Identities of Sand Ch. 3

Motions of Journaling Generations: Immigration to Kiffed Orientations

« Un auteur de textes, après un point je tourne la page
Pour apprécier demain et mettre les habitudes en cage »

An author of texts, after a point I turn the page

To appreciate tomorrow and place habits in a cage

« Je connaissais pas Paris le matin » – Grand Corps Malade[1]

            « C’est lundi et comme tous les lundis, je suis allée chez Mme Burlaud (Guène 9) » “its Monday and like every Monday, I went to Madame Burlaud’s house”, the young protagonist’s statement opens Faïza Guène’s novel in a journal-style framework. With a Monday, being like any Monday, Doria attends her lessons and as a reader I am again reminded of why I believe in the possibility of happenings and growth rising from the ordinary. Guène’s novel, Kiffe Kiffe Demain serves a brilliant purpose of painting a quotidian Parisian banlieue experience for an immigrant mother and daughter, Doria, who, despite constraints rendered by normalcy and repetition, both develop and grow in their experiences over a year throughout the novel. Included in the young character’s story-telling is the absence of her father, her relationship with her mother, her mother’s work, her own experiences in school, Parisian grèves,[2] and simultaneous dismissal and engagement with the future. This novel is ideal for extending the study of becoming-of-age stories for those of immigrant-origin in a contemporary francophone world especially as it is problematized in urban spaces. The novel is often argued as an affirmation of beur literature in the canon of contemporary French writing,[3] fitting most easily into the genre of coming-of-age.

          The desire to glean the fantastic interactions of the coming-of-age genre, such as learning lessons, meeting someone, or changing your perspective, in order to arrive at something so full of encounters and potentialities like becomings stems from my belief that one can enact coming-of-age at any point in their imposed time-frame of life. Furthermore, there is not a simple leaving behind of what was there before as becomings do not look to create a linear development. Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari describe the difficulty in this when they write in their chapter on becoming from A Thousand Plateaus noting “… (Becomes what? Human, or something else?). It is always possible to try to explain these blocks of becoming by a correspondence between two relations, but to do so most certainly impoverishes the phenomenon under study” (237).[4] To insist a becoming-adult as an opposition to child insists on a linear evolution whereas becomings in A Thousand Plateaus are written to instead be “involutionary” as “involution is creative” (Deleuze and Guattari 238), meaning there is an emphasis on involvement and the formation of a block that “runs its own line ‘between’ the terms in play and beneath assignable realations” (239). This above all others is the case when, systematically, stories have been disenfranchised, stripped of their avenues for being told in large scale, or left without capital or resources to convey their diverse characteristics and prospects. The time frames may seem to fall under the guise of a rite-of-passage but are less often deemed essential by the demands of the colonial matrices of power[5], and therefore end up acting in a way which reestablishes hierarchical and patriarchal order. They, instead, take power in the margins again in “its own line “between” the terms in play and beneath assignable relations” (Deleuze and Guattari 239) involving delineated creation. Examples of this can be found in learning a language, immigrating to a new country, and changing relationships with the elements and people around a subject. Just as the conception of becoming doesn’t require progression or aging, these examples still continue to represent certain developments that oscillate between what makes someone themselves—in an expression of realness—and what adds to a building or diminishing of the world and space one inhibits.

          As a contemporary francophone novel with an author of Maghrebi origin, Kiffe Kiffe Demain by Faïza Guène is easily argued as being cut out for a spot of coming-of-age depictions and formations in its categorical associations. With my desires to glean certain elements, mundane as they may appear, and bring them more extensive opportunities, I’m able to illustrate how this novel has applications to emerge as minor-literature in its becoming-of-age even from the reading and speech evoked from the title. Doria, in her daily written recordings, is involutionary, involving formations of new blockings of language to create testimonies in her journal.

          Through the complicated narration and gender identity of Tahar Ben Jelloun’s L’enfant de sable, and Kamel Daoud’s maneuvering hero Meursault, contre-enquête we have siphoned the manifestations of becoming and telling one’s story as it maneuvers through many reserves of power and oppression from desert to sea. Noteworthy amongst them, are the Nation, space, and time as they reshape to new power frontiers and constructions of neoliberalism as well as neocolonialism. My arguments of becomings that appear in these narratives come about with movement that is creatively manifested in the space of one’s own, and through revisiting the same place again and again without requiring a complete displacement. But, looking to migratory movements of one’s orientations creates new folds of existence and offers a rich and complicated path to wander down. Through Doria, the narrator and main character of Kiffe Kiffe Demain, readers take part in the becomings of a second-generation French-Moroccan girl, or a child of a Moroccan immigrant, as she blends minor-language through writing and living in French, verlan, and Arabic in her own representations and (re)presentations of culture, nation, identity and more in their borders. At times they are constraining in the administrative framings of witnessing identity, but at other times, molle mouvante.[6]

          When the sand in our passing of time slips through the visual analog of an hourglass the threat of concretization at the bottom of the glass remains at bay.[7] Doria, in Faïza Guène’s novel, first writes to us as the audience in her seemingly solidified space of the concrete block towers of a Parisian banlieue where both time and society threaten to keep her there. Less queer in the moldable nature of elements from a coastal and desert space as we have seen in the novels by Ben Jelloun and Daoud, the placement and timeline proposed for our narrator and main character in Guène’s novel still enacts creative maneuvers for storytelling and minoritarian potential. Both Doria as the character, and Guène as the young author of nineteen at the time of publication, use language, daily quotidian activities, troubles, and the relationships around them to take part in the growing opportunities of becoming-of-age and kiffe[8] the world around her.

          On writing about the ideologies and orientations of citizenship and gender in Parisian Housing Projects as examined through this novel, writer Brinda J. Mehta explains, “confining architectural designs to control movement within and beyond its border reflect the social impasses that confront this community of disenfranchised and unemployed youth” (Mehta 180). She focuses on the parallels between the structural and environmental degradation alongside the social deprivation. Although we are granted the terrain of a contemporary world unraveling for the duration of one year, there is a level of ambiguity, suspension and place-lessness in the time Guène writes through the reoccurring grèves,[9] assignments, and vacation periods as they could come about in any typical school cycle. Mehta names this place-lessness as a common site for struggle (183). The description of placelessness, like the one we saw in chapter one for L’enfant de sable, speaks to the story’s applications to multiple folds on existence, and offers a mindful play of picturing the rendering at various points in time, and at the undermining of any proposed regulation. An understanding of what Mikhail Bakhtin theorizes as the chronotope in the novel,[10]  “the intrinsic connectedness of temporal and spatial relationships” (Bakhtin 84) remains relevant as a haunting ambivalence creates challenges to stability. Unlike French naturalizing methodologies of laïcité,[11] the neutralizing of time and space in the novel, as it is employed by dynamic subjecthood, emerges as a provocative and productive terrain of solidarity. As it pertains particularly to a mother-daughter relationship, between Doria and her mother Yasmina, Mehta adds “the two women politicize their outsider status by creating their own paradigms of belonging in an effort to establish a sense of home in an alienating environment” (183); the space of the home and their accommodations of one another are vibrant in becoming. Political orientations of the nation turn to a cohabitated space of mother-daughter representation instead. Allowing for queer orientations[12] of becoming allows the characters and readers to gaze “towards” a space and time that is almost but not quite available in the present (Ahmed 554).

          Doria appears to readers at fifteen years old and her journal reports to us the workings of her life as well as those around her for the extent of one year. The production of a journal, at this point, is a space for identity and analysis that we have seen before in Ben Jelloun’s L’enfant de sable. Although, as the journal is ‘read’ from the initial perspective of Doria’s voice in Kiffe Kiffe Demain instead of the re-telling and found-footage aspect of L’enfant de sable, the recording of daily life and experiences in an intimate space of one’s journal is still intriguing as an emotively charged form and space. As l’enfant heard a poet cite that a journal is « parfois nécessaire pour dire que l’on a cessé d’être » (Ben Jelloun 12) “at times necessary for stating that someone has ceased to be”, I propose that for Doria the journal is necessary for stating the end of isolating the past and future as places which are not in constant motion and communication, such as that Mondays will always just be Mondays, and that demain[13] can be kiffed. The space of her journal brings about communication dedans et dehors[14] the intimate mind of her thoughts and can allow both the past and the future to move in involution.

          The setting of her journal as an attestation of her becoming and experiences provides the movement needed between the gaps of structural administration and a fugue state towards unattainable transcendence. When evoking testimony, I think of Jacques Derrida’s Demeure as he deconstructs the place of an attestation as it forms in literature, particularly as it is complicated in fiction. For the growing and becoming character, there is a sense of an “unexperienced experience” (Derrida 47) in documenting a testimony for the first time and in turn, questioning its status as testimony. Derrida writes that “the testimony testifies to nothing less than the instant of an interruption of time and history, a second of interruption in which fiction and testimony find their common resource” (73). There are interruptions—moments of placelessness and suspension—of her time and history throughout Doria’s documentation of her and her mother’s juggling of French administration beyond her school to the requirements of CAF[15] and SÉCU[16]. Such remplissage[17] of paperwork formats their existence within the structural systems of the nation, but leaves their lived experiences—before, during, and after the blank lines of paperwork—unnamed and without record. Doria’s becoming-of-age story has no interest of moving within these constraints. As Doria’s intersections of identity are continually under attack by definitions and stereotypes, her creative outlets pose as an ‘in’ to a circle of attestation that is inherently administrative—a common resource is created in the involvement of this genre of literature. Additionally, it is integral that this haunted suspension rendered by these struggles of juggling les choses administrative, is present and informative in the involutive creation, for Derrida writes, “in order to remain testimony, it must therefore allow itself to be haunted” (30).[18]

          In the appeal to the public reading audience, particularly to the publishers who picked up Guène’s manuscript, Doria reads as an antidote to the writing of violence of immigrant women in the urban settings. Yet, framing her in the position of an antidote leaves her to be prescribed as a dose, as a substance to act to soothe, save, or calm other representations of life in the banlieue. Framing her this way abandons and condemns her to the position of being a remedy, with no care for any natural struggles or failures she may still encounter. Doria is her own trajectories in their plurality. Faïza Guène speaking on this accounts that she did not write her story of charm, snideness, or pleasantries to have it arrive as a surprise or challenge to other representations of the life for a teenage girl in this setting (Kleppinger 210). Instead, she writes that her presence exists in oscillation with numerous elements of being a teenage girl in the urban space alongside her mother. Guène, at times, resists a conflation of Doria’s life as a reporting of her own, Doria is not Faïza; Faïza and Doria are their own stories. They, like the readers, can encounter one another and have a different experience each time; their demain is openly becoming.

          In the reception of her novel since its publication, Faïza Guène continues in a battle of revising the way both she and her writing are discussed.[19] When those reviewing the work report on it as autobiographical instead of auto fictive Guène retorts that “focusing on the supposedly autobiographical elements of the text demonstrates a lack of respect for the real artistic work that went into the project. Instead, she believes that the decision to portray a character not dramatically removed from her own experience made the task even more difficult, since she had to work harder to maintain the appropriate critical (and artistic) distance from Doria” (212 Kleppinger). By making this distinction Guène keeps an open movement of the elements which make Doria unique and the elements that maintain her independence from her. A common struggle for fiction writers like Guène is that they are handed the job of ethnographer or historian to explain diversity to their audience (Kleppinger 240) meanwhile their fictional stories should sustain themselves on their own. In a parallel frustration, Gina Athena Ulysse in a TEDx talktitled “Untapped Fierceness/My Giant Leaps” explains “you either be that, or disappear” on speaking of the confinement for creativity.[20] She asks, “Why do they think so many black women in anthropology keep turning to the arts?” (Tedx Talks). Faïza Guène, although successful from publishing at a young age, has not reached her end in a closed-circuit coming-of-age. Alternatively, as an author who is becoming-of-age, she exists aside from the rites-of-passage imposed on her by the media as a young woman making it out of a banlieue upbringing to success.

“My DNA not for imitation” [21]

– “DNA.”, DAMN., Kendrick Lamar

          Remarkable enough, despite her disidentification, Faïza Guène’s position of a young auto-fictive writer does not grant her advances of being considered a critical theoretical and political commentator. Brinda J. Mehta points out that “many book reviews have used Guène’s young adult perspective as an excuse to gloss over the more politicized nature of the novel and its vindication of minority rights by focusing instead on its lighthearted and easily digestible aspects” (176) although in this form they could be extremely useful and transformative. Upon placing these restraints, Guène’s political pedagogy is masked and hidden under the charming characteristics. Therefore, Doria’s agency is removed and left behind is her journal to be its own pedagogical space and undermine the restrictions through queer practices and unsteady luminous encounters.

          Faïza Guène’s continual need to create additions and clarifications to her story is a window to what Mehta calls the “deep fractures and social divisions…ruptures” (177) within French society most notably seen through depictions of national identity, citizenship, and integration/assimilation techniques or maneuvers. Her continual revision of the beurette,[22] as Kleppinger names it in her chapter, shows Guène’s consistency in cracking through the deep fractures as Gina Athena Ulysse’s poem asks for, “hollering creeks to crack to shatter the screens that border the walls of the tower that safeguards the gatekeepers mirrored crick-crack” (Ulysse 72). Such cracks in the foundation of the banlieue’s cement blockings have the potential to release fragments, granular pieces, or molecules towards a becoming—a resistance of solidification. Deleuze and Guattari write in their explanation of the concept, “all becomings are already molecular. That is because becoming is not to imitate or identify with something or someone. Nor is it to proportion formal relations…becoming is to extract participles between which one establishes the relations of movement and rest, speed and slowness that are closest to what one is becoming, and through which one becomes” (272).[23] The hope and potential in doing this resides in the combinational actions and collectivity that could live on, where encounters and attempts create enough of a fracture for the subject, the narrative, the story to become-of-age.

          The continual encounters of a story are worth investigating; Doria reports her experiences throughout the year of her many experiences with tutors, schooling, and other academic trajectories. Through this she writes of her discovery of Ben Jelloun’s novel,

« En vrai, je viens de finir un bouquin de Tahar Ben Jelloun qui s’appelle L’enfant de sable. Ça raconte l’histoire d’une petite fille qui a été élevée comme un petit garçon parce que c’était déjà la huitième de la famille et que le père voulait un fils…Quel destin de merde. » (Guène 19)

“In truth, I finished a book by Tahar Ben Jelloun called L’enfant de sable. It tells the story of a little girl who was raised as a little boy because she was already the eighth in the family and because the father wanted a son…what a shit destiny.”

Doria renders the story in a framework that reads simpler than my own analysis, but the potential of her encountering this story during a time where she has already begun journaling and documenting her own intimate thoughts offers potential for her to use the emotive space for possibilities beyond simple redaction or noting progression. Instead she can be theoretical in the space while engaging in minor-actions. Additionally, she is able to express an experience with parallels of her own proposed gendered confinement as blunt as they may be,

« Papa, [Doria speaking of her father] il voulait un fils. Pour sa fierté, son nom, l’honneur de la famille et je suppose encore plein d’autres raisons stupides. Mais il n’a eu qu’un enfant et c’était une fille. Moi. Disons que je correspondais pas tout à fait au désir du client. Et le problème, c’est que ça se passe pas comme à Carrefour : y a pas de service après-vente…il a dû se rendre compte que ça servait à rien d’essayer avec ma mère et il s’est cassé. Comme ça, sans prévenir. » (Guène 10)

“Papa, he wanted a son. For his pride, his name, the honor of the family and I suppose for plenty other stupid reasons. But he only had one child and it was a girl. Me. Let’s just say I wasn’t quite what the client wanted. And the problem is that this doesn’t happen like at Carrefour: there is no service post-sale…he must have realized there was no reason to try with my mother and he left. Just like that, without warning.”

Unlike the father of the enfant, Doria’s father shows no willingness nor attempt to capitalize on a future and conduct predictive rights. Instead, Doria possesses the narrative with snarky comments referring to the closing of opportunities after the “transaction” as well as describing desires of a future of pride and hierarchical progressions as stupid or shit. Instead of having “tout prévue” like was declared with the birth and naming of Ahmed, Doria cites the events that came about being “sans prévenir”. Without warning, alerting, or informing. Just like the fine particles of the enfant’s edifice of sand in her father’s retreat back to Morocco, Doria shows no desire to attach herself to this identification and progresses with no further explications. Instead, the audience sees how strong the relationship is between her and her mother and her journal’s secrets propel her towards something else.

            To Doria, predictive thought and surveillant nature is a lesser concern throughout her quotidian movements. The title itself, upon first hearing it,[24] embodies this minimized nature as it simultaneously engages with the future yet dismisses its potential. Demain, most simplistically, in its meaning of tomorrow shows her confidence in the passage of time even if it is linear in nature. But, the plain writing of kif-kif, unlike the title kiffe kiffe, refers to an Arabic phrase meaning “all the same” encoding her days with cyclic return spiraling her to each day despite disinterests and disappointments. She writes, after spending time with her friend Hamoudi, « au moins, il se passe des choses dans sa vie. Alors que pour moi c’est kif-kif demain. » (Guène 76).  “At least, he has things happen in his life. Well for me it’s the same thing tomorrow.” Her dismissal of what’s to come tomorrow, framing it as being all the same, shows trust in certainty and the inability to break from a status quo even though there still exists a level of uncertainty simultaneously in the spinning return of her written experiences.

          Adding to the ways in which she frames a future for her and her mother, Doria discusses their anxieties and insecurities when it comes to their housing experiences, government aid, and work fluctuations amidst grèves and contracts. She writes, « L’avenir ça nous inquiète mais ça devrait pas, parce que si ça se trouve, on en a même pas. » (Guène 22) “the future worries us but it shouldn’t, because if it comes about we won’t even have one”. Explaining her snide intuition here involves an evocation of Jose Muñoz’s imprisonment of subjects within the present and within linearity. He writes “Straight time tells us that there is no future but the here and now of our everyday life. The only futurity promised is that of reproductive majoritarian heterosexuality, the spectacle of the state refurbishing its ranks through overt and subsidized acts of reproduction” (Munoz 22). Rites-of-passage, ranging from passing school courses, the remplissage of paperwork and attestations in French administrative sectors, to assimilating amongst communities in France appear as a refurbishing of ranks in multiple folds of existence. In Doria’s eye, the future cancels itself out. If there is a future, it will be one so constraining and vacant in the fact that the struggles and confinements of the present leave a reality of disenfranchisement and without clear predictive abilities.

          She moves easily from discussing the future to speaking of death, “on peut mourir dans dix jours, demain ou tout à l’heure, là, juste après. C’est le genre de trucs qui prévient pas. Y a ni préavis, ni relance » (Guène 23). One could die in ten days, tomorrow, or at any time, right now, right after. It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t give warning. There’s no notice, nor reminder.”[25] Doria’s all encompassing understanding of death shows discernment that can be powerful. Elicited here is again the reality of events arriving sans prévenir. She describes a dream she has had of her own funeral and how she aids in her burial. With her awareness of limitations and her imagined spaces of them in her journal and in her dreams, the confines and architectural borders in which she and her mother reside, her acts of creative dreaming and writing of a future so loaded with both hope and disappointment, becomes the pathway to borders that are, in actuality, more soft and moving. Doria thinks and writes in a form of deterritorialization towards a minor-pedagogy taking her friends, mother, and school teachers along with her. Deleuze and Guattari in continuing to describe their becoming indicate appropriately that “To become is not to progress or regress along a series…” (238), yet her becoming deterritorializes her movement in a series.

          Beyond the structural formation of her world, the French language remains as co-plane of existence for her; she spends time analyzing its parameters and trajectories. Upon la rentrée, returning to school, she writes of the name of her lycée as it is named after Louis-Blanc. She searches through the dictionary of proper names to discover why he deserves the titled of her school. Her curiosity leads her to the conclusion, « journaliste et socialiste réformiste. En France, trois mots en « iste », ça suffit pour qu’on donne ton nom à un lycée, une rue, une bibliothèque ou une station de métro. » (160) “In France, three words with “iste”, that suffices as a reason to give your name to a school, a road, a library and a metro station.” Her investigation of the language and France’s naming of institutions or landmarks after certain people in history expands to her interrogative nature of the systems all around her. How might her own name become labeled amidst three words of “iste”?

« Alors continuons de dire aux p’tits frères que l’école est la solution
Et donnons leur les bons outils pour leur avenir car attention
La réussite scolaire dans certaines zones pourrait rester un mystère
Et l’égalité des chances un concept de ministère »

“So continue telling your little brothers that school is the answer

And give them the right tools for their future because careful

School success in certain zones may remain a mystery

And the equal opportunities a concept of ministry”

– « Education Nationale », Grands Corps Malade[26]

Doria eventually plays with her own dismissal of her demain by evoking French wordplay of the Arabic phrase kif-kif. As seen in the written title Kiffe Kiffe Demain in this verb formation incorporates a positive spin as to which she admits in the end, « Maintenant, kif-kif demain je l’écrirais différemment. Ça serait kiffe kiffe demain, du verbe kiffer. Woauh. C’est de moi. » (192) “Now, kif-kif tomorrow I’ll write it differently. It will be kiffe-kiffe tomorrow, from the verb kiffer. Wow. It’s mine.” In blending her formerly dismissive traits of things being all the same, formulating the conjugation of kiffer to kiffe creates her own version of looking onwards admirably no matter which future or nonexistent future is to surface for her. Kiffer, a verb to express a real liking for something undermines both language and discouragement from any surrounding narrow minds. Her use of language is involutionary, as it involves the phrasing of Arabic, and the verb formation of French and the letter play of verlan. Additionally, she portrays a creation of minor-literature, as it calls to a collectivity of the language, a deterritorializing and reterritorializing of her position in the future amidst the world of France, immigrants, banlieue, and youth. Her use of language precedes distinctions and categorizations implemented by the state as well as by the literary canon. Above all, her language can be bent continually as it commands a political purpose in having hope. There is so much revolutionary action in simple looking towards tomorrow. Through a play of words, blending of Arabic and French, implementing verlan Doria encompasses a discursive space where a language is lived.

          The Monday sessions with Mme Burlaud finish within the year documentation of Doria’s journal. Instead of leaving one another citing à lundi[27] for the next week of lessons, Doria takes note that Mme Burlaud tells her courage,[28] instead. She compares this moment to her experience of learning the skill of riding her bike, a simple yet monumental moment of coming-of-age for certain children as they gain mobility, independence, and skills to explore.

Je sais pas où je vais aller je me laisse guider par mon instinct
Fasciné par cette idée je kiffe tout seul c’est mon instant
Le soleil me montre la direction

I don’t know where I’m going I am left to be guided by my instincts

Fascinated by this idea I like myself this is my moment

The sun shows me the way

« Je connaissais pas Paris le matin » – Grand Corps Malade

 “Courage” to Doria paints a similar euphoric sensation to being told “j’ai lâché!” (Guène 180) “I let go”, where the guiding hands on her bike were released and yet, she finds herself still pedaling. Pedaling towards an otherwise and pushing her to the becoming-of-age where the cyclical insights of demain function not as a closed circuit but as an open framework. Her becoming-women follows the journey to where Deleuze and Guattari map it to becoming-molecular [29] where a future is at once capable of being kiffed [30] and imperceptible. Pedaling towards her own story is a multiplicity of motion, of becoming and of performative sur vivre.[31]

[1] From his album titled Midi 20 this song represents taking steps to making one’s life their best. Particularly, the role of the writer is emboldened in these lyrics.

[2] strikes

[3] Mehta, Brinda J. “Negotiating Arab-Muslim Identity, Contested Citizenship, and Gender Ideologies in the Parisian Housing Proects: Kiffe Kiffe Demain”

[4] Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Translated by Brian Massumi, University of Minnesota Press, 1987.

[5] I work with this idea of the CMP from the way it is described and used in Walter D. Mignolo and Catherine Walsh’s work on Decoloniality.

[6] Citation from Kamel Daoud’s Meursault, contre-enquête in describing the soft moving borders of the beach.

[7] Referring to the other becoming-of-age novel, L’enfant de sable, I’m continuing to portray the analog visual of an hourglass as something that juxtaposes the motion of the written novels and characters.

[8] French slang verb kiffer, meaning to like and claim something.

[9] Strikes.

[10] References and citations are derived from “Forms of Time and of the Chronotope in the Novel” from The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays.

[11] Secularism.

[12] Ahmed, Sara “Orientations: Toward a Queer Phenomenology.” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, vol. 12 no. 4, 2006, p. 543-574. Project MUSE

[13] Tomorrow.

[14] inside and outside.

[15] Caisse d’allocations familiales, French system of welfare for families and individuals seeking aid in housing or rent payments if eligible.

[16] Social Security system in France.

[17] Filling.

[18] Haunted are the days with support of CAF, or other benefit systems, where those without naturalized rights are placed in suspensions of the systems where an ‘in’ of attestations are necessary in order to complete them in a timely matter. This issue is raised during times of strife, most clearly exampled now in a global pandemic.

[19] Kathryn A. Kleppinger writes of this in her book chapter titled “Revising the Beurette Label: Faïza Guène’s Ongoing Quest to Reframe the Reception of Her Work” where even the identifications of beur and beurette are investigated and explored. In her work, and others, this identification refers to the second-generation of immigrants in France from North African origin or children of immigrants of North African origin specifically the Maghreb yet they themselves did not immigrate but were born and raised in France. The word is evolved as verlan of Arab, and takes on masculine and feminine language rules in their evolutions. The word evokes a sense of familiarity although it has become common-place, and there is an emphasis on the hybrid identity evoked in identifying as beur.

[20] TEDx Talks exist as a variation of a typical TED talk where a more creative performative free-form of performance and instruction is enacted as opposed to a more standard lecture style.

[21] In this song Lamar dissects identity down to the level of DNA citing the things that are placed upon him by the world including the identifications he resists, and identifications he openly embraces. In each, he claims a uniqueness and owns up to their existence.

[22] Both Doria, as she is the child of a Moroccan immigrant to France, and Guène, the child of Algerian immigrants to France would identify as a beurette as they were both born and raised in France.

[23] Not meant to be rendered literally as molecules, becoming-molecular at this segment of my argument explains productive movements of fragments as they can be combinational in nature and action.

[24] I wish to bring attention to the title as it is spoken and heard here, and less so the way that it is written and read, as that evokes something different.

[25] I find it difficult to read through and analyze Doria’s perspective here without thinking of present day (at this point in writing, April 2020) struggles and inequalities of certain populations combatting a pandemic, something so “invisible” and striking with such variation in effect. Her rendering of death as a clear presence promotes the privileges she does not possess. In her description there are evocations of inequality when it comes to aspects where people are more likely to be touched by dangers when they have no choice but to face it knowingly every day in working, assimilation, integration and resettlement.

[26] In his song “National Education” from his album 3eme temps, Grand Corps Malade implicates the systematic issues of the national education system in France and how certain neighborhoods and groups of people are left without the same support and amenities as others. He outs the inequalities present in the distribution of materials and quality education. Doria’s writing and anecdotes of school allude to these experiences and are just as reputable in their lived experience.

[27] See you Monday.

[28] Cognate for the English word encouraging one to be brave and have courage.

[29] Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia

[30] My own way to transfer the words meaning once again to an English past tense meaning for it to be tweaked and used towards something.

[31] Derrida, sur vivre, on living and survival as a performative concept.

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