My Big, Fat, Greek Diaspora
April 28th, 2009 by PaulenaOne of my earliest memories is of being spit on.
I was sitting calmly on my Aunt Effie’s front lawn, observing my cousins as they ran about setting the table for dinner on the porch. All of a sudden, without warning, my theia lifted me into the air, whisked me around to face her and sent three showers of saliva squarely between my eyes. To most onlookers, my aunt probably seemed severely deranged. In fact (or perhaps more accurately in myth), she was conscientiously protecting me from what she determined to be an evil spirit that had passed on the sidewalk while I sat unknowingly in the spring sunshine. (Maybe she is deranged…) This Holy Trinity of protective spitting against the “evil eye” is rooted – ironically – in Greek pagan traditions from centuries ago and is still very much a part of Greek culture.
But this incident took place in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts, thousands of miles from Greek soil. If it weren’t for the Stop & Shop supermarket bags in the kitchen, you wouldn’t know it. My Greek/Greek-American (I don’t even know how to label them) family lives in a fairly close-knit community centered around a nearby Greek Orthodox church that they incongruously do not even attend. Most conversation, except for occasional dialogue between second generation Greek-Americans, is in Greek, even (and sometimes especially) when in the presence of non-Greek speakers. The television and radio are perpetually tuned to their respective Greek-language channels and all print media is from Hellenic publishers. Children attend public school during the day but never eat the cafeteria lunches, thanks to the massive portions of homemade moussaka, spanakopita, and pastistio. After the final bell they schlep over to afternoon Greek school where they polish their slang and prepare for when their family’s restaurant makes enough profit to plan a trip back to the homeland.
Homeland. This word came up quite frequently during our class discussions on diaspora, as it is the concept of a common origin that unites members of the diaspora living in various peripheral regions. In his “Introduction: Identity and the Arts in Diaspora Communities,” Thomas Turino quotes William Safran’s definition of the phenomenon. He suggests that individuals who identify as part of the diaspora “regard their ancestral homeland as their true, ideal home and as the place to which they or their descendants would (or should) eventually return.” It was this component of the definition that indicated to me that my family is indeed part of the Greek diaspora. When I was in fifth grade, I wrote a poem for English class in which I expressed my desire to visit my “homeland and reunite with my roots” (what a pretentious kid I was). I finally “returned home” for the first time last summer, after having been told from an early age that my life would remain unfulfilled until I completed my own pilgrimage.
I find that in my family’s case, Greek music and music from the Greek diaspora are relatively similar, or at least the latter invests wholly in the former and makes little effort to create its own musical identity. The cinematic arts, however, as expressed by Stuart Hall in his article on the Caribbean African diaspora, are like music in that they intimately articulate who we were, who we are, and what we are becoming. This profound statement of purpose seems unnecessarily deep in the case of “My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding,” the most well known mainstream film portrayal of the Greek-American culture. This Academy Award nominated romantic comedy features a somewhat deceptive image of the typical Greek-American family. The protagonist’s parents speak English with an accent, but their vocabulary is relatively diverse. The family doesn’t seem to interact extensively with other Greek-American families within the context of the plot, despite the fact that they are involved in a wide array of ‘typically’ Greek activities, such as owning a restaurant and roasting lamb on a spit (…both of which are quite accurate depictions). My family both owns a restaurant and roasts lamb on a spit, but as I mentioned before, most interactions are in Greek and there is significant socializing within the Greek-American community.
Interestingly enough, most second- and third-generation Greeks I know adore this movie and worship it as a token representation of our diasporic society. When I searched for YouTube clips, I was immediately drawn to the comment section, where I found several debates between those who find the satire offensive and those who appreciate how it “brings bittersweet memories to every Greek.” One member who found the movie derogatory and inaccurate – a native Greek, not a Greek-American – picks up on the complexity in portraying a disasporic community as opposed to a mainland Greek community. In response to the antiquated ways of the older characters, he/she writes, “Now I dont know exactly how much old-fashioned the Greek-American families are since they were initiated by Greeks who immigrated there 50 years ago” (I left all spelling and grammatical errors intact). Unfortunately, I’ve already reached my word limit and don’t have enough space to delve into this fascinating topic, but I will discuss it in my final project!
Until I grew old enough to dress myself, I wore a tiny, cobalt blue eye-shaped bead pinned to my collar. This miniature Mediterranean vaskania amulet, was a constant reminder of my heritage, and it is something I still cherish to this day. As it is for my father and his father, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends, my involvement in the diaspora is meaningful to me. It’s something I claim as part of my identity, even though the Greek-American community has begun to assimilate more intricately into the American system. I see myself as among those who consider “remaining ‘ethnic’ [as] part of being a true American” (Levitt 448).