background (visited in Algranati’s essay “Being an Other,” which explores how
problematic these divisions are becoming) and ideology, either political or religious.
However, it can also manifest whenever a divergent group can be identified: the learning
disabled (they used to be shocked or locked away in institutions), the elderly, the gay and
bisexual, and, as we shall see in Doty’s Firebird, the fragile and sensitive. Caldwell also
points this out in Captains and Kings, when he comments that those having the
temperament of a fragile butterfly in this world are soon destroyed.
Hegel points out that without otherness, we are unable to see others as equal.
Otherness is able to be contemplated because we are self-aware. There is the one,
ourselves, and the other. The problem that arises is because we are inclined to view
otherness as unequal (Kain 2005). However, as Hegel goes on to explain in his
master/slave dialectic, the master is also the slave because the slave must acknowledge
the master’s power in order for the relationship to work. It recalls a story the author of
the paper read in childhood of a horse that was so committed to freedom that it opted to
starve when it was captured off the plain rather than be tamed. In the context of
literature, specifically Doty’s Firebird and the one who can still see in Saramago’s
Blindness, the other serves to reveal how alienated the narrator or main character feels.
Saramago’s book is excellent for exploring this topic because his issues are
political in nature; therefore blindness is both figurative and literal. It is also a case study
in empathy, for everyone reacting to the “plague of blindness” at first reacts with horror
and a need to isolate those afflicted, before becoming afflicted themselves. However,
those opting to help are also struck blind, demonstrating that the disease process is
, without pity or consciousness. The lesson is clear: to be compassionate sets us apart from
nature, and to extend compassion to the other is an exercise in humanity, as we will all
succumb to mortality. Our legacy defines us, and as we evolve we become more tolerant
of the other.
In Doty’s Firebird, a parallel can be drawn between his degree of alienation and
that of Medea, who is spurned because she is two lower things: a barbarian and a female
driven by madness (The Other CUNY website). Doty is sensitive, creative, bearing the
tribulations of class that his parents thrust on him, at odds with his own body, and finally,
(what most people will reduce this fantastic book to) dealing with a sexual orientation
that is discriminated to right up to our current day. The sensitivity that Doty displays is
similar to that of David Sedaris in his book Naked, revealed through sumptuous language
that makes the reader feel like they are walking through an archeological dig, where
every common object is treated like a treasure.
Mark Doty realizes from an early age that his is different from others and even
feels strangely alienated on the corporeal level (that is, his own body is the other). He
speaks of touching his own head and feeling as though it belongs to another. A film he
views on safety makes him feel vulnerable, that to leak fluids, waste, etc. opens you up to
shame and death. This is of course Freudian, where these two instincts are closely related
(eros and thanatos) (Clack 2002). Doty revisits this later in the book when he enjoys
horror movies that exploit somatic fragility (we use film to process our fears).
Doty experiences a transformative moment when he sees a young performer do a
tap routine at his school. The glass he balances on his head in his sister’s room is a
metaphor for his failed attempt at gaining an entrance to a “world of glitter” that