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“World is suddener than we fancy it. / World is crazier and more of it than we think, / incorrigibly plural.”–Louis MacNeice

When I try to fathom the vast hodgepodge of cultures that has come together to define this entity called the United States, I am in absolute awe. There are few more apt descriptions to apply to this country than the aforementioned lines quoted from poet Louis MacNeice’s poem “Snow.” In essence, the entire poem is a contemplation of seemingly impossible juxtapositions, for all the wonder and peril that they entail. What could be more quintessentially American?

Although juxtapositions can create connections, they certainly don’t guarantee the level integration implied by this nation’s default metaphor of multiculturalism: “the melting pot.” Its appeal doubtlessly lies in the suggestion of strength made implicit through its archetypal association with the forge: disparate metals come together to create the stronger amalgam of steel. But like many metaphors, when put up against a careful consideration of the thing it describes, it risks becoming a reductio ad absurdum.

Take for example the case of New York City, arguably one of the most diverse cities on this planet. As a point of civic pride, its denizens (of which I’m a member) will often tout the city’s status as a multicultural bastion. But even in a city as multifaceted as New York, going from one city block to the next can sometimes be a sobering demonstration of people’s proclivity towards living in enclaves that reflect their own particular cultural and/or socioeconomic status. Start out near Columbia University in Morningside Heights and either walk south to the Upper West Side or walk north to Washington Heights and further on to Harlem, then you’ll see what I mean.

Frankly, this complacency about our progressiveness regarding intercultural matters (hardly exclusive to New Yorkers) is the most insidious kind of bigotry, because it fails to acknowledge that resisting bigotry must be an ongoing process of self-education. Just because one eats sushi and owns a Sony PlayStation does not necessarily make one sensitive to Japanese culture. Just because one claims that one African American friend does not necessarily make one a soldier for civil rights. Just because one lives in a multicultural city like New York does not necessarily make one a citizen of the world.

Often, the integration we undeservingly congratulate ourselves for happens on these superficial levels of experience, excepting of course the overriding impetus of dominant Eurocentric culture. The melting pot is a compelling metaphor but ultimately flawed for its odd pairing of naïveté and self-directed jingoism. This is the kind of juxtaposition that doesn’t turn out for the best.

If I were called upon to construct a metaphor for these United States, I would make use of the “penumbra.” The penumbra is a phenomenon in our everyday lives, but it becomes most dramatically evident in the event of an eclipse. Astronomer’s use the term to define the shadowy border between complete illumination and complete darkness.

What I find so fascinating about the concept is that in essence, the penumbra does not entirely belong to either state but nonetheless is the delineation between the two. The thematic applications are particularly compelling to me as a person whose interests and convictions don’t always take him into the mainstream. Puttering around the outskirts and margins seems like a great way to get some perspective, and maybe in some way contribute to the bigger picture. We don’t get to learn much in those regions of absolute light and dark where everybody tends to say the same thing.

I don’t believe anyone can hold true dominion in thought, expression, or action—thank goodness. Everyone belongs, in their own fashion, to a minority perspective. The very nature of individuality guarantees this. Still, it doesn’t stop us from reaching out to seek a sense of belonging to something larger than ourselves. Minority viewpoints that converge can create amalgams or tensions, and if approached with the proper temperament, we sometimes can discover unexpected regions of great creativity and insights.

As for my own accounting in my plied metaphor of the penumbra, I am a Korean American male, but in many significant ways, that should say nothing beyond the fact. It should not preclude me from reading the works of Irish poet Louis MacNeice or discussing a short story by Mexican-American author Sandra Cisneros. Because I read poetry and fiction should not preclude me from discussing the graphic novel Persepolis by Iranian creator Marjane Satrapi or the The Dark Knight Returns by American creator Frank Miller. Because I have an interest in comics-related media should not preclude me from discussing Turkey’s petitioning to become a member of the European Union or wondering about the costs and benefits of the weakening US dollar in the global market.

We all in our own way live in this tenuous state called the penumbra, and in so doing, try to see the United States in the same way, whose regions of light and darkness often seem to defy all compromise. But we live in it nonetheless and hope we can be the wiser for it.

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