quick to be devalued and appraised at a low worth before something tragic happens to them. Post-mortem, their status is elevated. The etymology deep dive revealed a hidden irony/social commentary, a totally different perspective with which to read this poetic tribute.
Source: Harper, Douglas. “Etymology of praise.” Online Etymology Dictionary, https://www.etymonline.com/word/praise. Accessed 18 September, 2023.
In Eduardo C. Corral’s “My Father Scoured and Stacked Dishes,” Corral repeatedly mentions borrowing his dads clothes. At first glance we can already tell Corral uses his fathers clothes to feel closer to his father by physically bearing the weight of his fathers clothes, clothes which have bore witness to intense physical labor or racism; the experiences that shaped his father. He is his dad and his dad’s sacrifices.Corral says “Again and again I borrow his clothes.” Borrow from Proto-Germanic berg is to “pledge, security, bail, debt,” and from old Norse boga “to become bail for, guarantee” and Middle Dutch borghen “to protect, guarantee.” In the use of his father’s clothes Corral is taking on his fathers baggage and carrying his fathers emotional and physical debt. Perhaps most beautiful to me is “to become bail for.” By accepting his father’s burdens and sacrifices he is securing the release of his father from his debt. He is telling his father that his sacrifices were not in vain. Following the Dutch borghen, “to protect,” his fathers clothes seems to serve as a safe space for Corral. Despite his father being described as sangron Corral clearly loves his father and deeply appreciates his sacrifices. His fathers sacrifices serve both to protect Corral from a hard life and Corral’s usage of his dad’s clothes protects and ensures his sacrifices will forever exist and be remembered in a stark contrast to the beginning of the poem where his father’s name was erased and replaced with Jalapeno as a dismissal of his very being.
Source
“Harper, Douglas R. “borrow.” Online Etymology Dictionary, Douglas Harper, https://www.etymonline.com/word/borrow Accessed 18 Sep. 2023.
In Ada Limón’s poem “The Contract Says: We’d Like the Conversation to be Bilingual,” the word that stuck out to me was “complicit.” It stood out to me because in the lines “Will you tell us the stories that make / us uncomfortable, but not complicit?” it serves to point out something nearly impossible to achieve. The speaker is being asked to tell a story to bring up a difficult topic, yet is not allowed to make any accusations against the askers: white people. White people don’t want to be involved in morally wrong behavior, but committing these types of microaggressions supports the bigger problem of discrimination against people of color. I found that the word “complicit” comes from the Old French word “complice,” which means “accomplice, comrade, and companion.” This is interesting to me because the words “comrade” and “companion” have positive connotations, while “accomplice” and, of course, “complicit” have negative connotations and are directly related to wrongdoings. This layer of complexity makes these lines of the poem more interesting to me, because the historical context that is about companionship has now turned into something surrounded by shame. In this context, to be complicit is essentially to fail at basic respect for other people.
Source: Harper, Douglas “complicity.” Online Etymology Dictionary. https://www.etymonline.com/word/complicity
I chose the word “sight” from the poem “La Mano”. I think this is the most important word in the poem because the poet communicates the themes of the poem by describing what the mother and son see. The first line is a vivid description of the view from an apartment building’s window. The poem goes on to describe how the mother and son look at each other and how they both look at the world. The act of seeing is clearly important to this poem and so the poet intentionally ending the poem with the word ‘sight’ encourages us to look deeper at the meaning of that word. ‘Sight’ in the context of this line can be defined as “a perception of an object by or as if by the eye”. The etymology of the word ‘sight’ can be traced to the Old English ‘gesiht’ which most likely comes from the Proto-Indo-European root sekw-, which means to see. Sight is etymologically related to the word ‘see’, but in most common usage it is a noun. We have sight, but not often do we sight something. The first recorded use of ‘sight’ was also in its noun form, somewhere around the 12th century in England. It is more passive than the verb to see, it more refers to perception rather than intentional looking. With that in mind, it recontextualizes the poem. The poet could have chosen the similar word to see or to look, writing a line like “until we could not see the birds anymore”. But instead, she chose to say that the birds were “swallowed from sight”. It lends a sense of inevitability to the birds leaving. There was nothing the mother could do to keep them in her sight, because her sight is both limited and out of her control. Her sight is much like her son, who she views from close up, but who will eventually, inevitably, leave her to live his own life somewhere she cannot see. After careful analysis of the word choice, it becomes clear that the poem is not just a series of descriptions, but a representation of how the mother feels about her son.
Sources:
see | Etymology, origin and meaning of see by etymonline. (n.d.). Online Etymology Dictionary. https://www.etymonline.com/word/see#etymonline_v_23104
Definition of sight. (2023). In Merriam-Webster Dictionary. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sight
In “Dancing in Buses” by Javier Zamora, “pretend” was the word that stuck out to me as the most important. It is the first word of the poem, meaning it sets the stage for the entire piece. Zamora writes about the treacherous journey across the U.S.-Mexico border in which one must carefully evade border patrol. He offers a list of instructions on how to do so, inviting the reader to “pretend” they are doing something else, such as picking limes or shaping pupusas. By doing this, he attempts to turn the harrowing feat of crossing the border into an imaginary set of familiar actions. The word “pretend” is of Latin origin, originally meaning to “stretch forth” an idea. In the 1400s, it was recorded as being used to mean “putting forward a false claim” and then in 1865 was defined as “to play make-believe.” This definition is painful to picture in the context of the poem. Given that playing “make-believe” is something children do, it begs the question of whether this poem was written about a child immigrating to the United States. It makes sense that the speaker is a parent trying to make their child’s experience less scary by having them pretend they are performing comfortable and enjoyable activities. Perhaps it is also written about an adult reverting to a childlike mindset of “make-believe” in order to disassociate from the traumatic event they are experiencing. Whatever the case, the youthful and innocent connotation of the word makes the poem a painful story of finding ways to distract oneself from the danger and fear of crossing the border.
“Pretend.” Online Etymology Dictionary. https://www.etymonline.com/word/pretend. Accessed 29 Aug. 2023.
Through a close reading of Ada Limón’s “The Contract Says: We’d Like the Conversation to be Bilingual,” I found that the word “complicit” stood out the most. The poem comments on what I’d like to call ‘ostensible’ diversity – where in order to escape criticism, a group appears to include diverse people in their ranks, but actually is not invested in the benefits created by including such people with different backgrounds. In reality, this is a band-aid solution to the question of inclusion, and often results in people of color being treated as “token.” They are only there to comply with company policy, or to make the brand seem more progressive, or to fill whatever agenda has been set by higher-ups. White people seek diversity, but only to the extent where they don’t feel guilty (or complicit) in their privilege. Today, “complicity” means “the state of being an accomplice, partnership in wrongdoing or an objectionable act,” but I found that its Latin root ‘complicare’ has a much less connotated meaning. It means “to fold together,” as in “com” (with, together) and “plicare” (to fold, weave). I think this new definition tells us a lot more about the poem. The white people putting up the facade of diversity don’t want to be “folded together” with their interracial coworkers, don’t want to know that they’ve shared the same experiences, don’t want to believe that the value of inclusion is a broadening of perspectives – not a sob story to garner support. This poem is truly a reflection of the fear of blurry borders – that is, of someone not fitting into the box the majority has put them in.
In Lorna Dee Cervantes’ “Freeway 280”, the most important word is “remembers”. The poem is about a highway that was built over a thriving, lush neighborhood, but the plants are resilient and nature reclaims its land; the lines, “in the abandoned lots below, new grasses sprout, / wild mustard remembers, old gardens / come back stronger than they were,” encapsulate this central idea. “Remember” has been used since the mid-to-late 14th century, where it meant “to preserve unforgotten”or “a thing that exists in the memory” (Etymology). The historical and social meaning of this world has not evolved much since then. However, the etymological value of “remember” made me think about how Cervantes uses this word to both personify the plants as a poetic technique and also as a literal explanation for plants regrowing (i.e. their roots still “remember” to grow because the DNA/RNA preserves this knowledge). This deeper understanding allows me to think about the other ways in which physical environments can enrich and support culture, and how essential it is to be adaptable in this world as a marginalized group.
“Remember.” Etymology, https://www.etymonline.com/search ?q=remember. Accessed 17 Sept. 2023.
In Martin Espanda’s “Alabanza: In Praise of Local 100”, I found the word Alabanza to be, fittingly, the most important word in the poem.
Alabanza is translated most simply into “praise”, however I found the former word more significant than the latter, despite both being repeated throughout the text, because of its etymological roots and biblical connotation. Depending on the source there is slight dispute on the etymology of the word, which largely falls into 2 camps: The first being that it is comprised of two parts, the and the suffix “anza” (indicating the action or effect of) following the Spanish verb “alabar” (to praise), which comes from the Latin word alapari (to boast). The second potential is that the word is of arabic orgin from the phrase “الله بنذة” or “Allahu bandha“, roughly translating to “God is a blessing”. This origin isn’t impossible, since many words in Spanish are derived from Arabic origins and “Allah” already (e.g. Ojala). No matter which origin is correct, the words connotation and pragmatic usage is rooted in religious context, particularly used throughout the bible and in Roman Catholic ceremonies. This context distinguishes it from other similar words such as “alabar” or even “arriba”, as it gives the word a more weighted, sacred, and spiritual effect in comparison. This effect is palpable throughout the poem. As Espanda repeats the word across the stanzas, he leaves an impression that Alabanza is not simply celebrating, applauding these people and the lives they left behind —Alabanza is honoring them. Even if God cannot be praised for this, if He did not show up for them, might as well be faceless, then Alabanza, instead, to the souls of Local 100. Though the word might seem like an obvious choice for a poem titled “Alabanza: In Praise of Local 100”, the etymological roots and religious connotation of the word in context to the themes throughout the poem make it easy for me to consider “Alabanza” the most significant word in Martin Espanda’s work.
Sources:
“Alabanza Significado Bíblico: Diccionario Bíblico.” Diccionariobiblico.Org, diccionariobiblico.org/alabanza. Accessed 18 Sept. 2023.
“Alabanza.” Definiciona, https://definiciona.com/alabanza. Accessed 18 Sept. 2023.
ASALE, RAE -, and RAE. “Diccionario de La Lengua Española | Edición Del Tricentenario.” “Diccionario de La Lengua Española” – Edición Del Tricentenario, 2021, dle.rae.es/alabar. Accessed 18 Sept. 2023.
In Regalado’s poem La Mano, the author describes the parakeets as these joyful creatures with emerald feathers. Regalado later goes on to describe how the “alcove echoes their welcome beautifully”. “Beautifully” is the word that sticks out to me. While her son is sleeping the parakeets are providing company outside the window and Regalado seems to admire every action they take and admits to wanting to open the window and “lure” them to stay longer. In modern day context, beautiful means “that has a pleasant, perfect harmonious shape or appearance”. The word “beauty” was around as early as the 14th century to mean “physical attractiveness” or “goodness”. Both of these definitions derived from the Anglo-French word “beaute” and that meant “beauty, seductiveness, beautiful person”. All these stemmed from the Latin word “bellus” to mean “beautiful, charming”. To tie this back to Regalado’s work, the parakeets can be seen as something that is good or charming. All of these definitions have such positive connotations and this can be seen with Regalado’s feelings towards the parakeets that reside outside her window. Philosophy can be brought into the question when considering what is beautiful. This is where phrases such as “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” come to play a role in the discussion and topic about what is beautiful. Regalado may see the parakeets as beautiful in her reality. However, when her son scares the parakeets away he may not see their beauty the same way Regalado does. “La Mano” being the title is so important because when Regalado’s son hits the window, the beauty of the parakeets vanishes.
Source: “Harper, Douglas R. “beauty”. Online Etymology Dictionary. Douglas, Harper, https://www.etymonline.com/word/beauty. Accessed Sep.18 2023.
The word I found to be the most important in Gary Soto’s poem, “Mexicans Begin Jogging,” was the very last word of the poem, “grin.” It stood out to me because it highlights the duality of the poem: that at once the narrator is experiencing this frightening, prejudice-ridden event yet he is also able to find a kind of joy in it. While today the word “grin” is associated with happiness and amusement, it comes from the Old English verb, “grennian” which means to “‘show the teeth’ (in pain or anger).” It also has cognates, such as the Old Norse “grenja,” which means “to howl,” and “grina,” which means “to grin,” the Dutch “grienen,” which means “to whine,” and the German “greinen,” which means “to cry.” In the late 15th century, it started to become associated with smiling, meaning to “bare the teeth in a broad smile,” which probably draws from the idea of a “forced or unnatural smile.” It was surprising to find that the roots of the word have such negative meanings. However, it adds an even deeper layer to Soto’s choice to use the word “grin” to close his poem—that in joy, there is always a hint of pain or sadness. In this way, “grin” manages to encompass both sides of the duality, which makes it the perfect closing to a poem about the complicated joy of contradiction and finding oneself caught within stereotypes.
Source: Harper, Douglas. “Etymology of grin.” Online Etymology Dictionary, https://www.etymonline.com/word/grin. Accessed 18 September, 2023.
For “longing” in La Mano by Alexandra Lytton Regalado
Regalado describes her son as “rooted in the things unknown but longed for still”. This line was so evocative: does she mean that her son doesn’t know what he’s longing for? Maybe she means that her son is more longing than knowing: that he feels that there is something that he wants, but he isn’t old enough yet to explain what it is or why he needs it. Using the Online Etymology Dictionary, I found that the word “longing” (and its verb form “long”) comes from the Old English langian, which means “to yearn after, grieve for”. Longing has a history of grief. The concept, at least originally, wasn’t just wanting things, but also to know that you can’t have them. It fits so much better with this context. If longing is grieving, maybe Regalado’s son is longing for something he’s been disconnected from, something from before his birth. The idea that a nine-month old child can already be grieving for something that he’s lost makes his gesture with the parakeets much more moving. On a literal level, he’s hitting the window because he wants to touch the things that he sees. If he’s longing in the original sense, the action becomes about reaching out to things that cannot be held. The parakeets, when they hear him trying to get to them, flee. And the son is left not understanding why they are gone but knowing that he still wants to be closer to them. With the shift in one word, his actions become so much more universal. I really admire the ability to take such a literal, clumsy action, and make it almost spiritual. “La Mano”, the hand, becomes the central point of the poem, and the son’s action becomes part of a greater story, where the parakeets are something that can’t be reached.
In the poem “Freeway 280”, Cervantes illustrates the persistence of life, even in a place where it seems like renewal is impossible. The word that stuck out to me was “scar”, in the fifth line of the first stanza. The word scar means “a mark remaining after injured tissue has healed,” (Merriam-Webster). The scar she is referring to is the freeway that is cutting through the natural landscape, seemingly destroying everything that existed there before. However, a scar also represents the ability to heal, even if a mark is left forever. The details Cervantes adds describing many parts of the natural land that have returned prove that nature will heal if given the opportunity.
The definition of scar has been somewhat the same throughout history, which to me means that there has always been a word representing the ability to heal.
The word I chose to research was “scar” from Lorna Dee Cervantes’ “Freeway 280.” The idea of the land being scarred by colonialism is a piece of imagery that’s come up several times in border literature we have read, so I thought it would be interesting to research its origin.
The term “scar” (or “scarre” in its original spelling) was first used in the 14th century, and has a double etymology which merged over time. The first meaning of the word refers to a mark left over from a healed wound, and comes from the Old French “escare,” Latin “eschara,” and Greek “eskhara,” all of which translate to “scab.” The second meaning of “scar” refers to a cut or incision, likely influenced by the Old Norse “skarð,” which has the same meaning. Both definitions probably originate from the Proto-Indo-European word root *sker, meaning to cut. It is likely because of the Germanic influence that when “scar” is used in modern English, it’s generally assumed to be from an incision, and clarifying words are used if it is otherwise (i.e. from a burn). As I researched, the idea that “scar” had its root in cutting in particular brought up a visceral image of blood, which helped deepen the idea of how placing the freeway over the old neighborhood was an act of violence against the community that was there that the Earth itself is still healing from.
Source: “Harper, Douglas R. “Scar.” Online Etymology Dictionary, Douglas Harper, http://www.etymonline.com/word/scar. Accessed 16 Sep. 2023.
Note: The asterisk next to the word “sker” refers to the fact that Proto-Indo-European is a reconstructed language – there’s no direct record of it that survives, so there is no way to know for sure this term was used. However, it’s still a prominent theory in the study of European languages.
In the poem “In Colorado My Father Scoured and Stacked Dishes” by Eduardo Corral, the word that stands out to me as most important is “utter” in the second line, “His co-workers, / unable to utter his name, renamed him Jalapeño” (Corral 1-2). While the inability to pronounce names in other languages is quite common, the specific use of the word “utter,” as opposed to “pronounce” or “say,” infuses the sentence with a more layered meaning. By definition, to utter can mean “to send forth as a sound” or “to give public expression to” (Merriam Webster). It is this second definition, I think, that gives the sentence the uncomfortable nuance I read: the father’s co-workers are unable or unwilling to give public expression to his name. This displays a much deeper-rooted bias against the father than simply being unable to put syllables together. The etymology of the verb to utter comes from Middle English uttren, for outside, which itself comes from Old English ūtor, a form of ūt, for out (Merriam Webster). Thus, the etymology of “utter” gives it an implication of outside, distance, foreignness, all of which accentuate the contextual connotation of the co-workers’ sentiments against the narrator’s father. While the word definitely colored how I read the poem the first time, with perhaps a more wry or acerbic tone than I would have interpreted otherwise, reading the piece again through the lens of utter’s origin emphasized themes of distance, not being welcome, and not belonging more clearly than before. Therefore, while the connotation of “utter” made me think more deeply about the poem’s tone, the etymology invited me to think more deeply about the poem’s themes.
“Utter.” Merriam Webster. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/utter. Accessed September 15 2023.
The word I believe to be the most important word in the poem “Alabanza: in praise of local 100” is ash. The etymology of the word ash stems from Middle English meaning “powder-y remains of fire”. However, the more interesting detail is that the word is connected to the ancient symbol of grief.
Understanding that the word ash is connected to the ancient symbol of brief adds so much deeper meaning to the poem which is about the lives lost in 9/11.
This poem has so many elements that make it a powerful piece of work; the way it flows seamlessly from talking about people, into metaphors of a crumbling world. There are many crucial words in this body of work, but I chose the word ash is because I felt like it represents the beginning, the burning, and ending cycles of a fire.
Research from the source:
“Ash (n.1).” Etymology, http://www.etymonline.com/word/ash. Accessed 17 Sept. 2023.