{"id":915,"date":"2023-09-06T11:37:05","date_gmt":"2023-09-06T15:37:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/?p=915"},"modified":"2023-09-06T11:37:05","modified_gmt":"2023-09-06T15:37:05","slug":"jessie-neal","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/2023\/09\/06\/jessie-neal\/","title":{"rendered":"jessie neal"},"content":{"rendered":"

jessie neal<\/strong> (they\/she) is a Queer, Disabled, Femme non-binary, Lesbian, Indigenous CHamoru, Fat person who is a vocal advocate for queer indigenous femme representation in academic institutions. jessie has an MA in Women\u2019s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies from Brandeis University and undergraduate degrees in history and gender studies from the University of Arizona. Drawing on both interpersonal and family narratives, jessie\u2019s work foregrounds Indigenous and other historically marginalized narratives of dispossession and resilience, focusing on how women, queer, and gender nonconforming Indigenous communities challenge colonial erasure and heteropatriarchy. In fall 2023, jessie will begin their PhD in American Culture at the University of Michigan.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

H\u00e5fa Adai: (The Aloha You\u2019ve Never Heard)
\n<\/em><\/strong>A CHamoru Coming of Culture<\/strong><\/p>\n

H\u00c5FA ADAI!<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cI was almost 4 years old when the Japanese bomb Perl Arbor [Pearl Harbor]. and life for everyone in Guam immediately changed. As a young child, I remembered<\/em> a song that was very popular at that time. the lyrics of the song is simple but as we play outdoors we willsing this song, which goes \u201c8 of December. 1941 People go crazyright here in Guam!! <\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0OH\u00a0 MISTER\u00a0 SAM,\u00a0 SAM\u00a0 MY\u00a0 DEAR\u00a0 UNCLESAM WILL YOU PLEASE COME BACK TO GUAM\u00a0 WW2 LANDED IN GUAM!!\u201d<\/em>[1]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

These are the words of my Nana, Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie. \u201cI was born in Agana, Guam on November 7th<\/sup>, 1937. My home consisted of my mother and father with 4 sisters and one brother.\u201d<\/em>[2]<\/sup><\/a> Nana is an Indigenous CHamoru woman who was born and raised on the Pacific Island of Gu\u00e5han, otherwise known as Guam. As a child during WWII, my Nana experienced the violent thirty-two-month Japanese occupation of Gu\u00e5han. After the war, the American military seized and re-established colonial control over Gu\u00e5han, and CHamoru people faced an onslaught of American Exceptionalism rhetoric, propaganda, laws, and re-education programs. My Nana is 85 years old, and even now, more than 50 years later, discussing her experiences in Gu\u00e5han is a raw, emotional topic for her.\u00a0 Both because of how long she has been separated from the island, and the trauma that has been interwoven within these memories. In a CHamoru coming of culture, I wayread the oral histories of my maternal grandmother, a woman who is the Indigenous CHamoru definition of a traditional knowledge producer, asserting that the matriarchal social structure of CHamoru customs have provided an avenue of tracing CHamoru lived experience from an Indigenous point of view, reclaiming Indigenous autonomy and our narratives that are at risk of going dormant.[3]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

METHODS:<\/strong><\/p>\n

In this section, I situate Readers in the theory and methods that are critical to my argument. Following that, I transition into the oral histories of my Nana, and our family\u2019s experience during the Japanese occupation. Finally, I assert that my Nana has been subconsciously reinforcing CHamoru ways of being, knowing and doing within her household without her knowledge. These CHamoru customs and cultural traditions have been passed to my mother, her siblings, and their children.<\/p>\n

Craig Santos Perez coined the term \u201cwayreading.\u201d[4]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0 This methodology \u201cnavigates the complex articulations of CHamoru culture, identity, and aesthetics by mapping and locating the moving signs of Indigenous presence, such as CHamoru language, values, customs, beliefs, histories, and arts.\u201d[5]<\/sup><\/a> Wayreading, as a literature methodology, was developed in reference to the navigational wayfinding<\/em> techniques which located seafaring Pacific voyagers\u2019 positions in space.[6]<\/sup><\/a> I situate this research as \u201cA CHamoru Coming of Culture,\u201d a navigation that has been guiding me through my own position in space. As \u201cwayreading reveals the continuity, resistance, and vitality of CHamoru culture, identity and aesthetics,\u201d I employ this method to place my family\u2019s experiences with colonial violence, focused on the continual resistances and Indigenous autonomies that are located in the oral histories. As outlined in Navigating CHamoru Poetry,<\/em> the identifying words used in CHamoru history varies significantly across time, place, and space.[7]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

In \u201cOn Being Guamanian Guamese Guamite Guamian<\/span> Chamorro,\u201d Robert Underwood \u201cspeaks to the complexity and various nomenclatures of CHamoru identity,\u201d which is exemplified by the array of terminology within the community.[8]<\/sup><\/a> In 2018, the Kumision I Fino\u2019 CHamoru yan Fina\u2019n\u00e5\u2019guen I Hisoria yan Lina\u2019la\u2019I Taotao T\u00e5no\u2019 (Commission on CHamoru Language and the Teaching of the History and Culture of the Indigenous People of Guam,) wrote the identity term CHamoru<\/em> into law as the official orthography.[9]<\/sup><\/a> The word Gu\u00e5han translates to \u201c\u2019we have\u2019 or \u2018a place that has\u2019\u201d in Fino\u2019 CHamrou, the CHamoru language.[10]<\/a><\/sup> Prior, names of the island ranged from \u201cGoaam, Goam, Guan, Guana, Guajan, Guam, and Guahan.\u201d[11]<\/sup><\/a> When the United States seized occupation, following the Spanish American war, they \u201cofficially designate the island as Guam in 1908,\u201d and the other Mariana Islands were contracted out to Germany, further displacing CHamoru populations.[12]<\/sup><\/a> Nana uses the terms Guamanian <\/em>to refer to her identity, and Guam <\/em>to refer to the land, dependent on the American military empire. These two things are conjoined in her mind. The term Guamanian, <\/em>\u201cevolved in the early years after World War II,\u201d in the wake of extremely heightened American patriotism.[13]<\/sup><\/a> This American patriotism blossomed in the hearts of CHamoru peoples following the end of the violent Japanese occupation.[14]<\/sup><\/a> Given that \u201cidentity emerges through our lived experiences and is marked by the memories we have of these encounters,\u201d Nana using this term, situates her experiences within the American Exceptionalism Era.[15]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

Eve Tuck wrote in \u201cSuspending Damage: A Letter to Communities\u201d of the dangers of \u201cdamage-centered research.\u201d[16]<\/sup><\/a> Tuck defines this as \u201cresearch that operates, even benevolently, from a theory of change that establishes harm or injury in order to achieve reparation.\u201d[17]<\/sup><\/a> As a child, the only narratives that I was exposed to of Gu\u00e5han and our histories were focused on the trauma, grief, and suffering of our communities. These narratives only \u201cinsist that we are ruined, that we are broke, that we are damaged,\u201d which only furthers the attempts of colonial empires to marginalize Indigenous knowledges and experiences.[18]<\/sup><\/a> I push back on these \u201cdamage-centered\u201d approaches in my research by refocusing on the ways that CHamoru history has been retold in my family and relocating the narratives that have been displaced. Tuck\u2019s work has been a crucial reminder that focusing on the damage is not the only story worth being told.<\/p>\n

CHamoru histories have been predominantly written by outsider men who documented perceptions of CHamoru culture from their heteropatriarchal positionalities.[19]<\/sup><\/a> These positionalities valued men as leaders of nuclear families.[20]<\/sup><\/a> In these perceptions, they failed to acknowledge the value and power of CHamoru matriarchal family structures because of their liminal view of matriarchal societies. The lived experiences of CHamoru people, specifically CHamoru women, have been, as Christine DeLisle puts it, \u201cerased and marginalized in conventional historiography.\u201d[21]<\/sup><\/a> The hegemonic historiography written by outsider men, has attempted across centuries to subjugate, assimilate, and invisibilize CHamoru knowledge systems. Under these conditions, \u201cwomen and children disproportionally absorb the impacts of this militarization,\u201d in part because they are not written into the narrative.[22]<\/sup><\/a> My Nana was both a child during the Japanese occupation, and a young woman during the American occupation. Currently, she does not see her story as imperative to the historical narrative because of the way she has been taught to view her own systems of knowledge from outsiders.[23]<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

My Uncle Roque once wrote that \u201cthe fundamental psychosocial problem of Guam is the Americanization of the basic unit of Guamanian society \u2013 the family.\u201d[24]<\/sup><\/a> He argues that during the American Imposition, \u201cEmphasis was placed upon the institution of a patriarchal society,\u201d thus, targeting CHamoru family life, specifically to disrupt matriarchal structures.[25]<\/sup><\/a> These matriarchal structures that he references are a technology of CHamoru cultural practice that is maintained through oral histories, stories, and chants to pass down knowledge intergenerationally.[26]<\/sup><\/a> The \u201cmain values of our culture are often noted to be inafa\u2019maolek (interdependence), chenchule\u2019 (reciprocity), mam\u00e5lao (shame), and respetu (respect).\u201d[27]<\/sup><\/a> In an attempt to assimilate and discredit our ways of being, knowing, and doing, the colonial archives often devalue the resilience and adaptability of our practices, and the continuance of CHamoru knowledges. While some of this knowledge and culture has undeniably shifted over time and colonial influence, the narrative of CHamoru culture as inauthentic is anti-Indigenous. Vincente Diaz and J. K\u0113haulani Kauanui argue in \u201cNative Pacific Cultural Studies on the Edge,\u201d that Pacific identities have been expected to be a \u201cpure, unchanging set of practices and values that were defined in the ancient past and from which any deviation or change marks impurity and inauthenticity.\u201d[28]<\/sup><\/a> This unfair expectation has functioned as a colonial tool which has sought to devalue CHamoru culture.\u00a0 The use of the word \u201cimpurity\u201d here elicits notions alike to the Blood Quantum measurements that Native American people, theory, and scholarship discuss as an in-human assimilatory practice of settler colonialism.[29]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

CHamoru people are not and never were confined to the 212 square mile island of Gu\u00e5han.[30]<\/sup><\/a> This focus on land ownership, rather than a more holistic view that includes the sea, has been perpetuated by colonial ideals of personal property. This view separates humans and the world we live in as opposed to humans as intrinsically tied to the earth.[31]<\/sup><\/a> Epeli Hau\u2019ofa argues in We Are the Ocean<\/em>, that\u00a0 \u201cthe idea that the countries of Polynesia and Micronesia are too small, too poor, too isolated to develop any meaningful degree of autonomy,\u201d comes from a \u201cvery narrow kind\u201d of view \u201cthat overlooks culture and history.\u201d[32]<\/sup><\/a> This notion shows itself within my Nana\u2019s narrations often. I suspect this stems from the American colonial re-education she experienced growing up. Nana believes that her experience is not worth my focus, instead she insists that Gu\u00e5han is both too distant in time and physical location, for her stories to matter. Alternatively, Epeli Hau\u2019ofa\u2019s Indigenous centric model asserts, that \u201cOceania is vast, Oceania is expanding, Oceania is hospitable and generous, Oceania is humanity rising from the depths of brine and regions of fire deeper still, Oceania is us. We are the sea, we are the ocean.\u201d[33]<\/sup><\/a> Thinking of Oceania as a \u201csea of islands,\u201d reminds us that our ancestors are \u201cocean peoples,\u201d and grounds my analysis of Indigenous CHamoru ways of knowing outside colonial conceptualizations.[34]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

In No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies, <\/em>Julian Aguon writes, \u201cmost of our history books are teeming with ghosts of dead politicians; we\u2019ve filled their pages with so many former governors, senators, and speakers of the house, it\u2019s no surprise no one else fits.\u201d[35]<\/sup><\/a> Agon calls this a \u201cmistake of history.\u201d[36]<\/sup><\/a> He goes on to argue that \u201cwe\u2019ve paid in ancestors whose names we do not know and thus cannot call out in times of tribulation\u2014loved ones lost to us forever.\u201d[37]<\/sup><\/a> Despite the limited sources that I have relied on to re-locate my family\u2019s lived experiences, this labor has given names to those who were previously unnamed, and reignited conversations of our CHamoru history within my extended family networks. Without the matriarchal structure and oral histories that have been passed down to me this would not have been possible.<\/p>\n

FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: <\/strong><\/p>\n

In the words of d\u00e5ko\u2019ta alcantara-camacho, \u201cI am alive, and all generations of my ancestors are alive in me.\u201d[38]<\/sup><\/a> Throughout this process I have fought to eternally recognize the vast linage of women who have come before me. The stories that I do have of Josefa and Jose Santos come from my Nana\u2019s memories, which have been passed onto me by way of oral storytelling.<\/p>\n

Nana was the youngest of, from the best of my family\u2019s knowledge, nine babies that were born to her mother, Josefa Ignacio Santos (1905-1998) and father, Jose Santos Santos (1899-1949). Up until 1998, my Nana had no knowledge of her che\u2019lu (siblings) who had passed in their infancy or childhood. It wasn\u2019t until she traveled to Gu\u00e5han for Josefa\u2019s funeral that she saw their graves. This to me suggests that her family didn\u2019t discuss the children who came before her. Possibly, this is because she was only 4 when the Japanese occupied. Possibly, this is because the traumatic experience of enduring colonial settler ideologies necessitated Josefa\u2019s full focus on her family\u2019s survival.<\/p>\n

Teresita remembers her mom as \u201ca very caring person with lots of natural talents to show How much she loved being around people. She was extremely helpful to anyone who was in need of help.\u00a0With 6 children to care for, I often wonder how she managed to take care of Each one of us, my most memorable and enjoyable times with her were the many walks we did\u00a0Around our neborhood visiting friends and relatives.\u201d<\/em>[39]<\/sup><\/a> The importance of Josefa as a site of safety and comfort is one of the clearest memories that Nana has. The feeling of being individually seen, loved, and respected by her mother is a frequent reflection, and a place Nana returns when overwhelmed. \u201cWith a 4th<\/sup> grade education she showed more Knowledge than most people with more education. She read a lot and knew what was going on Around the world and communicate with ease.\u00a0She died at age 93 at peace with what she accomplished.\u201d<\/em>[40]<\/sup><\/a> Nana remembers Josefa, reading international papers, and solving puzzles faster than anyone she knew. She also remembers that Josefa had a close connection to the jungle and ocean and knew of the plants and animals in Gu\u00e5han.<\/p>\n

Jose Santos Santos was in the American Navy. He died of appendicitis when Nana was 12, so his life is vague in her memory. His military service is almost always followed up by two details. One is that his father fought in the Vietnam and Spanish American war, and the other, is that Josefa had aligned herself with him in part due to the access to social movement and commercial goods available to the wives of Naval men.[41]<\/sup><\/a> Nana only remembers one photo of Jose ever existing, a side profile taken because of his Naval affiliation. Jose Santos Santos \u201cloved to visit relatives on a Sunday afternoon.\u201d<\/em>[42]<\/sup><\/a> Nana remembers him as \u201ca very jolly person who enjoyed fishing and gardening. He loved to cook outdoors on a grille he made. Fishing was a favorite pastime of his. One of my fondest memory of him, is going fishing in the pacific ocean. We did this often and on one occasion, we out fishing when it was low tide and did not realized that high tide was nearing. We were having a lot of fun, playing and trying to catch a lot of fish. By the time we noticed that the tide was quickly changing, we had to hustle to get to the shore. He might have had to carry me as were in danger.\u201d<\/em>[43]<\/sup><\/a> This memory situates Jose in a delightful pastime. However, this is where it gets complicated. Jose was an alcoholic, and he physically abused both his wife and children. I have known these facts my whole life, however the moment I became a \u2018researcher\u2019 my Nana shifted the access to non-filtered knowledge that she provided me. I presume that this can be traced back to her distrust of formal academic research, which in her experience has portrayed CHamoru people in harmful ways.<\/p>\n

Reproducing CHamoru matriarchal traditions, my Great Grandparents named their children to carry on their mother\u2019s maiden name as their middle name.[44]<\/sup><\/a> Their eldest daughter was born in 1923. Her name was Lourdes Ignacio Santos and she died of the measles when she was 9. Following her was Maria Ignacio Santos born in 1924. She became a teacher and lived on Gu\u00e5han throughout her whole life. My Aunt Tomasa Ignacio Santos was born in 1926, and she would later move to the United States on a full ride scholarship, against her father\u2019s wishes. Magdalena Ignacio Santos was born in 1928, and she also went to college and lived in the United States for a portion of her life. She became the first CHamoru woman to receive a master\u2019s degree – in library science.[45]<\/sup><\/a> Aunt Maggie married Richard Taitano, a man who later became a senator and the Richard Flores Taitano Micronesian Area Research Center was named after him.[46]<\/sup><\/a> Carmen Ignacio Santos, was born in 1930, she died of pneumonia when she was five. Jose Ignacio Santos was stillborn in 1933, that same year, Roque Ignacio Santos was born. When Roque grew up, he enlisted in the military-like his father and grandfather before him. After his military service he moved to the United States for education. Ana Ignacio Santos was born in 1936. After WWII, during her second-grade year, Ana was pulled out of school due to an epileptic episode. Josefa cared for her until she died in 1998. Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, my Nana, was born in 1937.\u00a0 Only six of Josefa and Jose\u2019s children lived into adulthood, Maria, Tomasa, Magdalena, Roque, Ana, and Teresita.<\/p>\n

Nana\u2019s childhood memories often take place at family gatherings or special events. This shows how interdependent her family structure was while she was growing up. Now, in the extended family that she has built, siblings, cousins, great uncles and beyond are all seen as family<\/em>. There is no clear definition of degree of relation to determine authentic family. This practice is in direct contrast to the heteropatriarchal norm that warns of the nuclear family as the only valuable familial structure. \u00a0Interdependent family structures, like this one, allowed for the sharing of knowledge, labor, and resources. This was especially utilized during the WWII Japanese occupation when communities and families relied on their interconnectivity for their survival.<\/p>\n

LEGACIES OF THE WAR:<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cI was born in Guam, and we were very much affected by WW2.\u201d<\/em>[47]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

The Japanese occupation of Gu\u00e5han began with air bombings on December 10th<\/sup>, 1941, and the island was under Japanese occupation until August 10th<\/sup>, 1944, when the American military re-seized the space.[48]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0 The events of this occupation dramatically changed the lives of CHamoru peoples. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7th<\/sup>, 1941, in Hawai\u2019i, another Pacific Island where the Kanaka Maoli people have experienced similar histories with colonial imposition, the thirty-two-month Japanese occupation of Gu\u00e5han began. The Japanese attempted their colonial escapade on multiple fronts. They forced CHamoru people to work hard labor, marched them from their homes across the island and into concentration camps, kidnapped service men, like my great grandfather, as prisoners of war, forced CHamoru children to attend Japanese assimilatory education programs, and they raped and sexually violated women and girls.[49]<\/sup><\/a> At each of these colonial fronts, CHamoru people faced deadly consequences if the expectations of the Japanese were not met.<\/p>\n

Uncle Roque used to tell stories of a moment, or moments, when the Japanese would line CHamoru people up, himself, and my great grandmother included, under the suspicion of theft<\/em>. Then the soldiers would randomly attack people, beating and mutilating them. Roque remembered that he felt lucky none of our family members were singled out during these explosive moments.[50]<\/sup><\/a> The recurrence of CHamoru people being perceived as thieves, is ironic coming from the very colonizers who were violently seizing labor, peace, and resources from CHamoru communities. The following are collected memories, gathered from moments of my Nana\u2019s remembrance. This provides readers with a first-hand perspective of the Japanese occupation from the eyes of a young girl.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy Dad was in the USA ARMY during WW2 and was taken as a prisoner of war during the Japanese occupation so consequently we missed him during those terrible times the Island was occupied.\u201d<\/em>[51<\/sup><\/a>]<\/sup><\/a>Josefa was the sole caretaker for the household. Her children ranged in age and gender, which has allowed for my family to get a glimpse into a spectrum of experiences during the occupation. \u201cAs a young child we had to move to my grandfather\u2019s house were we had to stay for the duration of WW2 My memory of the time we lived here is vake but It was a beautiful location with lots of vegetations. This was A huge piece of land with hundreds of acres. We love running the small hills and rolling around in the grass.\u201d<\/em>[52] <\/sup><\/a>During the occupation, \u201cI missed my Mom and wondered how she was able to cope with what was going on at the time.\u201d<\/em>[53]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cMy mom and siblings were at<\/em> A forced labor environment and came home late at night. Her love and attention managed to keep us safe and we felt protected.\u201d<\/em>[54]<\/sup><\/a>Josefa shielded her children from colonial violence to the best of her abilities. This certainly lessened the impact of this trauma, but ultimately the responsibility of erasing the violence cannot be placed onto Josefa as doing so would expect her to carry the burden of colonization.[55]<\/sup><\/a> This unjust burden neglects to hold actual colonizers accountable.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy sister Ana (Neat) and I were never registered, so we were left alone throughout the long day as we watched our mother and sisters, and brother marched off to the labor camp.\u201d<\/em>[56]<\/sup><\/a>Fearing for the safety of her children, Josefa entrusted her two youngest daughters, Ana, aged six, and Teresita, aged four, to the jungle for protection. They \u201cwere tuck away from dangers from the Japanese. The land was beautiful had plenty of fruits and veggies. A very dense wooded area, witch made it a perfect place to hide. I membered playing outside with my brother and sister Ana.\u201d<\/em>[57]<\/sup><\/a> Josefa kept her youngest children\u2019s existence a secret from the Japanese soldiers when they took headcount of CHamoru families. \u201cWe had strict instructions given to us as to how to behave throughout the day. We had to be on the lookout for Japanese patrolling the area. I can just assume that the work they had to endure were miserable, some were beaten for not working fast enough.\u201d<\/em>[58]<\/sup><\/a>The jungle allowed for shelter, but also left the children alone for long hours while their mother and siblings were forced to do hard labor. My mother remembers hearing stories from her mom of times where she hid from discovery by the Japanese, and times when she stumbled upon piles of beheaded and disfigured bodies on the beach.[59]<\/sup><\/a> This is how the story is told in my family\u2019s oral histories, Nana recalls moments over time that cumulatively come together to tell a story of a very young child\u2019s survival through trauma. Still, the focus in her stories is often on the abundance of food and love within her childhood home.<\/p>\n

I do not know directly of the stories of Maria and Magdalena during World War II; their experiences remain dormant and ready to be recovered in the family\u2019s historical memory. It is assumed, from my Nana\u2019s testimonies, that they were interned in forced labor camps and made to work long hours on behalf of the Japanese.[60]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

My Uncle Roque attended Japanese re-education assimilation programs. It is unclear if his older sisters did as well. My Nana often recalls when her brother, Roque, was taught how to count to 10 in Japanese.[61]<\/sup><\/a> She always says that \u201che had a lot of FUN trying to teach each of us some of what he had learned that day. To this day I still remember counting in Japanese, (a little)!\u201d<\/em>[62]<\/sup><\/a> Re-education programs function to pass on the \u2018desired\u2019 knowledge of colonial empires. This passes through sibling relationships; therefore, children are typically the primary targets for colonial escapade. The reach of colonial education extended towards my Nana, despite the Japanese colonizers being unaware of her existence hiding in the jungle.<\/p>\n

My Aunt Tomasa is seen as the person who experienced the occupation the \u2018most traumatically\u2019. She was repeatedly raped and faced extreme sexual violence during the occupation, at just 14. There was extreme \u201cinstitutional rape and sexual slavery\u201d that girls and women experienced in Gu\u00e5han during the Japanese occupation. After learning this, Tomasa\u2019s story became clearer.[63]<\/sup><\/a> \u00a0Tomasa retreated into her own world following the occupation, and not much is known of the specifics. No one recalls her talking about it. The sexual violence further disrupted CHamoru lived experiences and instilled a strong fear of Japanese authority.[64]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

Following the re-occupation, \u201cThe \u2018Americanization\u2019 of the Chamorros\u2026 received a big boost from the Japanese.\u201d[65]<\/sup><\/a> Craig Santos Perez asserts that this is because of CHamoru \u201c\u2019codes of indebtedness\u2019 ignited feelings of patriotism and loyalty to the United States.\u201d[66]<\/sup><\/a> The memory most centralized in my Nana\u2019s accounts of the war, is that of the joy that she felt once the American soldiers reoccupied the island. Nana often speaks words of thanks – directed towards American soldiers. She remembers that \u201cthey did a lot of good stuff for Guam,\u201d<\/em> like stepping up to provide housing and food for CHamoru people after the Japanese occupation.[67]<\/sup><\/a> I do not know if she is aware that the American military seized her childhood home for the military expansion, but I did not have the heart to tell her.<\/p>\n

AMERICAN COLONIAL EDUCATION:<\/strong><\/p>\n

During the Cold War, American schools taught students about the glories of the mainland, and preached of the access to education and material goods that America could provide them.<\/span>[68]<\/span><\/a> The hyper-masculinization of the military and hyper-feminization of the land was constructed by the American military occupation to decentralize CHamoru women\u2019s roles as heads of their houses and reinforced heteronormative societal expectations.<\/span> This was established by the American military by asserting the inferiority of Indigenous ways of life, and the colonialist government blamed those same Indigenous ways of life as having failed CHamoru people in successfully protecting them from the Japanese forces.<\/span>[69]<\/span><\/a> This was reproduced, in part by nuns who were affiliated with the Catholic Church.<\/span>[70]<\/span><\/a> Oftentimes, the religions sisters were based within universities and convents in the United States. Since 1946, nuns have been \u201cactively working and praying\u201d in Gu\u00e5han, \u201cfrom the classroom to the hospital, the women\u2019s shelter to the senior care home, religious sisters have had a significant presence in people\u2019s lives.\u201d<\/span>[71]<\/span><\/a> My Aunt Tomasa and Aunt Maggie were \u201csent off-island for higher education,\u201d by the religious order.<\/span>[72]<\/span><\/a> They received four-year full-ride scholarships to attend Siena Heights College for Tomasa, and Mount Mary College for Maggie. Each of these schools was affiliated with the sisters who had taught them in Gu\u00e5han. A few years later, my Nana also went to the United States, immediately following her high school graduation. <\/span><\/p>\n

To further \u2018Americanize\u2019 CHamoru peoples, the U.S. Navy banned the Fino\u2019 CHamoru language (CHamoru language) from 1917 to the 1970s.<\/span>[73]<\/span><\/a> During this time, CHamoru-English dictionaries were gathered and burned.<\/span>[74]<\/span><\/a> CHamoru children, like my Nana, were punished for speaking the language in school, and many CHamoru parents stopped teaching their children the Fino\u2019 CHamoru language.<\/span>[75]<\/span><\/a> Michael Bevacqua argues that after WWII \u201cmany parents on Guam were afraid that teaching their children CHamoru would limit their chances of success in the US.\u201d<\/span>[76]<\/span><\/a> The attempted linguicide and Americanization was targeted specifically towards children, and the effects of this are still being felt, generations later. Nana does not remember the language, and she did not pass it onto her children because of the stigma and violence that she has been conditioned to associate with CHamoru ways of knowing. Growing up, I had been very vocal about my desire to learn this language. The lack of access to classes in the United States, and family who could teach me made this impossible. This last summer, si yu\u2019os ma\u2019\u00e5se (thanks) to zoom, I have found a class and have begun the journey to reclaiming the Fino\u2019 CHamoru language. As the only person in my family who knows some of the language, I feel responsible for using CHamoru words whenever possible in conversation hopefully, to introduce them to words and phrases so that they might become more curious about claiming their heritage language themselves.\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

CHAMORU CONTINUANCE AND CULTURAL RESISTANCE:<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

In the Fino\u2019 CHamoru language, words and syllables are often reduplicated to emphasize the meaning as active or continual.[77]<\/sup><\/a> This reduplication can be seen in the following excerpt of my Nana\u2019s speech. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe older people believed in all of this, but right now, Guam is really like another state in the United States. The culture has become a lot like here because of the war and the military. Guam is really Americanized. It\u2019s just a very very small little island, it\u2019s just like going to a small little town in the United States right now.\u201d<\/em>[78]<\/sup><\/a> <\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

In this quote, my Nana repeats words that signify how marginalized she sees the CHamoru customs, and thus Indigenous power. She references how her man\u00e5mko\u2019 <\/em>(elders) believed in CHamoru Legends before the American colonization. She continues to note that the American military occupation has shifted Gu\u00e5han\u2019s space into a location that she sees as an extension of the mainland.[79]<\/sup><\/a> By wayreading <\/em>my Nana\u2019s words, it becomes clear that Fino\u2019 CHamoru language patterns are being reproduced, despite the English language being spoken.[80]<\/sup><\/a> This is a representation of how CHamoru customs appear, despite the cultural reproduction of language patterns being unconscious on my Nana\u2019s behalf.[81]<\/sup><\/a> Language patterns are a medium that is observable, measurable, and often a marker of cultural connectivity. As such, the reduplication of words in my Nana\u2019s speech and writings can be clearly measured, and quantified. I wonder then, if similar instances of unconscious cultural reproduction can be wayread within mediums that are not as transparent. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0The conversation the quote above derives from was prompted by my Nana\u2019s CHamoru book of legends that I had placed onto the kitchen table.[82]<\/sup><\/a> I watched, and listened, as my grandmother read to me the creation story of a mermaid, Sirena. <\/span><\/p>\n

Sirena was a young girl who enjoyed playing in the water. Her mother told her to stop and come help with the chores, but she was having such a good time in the water that she was not paying attention to her mother\u2019s calls. Her mother complained to Sirena\u2019s godmother and in her irritation Sirena\u2019s mother remarked that if her daughter likes the water so much than, maybe she should be a fish. The godmother chimed in because she noticed the severity of this comment and exclaimed that the human part of her should remain, since that half is hers.[83]<\/sup><\/a> Suddenly, Sirena transformed into a mermaid. Her mother regretted wishing this upon her, but nothing could be done to change Sirena\u2019s fate, so she said goodbye and swam out to sea. [84]<\/a><\/sup> <\/span><\/p>\n

Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, a CHamoru oral historian, wrote that the story of Sirena is \u201cone of the most treasured stories in the Chamorro culture, the most retold from generation to generation.\u201d[85]<\/sup><\/a> Spanish officials crafted this story based on Spanish folktale that they were familiar with, to create a fear of the water and disobedience in CHamoru children.[86]<\/sup><\/a> Ramirez notes that our, \u201cOral history relates that the missionaries and Spanish officials had difficulty restricting children from the river which was a resource.\u201d[87]<\/sup><\/a> Young girls were most often who this story is retold to, as a fear tactic. [88]<\/a> <\/sup>This \u201cfear is pronounced in the early socialization of every Chamorro child, especially among females. Perhaps this explains why most Chamorritas today almost consider the ocean alien and the majority not even knowing how to swim.\u201d[89]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0 My Nana can\u2019t swim either. <\/span><\/p>\n

I wonder now if the story of Sirena could be the reason that my Nana did not learn how to swim? Did the stories of the dangers persuade her away? Did her mother or older sisters know the legend? Did they keep my Nana away from the water? As a child, my mother explained to me that Gu\u00e5han was a place with no beaches, rough and dangerous waters, and no swimming holes. Of course, I believed her. She is my mother. I was taught not to question her knowledge. This description of Gu\u00e5han made sense to me. However, when I learned of the beaches and easily swimmable reefs, I was confused; Until I heard the story of Sirena, and everything seemed to fall into place. My mother inferred the topography of Gu\u00e5han incorrectly. She told me of the dangers in the waters in Gu\u00e5han. While her rendition is shifted, the original purpose of Sirena\u2019s story has remained intact. My mother taught her young daughter to be wary of the water and to believe and respect the words she was speaking.<\/span><\/p>\n

The story of Sirena, however altered, has remained with an intact message that can be wayread as a moment of CHamoru cultural reproduction. From my great grandma, Nana, mother, to me. After she finished reading the story, Nana exhaled a disapproving sigh. She called the story \u201csilly\u201d <\/em>and swiftly ended the conversation. She may not \u2018believe\u2019 but regardless, the story remained. <\/span><\/p>\n

Julian Agon wrote – \u201cwe\u2019ve paid in ancestors whose names we do not know and thus cannot call out in times of tribulation\u2014loved ones lost to us forever.\u201d [90]<\/a><\/sup> This is not where the quote ends. Instead, Agon continues to say – \u201cbut sometimes they are found.\u201d[91]<\/sup><\/a> This research has allowed for me, my family, and especially my Nana to reclaim histories that had gone dormant and resituate these legacies within our oral histories. This reclamation would not have been possible without the oral histories, and familial interconnections, that were already established and thriving, prior to my existence; Si yu\u2019os ma\u2019\u00e5se (Thank you) to my man\u00e5mko\u2019, for their labor which has worked to preserve these knowledges. <\/span><\/p>\n

[1]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy childhood life,\u201d <\/span>Storyworth.com written response, November 07, 2021.To accurately preserve her speech patterns, her words are directly written, and her writing is not edited; to add clarity her voice is italicized throughout this paper.<\/p>\n

[2]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life,\u201d Storyworth.com written response, November 7th<\/sup>, 2021.<\/p>\n

[3]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 31<\/p>\n

[4]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 31<\/p>\n

[5]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 34.<\/p>\n

[6]<\/sup><\/a> Vincente M. Diaz, \u201cVoyaging for Anti-colonial Recovery: Austronesian Seafaring, Archipelagic Rethinking, and the Re-mapping of Indigeneity,\u201d Pacific Asia Inquiry<\/em> 2, no.1 (Fall 2011): 26. As seen in Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 39.<\/p>\n

[7]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 11. As such, this paper will not alter the various names present in the oral histories and sources examined.[vii]<\/sup><\/p>\n

[8]<\/sup><\/a> Robert A. Underwood, \u201cOn Being Guamanian Guamese Guamite Guamian<\/span> Chamorro,\u201d Xanadu II,<\/em> Spring 1982. As found in Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 11.<\/p>\n

[9]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 10.<\/p>\n

[10]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 11.<\/p>\n

[11]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 11.<\/p>\n

[12]<\/sup><\/a> Robert F. Rogers,\u00a0Destiny\u2019s Landfall: a History of Guam<\/em>. Rev. ed. Honolulu: University of Hawai\u02bbi Press, 2011. 15.<\/p>\n

[13]<\/sup><\/a> Gina E. Taitano, \u201cAdoption of \u2018Guamanian,\u2019\u201d Guampedia, May 11, 2022. https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/adoption-of-guamanian\/<\/p>\n

[14]<\/sup><\/a> Mary Therese F. Cruz, \u201c(Re)Searching Identity: Being Chamorro in an American Colony,\u201d ProQuest Dissertations Publishing, 2012. 2.\u00a0 https:\/\/scholarspace.manoa.hawaii.edu\/server\/api\/core\/bitstreams\/48f7414f-6a78-417f-8abd-8411b3d8bb44\/content<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[15]<\/sup><\/a> Mary Therese F. Cruz, \u201c(Re)Searching Identity,\u201d 1.<\/p>\n

[16]<\/sup><\/a> Eve Tuck, \u201cSuspending Damage: A Letter to Communities,\u201d Harvard Educational Review, <\/em>Retrieved from\u00a0 https:\/\/www.proquest.com\/docview\/212268515?accountid=9703<\/span><\/a>.<\/p>\n

[17]<\/sup><\/a> Eve Tuck, \u201cSuspending Damage: A Letter to Communities.\u201d<\/p>\n

[18]<\/sup><\/a> Eve Tuck, \u201cSuspending Damage: A Letter to Communities.\u201d<\/p>\n

[19]<\/sup><\/a> Christine Taitano DeLisle.\u00a0Placental Politics: CHamoru Women, White Womanhood, and Indigeneity Under U.S. Colonialism in Guam<\/em>. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press), 2021. Xii-xiv.<\/p>\n

[20]<\/sup><\/a> Taitano DeLisle.\u00a0Placental Politics, <\/em>14.<\/p>\n

[21]<\/sup><\/a> Taitano DeLisle.\u00a0Placental Politics, <\/em>1.<\/p>\n

[22]<\/sup><\/a> Sylvia C. Frain, \u201cWomen\u2019s Resistance in the Marianas Archipelago: A US Colonial Homefrotn and Militarized Frontline.\u201d Feminist Formations <\/em>29, no.1 (Spring, 2017) https:\/\/www.proquest.com\/docview\/1900112002<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[23]<\/span><\/a> To this day, reports are being published that claim that our language is dead, and our culture dying. https:\/\/www.guampdn.com\/archives\/bevacqua-our-language-isnt-dead-yet\/article_233775f1-6857-5884-be10-69f7c8d1497d.html<\/a> However community members are pushing back on this perspective as can be seen in https:\/\/www.guampdn.com\/archives\/bevacqua-our-language-isnt-dead-yet\/article_233775f1-6857-5884-be10-69f7c8d1497d.html<\/p>\n

[24]<\/sup><\/a> Roque Ignacio Santos. \u201cThe Guamanian Family: Psychohistorical Developments,\u201d pg 1. The lack of a better citation is due to the lack of more information. My Aunt Carmen, Roque\u2019s daughter, sent me a 25-page article with no title page, or easily traceable passages, which she says he carried around with him everywhere for over 25 years.<\/p>\n

[25]<\/sup><\/a> Roque Ignacio Santos. \u201cThe Guamanian Family: Psychohistoircal Developments,\u201d pg 1.<\/p>\n

[26]<\/sup><\/a> Judy Flores, \u201cChant,\u201d Guampedia, November 05, 2022, https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/chant\/<\/p>\n

[27]<\/sup><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 11.<\/p>\n

[28]<\/sup><\/a> Vincente Diaz and J. K\u0113haulani Kauanui, \u201cNative Pacific Cultural Studies on the Edge,\u201d The Contemporary Pacific <\/em>13, no.2 (2001) https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1353\/cp.2001.0049<\/span><\/a>. As seen in Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 17.<\/p>\n

[29]<\/sup><\/a> Katherine Ellinghaus, Blood Will Tell: Native Americans and Assimilation Policy<\/em>. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2017. xii<\/p>\n

[30]<\/sup><\/a> Rogers, Destiny\u2019s Landfall: A History of Guam.<\/em> (NEED PAGE)<\/p>\n

[31]<\/sup><\/a> Epeli Hau\u2018ofa,\u00a0We Are the Ocean: Selected Works<\/em>. \u201cOur Sea of Islands,\u201d Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2008. 28-29. https:\/\/www.jstor.org\/stable\/j.ctt6wqzrq.7?seq=15#metadata_info_tab_contents<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[32]<\/sup><\/a> Epeli Hau\u2019ofa, \u201cOr Sea of Islands,\u201d 29-30.<\/p>\n

[33]<\/sup><\/a> Epeli Hau\u2019ofa, \u201cOr Sea of Islands,\u201d 39.<\/p>\n

[34]<\/sup><\/a> Epeli Hau\u2019ofa, \u201cOr Sea of Islands,\u201d 39. As seen in Sylvia C. Frain, \u201cWomen\u2019s Resistance in the Marianas Archipelago\u201d<\/p>\n

[35]<\/sup><\/a> Julian Agon, No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies: A Lyric Essay<\/em>. New York: Astra Publishing House, 2022. 38.<\/p>\n

[36]<\/sup><\/a> Agon, No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies,<\/em> 39.<\/p>\n

[37]<\/sup><\/a> Agon, No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies,<\/em> 39.<\/p>\n

[38]<\/sup><\/a> d\u00e5ko’ta alcantara-camacho. \u201cGuam: Where America’s Day Begins with Injustice.\u201d The Seattle Globalist, January 25, 2014. https:\/\/seattleglobalist.com\/2013\/11\/27\/guam-where-americas-day-begins-with-injustice\/17809.<\/p>\n

[39]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cWhat was your Mom like when you were a child?\u201d Storyworth.com written response, January 03, 2021.<\/p>\n

[40]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cWhat was your Mom like when you were a child?\u201d<\/p>\n

[41]<\/sup><\/a> Christine Taitano DeLisle.\u00a0Placental Politics: CHamoru Women, White Womanhood, and Indigeneity Under U.S. Colonialism in Guam<\/em>. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press), 2021. 6.<\/p>\n

[42]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cWhat was your Dad like when you were a child?\u201d Storyworth.com written response, February 14, 2021.<\/p>\n

[43]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cWhat was your Dad like when you were a child?\u201d<\/p>\n

[44]<\/sup><\/a> Bernard, Punzalan, \u201cHistorical Shifts in Naming Practices of the CHamoru People.\u201d Chamorro Roots, August 29, 2021. https:\/\/www.chamorroroots.com\/v7\/index.php\/pubs-projects\/49-taotao-tano\/history\/765-historical-shifts-in-naming-practices-of-the-chamoru-people.<\/p>\n

[45]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cMagdalena Taitano.\u201d Guampedia. Accessed November 27, 2022. https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/magdalena-taitano\/.<\/p>\n

[46]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cRichard F. Taitano Micronesian Area Research Center: University of Guam.\u201d July 29, 2022. https:\/\/www.uog.edu\/marc-home<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[47]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life.\u201d<\/p>\n

[48]<\/sup><\/a> Wakoko Higuchi, \u201cJapanese Occupation of Guam.\u201d Guampedia. May 14, 2022. https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/japanese-occupation-of-guam\/<\/p>\n

[49]<\/sup><\/a> Wakako Higuchi,\u201cThe Japanisation Policy for the Chamorros of Guam, 1941-1944,\u201d\u00a0The Journal of Pacific History<\/em>\u00a036, no. 1 (2001) 21. http:\/\/www.jstor.org\/stable\/25169517.<\/p>\n

[50]<\/sup><\/a> Elizabeth Sandra Currie Neal, interview by jessie neal, Houston, Texas, November 6, 2022.<\/p>\n

[51]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cWhat was your Dad like when you were a child?\u201d<\/p>\n

[52]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cDid you ever move as a child? What was that experience like?\u201d Storyworth.com written response, March 10, 2021<\/p>\n

[53]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life.\u201d<\/p>\n

[54]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cWhat was your Mom like when you were a child?\u201d<\/p>\n

[55]<\/sup><\/a> Taitano DeLisle.\u00a0Placental Politics<\/em>, \u201cIntroduction,\u201d 14.<\/p>\n

[56]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life.\u201d<\/p>\n

[57]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life.\u201d<\/p>\n

[58]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy childhood life,\u201d <\/span>Storyworth.com written response, November 07, 2021.<\/p>\n

[59]<\/sup><\/a> Elizabeth Sandra Currie Neal, interview by jessie neal, October 22, 2022.<\/p>\n

[60]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life.\u201d<\/p>\n

[61]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life.\u201d<\/p>\n

[62]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, \u201cMy Childhood life.\u201d<\/p>\n

[63]<\/sup><\/a> Leiana Naholowa\u2019a, \u201cComfort Women on Guam,\u201d Guampedia, November 29, 2022. https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/comfort-women-on-guam\/<\/p>\n

[64]<\/sup><\/a> Leiana Naholowa\u2019a, \u201cComfort Women on Guam,\u201d Guampedia, November 29, 2022. https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/comfort-women-on-guam\/<\/p>\n

[65]<\/sup><\/a> Vincente Diaz, Repositioning the Missionary: Rewriting the Histories of Colonialism, Native Catholicism, and the Indigeneity in <\/em>Guam (Honolulu: University of Hawai\u2019I Press, 2010) as seen in Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 13<\/p>\n

[66]<\/sup><\/a> Vincente M. Diaz, \u201cDeliberating \u2018Liberation Day\u2019: Identity, History, Memory, and War in Guam,\u201d in Perilous Memories: The Asia-Pacific War(s), <\/em>ed. T. Fujitani, Geoffery M. White, and Lisa Yoneyama (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2001), 161. As seen in Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 13<\/p>\n

[67]<\/sup><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie, Oral history conversation with jessie neal, November 6, 2022.<\/p>\n

[68]<\/span><\/a> Michael Lujan Bevacqua, \u201cAmerican-Style Colonialism,\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[69]<\/span><\/a> Michael Lujan Bevacqua, \u201cAmerican-Style Colonialism,\u201d Guampedia. November 12, 2022. https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/american-style-colonialism\/<\/span><\/p>\n

[70]<\/span><\/a> Dominica Tolentino, \u201cChamorro Nuns in Postwar Guam,\u201d Guampedia. November 29, 2022. <\/span>https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/chamorro-nuns-in-post-war-guam\/<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[71]<\/span><\/a> Dominica Tolentino, \u201cChamorro Nuns in Postwar Guam,\u201d Guampedia. November 29, 2022. <\/span>https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/chamorro-nuns-in-post-war-guam\/<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[72]<\/span><\/a> Dominica Tolentino, \u201cChamorro Nuns in Postwar Guam,\u201d Guampedia. November 29, 2022.<\/span><\/p>\n

[73]<\/span><\/a> Michael Bevacqua, \u201cThe Fight to save CHamoru, a language the US military tried to destroy,\u201d The Guardian. Guardian News and Media, February 12, 2020.\u00a0 https:\/\/www.theguardian.com\/world\/2020\/feb\/13\/the-fight-to-save-chamoru-a-language-the-us-military-tried-to-destroy<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[74]<\/span><\/a> Michael Bevacqua, \u201cThe Fight to save CHamoru, a language the US military tried to destroy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[75]<\/span><\/a> Michael Bevacqua, \u201cThe Fight to save CHamoru, a language the US military tried to destroy.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

[76]<\/span><\/a> Michael Bevacqua, <\/span>\u201cThe Fight to save CHamoru, a language the US military tried to destroy.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

[77]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Charles A. Kauffman, \u201cReduplication Reflects Uniqueness and Innovation in Language, Thought and Culture.\u201d Omniglot. (York College of Pennsylvania, 2015), https:\/\/omniglot.com\/language\/articles\/reduplication.htm.; Additionally, Dr. Michael Bevacqua mentioned this during our Fino\u2019 CHamoru classes on zoom. However, I do not have the exact day\/ lesson that this occurred. <\/span><\/p>\n

[78]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie,<\/em> Direct quote, oral history from her kitchen table, casual conversation with jessie neal (granddaughter), Houston, Texas, November 6th, 2022. <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

[79]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Lina Taitingfong, \u201cMan\u00e5mko\u2019.\u201d Guampedia, November 8, 2022. https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/manamko\/.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

[80]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 31.<\/span><\/p>\n

[81]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Santos Perez, Navigating CHamoru Poetry<\/em>, 31. <\/span><\/p>\n

[82]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Teresita Ignacio Santos Currie,<\/em> Direct quote, oral history from her kitchen table, casual conversation with jessie neal (granddaughter), Houston, Texas, November 6th, 2022. <\/em>The legends book that I refer to is entitled \u201cCHamoru legends,\u201d and there is not further information offered. Nana remembers bringing the book with her when she came to the United States.<\/span><\/p>\n

[83]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, \u201cFolktale: Sirena,\u201d Guampedia, November 04, 2022. <\/span>https:\/\/www.guampedia.com\/sirena\/<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

[84]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, \u201cFolktale: Sirena.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[85]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, \u201cFolktale: Sirena.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[86]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, \u201cFolktale: Sirena.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[87]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, \u201cFolktale: Sirena.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[88]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, \u201cFolktale: Sirena.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[89]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Toni \u201cMalia\u201d Ramirez, \u201cFolktale: Sirena.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

[90]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Agon, No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies,<\/em> 39.<\/span><\/p>\n

[91]<\/sup><\/span><\/a> Agon, No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies,<\/em><\/span> 39.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

jessie neal (they\/she) is a Queer, Disabled, Femme non-binary, Lesbian, Indigenous CHamoru, Fat person who is a vocal advocate for queer indigenous femme representation in academic institutions. jessie has an MA in Women\u2019s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies from Brandeis University and undergraduate degrees in history and gender studies from the University of Arizona. Drawing on […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22232,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[17],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/915"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22232"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=915"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/915\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":918,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/915\/revisions\/918"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=915"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=915"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/ampersandjournal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=915"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}