A classic in contemporary Oklahoma literature, Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz’s Red Dirt unearths the joys and ordeals of growing up poor during the 1940s and 1950s. In this exquisite rendering of her childhood in rural Oklahoma, from the Dust Bowl days to the end of the Eisenhower era, the author bears witness to a family and community that still cling to the dream of America as a republic of landowners.
Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz grew up in rural Oklahoma in a tenant farming family. She has been active in the international Indigenous movement for more than 4 decades and is known for her lifelong commitment to national and international social justice issues. Dunbar-Ortiz is the winner of the 2017 Lannan Cultural Freedom Prize, and is the author or editor of many books, including An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States, a recipient of the 2015 American Book Award. She lives in San Francisco. Connect with her at reddirtsite.com or on Twitter @rdunbaro.
As a lifelong Oklahoman of Cherokee descent, I often wonder what the hell my damn state's problem is. This same state produced me and my parents and my siblings and WE AREN'T LIKE THAT.
I could go off on an extended tirade about what it's like to be a tiny blue fish in a red, red sea, but instead I'll just recommend that, if you also wonder what the hell is wrong with Oklahoma, you read this book as it offers substantial clues.
While it took me awhile to get through this, I can definitely appreciate Dunbar-Ortiz's blending of memoir and well-researched/written history.
"We Okies are those tough, land-poor losers whose last great hope in the American dream was born and died with the 'opening' of Oklahoma and the Indian territories. Our great shame, like all 'white trash' and colonial dregs, is poverty, that is, 'failure' within a system that purports to favor us. The dregs of colonialism, those who did not and do not 'make it,' being the majority in some places, like most of the United States, are evidence of the lie of the American Dream." (pg 48)
Like other reviewers, I was not particularly impressed by the author's writing style, nor by the way she presented her story. There were many interesting elements here, but although Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz has written a number of books, most of them historical nonfiction, at this point I don't know what kind of educational background she has related to creative writing. She mentions at the end of this book that she finally got her bachelor's degree (she stopped going to college after her first year to support her husband while he finished his degree).
In any case, this is a first-person account of the difficulties of being poor in Oklahoma during the Depression. Dunbar-Ortiz goes into detail about the early Socialist and Communist movements in Oklahoma, which her grandfather participated in. Ironic since Oklahoma is now literally the reddest state in the U.S. - it is the only state in which every single county voted Republican in the last presidential election.
An autobiography of a woman born in Oklahoma in 1938 during the depths of the Depression. She tells how the rural poor in Oklahoma lived through those hard years, and how she eventually left the state to become a professor in CA. She recounts the populist history of Oklahoma, mourning the loss of that social movement. The book would be better except for two problems. First, the author is somewhat whiney and sorry for herself. Having a mother who went through much worse and never complained, I find her whining bothersome. Secondly, I feel that the author's arguments would be strengthened if she presented them less emotionally, more even-handedly.
Don't expect this book to be "just another Grapes of Wrath" -- it isn't ANYTHING like that.
It's about more than just the Dust Bowl and Great Depression: It's Civil Rights It's feminism It's class system and social justice It's battling depression
This book is well-written, and reads more like a good novel than a memoir. However, it is also a difficult read. There are many trigger warnings that should be noted, including alcoholism, racism, political unrest, abuse, depression (to name a few). This is such a good book, though, that I think people should pick it up and read it.
I recommend pairing it with "The House on Mango Street" and "Anthem". (There's a great section starting on pg 205 where the author shares some of the books she read, including "Anthem"!)
pg 46: "Oklahoma is where the American Dream came to a halt." pg 210: "You see, churches and banks... they're the ones that benefit from hard times." pg 224: "For the first time in my life, I felt unashamed, and even proud, that the bottom line of my life is that I never had to go hungry."
I wasn’t born in Oklahoma, but I have lived here since 1988–and I’ve mostly bitched and griped the entire time. Recently, I’ve been working through my othering of this state and been processing some of my thoughts and emotions around living here.
Anyway, with all that in mind, I thought I’d read something written about Oklahoma by an Okie. I’m not sure all my thoughts about this book. It was odd in places. But I did learn some interesting history of the state. And it was fun reading about cities where I’ve lived and/or know people who live there. It was also fascinating reading about Piedmont, where I taught for two years, and I had to LOL over Dunbar-Ortiz’s observation that teachers didn’t last long in Piedmont. However, I’m sure the reason I left was different than teachers back then (or was it…hmmm).
At the moment, memoir is my favorite genre. This one was engrossing. Much of the life depicted happens in places, cultures and times where I have a scanty understanding at best. Having been amazed by the author as a historian and lecturer, I had high expectations. They were met and more. Dunbar-Ortiz was a lecturer at the Unitarian Universalist Association General Assembly in June 2020. My husband, Roger and I were fortunate to have chosen her presentation. Even on the zoom screen, there was no doubt that this woman was passionate, scholarly and electrifying. This memoir gives the reader real deep and breadth both of growing into an activist scholar and the big picture of the America that was back then, including some aspects I wish hadn't persisted even in the present time.
More like 3.5 stars. I'm a huge fan of her work, but not of this memoir. It seems to jump all over the place at points, with some segments seemingly being left unresolved to the point where it's confusing. I still think there are a lot of great little stories in here and I did enjoy reading about her journey growing up in Oklahoma, as I have ancestors who were Oakies, but I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone due to it's sporadic nature.
Dunbar-Ortiz describes, from her perspective, what growing up in Oklahoma was like in the 1940s and 1950s. Life was not as idealistic as Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath, and Okies were largely stricken by poverty.
It kept me reading, it made me feel things, and while it is a memoir it also explains a lot of things about Oklahoma and California that are easy to miss.
There is also alcoholism and abuse and some terrible things.
this is the first of roxanne dunbar-ortiz's "how i became a radical" trilogy, all about growing up poor in oklahoma, being an indian, marrying young, taking off to california, discovering that her husband is kind of a total asshole, going to college, facing anti-okie prejudice, coming to terms with her indian heritage, & eventually deep-sixing the crummy husband in pursuit of higher education, feminism, self-actualization, & other dudes who seem a little cooler. i am probably focusing too much on marriage/california/college. i do think most of the book took place in oklahoma when dunbar-ortiz was a kid. i just don't remember too many details about it because it seems like it was just chapter after chapter of establishing that the family was poor, that indians were discriminated against, that dunbar-ortiz was authentically okie. worthy causes for the sake of narrative function, to be sure, but i guess i am not that into this constant quest for "authenticity" in oppression narratives, you know? i think that was my main issue with without a net, & pretty much all of michelle tea's stuff, & some other books i was lukewarm on. i felt like the author was working too hard to prove their deprivation to me, when i probably wouldn't have picked up the book if i wasn't already inclined to believe their version of events. i don't like feeling brow-beaten, you know? this is an on-going problem in all of dunbar-ortiz's narratives, which i addressed a bit in my review of blood on the border--the way she is kind of grinding an axe instead of writing a book, at times. we get it, okay? save it for your diary. but it was still a pretty good book & i was psyched to find it (i think it's been re-issued, but i was looking for it in the weird period between the first printing & right before the success of outlaw woman & subsequent re-prints).
I read this as an "in between book" - between other books when I just needed to fill some reading time with a book I wasn't committed to. Thank goodness! This is the second memoir type story I've read in the last month that has left me so disappointed.
I thought I would enjoy this book if not for any reason other than the references to my home state, along with several family generations, of Oklahoma. Throughout most of the book, I kept wondering which Oklahoma she was referring to, because the one she presents is not the one I know. Nor the Oklahoma I've been told of from much older family members, from Land run days to the dust bowl to the civil rights era to present day.
Yes, Oklahoma has prejudices, of all kinds, including class. But I don't believe these exist only in Oklahoma or in a greater degree there.
Her tone is whiny with an undercurrent of anger. I am very unimpressed with her memories and her reasoning. I could have filled my time better.
I chose to read this book because of Okie. My bloodlines pass through Oklahoma and several of the subjects mentioned in her book (California, Dust Bowl, great depression) played roles in my family's life. The author's story is not unique to Oklahoma and could have occurred in any of the plains states. Thus there is nothing, at least from my read of this book, that makes Okie a causual relationship to growing up. This book then is part: 1.the story of a child of tenant farmers growing up in poverty, 2. discourse on social justice, and 3. treatise on the evils of capitalism.
You have to be aware of the author's politics when reading the book, because they do creep in.
I am glad I read the book, but you have to be really really really really interested in Oklahoma history to pick this book up.
The first piece of Dunbar-Ortiz's memoirs, Red Dirt describes her childhood and early adult years growing up in Oklahoma. It's a complex heritage, which involves both her Wobbly grandfather and the Red Scare, all complicated by her mother's racial heritage--a bit of Indian, but culturally almost entirely "white." Aware that her people are seen as Okies, white trash, Dunbar-Ortiz isn't presented with any easy paths out, but by the end of the novel, aided by an inspirational teacher, an uncle who identifies himself as a socialist, and a growing stack of bucks, she's on the verge of breaking away. At times, Red Dirt reads like what James Baldwin described in another context as "the usual bleak childhood fantasy." But the political undercurrents and the clarity of the writing makes it worth the read.
This is important for Oklahomans. I think that we are all familiar with the various aspects of our statehood, but no one tells the stories. Roxanne does that for us. She gives voice to an unspoken past, the experience of the small-town Okie. Sure, there are novels describing the experience, but this is the first book I have read that gives a first-hand account of "Growing up Okie". Working back from her experience as a professor in California, Roxanne attempts to untangle the threads of her upbringing: her Wobbly grandfather; her sharecropping father; the Red Scare. The account moves quickly, leaving out many details and not allowing for explication. Maybe that is praise for many people, a mostly experiential account. I would have loved more thinking through each of the experiences, though. Perhaps if I knew more about her current work I would appreciate this memoir more.
i've been on a kick of reading memoirs written by other working class women. these memoirs tend to all have this similar feel to them. i can't quite explain it, but the way people ponder their relationships with and perceptions of their mother or father all have a similar feel to them. i guess it could be a complaint, but i hear my own voice in the pages almost. that's why i read it. i think this memoir is special because of her reflections on how her white community (and more broadly white working class communities in general in the US) are dooped into taking on racist and xenophobic characteristics, but have in the past been revolutionaries. and the future needs them to become revolutionaries again.
I picked this book up by chance in an indy bookstore in Natchez. Reading it prompted me to start writing a book I'd had in mind for about six months previous. I'd begun thinking about homecoming and rural culture since reading Sebald's Vertigo and McMurtry's Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen. I wanted to write about my own homecoming, a visit to the farm in Oklahoma I grew up on. I started writing my book at a coffee shop in Natchez and I'm still working on it. It's called Red Neck. Little Roxy's Red Dirt was the third part of tripod on which Red Neck stands.
Growing up Okie, this memoir is engaging, enlightening, and infused with historical/political outlook and awakening. The best memoirs are from partisans who aren’t afraid to look at their own life’s history and discuss relevant political/social issues. She traces her early years, ancestors, the pain and confusion of growing up in a land of class, race, and gender divisions/dilemas, conflicts, and paradoxes. Recommended, yeah.
The first part in Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz' autobiographical trilogy, Red Dirt is an honest and interesting portrayal of a semi-ordinary (I don't think that child abuse, parental addiction to alcohol, etc. are uncommon) Okie girl's childhood. Alone, Red Dirt is okay, as part of a trilogy, essential for better understanding of Dunbar-Ortiz' more interesting parts.
This autobiographical coming-of-age narrative explores the intersections of race, class and gender for a young girl growing up poor in rural Oklahoma. yet the book also provides a longer and wider history of Oklahoma's roots and the roots of the people of Oklahoma. Dunbar-Ortiz pays particular attention to histories of radicalism in the area.
A brilliant memoir by a friend of mine from my UN days in Geneva. While nothing at all like my mother's life, it reminded me so much of her and made me think about what stories my mother would tell if she sat down and started writing out her life from the very beginning. All the amazing, horrible, wonderful things.
I have been searching forever for a book about the history of Oklahoma and the struggles of working class folks, and when I found this book I got really excited. Its a really interesting/informative read, and really well written.
A very thoughtful and descriptive biography. Paints a fantastic picture of growing up in Oklahoma (usa) during the period 1930,s-early 1960´s. For women, what a struggle....which continues. Highly recommend.
brilliant and ummm captivating? read like a novel though it's an autobiography. intelligent analysis of her life as well as larger forces around it. a bit dorothy allison-esque, in the best way possible.