My Liminal State

One of the major components of the qualifying exam for my M.A. in English was a focus on the post-colonial notion of "liminality" made famous by political theorist Edward Said. Said argues that the post-colonial world results in a state of exile for those who don't belong in their native land, nor fit in with their "new world." In his essay "Intellectual Exile: Expatriates and Marginals," Said describes the unrest felt by the exile:

The exile therefore exists in a median state, neither completely at one with the new setting not fully disencumbered of the old, beset with half-involvements and half-detachments, nostalgic and sentimental on one level, an adept mimic or a secret outcast on another. (49)

Now, I am not suggesting that this move to Texas allows me to understand the post-colonial experience, but I do think the notion of being in a liminal state is intriguing. When I was studying for my exams, I was pregnant. In fact, I took the test at 8 months along. (Let me say, sitting in front of a computer, writing three separate essays for 8 hours while 8 months pregnant is NOT something I'd recommend!) But, during my studying, I often found ways to compare my pregnant state with a lot of the theory I was reading. I wasn't quite a mother, but I also wasn't the same as I was before I was pregnant.

Now that we are moving, I recognize my liminal state once again. Next week, when we move out of our home, we'll be like exiles until we leave Chicago 5 days later. Once we arrive in Texas, we'll be trying to find our identity. Where are we from? Do we say Pennsylvania, by way of Chicago? Do we launch into our geographic history? Do we simply say "North of the Mason-Dixon line?" Can the exile really answer this question? I guess we are transients, finding our new home, existing in a space of what was, and what will be.