What do you think?
Rate this book
Cuéntame algo, aunque sea una mentira. Las historias de la comadre Esperanza (Antropologia)
Cuéntame algo, aunque sea una mentira imprime una discusión crítica sobre los fundamentos teóricos de la antropología y de las prácticas usuales en el campo etnográfico. Esta reflexión se completa con un provocador capítulo en el que la autora, a través de su biografía intelectual, cavila sobre su propia posición de marginalidad como inmigrante cubana al ingresar al establishment universitario estadunidense. De tal suerte, las páginas de este libro se convierten en una doble revelación: en la medida en que la autora descubre la voz de Esperanza, encuentra también la suya.
447 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1993
15 people are currently reading
428 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
November 19, 2017
Someone I know said that the first half of this book, which mostly relates Esperanza's story in her terms (although translated from Spanish to English), would be hard to understand for an undergraduate in sociology or anthropology, or for someone who isn't well-acquainted with ethnography. This is because Behar does not enter into the analysis throughout the first half of the book, but concentrates the analysis at the end in chapters devoted to that kind of thinking. So this book does not make it easy to find the important points in it, and in many ways it is a critique of ethnographies, so if you don't know what an ethnography tends to look like, some of the implied points in this book would be easy to miss. I think I agree with this idea about the book in general.
But I also think that this book offers two important conceptual tools that I haven't seen anywhere else (although I do not claim to have a comprehensive knowledge of ethnographies or ideas related to them). The concepts are "translation" and "borders". These concepts are used in many parts of the book, and are never explicitly defined, but you can tease out the importance of the terms. So essentially, the typical way we think about "translation" as moving from one language to another, and "borders" as signifying the border of a country, can both be widely expanded so that we can find borders and translation in every sphere of social life. So if you get an assistant professorship at a prestigious university, you're "crossing a border" into that particular academic world (of the department that hired you), but you're also crossing the more general border of being recognized as legitimate by academia in general. So when crossing a border, "translation" often occurs or needs to occur. So perhaps at your previous university you worked on several things, but then at the new prestigious university they want you to work on different kinds of things, and you need to "translate" your research interests to stay true to what you care about but also align with the new features across the border. Etc. You can find borders and talk about efforts at translation in basically every sphere of social life, and while this book does not make this explicit claim (because doing so would put too much of a finality to it, and she's against doing that kind of thing), you can tease it out by comparing what she says about translation and borders across the different chapters of the book.
I appreciate the translation/border perspective as a more empowering way to think about social worlds in disjuncture than the “split habitus” idea. The “split habitus” is a feeling that people who have experienced social mobility often have. The world they grew up with and the world important for their occupational field are incompatible in many ways, which creates feelings of anxiety, or other feelings of unease, when in each social world. Friedman (2014, in a book called Comedy and Distinction) goes so far as to call people with strongly split habiti “culturally homeless”—they don’t feel at home either in the world where they grew up or in the world of their occupational field. Pierre Bourdieu (a famous French sociologist) developed the idea of the split habitus to help account for himself—Bourdieu experienced an incredible degree of social mobility for someone in France, growing up in a poor provincial town to holding a chair at the Collège de France, the most prestigious realm of French academia.
So I think the translation/border idea is more empowering than the “split habitus” idea, because I don’t know what you can do with “split habitus” other than feel sorry for yourself. But with the translation/border perspective, you can identify borders and describe them, which is an interesting exercise that can help you gain a better understanding of your particular situation. And then after you’ve described the borders, you can think about translation between the worlds, something that casts the situation in a more interesting and empowering way that releases your ability to be creative about negotiating the boundary.
In terms of the data in the book, the events Esperanza discusses occurred in the past, and, therefore, Behar cannot access them except through interviews. I appreciated the detailed transcriptions in the book. But I also thought that we can’t rely too much on the factual consent of these accounts, thinking of recent challenges to the primacy of accounts in sociology (e.g., Jerolmack and Khan 2014b). Behar is, however, careful to hedge her claims about the story, unlike the kind of sociology critiqued by Jerolmack and Khan (2014a). Behar clearly understands the life history as a story, and often discusses how Esperanza did not allow certain things to enter into the story, like her sexuality. Esperanza did not want to discuss her sexuality likely as a result of this being a generally taboo topic for women in rural Mexico, which Behar discusses (in terms of the women not being permitted to enjoy sexual pleasure). But she was also usually with two or more of her younger children (Gabriela, Norberta, and Mario) when talking to Behar, and this clearly coloured the interviews. So what we have is a story—a story meant to socialize her children, in part. I think this is okay as long as we understand that this is such a story, and I think we can admire Behar for being honest about who was present during the interviews (something that many ethnographers leave out).
Behar, though, does supplement her interviews with participant observation. She lives in the community, and we sometimes see Behar dealing with the same social pressures that makes Esperanza afraid of being seen talking to Behar about her life history (e.g., a boy yelling “Gringa!” at her in an angry tone, and people drawing insulting words on her car). We are also transported across the border of a cult, which is a very interesting experience, to say the least. Behar also accompanies Esperanza into a large city, which allows us to see the validity in Esperanza’s fears of being seen with Behar, as well as seeing specific detail about how Esperanza’s peddling works (being invited inside and chatting sometimes, for example).
I was hoping that there would be a chapter about the confessions of inquisition and how these related to Esperanza’s story. Behar talks about her work researching confessions during the inquisition, and sometimes tangentially refers to how these relate to Esperanza's stories, and I would have appreciated a chapter that discussed this in detail. But perhaps the book was already long enough and given a few statements in the autobiographical chapter, it seems like she was already publishing about that before finishing the book. But the topic of “confessions” is a very interesting one. Like “translation” and “border”, I think “confession” can apply to most ethnographers, and having some investigation of that concept would have, I think, been satisfying. We could also, for example, see the autobiographical chapter as an attempt at “confession”. I also see opportunities for “confession” every day in social life, and wished that she would have helped develop that concept (given her extensive experience with it, in terms of the inquisition archives).
References
Friedman, Sam. 2014. Comedy and Distinction: The Cultural Currency of a “Good” Sense of Humour. New York, USA: Routledge.
Jerolmack, Colin and Shamus Khan. 2014a. “Talk Is Cheap: Ethnography and the Attitudinal Fallacy.” Sociological Methods & Research 43(2):178–209.
Jerolmack, Colin and Shamus Khan. 2014b. “Toward an Understanding of the Relationship Between Accounts and Action.” Sociological Methods & Research 43(2):236–47.
But I also think that this book offers two important conceptual tools that I haven't seen anywhere else (although I do not claim to have a comprehensive knowledge of ethnographies or ideas related to them). The concepts are "translation" and "borders". These concepts are used in many parts of the book, and are never explicitly defined, but you can tease out the importance of the terms. So essentially, the typical way we think about "translation" as moving from one language to another, and "borders" as signifying the border of a country, can both be widely expanded so that we can find borders and translation in every sphere of social life. So if you get an assistant professorship at a prestigious university, you're "crossing a border" into that particular academic world (of the department that hired you), but you're also crossing the more general border of being recognized as legitimate by academia in general. So when crossing a border, "translation" often occurs or needs to occur. So perhaps at your previous university you worked on several things, but then at the new prestigious university they want you to work on different kinds of things, and you need to "translate" your research interests to stay true to what you care about but also align with the new features across the border. Etc. You can find borders and talk about efforts at translation in basically every sphere of social life, and while this book does not make this explicit claim (because doing so would put too much of a finality to it, and she's against doing that kind of thing), you can tease it out by comparing what she says about translation and borders across the different chapters of the book.
I appreciate the translation/border perspective as a more empowering way to think about social worlds in disjuncture than the “split habitus” idea. The “split habitus” is a feeling that people who have experienced social mobility often have. The world they grew up with and the world important for their occupational field are incompatible in many ways, which creates feelings of anxiety, or other feelings of unease, when in each social world. Friedman (2014, in a book called Comedy and Distinction) goes so far as to call people with strongly split habiti “culturally homeless”—they don’t feel at home either in the world where they grew up or in the world of their occupational field. Pierre Bourdieu (a famous French sociologist) developed the idea of the split habitus to help account for himself—Bourdieu experienced an incredible degree of social mobility for someone in France, growing up in a poor provincial town to holding a chair at the Collège de France, the most prestigious realm of French academia.
So I think the translation/border idea is more empowering than the “split habitus” idea, because I don’t know what you can do with “split habitus” other than feel sorry for yourself. But with the translation/border perspective, you can identify borders and describe them, which is an interesting exercise that can help you gain a better understanding of your particular situation. And then after you’ve described the borders, you can think about translation between the worlds, something that casts the situation in a more interesting and empowering way that releases your ability to be creative about negotiating the boundary.
In terms of the data in the book, the events Esperanza discusses occurred in the past, and, therefore, Behar cannot access them except through interviews. I appreciated the detailed transcriptions in the book. But I also thought that we can’t rely too much on the factual consent of these accounts, thinking of recent challenges to the primacy of accounts in sociology (e.g., Jerolmack and Khan 2014b). Behar is, however, careful to hedge her claims about the story, unlike the kind of sociology critiqued by Jerolmack and Khan (2014a). Behar clearly understands the life history as a story, and often discusses how Esperanza did not allow certain things to enter into the story, like her sexuality. Esperanza did not want to discuss her sexuality likely as a result of this being a generally taboo topic for women in rural Mexico, which Behar discusses (in terms of the women not being permitted to enjoy sexual pleasure). But she was also usually with two or more of her younger children (Gabriela, Norberta, and Mario) when talking to Behar, and this clearly coloured the interviews. So what we have is a story—a story meant to socialize her children, in part. I think this is okay as long as we understand that this is such a story, and I think we can admire Behar for being honest about who was present during the interviews (something that many ethnographers leave out).
Behar, though, does supplement her interviews with participant observation. She lives in the community, and we sometimes see Behar dealing with the same social pressures that makes Esperanza afraid of being seen talking to Behar about her life history (e.g., a boy yelling “Gringa!” at her in an angry tone, and people drawing insulting words on her car). We are also transported across the border of a cult, which is a very interesting experience, to say the least. Behar also accompanies Esperanza into a large city, which allows us to see the validity in Esperanza’s fears of being seen with Behar, as well as seeing specific detail about how Esperanza’s peddling works (being invited inside and chatting sometimes, for example).
I was hoping that there would be a chapter about the confessions of inquisition and how these related to Esperanza’s story. Behar talks about her work researching confessions during the inquisition, and sometimes tangentially refers to how these relate to Esperanza's stories, and I would have appreciated a chapter that discussed this in detail. But perhaps the book was already long enough and given a few statements in the autobiographical chapter, it seems like she was already publishing about that before finishing the book. But the topic of “confessions” is a very interesting one. Like “translation” and “border”, I think “confession” can apply to most ethnographers, and having some investigation of that concept would have, I think, been satisfying. We could also, for example, see the autobiographical chapter as an attempt at “confession”. I also see opportunities for “confession” every day in social life, and wished that she would have helped develop that concept (given her extensive experience with it, in terms of the inquisition archives).
References
Friedman, Sam. 2014. Comedy and Distinction: The Cultural Currency of a “Good” Sense of Humour. New York, USA: Routledge.
Jerolmack, Colin and Shamus Khan. 2014a. “Talk Is Cheap: Ethnography and the Attitudinal Fallacy.” Sociological Methods & Research 43(2):178–209.
Jerolmack, Colin and Shamus Khan. 2014b. “Toward an Understanding of the Relationship Between Accounts and Action.” Sociological Methods & Research 43(2):236–47.
February 3, 2018
Esperanza Shines, Ruth Reflects
Esperanza, a poor Mexican street peddlar, is befriended by Ruth, an American anthropologist with Cuban-Jewish roots during the course of Ruth's fieldwork in Mexico. They become friends, comadres, and Ruth decides to tell Esperanza's story. Questions arise. Why does Esperanza want to tell Ruth the whole story of her life ? Why does Ruth decide to record it? In what format will Ruth present that story so that North American readers can understand it ? How will Ruth place that story into the framework of the anthropological profession or into the feminist discourse ? Does she have to do that in a traditional way ? Does Ruth have the right to Esperanza's story ? Is she exploiting Esperanza, who, after all, can never come to the USA in person except, in the most unlikely of circumstances, as a servant ? (Ruth can drive down to Mexico more or less at will.) Yes, of course it is Ruth who poses all these questions and then answers them.
The result of these questions is a very interesting and iconoclastic book, which, though at times difficult to read, clearly raises many questions. TRANSLATED WOMAN might be called the archetype of a modern anthropological creation because 1) the author does not hide behind the curtains, but places herself in the center along with the subject and 2)like current Anthropology as a field, it is so full of self-doubt, both personal and professional, that a reader perceives more questions than answers, the main one being, "if Ruth were so full of guilt and indecision about the merits of such a study, why didn't she just drop it ?" I, for one, thought that if she felt it were wrong, then she shouldn't have continued, but if she did continue, then hand-wringing and meek self-castigating sentences were unnecessary. Nearly every interaction in our world has either class, race, or sexual components. Are we to refrain from communicating with all but our class, racial, or sexual doubles because we worry that we are abusing some kind of power ? Exploitation exists, many anthropologists have severely exploited their subjects (as have people of every kind) but it does not follow that all relationships across cultures, from rich to poor society, are therefore exploitative. Common humanity is what counts the most between individuals. The USA certainly exploits Mexico, but that does not make Ruth Behar an exploiter. Collective guilt ? I thought we'd seen the end of that, at least in anthropological circles. With a strong, independent woman like Esperanza, it is very unlikely she would have pursued the connection if she did not feel she also benefitted from it. Ruth, however, persisted in swimming in the pool of uncertainty. She faulted herself for driving to poor Mexquitic village in a new car and then worrying about possible damage. She dressed inappropriately as she accompanied her comadre around the streets and bemoaned her incongruity. She notes how intrusive her photography must have been, but she took the photos. She shopped in expensive stores that her neighbors could never afford and then agonized. Why ? Either you drop the guilt or you don't do these things. "My guilty gringa thoughts" indeed ! You have to be the person you can live with. These are some things that irritated and puzzled me in what, nevertheless, is a fine book---more than that, a REALLY fine book, which translates autobiography into anthropology, anthropology into literature, and two strange women into friends. I concluded that Ruth needed to grow up a little.
Esperanza tells her life story in her own words, as far as is humanly possible in the translation from Spanish to English. Ruth is so determined to keep Esperanza's voice present (and I admire Ruth for this) that she allows some considerable repetition and confusion to remain and does not translate a large number of Spanish words. In other sections, Ruth places Esperanza's story in the context of Mexican culture, relates it to the fascinating cult of Pancho Villa, and to the context of the anthropological discourse in general. These chapters are very insightful, as are the sections in which Ruth talks about the nature of social science writing on Latin American women and of how North American feminists have tended to take control of feminist agenda in Third World countries, seeing women from those nations as sexually-constrained, ignorant, and controlled. She writes. "One of the limitations of North American feminism has been its narrow definition of the kind of knowledge and practice that can be counted as feminist. Can I not speak of Esperanza as engaging in feminist thinking and practice in the way I have ?"(p.297)
Esperanza's actions and beliefs are "translated", not only into English, not only across the physical frontier, but into cultural terms that educated Americans can understand. In other words, Ruth becomes an interpreter, and---typically for her---worries that she might become a Malinche (a betrayer of Indian people to the Conquistadores). Finally, Ruth puts her own life into the picture, how she came to Anthropology, how she benefitted from her work, and her own ambivalence. If you have read to this point, you realize that TRANSLATED WOMAN is a highly complex work which can be read for many different purposes, discussed in endlessly different ways. One of the best anthropology books I have read, despite my criticism.
Esperanza, a poor Mexican street peddlar, is befriended by Ruth, an American anthropologist with Cuban-Jewish roots during the course of Ruth's fieldwork in Mexico. They become friends, comadres, and Ruth decides to tell Esperanza's story. Questions arise. Why does Esperanza want to tell Ruth the whole story of her life ? Why does Ruth decide to record it? In what format will Ruth present that story so that North American readers can understand it ? How will Ruth place that story into the framework of the anthropological profession or into the feminist discourse ? Does she have to do that in a traditional way ? Does Ruth have the right to Esperanza's story ? Is she exploiting Esperanza, who, after all, can never come to the USA in person except, in the most unlikely of circumstances, as a servant ? (Ruth can drive down to Mexico more or less at will.) Yes, of course it is Ruth who poses all these questions and then answers them.
The result of these questions is a very interesting and iconoclastic book, which, though at times difficult to read, clearly raises many questions. TRANSLATED WOMAN might be called the archetype of a modern anthropological creation because 1) the author does not hide behind the curtains, but places herself in the center along with the subject and 2)like current Anthropology as a field, it is so full of self-doubt, both personal and professional, that a reader perceives more questions than answers, the main one being, "if Ruth were so full of guilt and indecision about the merits of such a study, why didn't she just drop it ?" I, for one, thought that if she felt it were wrong, then she shouldn't have continued, but if she did continue, then hand-wringing and meek self-castigating sentences were unnecessary. Nearly every interaction in our world has either class, race, or sexual components. Are we to refrain from communicating with all but our class, racial, or sexual doubles because we worry that we are abusing some kind of power ? Exploitation exists, many anthropologists have severely exploited their subjects (as have people of every kind) but it does not follow that all relationships across cultures, from rich to poor society, are therefore exploitative. Common humanity is what counts the most between individuals. The USA certainly exploits Mexico, but that does not make Ruth Behar an exploiter. Collective guilt ? I thought we'd seen the end of that, at least in anthropological circles. With a strong, independent woman like Esperanza, it is very unlikely she would have pursued the connection if she did not feel she also benefitted from it. Ruth, however, persisted in swimming in the pool of uncertainty. She faulted herself for driving to poor Mexquitic village in a new car and then worrying about possible damage. She dressed inappropriately as she accompanied her comadre around the streets and bemoaned her incongruity. She notes how intrusive her photography must have been, but she took the photos. She shopped in expensive stores that her neighbors could never afford and then agonized. Why ? Either you drop the guilt or you don't do these things. "My guilty gringa thoughts" indeed ! You have to be the person you can live with. These are some things that irritated and puzzled me in what, nevertheless, is a fine book---more than that, a REALLY fine book, which translates autobiography into anthropology, anthropology into literature, and two strange women into friends. I concluded that Ruth needed to grow up a little.
Esperanza tells her life story in her own words, as far as is humanly possible in the translation from Spanish to English. Ruth is so determined to keep Esperanza's voice present (and I admire Ruth for this) that she allows some considerable repetition and confusion to remain and does not translate a large number of Spanish words. In other sections, Ruth places Esperanza's story in the context of Mexican culture, relates it to the fascinating cult of Pancho Villa, and to the context of the anthropological discourse in general. These chapters are very insightful, as are the sections in which Ruth talks about the nature of social science writing on Latin American women and of how North American feminists have tended to take control of feminist agenda in Third World countries, seeing women from those nations as sexually-constrained, ignorant, and controlled. She writes. "One of the limitations of North American feminism has been its narrow definition of the kind of knowledge and practice that can be counted as feminist. Can I not speak of Esperanza as engaging in feminist thinking and practice in the way I have ?"(p.297)
Esperanza's actions and beliefs are "translated", not only into English, not only across the physical frontier, but into cultural terms that educated Americans can understand. In other words, Ruth becomes an interpreter, and---typically for her---worries that she might become a Malinche (a betrayer of Indian people to the Conquistadores). Finally, Ruth puts her own life into the picture, how she came to Anthropology, how she benefitted from her work, and her own ambivalence. If you have read to this point, you realize that TRANSLATED WOMAN is a highly complex work which can be read for many different purposes, discussed in endlessly different ways. One of the best anthropology books I have read, despite my criticism.
November 11, 2019
I did not know what I was committing to when I ordered this book through the inter-library loan program. I thought it was a book of poetry (mainly because a poet recommended it). It is huge- and I enjoyed it from the first page to the last. The first few sections are a beautiful translation of Esperanza sharing her life's story, and the last section was thoughtful musings of Ruth Behar as an anthropologist. Even if women's studies and anthropology aren't usually your thing, this book is still worth reading- the insight it gives is unique (to say the least). I would love to hear Behar speak (we live in the same state, so it's not unreasonable).
CW: Spousal abuse, violence, a scene containing incest/rape (not explicit),
CW: Spousal abuse, violence, a scene containing incest/rape (not explicit),
November 30, 2024
Este libro de 1992 es importante porque marcó un cambio de paradigma sobre lo que significa hacer investigación etnográfica; sobre las relaciones de poder y privilegio de la investigadora; sobre el papel de la traducción y del cruce fronterizo de la historias cuando el cuerpo racializado se queda del otro lado.
Este libro es un pilar de la antropología feminista que conjuga voces e historias y legítima la experiencia de la antropóloga y de su sujeto de estudio. Es una obra literiaria que nos hace ver que tod@s contamos historias; pero poc@s nos hacemos responsables de lo que contamos. Eso es responsabilidad académica; respetar las historias que nos contamos.
Esto es este libro: una guía para contar historias, para crear historias, para creer en las historias y para responsabilizarnos por ellas.
Este libro es un pilar de la antropología feminista que conjuga voces e historias y legítima la experiencia de la antropóloga y de su sujeto de estudio. Es una obra literiaria que nos hace ver que tod@s contamos historias; pero poc@s nos hacemos responsables de lo que contamos. Eso es responsabilidad académica; respetar las historias que nos contamos.
Esto es este libro: una guía para contar historias, para crear historias, para creer en las historias y para responsabilizarnos por ellas.
August 2, 2024
absolutely essential read for an early autoethnographer or actually any person
March 8, 2011
one of the worst ethnographic accounts i've read in a while. it was very repetitive while it discussed some major issues in the mexican culture.. but the ending with behar's personal story just annoyed me. i would never read this again.
November 7, 2007
I had to read this book for graduate school. It is so good the story of this women and her struggles. Ruth Behar was in San Antonio recently and I was like wow!
July 25, 2011
A comprehensive life history of a indigenous Mexican female street peddler filled with interesting insights into the parallel life of the author, a Jewish-Cuban American.
March 31, 2023
I read this book for a class, and I was sincerely surprised by how much I enjoyed it. Because of the nature of its ethnographic style, it’s certainly not for everyone, but I found it fascinating and moving, teeming with important questions.
August 2, 2020
I read this through my college's anthropology program but really loved the story of Esperanza. Truly a story to make you remember that your life experience isn't like everyone else.
March 7, 2023
This was a tough read but a good one. The story is a fantastic introduction to those who are unfamiliar with anthropological ethnography. I enjoyed reading.
December 11, 2012
I fell in love with this book. Esperanza's story is equal parts thrilling, heartbreaking, and joyful. Behar conveys so much of Esperanza while making room for herself. I read this book in an Anthropology class, but I would recommend it to anyone. The ideas in this book are so relevant to daily life and create a connection across time and place.
This is all on top of Behar's amazing writing ability, which has sentences that are almost poetic at points. I loved the whole book and especially loved the analysis chapters at the end.
This is all on top of Behar's amazing writing ability, which has sentences that are almost poetic at points. I loved the whole book and especially loved the analysis chapters at the end.
May 8, 2014
I really enjoyed the first section - Esperanza's story in her own words. Even though it was non-fiction, it read like a novel. I found the last two sections (the analysis) less interesting. However, this book is probably used as a college text so I see where the analysis would be meaningful in that context.
October 9, 2013
Very interesting and readable. The author's choice to insert herself into an anthropological work was controversial, but I liked it. Esperanza was a fascinating character, at times infuriating, but even more amazing because she's real.
August 21, 2007
What a horrible book. I think we read this book in my ethnography class to understand what not to do.
April 14, 2009
Excellent example of Testimonio Narrative Qualitative Inquiry Study and the constructive nature of researcher-participant relationships... but not a story of hope.
February 19, 2013
Essential reading for anyone interested in women's studies and immigrant perspectives and social class and ethnicity.
July 15, 2024
A very hard read but gave great insight to the life of a woman through qualitative research. You will most likely have to take your time to digest this dense book.
March 10, 2013
Great book, highly recommended!
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews