Notes toward a theory of anomaly

GLQ

Volumn 16, Issue 1-2, 2010, Pages 207-242

  Justice, Daniel Heath ^a  

^a NONE

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EID: 77249125544     PISSN: 10642684     EISSN: 15279375     Source Type: Journal    
DOI: 10.1215/10642684-2009-020     Document Type: Article

References (76)

1. The term queerphobia is used in lieu of the more common homophobia to reflect more accurately the phobic response of reactionaries to perceptions of sex/gender violations of a heteropatriarchal moral order. It's inclusive of gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, pansexuals, transgendered people, and straight folks with nonconformist sexual and gender behaviors and identities. Similarly, while I prefer the mercurial and transgressive resonance of the term queer in my own self-identification and throughout this essay, I also include two-spirit and LGBT when relevant.
2. There is some controversy over the degree to which the Cherokees, as the only Iroquoian-speaking peoples in the Southeast, can be considered a Mississippian people. While some Cherokee oral traditions affirm origination in Appalachia, there are other traditions that describe at least one, possibly multiple migrations, from both the south (Central and South America) and the north (confirmed by Huron-Wendat, Mohawk, and Lenape histories), which ended in what is now the Southeastern homeland of the Cherokee people. Given the available evidence, Robert Conley's assessment seems most likely: "Combining the evidence of several of these [traditional] tales and theories, it seems reasonable to say that the Cherokees likely came from South America and migrated north through Central America and Mexico, eventually stopping for a time in the northeast along with the other Iroquoian-speaking tribes there⋯. Then following a long period of warfare with those people and with the Delawares, they moved southward again, settling in the 'old southeast'" (The Cherokee Nation: A History [Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2005], 6). Even if the Cherokees were late arrivals to the "old southeast" in comparison with their Muskogee-speaking neighbors who were unarguably Mississippian in origin, they quickly adapted to the regional ceremonial, political, and cosmological culture while maintaining their Iroquoian language. As a result, their linguistic distinctiveness was inflected by Mississippian cultural ways and cosmovisions, but not displaced by them.
3. Tulsa sits within the historical political boundaries of the Cherokee Nation, so the ceremony quite literally (and symbolically) took place in Cherokee territory. Penrose, retired pastor of Tulsa's Community of Hope Church, was censured during her time as pastor by the United Methodist Church for performing religious unions for same-sex couples. The charges led the Community of Hope congregation to withdraw from Methodist affiliation and join the United Church of Christ. The Cherokee Nation same-sex marriage controversy wasn't the first Penrose had faced: her church had drawn zoning complaints about the decline of property values from members of the Gracemont Neighborhood Association because of the church's advocacy on behalf of HIV/AIDS patients and for permitting free HIV testing in a mobile clinic on its property. Critics of the popular and free testing service argued that such work was beyond the church's mandate, even though Community of Hope was founded primarily to serve HIV and AIDS patients and their families (Susan Hylton, "Church's Fine for Clinic Is Voided," Tulsa World, July 13, 2005, www. religionandsocialpolicy.org/news/article.cfm?id=3019).
4. While the degree of opposition and media attention seems to have surprised the couple, the fact that they were engaged in a controversial and potentially explosive political act couldn't have been entirely unexpected, as they brought both Penrose and members of the local press with them in their attempt to certify the application. See Travis Snell, "Tribal Court Refuses Same-Sex Marriage Certificate," Cherokee Phoenix 28 (2004): 4.
5. Although most early coverage of the case by the LGBT press gave significant attention to the impetus for the couple's marriage, the Cherokee Phoenix addressed the issue much later, after the Tribal Council had sought standing in the case: An incident in September 2003 made the couple realize they needed legal recognition of their relationship. Reynolds was hospitalized with a debilitating back injury and McKinley was forbidden entry while Reynolds was being treated. McKinley was also barred from Reynolds' hotel room. "I was the person who lived with her. I was the person who knew about her pain, knew what was happening with her. But as far as the state of Oklahoma was concerned, I was a stranger," McKinley said. "As Kathy's spouse, I wouldn't have been shut out that way. It's a very sickening feeling to know you have no rights, no say so." (Lisa Hicks, "JAT Dismisses Same-Sex Marriage Injunction," Cherokee Phoenix 30 [2006]: 3)
6. The subjection of Cherokee marriage law to the authority of Oklahoma is more than an inference, as Attorney General Drew Edmondson explicitly cited the tribe's relationship with Oklahoma as a consideration for challenging recognition of the couple's marriage. See Snell, "Tribal Court Refuses," 4.
7. See, for example, work by Michael Warner, especially The Trouble with Normal: Sex, Politics, and the Ethics of Queer Life (New York: Free Press, 1999),
8. and Shannon Winnubst's Queering Freedom (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), especially the epilogue, "A Political Note against Same-Sex Marriage," where, among other objections, she notes that "marriage is too white, too reliant on sexual identity, and too immersed in the class structure for us to look upon the extension of its domains as an unqualified success" (202).
9. "Lesbian Couple Seeking Recognition of Their Marriage by Tribe's JAT," Cherokee Phoenix 29 (2005): 4.
10. Associated Press, "Tribunal Reviews Same-Sex Marriage Case," Cherokee Phoenix 30 (2006): 8.
11. Snell, "Tribal Court Refuses," 4.
12. Will Chavez, "Council Bans Same-Sex Marriages," Cherokee Phoenix 28 (2004): 6.
13. Snell, "Tribal Court Refuses," 4.
14. Associated Press, "Council Sues to Prevent Same-Sex Marriages," Cherokee Phoenix 30 (2006): 8.
15. Chavez, "Council Bans Same-Sex Marriages," 6.
16. This is not a particularly new development. In her autobiography, Wilma Mankiller, former principal chief, writes about her election as deputy chief in the 1980s (and later, her election as principal chief), and the vocal concern that some Cherokees had that "having a female run our tribe would make the Cherokees the laughingstock of the tribal world" (Mankiller: A Chief and Her People [New York: St. Martin's, 1993], 241).
17. Brian Joseph Gilley's comments offer insight into the masculinist pressures affecting tribal communities today - pressures that have more of a foundation in colonialist constructions of race and gender than in tribal epistemologies: Indian community conceptions about masculinity are assumed to be fixed, historically determined characteristics firmly grounded in popular and tribal notions of the "warrior." Emphasizing the image of the warrior as the quintessential Indian male relies on the decline of the actual social role of the warrior and on the romanticization of the warrior tradition, fixing it in space and time⋯. Accordingly, Two-Spirits, when reflecting on themselves, see these interpretations as more about what a contemporary Indian male is not than what he represents. They know, for instance, that the community associates feminine behavior and dress for men as explicitly not Indian. Two-Spirit men assume that they will be judged according to these masculinized community standards. The naturalization of racial difference into an essentialized category of male-embodied persons brings about an ideological framework against which Two-Spirits compare themselves. (Becoming Two-Spirit: Gay Identity and Social Acceptance in Indian Country [Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2006], 77)
18. It would be a mistake to assume, however, that Cherokees as a whole are queerphobic. Just as with any sweeping statement about Cherokees, there are as many contrary opinions about queerness as there is anything else. While the political leadership certainly endorses queerphobic policy, there are many in the community (or communities, which is probably more accurate) who take a live-and-let-live approach to others' consensual sexual behaviors, while others are active advocates for queer equity. For example, in a section called "Narrative of a Cherokee Childhood," a piece written by the Cherokee nationalist, traditionalist, and anthropologist Robert K. Thomas as part of a larger project (cowritten by Robert D. Cooter), note the following: "Cherokees are very tolerant unless a person makes social trouble. We usually just accept others as they are⋯. If someone is eccentric, that is his way - perhaps the spiritual world has told him something that we don't know about. If a boy is 'sissified' and would rather be around women, that's up to him. It is his business. Who are we to say? We are all relatives, and God decreed that we should live together in harmony" (Robert Cooter, "Individuals and Relatives," in A Good Cherokee, A Good Anthropologist: Papers in Honor of Robert K. Thomas, ed. Steve Pavlik [Los Angeles: American Indian Studies Center, 1998], 72).
19. Gilley, Becoming Two-Spirit, 53.
20. This is not to say that the concept of binary (or, rather, dualistic) oppositions doesn't exist; rather, as I've argued elsewhere, "understanding Cherokee dualism is to understand its necessary complementarity; it is a dynamic and relational perspective, not an assumption of unitary supremacy" (Daniel Heath Justice, Our Fire Survives the Storm: A Cherokee Literary History [Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006], 28).
21. Craig S. Womack, Red on Red: Native American Literary Separatism (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999), 42.
22. Pauline Wakeham's Taxidermic Signs: Reconstructing Aboriginality (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2008) offers a stunning (and quite chilling) analysis of the semiotic relationship between Indigenous representation and the practice of taxidermy. As she writes, "When the affiliation between literalized forms of taxidermy and figures of aboriginality is hinged together with other examples in which native and wildlife bodies are frozen in uncanny poses of liveness, it becomes possible to reconsider taxidermy as a mode of representation, a way of reconstructing corporeal forms, that is intimately bound up with the colonial disciplining of both animal and aboriginal bodies" (5).
23. It's almost impossible to make a convincing argument of shared affinity or belief among the thousands of distinctive cultures throughout the Americas before the arrival of Europeans. After 1492, of course, the shared circumstance of colonization and devastation linked all Native peoples in the Americas, but even then the lived realities of that experience were incredibly diverse.
24. Empowerment, here, is something of a loaded concept, especially given Jennifer Terry's important caution, quoted at length: "To demand of lesbians and gay men unmitigated and uncomplicated self-understandings historically or in the present is to ignore our agony of living in the margins of a deeply homophobic culture. What I have tried to propose here is not only a way of reading and understanding history against the grain of heterosexual hegemony, but a way of conceptualizing and enacting subjectivities forged in process through multiple resistances to systematized homophobia. These subjectivities are neither static nor contained; they are effects in the history of the perilous present" (Jennifer Terry, "Theorizing Deviant Historiography," differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies 3, no. 2 [1991], 71).
25. My aim in arguing for an empowering reading of history and text is not, I hope, to assert "unmitigated and uncomplicated self-understandings," as such a goal would indeed do violence to lives lived and lost in battle against queerphobia. Rather, empowerment here is dependent on understanding the conditional, contextual, and complicated contradictions of our subjectivities; in other words, that the only way we can experience the empowerment of what Qwo-Li Driskill calls a "sovereign erotic" - "an erotic wholeness healed and/or healing from the historical trauma that First Nations people continue to survive, rooted within the histories, traditions, and resistance struggles of our nations" - is by refusing simplistic stereotypes and fully embracing the complicated truths of our lives, loves, and longings (Qwo-Li Driskill, "Stolen from Our Bodies: First Nations Two-Spirits/Queers and the Journey to a Sovereign Erotic," Studies in American Indian Literatures 16 [2004]: 51).
26. Terry, "Theorizing Deviant Historiography," 55. Terry's rich analysis is quite attentive to the context-heavy intersections of various identity categories, in all their historical and contemporary complexities. This is particularly relevant to queer Native identities: "The idea of a coherent, full identity which is marked only by homosexuality is unsettled by the cultural productions of lesbians and gay men of color, whose work enacts the multiplicities and contradictions of living at the intersection of many different marginal subjectivities" (69).
27. The MIIS has been offered by scholars as a more accurate alternative to the earlier descriptors for the shared cultural expressions of Mississippian peoples, the Southeastern Ceremonial Complex (SECC), or "Southern Cult." In their introduction to the groundbreaking scholarly collection Ancient Objects and Sacred Realms: Interpretations of Mississippian Iconography (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2007), the volume's editors, F. Kent Reilly III and James F. Garber, argue that "MIIS appears better suited as an organizational phenomenon for this large corpus of art and symbols currently classified as the SECC. Certainly the interaction sphere model more accurately describes a Mississippian Period ideologically derived symbolic system and its accompanying artistic output" (3).
28. Garrick Bailey, "Continuity and Change in Mississippian Civilization," in Hero, Hawk, and Open Hand: American Indian Art of the Ancient Midwest and South, ed. Richard F. Townsend (Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago, 2004), 88.
29. The term cosmovision comes from the Mesoamerican religious scholar Davíd Carrasco, who describes it thus: "Scholars of Aztec religions use the term cosmovision to refer to the 'worldview,' or coherent and rational arrangement of space and time communicated through religion and mythology. I have found this term and the discourse around it to be useful for describing the indigenous models of space and time as represented in rites, architecture, and mythology" (City of Sacrifice: The Aztec Empire and the Role of Violence in Civilization [Boston: Beacon, 1999], 191). Carrasco extends the definition in the endnotes to his book, where he quotes Alfredo López Austin's definition of cosmovision as "a concept of the world sufficiently organized and coherent⋯ present in all of the facts of social life, chiefly in those that include the different kinds of production, family life, care of the body, community relationships, and relations with authorities" (267). This seems to me a term more purposeful and descriptive than the more watered-down concept of worldview.
30. F. Kent Reilly III, "People of Earth, People of Sky: Visualizing the Sacred in Native American Art of the Mississippian Period," in Townsend, Hero, Hawk, and Open Hand, 137.
31. Susan Power, Art of the Cherokee: Prehistory to the Present (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2007), 14.
32. George E. Lankford, "Some Cosmological Motifs in the Southeastern Ceremonial Complex," in Reilly and Garber, Ancient Objects and Sacred Realms, 8.
33. Charles Hudson, The Southeastern Indians (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1976), 378. The hybrid animal/human entities will be of particular importance to the discussion of anomaly below.
34. While some may be uncomfortable with the heavy military emphases of Mississippianism, queer struggle has certainly involved some measure of militant refusal to be erased from, absorbed into, or co-opted by the values, structures, and priorities of Christian heteropatriarchy, such as the explicit war rhetoric and civil disobedience in the protest strategies of ACT UP.
35. A more complete description of this system can be found in Reilly, "People of Earth, People of Sky," 127.
36. Mooney provides an explanation of some of the necessary conditions for movement across these worlds: "The streams that come down from the mountains are the trails by which we reach [the] underworld, and the springs at their heads are the doorways by which we enter it, but to do this one must fast and go to water and have one of the underground people for a guide" (James Mooney, Myths of the Cherokee [1888; New York: Barnes and Noble, 2007], 254).
37. Hudson, Southeastern Indians, 136.
38. It's worth pointing out, too, that the cosmovision template of a three-tiered universe of order above, struggle on this plane, and chaos below is not structurally that much different from the Christian model of the universe, brought by missionaries, of saints above, sinners on earth, and the damned below. The idea of "sin" and associated gender and cultural values, however, were much more difficult concepts to inculcate in Cherokees before Removal in 1838, when "only about 10 percent of Cherokees had joined Christian churches" (Theda Perdue and Michael Green, The Cherokee Nation and the Trail of Tears [New York: Viking Penguin, 2007], 33). Following the Trail of Tears - the devastating, thousand-mile forced expulsion of the Cherokees from their mountainous homelands in the Southeast to the Indian Territory of what is now Oklahoma - Christian missionary efforts achieved greater success.
39. Another term Hudson used interchangeably with (and to less success than) anomaly was abomination, for which he was strongly criticized by Mary Churchill in her essay "The Oppositional Paradigm of Purity versus Pollution in Charles Hudson's The Southeastern Indians," American Indian Quarterly 20 (1996): 563 - 93.
40. In his clarifying response, Hudson notes: "I have always been in agreement with E. E. Evans-Pritchard that the most basic interpretive act in social anthropology is properly characterized as a kind of translation. Just as one translates from one language to another, more or less accurately, the social anthropologist translates from one culture to another, more or less accurately. This is one of the reasons I used the term 'abominations,' assuming that Jews and Christians familiar with the Book of Leviticus would thus possess enhanced access to a framework for thinking about Southeastern Indian conceptualizations. I now regret having used 'abomination' as a kind of synonym for anomaly, but nowhere do I say that all anomalies are 'detested and loathsome,' as Churchill claims I do, and I surely never thought that they were" ("Reply to Mary Churchill," American Indian Quarterly 24 [2000]: 495 - 96).
41. Hudson, Southeastern Indians, 139.
42. Hudson, Southeastern Indians, 139 - 40.
43. According to Cherokee stories, the Uktena (Ukten') was originally one of two humans who were transformed into snakes and sent to kill the Sun. Having been offended by the grimaces of humans when they looked at her, the Sun had increased the heat of her rays to such a degree that people were dying in great numbers, so as a last resort the Little Men (great medicine workers and spirit beings) agreed to help and prevent the complete extinction of humanity. The second man was turned into Rattlesnake, and he was too hasty, killing the Sun's daughter instead, and leaving Ukten' to return in frustrated fury. As Mooney reports, "The Uktena grew angrier all the time and very dangerous, so that if he even looked at a man, that man's family would die. After a long time the people held a council and decided that he was too dangerous to be with them, so they sent him up to Galûñ'lati [the Above World], and he is there now" (Myths of the Cherokee, 268). Further, "He left others behind him⋯ nearly as large and dangerous as himself, and they hide now in deep pools in the river and about lonely passes in the high mountains, the places which the Cherokee call 'Where the Uktena stays'" (316). The Ukten' is distinguished from other Mississippian water snakes by a "bright, blazing crest like a diamond on its forehead⋯ called Ulûñ sû'ti, 'Transparent,' and he who can win it may become the greatest wonder worker of the tribe" (316). Thus, though the very gaze of the Ukten' can be fatal to a human being, the creature also offers a powerful tool for medicine and transformation, thus offering a positive balance to its otherwise often hostile relationship with humanity.
44. See, for example, "The Red Man and the Uktena," in Mooney's Myths of the Cherokee (319 - 20),
45. and "The King of the Tie-Snakes," in John R. Swanton's Myths and Tales of the Southeastern Indians (1929; Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1995), 34 - 36.
46. Rosemary Garland Thomson, "Introduction: From Wonder to Error - a Genealogy of Freak Discourse in Modernity," in Freakery: Cultural Spectacles of the Extraordinary Body, ed. Rosemary Garland Thomson (New York: New York University Press, 1996), 1.
47. There's more than a circumstantial connection between anomaly and freak discourses, especially given the long and sordid relationship between the exploitative cultural rhetorics of freak shows and colonialist productions of racialized Indigenous others from around the world. See, for example, Thomson's collection above, especially the chapters in "Part IV: Exhibiting Cultural Freaks," as well as Linda Frost's Never One Nation: Freaks, Savages, and Whiteness in U.S. Popular Culture, 1850-1877 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2005).
48. Rachel Adams, Sideshow U.S.A.: Freaks and the American Cultural Imagination (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 7.
49. Hudson, Southeastern Indians, 148.
50. Womack, Red on Red, 244.
51. Michael Warner, introduction to Fear of a Queer Planet: Queer Politics and Social Theory, ed. Michael Warner (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993), xxvi.
52. The full cost of such power, and the transformative (and protective) power of our storied experiences, is movingly recounted by Driskill, who writes: "It is in our stories, including our written literatures, that I search for meaning and reflection of my Two-Spirit body in order to survive a world in which people like me are routinely killed. How do I make sense of the murder of F. C. Martinez Jr., a Diné/Cheyenne Nádleeh youth killed in June 2001 in Cortez, Colorado? How do I make sense of the February 2002 murder of Amy/Raymond Soos, a Two-Spirit of the Pima Nation whose naked body was found in Phoenix, Arizona? How do I make sense of the strangled and beaten body of Alejandro Lucero, Hopi Nation, whose body was found on March 4, 2002, also in Phoenix? How do I make sense of the slaughter of 'Brandon Teena,' always spoken of as white, who was actually of mixed 'Sioux' and white ancestry, his life erased by transphobic murderers and his Nativeness erased by white Queer and Trans folks? How do we as Two-Spirits remain whole and confident in our bodies and in our traditions when loss attempts to smother us? I return to our stories" ("Stolen from Our Bodies," 56).
53. Warner, introduction, xxvii.
54. Hicks, "JAT Dismisses Same-Sex Marriage Injunction," 3.
55. One of my lineal ancestors, a Scots trader named Anthony Foreman, was likely married to two Cherokee women at the same time: Susie Gourd (or, according to some sources, Susie Rattling-Gourd) and her niece, Elizabeth Watee Gurdaygle (or Gury-daygle). Each woman had six children with Foreman, and the Spears line of my family is descended from Elizabeth's daughter Elsie, sister to the Reverend Stephen Foreman, an early Cherokee missionary convert and famous Cherokee minister. (There's some debate whether Anthony had divorced Susie before marrying Elizabeth, but either way, the relationships between these three would not meet the standard of "traditional family values" so popular at the pulpit today, even if they were quite within respectable Cherokee social mores of the time.)
56. Theda Perdue's Cherokee Women: Gender and Culture Change, 1700-1835 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1998) offers extensive commentary on marriage, divorce, adultery, and polygamy among Cherokee people during this time, especially the social changes that came as a result of shifting emphasis from matrilineal/matrilocal clan law to patrilineal/patrilocal common law.
57. See also Rennard Strickland, Fire and the Spirits: Cherokee Law from Clan to Court (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1975). The only clear and consistent marriage laws that were, by all accounts, rigidly enforced were those that prohibited incestuous sexual relations or marriage between members of the same maternal clan (or one's father's clan). As a result, exogamy held high social significance and merited far more attention than marital fidelity, lifetime marriage, or, according to the historical record at least, the gender of one's sexual partner.
58. That said, the inherently anomalous nature of the term spouse (as opposed to ostensibly more gender-specific terms) might give us some useful direction for future consideration here, as it is, by its very nature, "something that falls into two or more categories. This is, historically and today, exactly what a spouse is: a lover, a co-worker, a business partner, a caregiver, and so on. A spouse is an anomaly, in a way that a boyfriend or a girlfriend maybe isn't" (Kyle Wyatt, pers. comm., November 3, 2008).
59. There is an increasing body of work relating to queer/two-spirit Native subjectivities. Some of the better texts that deal primarily with articulating the existence and dignified tribal significance of queer Native peoples (with significant first-person content or testimony by queer Native folks themselves) include Sue-Ellen Jacobs, Wesley Thomas, and Sabine Lang, eds., Two-Spirit People: Native American Gender Identity, Sexuality, and Spirituality (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1997);
60. Beatrice Medicine, "Changing Native American Roles in an Urban Context and Changing Native American Sex Roles in an Urban Context" and 'Warrior Women': Sex Role Alternatives for Plains Indian Women," in Learning to Be an Anthropologist and Remaining "Native": Selected Writings (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2001);
61. and Gilley's aforementioned Becoming Two-Spirit. Creative and critical work by queer and two-spirit Native writers, among them Womack, Driskill, Deborah Miranda, Gregory Scofield, and Chrystos, offer further insight into these concerns. Of the more problematic (but still significant) texts, those of Walter L. Williams and Will Roscoe stand out as being limited in their usefulness and unhelpful in some of the essentializing, exoticizing excesses of their arguments.
62. Womack, Red on Red, 245.
63. Even this emphasis on military prowess might provide metaphors and inspiration for responding to various forms of oppression today (although the decapitation imagery is best limited to the realm of metaphor only!).
64. See, in particular, Jace Weaver, That the People Might Live: Native American Literatures and Native American Community (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), esp. 95 - 103;
65. and Womack's "Lynn Riggs as Code Talker: Toward a Queer Oklahomo Theory and the Radicalization of Native American Studies," in Red on Red, 271 - 303.
66. Phyllis Braunlich, "Oklahoma's Outstanding Poet-Playwright," in Lynn Riggs, This Book, This Hill, These People: Poems, ed. Phyllis Braunlich (Tulsa, OK: Lynn Chase, 1982), 7.
67. Braunlich, "Oklahoma's Outstanding Poet-Playwright," 7. Elsewhere, Braunlich writes: "Except for a regressive visit home to Claremore in February, 1924, Riggs found the courage to accept the unconventional self he had discovered in Santa Fe" - an "unconventional self" that, as she earlier makes clear (and in one of the very few instances in the biography where she actually names queerness), was in large part Riggs's "recognition of his own homosexual orientation" (Phyllis Braunlich, Haunted by Home: The Life and Letters of Lynn Riggs [Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1988], 13).
68. Braunlich, "Oklahoma's Outstanding Poet-Playwright," 8.
69. Lynn Riggs, The Iron Dish (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, Doran, 1930), 21.
70. Riggs, Iron Dish, 33.
71. Riggs, Iron Dish, 52 - 53.
72. Riggs, Iron Dish, 32.
73. Riggs, Iron Dish, 49.
74. Riggs, Iron Dish, 19, 34.
75. Riggs, Iron Dish, 22.
76. Riggs, Iron Dish, 39.