Migration from the Caribbean to the metropoles of the United Kingdom and the United States of America is not

an unusual occurance. According to Alvar Carlson, a professor of geography at Bowling Green State University in Ohio, migration to the metropoles, not least the United States, served as an "escape valve", as "a countrys internal conditions create the desires or needs to emigrate" (Caribbean Immigration To The US 1965-1989, n. pag.). Carlson therefore sets up migration as a form of escape, a movement towards "perceived opportunities for the improvement an individuals economic, political, and social situation" (Caribbean Immigration To The US 1965-1989, n. pag.). In short, migration is a movement towards freedom, if we define freedom as improvement of an individual's sociopolitical and economic status. However, is freedom akin to social impowerment? Authors such as Jamica Kincaid and Michelle Cliff may agree superficially as they themselves have found fame outside of their island 'homes'. However, does Caribbean migration truly effect freedom in its truest sense? The freedom to be a subject rather than object? the freedom to construct your own identity? The representation of Caribbean migration, which links Jamaica Kincaid's Lucy and Michelle Cliff's No Telephone To Heaven by no means suggests that the journey in itself bequeaths total freedom to be a subject, as Lucy and Clare respectively are tainted by the colonial past. However, each character's internal journey allows them to find some level of agency by each novel's end. In so doing, the authors illustrate that freedom and migration are linked extrinsically in that the freedom to become an agent is not borne out of migration itself but the alternate perspectives which migration provides a space for agency. The journey towards agency is most clearly seen in Kincaid's Lucy. Kincaid stives for agency in form and content in this novella, using an eponymous character who seeks a 'de-colonization' of sorts, as she leaves the Caribbean to come to the United States of America. Ifeona Fulani asserts that "Kincaid "posit[s] the mother-daughter relationship as a site of colonization and, therefore, a site in need of decolonization" (Fulani, 3-4). Thus the movement from the Caribbean to the metropole is one seen as necessary for any sort of agency to be afforded. Edyta Oczkowicz delves deeper into Lucy's migrant experience, determining that "[h]er struggle for personal freedom and independence entails total, self-imposed separation from her family, particularly her mother, and a commitment to complete detachment" (143). Kincaid encapsulates this struggle for freedom within the form of the female bildungsroman, which formally subverts and/or decolonizes Lucy as "[t]he characteristic focus of the female bildungsroman on the protagonist's evolving consciousness has forced the fragmentation and inversion of the conventional masculine form, shifting the focus from the protagonist's progress in the external world to explorations of the world within..." (Fulani, 4). This then figures as a link between form and content as psychic entrapment vis a vis the colonial taint upon Lucy's conscious and subconscious thought. Fulani suggests that: "the novel is centered on Lucy's struggle to sever her emotional and psychological ties to her mother and to invent a self-aware identity based on her own interpretation of her personal history, rather than an inherited identity shaped by a communal history of enslavement, colonial oppression, and gender subordination. (Fulani, 7) Therefore, Lucy seeks to subvert the notions of colonial history, much akin to Kincaid's

subversion of the traditionally male genre. However, Lucy illustrates that the shadow of colonialism haunts the psyche of the colonized, thus any real move towards agency must come hand in hand with the realization of the omnipresence of the colonial heritage. For example, Lucy can only express anger when presented with daffodils which remind her of the colonial taint. Migration, in Lucy thus serves to illustrate the grip of the colonial powers upon the Caribbean migrant, who is seen as a "Poor Visitor". However, Kincaid speaks against the colonial mindset and also against its omnipresence by bringing it into the spotlight and interrogating the 'civility' of the colonizer. Figuring Mariah, Lewis, their children, the weak sun, and the daffodils as the machinery of the colonizing enterprise, Kincaid then brings them down to the level of the colonized, illustrating that the colonizer is in no way different than the colonized, perhaps even lesser than those with alternate epistemologies. Lucy notes that Lewis is not the exception, but the rule: "Men behave in this way all the time. The ones who do not behave in this way are the exceptions to the rule" (141). Prior to deconstructing the difference between the male colonizer and the colonized male, Kincaid uses the colour 'yellow' to symbolize colonial oppression. Note how the colour 'yellow' overpowers this particular passage: The yellow light from the sun came in through a window and fell on the pale-yellow linoleum tiles of the floor, and on the walls of the kitchen, which were painted yet another shade of pale yellow, and Mariah, with her pale-yellow skin and yellow hair, stood still in this almost celestial light (27). Jennifer Nichols suggests that this not only places Mariah, and by extension her family, within the framework of "a stifling, oppressive culture" (Nichols, 194) but also within the context of a "stifling, exclusionary feminist agenda" (Nichols, 194). Therefore, Kincaid not only speaks out against the omnipresence of colonialism, but also against the American cultural hegemony that serves as a "homogenizing force that threatens Lucys identity" (Nichols, 195) as Lucy refuses to be identified under the gaze of the colonial past or that of "second-wave" (Nichols, 198) Western feminism, offered by Mariah. This feminism is evidenced, as Nichols notes, in Mariah's actions: she takes Lucy to her own doctor and introduces her to birth control (67); she offers her a copy of Simone de Beauvoirs The Second Sex (132); she does not shave her legs or underarms (79-80); and she lost her virginity long before her marriage (80). Lucy does not subscribe to Mariah's brand of feminism as it is as homogenizing as the imperialist world view: Mariah wanted all of us, the children and me, to see things the way she did (35-36). This is precisely the type of stiffling oppression that Lucy left the Caribbean space to escape. By refusing to suscribe to Mariah's feminism, Lucy thus "strive[s] to realize [her] yearning to be part of relationships and communities that are free from restrictive gender expectations and oppressive abuses of power (Fulani, 2). Therefore, migration to the metropole serves as a catalyst for Lucy's movement towards freedom, as it allows her to rebuff the world views of the homogenizing colonial powers which seek to essentialize her as one thing: a Poor Visitor. Michelle Cliff's No Telephone to Heaven, like Lucy illustrates Caribbean migration, but goes one step further in that Cliff interrogates the notion of return. Clare Savage, Cliff's protagonist, traces the triangular Middle Passage, travelling from Jamaica

to America then England, before returning to Jamaica where she ultimately dies. A "white chocolate" (99), Clare struggles to find agency within the metropolitan and Jamaican societies of the 1970's. In this novel, the political upheaval of Jamaica in the 1960's results in extreme violence, which prompts Boy Savage to flee Jamaica. 'Escaping' to the USA, Boy throws off his African Heritage in order to pass. However, his wife Kitty Savage, Clare's mother, is unable to assimilate. Thus, for her, migration does not foster any freedom at all, as she yearns for 'home' eventually returning to Jamaica, taking Clare's sister Jennie with her. The question of race then is foregrounded within Cliff's discussion of home and exile. Whereas for Lucy, race is "an outdated category to be left behind, not claimed as a trophy" (Nichols, 203), "Cliff depicts whiteness as an absurd and dangerous social construction" (Toland-Dix, 38). Clare is very much determined by her race, and illustrates that she believes that she must choose between her African and Caucasian heritages. The notion of race is linked to notions of freedom, especially within imperialist and colonial discourse, and affects Clare as her lack of agency within her home with her father is borne out of her being forced to 'pass'. Also, Cliff illustrates that race and class are closely intertwined and are defined by territorial borders. Kitty is a part of the middle class in Jamaica by virtue of her 'race' partly. However, migration to the United States negates her class because of her nationality. Therefore, migration locks Kitty into a position of the socially disadvantaged, which certainly rebuffs Carlson's assertion. Cliff then suggests that the metropole seeks to homogenize the migrant, as is the case in Lucy. However, where Lucy seeks agency by destroying all relationships that confine and shape her existence, Kitty and Clare cling to a matrilineal legacy of resistace which allows them agency. For example, Kitty returns to Jamaica to bury her mother as well as to resist Boy's attempts at racial camoflauge. Clare also returns to Jamaica not only to help her people at her mother's request, but also to find a sense of self which was not possible in the metropoles. Note how Clare "rebaptizes" (172) herself. The land is the connection between herself, Mattie and Kitty. This 'rebaptism' is Clare's affirmation of having left behind the vestiges of her Caucasoid heritage, aligning herself with her African ancestry. There is thus a connection between history, the land, and agency. However, Cliff also illustrates that in choosing one identity, Clare chooses her doom. Migration, while giving Clare an alternate point of view, as she is place within the position of Rhys' "Bertha" (116), does not afford her freedom to self determine, as evidenced in "Et In Arcadia Ergo". Fleeing to "Arcadia", England, Clare is haunted, as is Lucy, by her colonial heritage. Images of suffocation and resistance, oppression and marronage figure here as "the trapezoid held space without matter, except for the molecules of milk" (111), and "the Cross of St. Lorraine" (112) are prominent. Clare then flees into time, into the Renaissance to escape the "trapezoid", but the call of her matrilineal history prompts her return. Cliff suggest then that the migrant can only achieve some sense of self, a recollection of their fractured identity, by a return home. However, Cliff herself posits that the construction a nonfragmented identity is "complicated" (Raiskin, 64). Cliff also seeks to illustrate migration's relationship with agency, and the concept of home in terms of Clare's sexuality. Juxtapozing her against Harry/Harriet, Cliff seems to illustrate that migration is not necessary for sexual agency, even against the backdrop of the extreme homophobia of a 1960's and 1970's Jamaica. The parallel between Clare

and Harry/Harriet is laid bare when Clare remarks "For we are neither one thing nor the other" (131). Harry/Harriet mirrors Clare's position in that she/her must chose a sexuality in much the same way that Clare must chose a heritage, as pointed out by Constance Richards: "Harry/Harriet, who is as ambiguously gendered as Clare is ambiguously raced, recognizes ... that participation in the Black nationalist ideology of the soldiers requires denial of some aspect of their identity ... Clare must embrace Black identity, denying her father and the privilege that his familial ties to whiteness affords. The transgendered Harry/Harriet must also choose to enact one gender identity or risk being ostracized by the people she seeks to help". (Richards, 20) However, Harry/Harriet exhibits sexual agency in that by the novel's end, (s)he embraces both sides of his/her gender, becoming 'Harriet' but remaining sexually queer. Harriet is figured as "Mawu-Lisa, moon and sun, female male" (171). However, she performs the female role in order to facillitate her vocation as healer. Richards points out that "it is Harriet who acknowledges that her role as medical officer for this nationalist group is predicated on the denial that a [m]ale organ [swings] gently under her bleached and starched skirt (171), (Richards,30). Douglas Ayling asks: "Does hybridity not deleteriously depoliticise and deconstruct the vitality of kinship (both actual and fictive)? Does it not jeopardise ones identification and emotional bonds with the territory (as nation state which must be defended, supported) and the land (as a source of grounding in memory and physical sense)? (7) For Cliff, this seems to be the case as her hybrid character must perform one gender, and deny his/her an aspect of his/her sex in order to carry out his/her nationalist role. However, (s)he does not sacrifice her sexual hybridity to do so as (s)he remarks "castration ain't de main ting ... not a-tall, a-tall" (168). However, it is interesting to note that Harriet did not have to leave her 'home' in order to find agency, whereas the return home for Clare negates any chance of sexual agency for Clare. There is a suggestion that an amorous relationship was brewing between herself and Liz, even after having vehemently opposed the idea of attraction to her sex to Harry/Harriet (122). Thus, migration did offer a glimmer of sexual agency to Clare. However, her return to Jamaica destroys that agency as she is not allowed, by Cliff, to bring that relationship to fruition. By Cliff's own assertion in Raskin's interview Art of History, Cliff relates that she did not want Clare to have a lesbian relationship in the metropole because she wanted to show homosexuality as "a whole identity, not just a sexual preference" (Raiskin, 69). She goes on to suggest that within the Caribbean, there is a class correlate to sexuality as lesbianism is seen as "slightly decadent and upper class" (Raiskin, 70). What Cliff inadvertently does then is illustrate that migration for Clare does not allow her an alternate world view with regard to homosexuality, as returning to Jamaica halts her sexual freedom. She thus chooses an identity that excludes a particular aspect of herself, and pays the ultimate price for doing so. The link between migration and freedom is thus of an extrinsic nature. Travel to the metropole for both characters allows them to see the colonial enterprise through the gaze of the colonized, and as such, gives a alternate perspective on notions of identity. It is in the metropole, for Lucy, that she can begin to construct her identity as a subject. Her position of exile allows her the space to claim agency, for it is a position she chose.

Choice is also a major factor for Clare as her choice allows her the agency she wandered the metropoles seeking. However, her position of "white chocolate" complicates her agency, and it is the denial of one or more aspects of herself that causes her death. Therefore, freedom's relationship with Caribbean migration is complicated by factors such as race and class. The dual perspective, while enabling, forces each character to confront the omnipresence of colonialism. Thus, the migrant experience is contradictory in that it enshackles as it frees.

Works Cited Ayling, Douglas. "Hybridity in Caribbean Writing: Postmodern Joissance / Postcolonial Dislocation". Caribbean Discourses of Identity. Web. 13 Nov. 2011. Carlson, Alvar W. Caribbean Immigration To The US 1965-1989. Web. 10 Nov. 2011. Fulani, Ireona. "Gender, Conflict, And Community In Gayl Jones's Corregidora And Jamaica Kincaid's Lucy." Frontiers: A Journal Of Women Studies 32.2 (2011): 1-30. Academic Search Complete. Web. 11 Nov. 2011. Nichols, Jennifer J. "Poor Visitor": Mobility As/Of Voice In Jamaica Kincaid's "Lucy." Melus 34.4 (2009): 187-207. Academic Search Complete. Web. 11 Nov. 2011. Oczkowicz, Edyta. "Jamaica Kincaid's Lucy: Cultural `Translation' As A Case Of Creative Exploration Of The Past." Melus 21.3 (1996): 143. Academic Search Complete. Web. 11 Nov. 2011. Raiskin, Judith. "The Art Of History: An Interview With Michelle Cliff." Kenyon Review 15.1 (1993): 57-71. Academic Search Complete. Web. 20 Nov. 2011. Richards, Constance S. "Nationalism And The Development Of Identity In Postcolonial Fiction: Zo Wicomb And Michelle Cliff." Research In African Literatures 36.1 (2005): 20-33. Academic Search Complete. Web. 20 Nov. 2011. Toland-Dix, Shirley. "Re-Negotiating Racial Identity: The Challenge Of Migration And Return In Michelle Cliff's No Telephone To Heaven." Studies In The Literary Imagination 37.2 (2004): 37-52. Academic Search Complete. Web. 14 Nov. 2011.