«Ni Européens, ni Africains, ni Asiatiques, nous nous proclamons Créoles. Cela sera pour nous une attitude intérieure, mieux : une vigilance, ou mieux encore, une sorte d'enveloppe mentale au mitan de laquelle se bâtira notre monde en pleine conscience du monde.» Publié en 1989, cet éloge de l'identité créole, cette quête lyrique «d'une pensée plus fertile, d'une expression plus juste, d'une esthétique plus vraie», fonde un art poétique qui devait très vite, dans une illustration magnifique, donner des œuvres importantes : Raphaël Confiant a reçu le prix Novembre pour Eau de Café (1991), Patrick Chamoiseau le prix Goncourt pour Texaco (1992).
"Neither Europeans, nor Africans, nor Asians, we proclaim ourselves to be Creoles. For us this will be a state of mind, or, rather, a state of vigilance, or, better still, a sort of mental envelope within which we will build our world, in full awareness of the world." Published in 1989, this hymn to the Creole identity, this lyrical quest "for a more fertile way of thinking, for a more accurate means of expression, and for a more genuine aesthetics", laid the foundations of a poetic art that was very quickly, and brilliantly, to produce major works : Raphaël Confiant was awarded the prix Novembre for Eau de Café (1991), and Patrick Chamoiseau received the prix Goncourt for Tewaco (1992).
An interesting view of identity formation and notions of mélange/mixedness/miganness. Creolité proposes a diverse selfhood that must be decentralized from geographical boundaries; not a concept, they write, but a vision for how identity can be understood in an age of globalism, transnationalism, and complexity. What is creolité, exactly? "It's the world diffracted but recomposed, a maelstrom of signifieds in a single signifier: a Totality... it ought to be approached as a question to be lived... to enrich oneself of elements besides the answer." They are attempting to bring together diversity as a vision which unites otherwise disparate peoples.
Although this concept has potential, it is couched in frustratingly vague terms and presented in a text that is not so much an essay as it is a prose-poem. The poetic language is Creolité's strength, its difficulty, and ultimately its limitation. While the project of what may be termed "identity aesthetics" has potential, it is scarcely realizable if it is limited to these terms. I'm particularly disturbed by the appendix: "Creoleness claims a full and entire sovereignty of our peoples without, however, identifying with the different ideologies which have supported this claim to date... without denying the differences between our peoples, we would like to say that what unites them is vaster than what opposes them." Supporting a collapsing of categories in the service of a larger umbrella seems like a good idea, but subscribes to "human race over race" ideology. It seems like what ties this text together is a thread of humanism where race no longer matters. This is contradictory: diversity is what unites us, and yet diversity is suppressed in favor of Creoleness as a major category? Perhaps the authors meant to articulate room for expansion within the boundaries of Creoleness, but it certainly wasn't evident in the text.
One final difficulty I had was its ambiguous way of inscribing the political into their vision: "Equality between people cannot be obtained without the freedom of thinking, of writing, and of traveling that goes with it. For us, there are no formal freedoms. All liberties, provided they do not stand in the way of the functioning of society, are good." This final line of the text is so ambiguous that it presupposes a number of privileges that are not automatic. How is freedom being deployed? What does "stand in the way of functioning" society exactly entail? What is "good"? From a humanistic standpoint, which is how creoleness attempts to position itself, it simply cannot answer the very stances it claims.