Alex Brickler

AML 5608
Studies in the African American Literary Tradition
Around the World and Back Again:
Trans-Pacific Readings of Race and Alterity in Toni Morrisons Home
Introduction
Flashing back to 1994the year after Toni Morrison won the coveted Nobel Prize for
Literaturethe reader will recall that the next laureate of the award was Oe Kenzaburo of Japan.
Oe, recipient of international regard for his works dealing with critical stances on Japanese
nationalisms in the Pacific War (1931-1945), sobering and heartfelt takes on mental illness, and
complicated readings of family dynamics, actually stands as a fascinating counterpoint to
Morrison herself. Especially provocative, though, are the fascinating ways that each author has,
at some point in his or her canon, dealt with the presence of Black soldiers in Asia.
Yet, a constant criticism of Oe's most notable work on the subject, the 1957 novella,
Shiiku (translated as either 'The Catch' or 'Prize Stock'), is his work's inability to conceptualise a
space for Black masculinity as something that existed beyond a bricolage of various
problematical stereotypes.1 The Black soldier in the work functions as a mythic, childish figure
who has no way of speaking within the narrative's reality, and who exists as a canvas upon which
the youthful narrator can paint his own aspirations and anxieties. At the same time, whilst being
a 'domesticated' figure, referenced as either a pet or livestock, the Black soldier is, in Oe's work,
never divorced from a capacity for violent reprisal, and is ultimately killed for breaching his
captors' trust (Molasky 77).

An especially thorough example of the critique of Oes (and other Japanese authors subsequent to him, for that
matter) brand of stereotyped engagement with Black male alterity can be seen in John G. Russells 1991 article,
Race and Reflexivity: The Black Other in Contemporary Japanese Mass Culture (Russell 8).

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As potentially racially repugnant as Oe's depictions of Blackness are in this piece (which
nonetheless won him the most prestigious award for short fiction in Japan, the Akutagawa Prize,
and set him as a figure of reckoning in the literary landscape), they function within an historical
framework of global white supremacist capitalist patriarchy, and stand as a consumable ideology
of racialisation born in the West, and commodified through exchanges between Euro-American
interests and emergent Asian nation-states. A power frequently in an ambiguous relationship
with the both the Western World and the 'Darker Races,' Japanese articulations of racial alterity
are certainly a product of historical contact with imperialism (Gallicchio 11). Yet the figuration
of Blackness, and Black maleness especially, within the context of militarised interaction
between Asia and America (during WWII, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War) is a direct
result of the presence of Black bodies in this mode of policing Asian alterity.
Which leads to Morrison's tenth novel, Home.

Written almost a decade after the

novelist's own acknowledgement by the Nobel committee in 1993, the work sees her attempting
to investigate a similar moment to Oe's. The work also, curiously enough, finds Morrison
engaging with similar themes, especially the presence of the Black male in Asia. But whilst it
might be reasonable to expect much of an author who has built a body of works that stand as
being truly epochal in the American literary canon by forcing it to confront the manifestation of
traditionally marginalised voices, Home, I argue here, might be critically examined in light of
what it does with Blackness in Asia.
The novel, engaging a parable as it is of a Black mans questing for the titular space of
belonging and security, is participant in a methodology of representation of the East Asian
female in such a way as to deny humanity, agency, and subjectivity to her. Daunting as it might
be to bring Edward Said into a conversation with Morrisons work, it might not be an

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overstatement to read elements of a species of Orientalism as lurking about the novel somewhat.
Indeed, the representation of both Korea-as-place and the Korean War within the text becomes
problematic in light of the novel's unwillingness to present the locus as a site of history or
'realness'. Such a framework for situating a full chaptera small part, but certainly a vital
partof Homes narrative action on the ground in Korea renders the place and the people who
live there as denied a subjectivity of the very sort that protagonist Frank Money is invested in
claiming for himself through his sojourn there.
All the sameand to be quite clear in this regardI do not wish to discount a reading of
the novel that allows for meaningful critical engagement with the sundry other things contained
within the scant but densely-packed pages. I likewise maintain that the novel can certainly serve
as a continuing work of import within Morrisons oeuvre. However, I argue that the work, by
not addressing the various complicating factors attendant to its own dalliance with Asian
alterity2, makes a crucial misstep that truncates what might have been a much more powerful
rereading of Blackness in a different context.
Rememory and the Forgotten War
Both geographically and socially3, the battlegrounds around the thirty-eighth parallel
between nascent Korean states are about as far as one can get from the red hills of Georgia where
the Money family home lies. It is the apogee of Frank's travels, and point farthest from the
various aspects of his life that tie him to the site of his youthful discontents.
2

To clarify, though the novel concerns itself immediately with the Korean War, and the manifestation of this alterity
is grounded in a reading of a single, unnamed Korean character, it is not my intent to collapse a reading of a single
manifestation of Asian-ness (i.e. subsuming both Korean and Japanese ethnic and national identities) within this
space uncritically. To do so would be a grossly Orientalising misstep, and would read a monolithic East into the
analysis that follows. Instead, my work here attempts to read a Trans-Pacific mode of racial discourse as a potential
source of coalition-building between two distinct nonwhite peoples that unsettles a discourse of race and nation as
being so easily conflated.
3
I avoid the essentialising and totalising term, 'culturally'.

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In this physical and conceptual space, though, I maintain that a key component to the
discussion of Home is best seen in the work's grappling with Morrison's conception of
'rememory'. First introduced in the context of her fifth novel, Beloved (36), the theoretical
capacity for this framing device in others of her works is quite broad. Indeed, the ability to
distinguish sites of personal memory and a more general communal consciousness that it
presupposes is especially useful in creating a rhetorical and literary space to begin to assess the
significance of a war that has, by many interpretations, been 'forgotten' by the larger American
population (Widener 61). Frank's personal manifestations of rememory about Koreatwo of
his hometown buddies being killed, and the key incident of his encounter with embodied Asian
alteritymesh with an understanding of the theatre of combat that also encompasses the trauma
at a level that transcends his own subjectivity.
Morrison's presentation of rememory as such, does seem to be quite closely tied to
collective traumas as a way of moving towards an understanding or acceptance of those incidents
and the history that they stand as representative of. All the same, the way that the phenomenon
is presented in Home though, seems to stand as complicated space for this sort of re-engagement
with the past.

As initially conceived, rememory in Beloved emerges from a character's

understanding of the lingering traumatic effects of American chattel slavery from the perspective
of a Black female subject who experienced it. However, the holocaust of African bondage in
North America, with its own history as bloodied as any martial conflict before or since, however,
stands as a markedly different kind of trauma than experienced by the soldiers of American
thinly-veiled imperialist interests in Korea. The former was a point of shared experience across
the Black community in America, that directly touched a large swath of the psychical
construction of what it meant to be Black in a very real way; the latter, meanwhile, was an

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experiential reality with direct traumatic consequences that met a much smaller number of
people, Black or otherwise. The remembered trauma was quite personal.
Yet, within the text of Home, a reading of rememory remains helpful in that it potentially
exposes the latent issues of borderline Orientalist discourse buried within the interpretations of
Asian alterity. Rememory is described in relationship to places as well as events (as a way of
grounding the discourse with tangible analogues to its more abstract utility). The quote in which
the concept first appears posits that, 'Places, places are still there. If a house burns down it's
gone, but the place--the picture of it--stays, and not just in my rememory, but in the world
(emphasis added) (36). To this end, though the spatial reality of Korea might have been
substantially changed by the actions of Frank and his fellow soldiers, the locus itself abides, even
without them. It had a history prior to their arrival, and significantly, will have a history
subsequent to their departure.
It is in the discussion of linked place and historical reality that makes the profundity of
the application so apparent. Frank's experiences in the face of 'The Enemy' in Korea are most
clearly rendered in the discussion of his direct encounter with a single, unnamed Korean girl
during his combat tour. This girl, though, is effectively a cipher. She is also a utility, and a
problem. She is an undifferentiated, non-character, who nevertheless is a fulcrum upon which
Frank's descent into self-destructive behaviour is catalysed.
A Close Reading of the Encounter
In keeping with the established even-odd chapter alternations between a third person
narration and Frank's own recollections, chapter nine of the novel is of most immediate import to
the task of reading Asian alterity into the novel. The chapter, brief as it is, is a space where
Frank recounts an especially fraught incident of his tour in Korea. It is his voice (as opposed to

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the unidentified third person voice that recounts fully half the novel, and with whom Frank finds
himself occasionally at odds) that delineates the episode and underscores its significance.
On guard duty and busily rueing the biting frigidity of the weatherKorea cold hurts,
clings like a kind of glue you can't peel off' (93)Frank is surprised by 'a thin crackling in the
bamboo stands' (94). When the curtain-like grove parts, he realises that the presence behind it is
actually a small child, a girl, as it turns out. She is, the audience is led to believe, a refugee from
the fighting, and seeks to eke out an existence by scrounging from the detritus of the American
base.
Frank, initially, is fond of the girl as an abstraction. Importantly, he likens her presence
both to 'a bird feed[ing] her young or a hen scratching, scratching dirt for the worm she knew for
sure was buried there' (94-5), and, '[his sister Ycidra] and me trying to steal peaches off the
ground' (94). The foreign presence that she represents is tempered by his own attempts to read
her, or to define her as something simultaneously more familiar and less threatening. This is a
sharp contrast to the ways in which he had hitherto been identifying the largely monolithic
facade of his utterly abject adversaries, the North Koreans and the Mongolians (93).
Beyond this initial paternalistic fondness for the Other as manifest in the body of this
small Korean girl, Frank carries the story onward to a specific instance when he actually sees her
entire body, not just the hand he had seen slipping from behind the copse of bamboo4. Doing so,
allows him to confront her as something more than either a partially 'domesticated' creature or a
loose manifestation of his own nostalgia for his sister's company in their mischief-making. Here,
as a fully described Korean female youth, and one with a proactive sense of sexuality'she
4

Which is, of course, an intensely coded marker for Asian-ness. It is also one of the scant physical descriptors of
Korea as a place, beyond the aforementioned Korea cold. Further work might be done on explicitly disentangling
the semantic value of this sort of framing of the partial invisibility of the Asian other behind this rather symbolic
interpretation of a separating veil.

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smiles, reaches for the soldier's crotch, touches it' (95)she becomes the truly abject: monstrous
and consuming, tempting and much too young. The result of this is the summary execution of
the girl.
During the initial telling of the episode, Frank distances himself from the events by
claiming that the girl was only interacting with, and was ultimately killed by, 'my relief guard'
(95). Later in the novel, though, he ultimately admits that he had lied earlier, and that the culprit
was none other than himself: 'I shot that Korean girl in the face. I am the one she touched. I am
the one who saw her smile' (133).
This close reading of the scene and the subsequent reaction thereto do much to
demonstrate the slipperiness of memory in this instance, and that through the process of shared
recollection and honest appraisal of the realities of past trauma can a personal healing process
begin. Yet, it is at this point we must pause to consider the ramifications of this interpretation of
the action, and be critical of the way in which it is being used within the narrative. Frank is
willing to acknowledge certain instances of commonality with the Korean girl, and is willing
also to accede that shealthough being drawn as an analogue to several different kinds of
wildlife (a bird, a hen, a starfish, and the like)is still analogous to himself and his sister, Ycidra
'Cee' Money5. There is a space for reading this girl as having some aspects of perceivable
humanity.

The girl and Cee also seem to have a considerable amount in common: both are women of colour who must
confront intersecting manifestations of racial difference and sexual objectification at the hands of representatives of
patriarchal authority. The difference is that a still immature Frank, grappling with residual adolescent tensions and
far from the emotional and spiritual support that arises from being home, destroys the Asian manifestation of
femininity that he encounters as a soldier of US foreign interests. Later in the narrative, though, he is able to rescue
Cee from the depredations of a white eugenicist (for whom she was serving as housekeeper and test-subject), who is
white supremacist patriarchy personified.

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Until, of course, one considers that she 1.) has no name, 2.) cannot speak for herself, and
3.) exists solely as a crime for which Frank must atone. All of the efforts expended towards
creating her as an empathetic entity for whom the audience have some manner of acknowledged
pathos for her deplorable situation as a child sexworker become suspect when she has no identity
whatsoever. The fact that the character is denied all ability to speakeven the ascribed quote
'yum-yum,' is but a speculative corruption of her saying, 'something in Korean' (95)does make
her presence a challenging one for the type of empathy that the narrative attempts to evoke on
her behalf. Nameless, voiceless, and ultimately faceless, she has no contextual basis for her
existence in the development of the novel except as a site upon which actions are undertaken and
ideas are scaffolded.
Imagined Geography and Historicising
The problem, though, with the deployment of Korea in this way, though, is that whilst the
novels various settings of Seattle, Washington, and of Atlanta and Lotus6, Georgia, are places
with discernible social and physical geographies, Morrisons depiction of the Trans-Pacific
world is as a space without history or context. A figurative theatre of combat that Frank is
participant in, the locus is largely a setting against which certain narrative actions can play out
that affect him.
At worst, it could be argued that this ahistorical, mythic Korea is a functional equivalent
of Chinua Achebes critical depiction of Joseph Conrads Africa in Heart of Darkness (Achebe
1619). A place with minimal attention paid to previous socio-cultural developments or historical
reality, save the utility that it poses to a character who must travel to the locus as part of a larger

An especially provocative name for the town, given the flowers noted status as a symbolic signifier in Buddhist
cosmology, a faith quite extensively associated with constructions of The Far East.

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colonial/imperialist/anticommunist agenda. It is Franks psyche that concerns the reader. It is

Franks development as a character that necessitates a move to serve the aims of global white
supremacy in the face of a nascent Asian national aspiration.
But before pursuing this critical reading too farit is doubtful, after all, that Morrisons
aims were contingent upon crafting an image of Asian subjectivity so much as of alterity in a
more general senseit is worth a brief revisiting of the work in the author's canon that
immediately precedes this novel. A Mercy, published in 2008, marked a very unique moment in
Morrison's oeuvre, as it was a key location for the establishment of non-Black, point-of-view
characters in their longest and most sustained presence in one of her novels. Whilst in the postBeloved/Jazz phase of her canon, there has been a distinguishable pulling back from direct
references to a character's race (and even Home does not explicitly establish Frank's Blackness
for some time into its development), and certainly not to the extent that might have been seen in
The Bluest Eye or Song of Solomon. But A Mercy is a work that embraces a much more overtly
pluralistic depiction of life in America, exploring the figures and spaces of interiority in its
diverse cast of characters from a multiplicity of ethnic and gendered backgrounds.
With this as a counterexample then, the myopic interpretation of non-Black alterity in
Home seems a curious move for the author to make. The fact that elsewhere in her body of
literature she has allowed for the narrating voices of an American Indian woman, a white
woman, and even a white man, but so purposefully writes out the same sort of subjectivity from
the figurations of Korean femininity makes for a comparatively retrograde expression of
representational methodology.
Yet it is not just a matter of the objectifying stance on East Asian femininity within the
context of the novel. The fact that a character is undeveloped, or exists solely for the purpose of

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developing the plot is not, in and of itself, a problematical stance. One might say that Reverend
Locke at the novel's outset is equally 'undeveloped'; so too with the irredeemably antagonistic
Dr. Beauregard Scott towards its end. Readings of characters who take on a significance that is
solely allegorical within the work allow them the space to be less substantially investigated, or to
have their interior psycho-emotional spaces uninterrogated. The point here is certainly not to
just critique the Korean girl for being 'uninteresting'.
The spearhead of this critique is instead to expose just what exactly this particular brand
of silence demonstrates within the novel's own agenda. In seeking to peel back the 'scab' of the
1950s, and to re-envision what that moment in time really meant in a more comprehensive way,
the rendering of East Asian female subjectivity as a muteness becomes problematic. Describing
this figure in the mode of a voiceless subaltern presence, as an object against which American
imperialism might be rearticulated, is to fall victim to some of the selfsame understandings of the
'Asian enemy' that were so pervasive in that Post WWII era.
For the lack of cognitive space that Morrison affords a reading of Asia in the novel, it
must be acknowledged that this particular historical moment was not one of fundamental
ignorance vis-a-vis the nations thereof and the Black population of America. At least as far back
as Japan's 1904 military victory over Russia, Black Americans from various walks of life have
made mention of the peoples across the Pacific as being potential comrades-in-arms against the
manifestations of global white supremacy.

Leading Black newspapers like the Pittsburgh

Courier and the Chicago Defender ran repeated editorials and columns of the Black
intelligentsia's rumination on the potential for Trans-Pacific coalition in the face of what was
increasingly being recognised as a global element of the 'problem of the colour line' (Mullen xii).

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Indeed, leading Black academics and intellectualsW. E. B. Du Bois very prominent

amongst themmade numerous public utterances in favour of this sort of solidarity, and
persisted in doing so up to and through early phases of the Pacific War of 1931-1945.
Historicising thusly, though, runs the risk of presenting an understanding of the Afro-Asian
exchange as being totalising and cognitively incontestable to an extent that it most certainly was
not. For every Black intellectual claiming that Japan was a 'Champion of the Darker Races,'
there were others leery of a lack of material contributions to the global struggle for selfdetermination (Gallicchio 16-19). And still others who simplyperhaps like Frank Money
lacked the global perspective to appreciate the commonalities of the struggle.
Frank's understanding of the dimensions of the conflict would likely have been informed
by a trend of thought amongst the Black population that emerged in full force with the massive
upswing of nationalism that accompanied the attacks on Pearl Harbour in 1941.

At this

particular moment in history, an increase in reactions on the part of Black America began to take
the form of solidarity with their white neighbours in the defence of the homeland from external,
aggression by a foreign population easily exoticised and rendered into the Other.
World War II in the Pacific has been extensively explored as being a 'race war' by
historian John Dower, and his monograph, War without Mercy is a landmark text in unpacking
the instrumentality of various media as components of racialisation in the conflict. With an
ubiquity of media working to create an essentialised and frighteningly foreign iconography of the
Asian foe (one that was easily transferrable from Japanese to Koreans to Vietnamese, depending
upon the requirements of the specific conflict in question), it is no wonder that Morrison's
depiction of Frank would be so fundamentally incapable of conceptualising the Korean girl as
anything other than the sort of voiceless, featureless embodiment of an adversarial presence.

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Indeed it is this lack of contextualising individuation on the part of the author and
narrator regarding this character that allows her to be such a cipher; the lack of humanising
elements that allow her to be such a protean concept within the psychological space of the
narrative. To such an extent that the significance of her ethnic/national identity, so ostensibly
significant as a marker of her status as antagonistic enemy force and exotic and abject temptress,
are effectively moot. The sole way in which she might even be interpreted as being Korean,
being Asian, being Other, is in fact, based solely upon the circumstantial descriptions of a
narrator who is ultimately revealed to be quite unreliable on key details of the episode in which
she exists.
The question, then, returns to the matter of what is at stake in this sort of representational
methodology. In spite of the conspicuous absence of any meaningful attempts to engage in the
history of Trans-Pacific racial politics of coalition or the ubiquitously skulking spectre of global
white supremacist capitalist patriarchy, the novel still attempts to engage in a revisionist
historicisation of the moment when both were of salient and considerable import. The attempt to
remember the Korean War offered by the re-embodiment of one of the soldiers' traumatic
experiences fails to adequately problematise a facile understanding of the conflict's intensely
racialised dimensions. The novel privileges a retelling of the imperialistic dynamics of the War
that substitutes a Black GI for a white one, saving the more complicated questions of Black male
service in the armed forces until the return.
The latter questionsthose surrounding Frank's attempts to reintegrate himself into a
segregated society, and those debunking the mythology of Northern and West Coast
exceptionalism regarding manifestations of racial antagonismmake for fascinating, and very
remarkably engaging points of intellectual and fictive exploration. Indeed, the work, in its

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sundry narrative elements that exist outside of the admittedly brief stint in the physical and
abstract realm of Korea, makes for a substantial investigation of the themes and ideas that
Morrison has, since her earliest debut as a novelist, stood as so impressive a talent in engaging
with.
Yet, this 'everything-else-but' asterisk that clings to an assessment of Home is
considerably more pressing than it might initially appear. The work's investigations of life in the
1950s, and the sorts of racialisation that it privileges as subject to sustained literary enquiry are
fundamentally undercut by the presence of so prominent a misstep as the effacing of that
selfsame racialised identity in the person of the Korean girl. The stripping of subjectivity from
her as a character and the presentation of her as an act of (dis)embodied sin lacks the immediacy
of Beloved's infanticide or The Bluest Eye's incestuous sexual assault because of her alterity as
precisely that mediating factor. The missed opportunity for a reading of the potential for Afro
Asian solidarity or coalition.
Trans-Pacific Literary Representations of the Black Soldier in Asia
In moving towards a series of conclusions, I return to the problematical figurations of
alterity that ground Oe Kenzaburo's depiction of Black martial masculinity. Oe's deployment of
a Black soldier as a figure of dubious agency and devoid of subjectivity stands as a marked point
of mirrored contrast when read against Morrison's own interpretations of Asian subjectivity in
the face of precisely that mode of martial Black masculinity. Oes reading of Blackness as a
slate against which the problems of Japanese wartime anxieties might be worked outreducing
the constellation of historical and social realities that define the experiences of a people to the
essentialised, faceless, voiceless, incorporeal body of the Otheris, perhaps the inversion of
Morrisons reductivism of the Korean girl that stands as a decontextualised, objectified threat in
the face of Frank Money.

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The parallels run deeper. Frank kills the Korean girl out of a reaction against lusts
evoked by the abject fear bound into the paradox manifested in her aggressive sexualisation and
childs body. Oe too notes the presence of sexualised abjection as a mark of alterity in his
novellas grappling with representations of Black maleness as a perversion of normative modes
of heterosexuality: to wit, whilst the Black soldier in Shiiku does not necessarily provide libidinal
temptation in the same mode that Morrisons Korean girl does, he nonetheless does participate in
an act of bestiality with a local farm animal as the children watch (Oe 153).7
It must be acknowledged, though, that the readings of these particular modes of
sexualisation occur under radically different circumstances. Korean femininity as embodied in
the child here is a direct challenge to the normative behaviour that Frank in invested in
conforming to. He is, here as elsewhere in the novel, effecting an understanding of what it
means to be a man, and one of the things that he takes as given is that a man does not take
advantage of a child. According to his own analyses in the novel, it was preferable for him to
kill the girl outright rather than participate in that act. A necessarily complex reading of Black
maleness, to be sure, but when the traumatic decision of how to behave in the face of Asian
femininity in this way, and divorcing it from subjectivity and rendering the realities as
subordinate to male struggle, the text remains open to potential critique. Especially when
manifestations of the opposite remain equally a site of contestation (vis-a-vis, Oes gross
misreading of Blackness and Black male sexuality).

Further scholastic work might be done to contrast this scene with the acts of bestiality that occur in Morrisons
Beloved, another work that has Black male characters engaging in sexual acts with livestock, though under rather
different circumstances (Beloved 26).

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Conclusions
The literary effacement of characterisation and subjectivity on discourse on racialisiation
on either side of the Pacific thus remains a stumbling block in the face of Black and Asian
empathetic coalition building in the half-century following the conclusion of the Pacific War.
Morrisons readings of Blackness on an international stage in the Korean theatre of operations
was an interpretation that had the potential to revisit similar issues in its professed project of
exploding the mythologies of the 1950s decade. As is her wont, her tenth novel commendably
addresses the sundry issues on the homefront, and even pays lip-service to the problematics
attendant to the realities of a legally integrated armys jingoistic adventures. The foibles of the
aims of the victory at home, well-explored though they are, remain in tension with the lack of
resolution of the challenges abroad.

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Leitch, ed. The Norton Anthology of Theory & Criticism. 2nd. ed. New York: W. W.
Norton & Company, 2010. 1612-1623. Print.
Dower, John W. War without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War. New York: Random
House, 1988. Print.
Gallicchio, Marc. The African American Encounter with Japan and China: Black
Internationalism in Asia, 1895-1945. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina
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Molasky, Michael. "A Darker Shade of Difference." The American Occupation of Japan and
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Morrison, Toni. Home. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2012. eBook.
Mullen, Bill V. Afro Orientalism. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2004. Print.
Oe Kenzaburo. "Prize Stock." Trans. John Nathan. Teach Us to Outgrow Our Madness: Four
Short Novels by Kenzaburo Oe. New York: Grove Press, Inc., 1977. 111-168. Print.
Russell, John. "Race and Reflexivity: The Black Other in Contemporary Japanese Mass
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Said, Edward. "Orientalism." Vincent B. Leitch, ed. The Norton Anthology of Theory &
Criticism. 2nd. ed. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2010. 1866-1888. Print.
Widener, Daniel. "Seoul City Sue and the Bugout Blues: Black American Narratives of the
Forgotten War." Ed. Fred Ho and Ed. Bill V. Mullen. Afro Asia: Revolutionary Political
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Duke University Press, 2008. 55-87. Print.