I started a post this morning and then decided to retract it because it wasn't written very well (which hasn't really stopped me before) nor was it what I think I really have wanted to say.
I should be working on a performance for my class tomorrow at 2 about pedagogical bodies and disciplining, especially female teacher's bodies into very rigid and oppressive systems. But I'm not. I explained to my writing class that I often have to write here before I can write anywhere else. So, before I do that, I have a couple of things waiting to come out.
I think both being broken up with and moving are two of THE BIGGEST crazy-makers out there. Luckily for me and everyone around me, I have gotten to do both in a matter of months. While I think I have done pretty well, considering that adding onto those two things a pile of stress from teaching, TAing, and actually being in a real class again, getting ready to propose comprehensive exam questions, and eventually a dissertation proposal, a mound of social stress, and what do you get? You get me. Me who is trying to wrestle with achieving inner-piece through meditation and prayer, but also trying to not be an emotional invalid, who doesn't let people to walk all over them anymore.
This is where that pedagogical body intervention thing happens. I think that for a long time I lived in a beautiful place and had this life that was beautiful. But for me being in that place was actually very stifling to who I am. And this is because of me, because of who I allowed myself to be when I was there. I allowed the lifestyle of the mountains to wash over me and actually overwhelm who I am as a person. Because when I was there, I wasn't me, or the most-authentic version of me that I eventually want to be (a person who really values diversity and richness of experience, also known as living in a place that stays open passed 9 p.m. in the winter, a person who is loud and outspoken for people and things she loves, and a person who needs change.)
Much like my first quarter of teaching, I tried to force myself to belong in a very rigid way to a community I was always on the outside too. I was always trying to be what a "cool" teacher is supposed to be like. I forced myself to lose a lot of what I value in the world because I wanted to be "cool." While this was me, as performance is never separated from identity, it isn't who I always want to be. I wore really specific clothes, business-casual, I tried to put on upper-middle class airs, with high waisted skirts and dressy shirts. I tried to be cool and calm and a bit sexy to get my male students to take note. I made sure everything was perfect, that my performance matched up with what was expected of me. A little "Hot for Teacher" never hurt anybody.
I hid from conflict, shied away. It was easier to just be quiet, just be small. Taking up space didn't seem to be my role in the classroom. Looking back, everyday, before class I would rush to the bathroom, to check that all of my hairs were in place, that I had nothing in my teeth, or hanging out of my nose. I would apply one last, fresh coat of beige to my face, covering up any pores, dusting off any black smudges of eyeliner or mascara. I would walk into that classroom, set my things down, perfectly. The room was tiered so the students sat above me, and the spotlight of their eyes focused intently. I felt like I was the center of attention and hated it so much, that I tried to avoid it at all costs. Avoid. Do not be loud. Let everyone be louder, make more noise, be better at everything for me. And my body suffered, my scholarship suffered, my heart suffered for trying to constantly be small.
I was doing my best, but I do not like that person. One of my written evals said, "She doesn't tell us what she thinks enough. She just turns it around, like what do you all think?" And this was written like a bad thing, like why could I not be gutsier to talk about my opinions? Why is it that sometimes the best most liberating spaces, squelch us the most? Or why can it be productive for some and all-consuming for others? This is as true a performance in life as it is in teaching. To be honest, I don't see a ton of difference between the two.
I am not a very good teacher. Yet. I am not the best at living my life yet either. But I love being in the process. Of pretty much making mistakes and then fixing them or letting some go unfixed. But what I am learning even more is that I am in process of forgiving. Of forgiving people who have hurt me, but mostly of forgiving myself and allowing myself the time and energy to heal the way I need to. Which, for all you unlucky people out there, is loudly, is proudly, in community. While this may not be what you are used to, while it may make me a bitch, or crazy, I think it is just a bit of the old me making a comeback. But because it is a process, I offer, this video/lyrics from the Glee Ep, "Original Songs." Because. I. AM. Rachel.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltA50HKyM14
What have I done? I wish I could run
Away from this ship goin' under
Just tryin' to help, hurt everyone
Now I feel the weight of the world is
On my shoulders
What can you do when your good isn't good enough?
When all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things
I just wanna fix it somehow
But how many it times will it take?
Oh, how many times will it take for me?
To get it right
To get it ri-igh-ight
Can I start again with my faith shaken?
'Cause I can't go back and undo this
I just have to stay and face my mistakes
But if I get stronger and wiser
I'll get through thisWhat can you do when your good isn't good enough?
When all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things
I just wanna fix it somehow
But how many it times will it take?
Oh, how many times will it take for me?
To get it right
To get it ri-igh-ight
So I throw up my fist
I will punch in the air
And accept the truth that sometimes life isn't fair
Yeah, I'll send out a wish
Yeah, I'll send up a prayer
And finally, someone will see
How much I care!
What can you do when your good isn't good enough?
When all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things
I just wanna fix it somehow
But how many it times will it take?
Oh, how many times will it take for me?
To get it right
To get it ri-igh-ight
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
John T. Warren, PhD
I have a prospectus due tomorrow for performative pedagogy. Prior to today, I had wanted to write it based off of a model by Dr. John T. Warren, a respected professor of Speech Communication at SIU Carbondale. I don't know if Dr. Warren passed away last night or this morning, but, inevitably I learned of his passing, this morning before attempting to write my prospectus. Grappling with and through tears, I continue to see my project inspired by his work. My desire is to work from recognizing my positionalities in the classroom as a way to make connenctions and build alliances with marginalized students. As an anti-racist, white, queer, woman, it is important to me that my students of color, my queer students, my female students, my differently-abled bodied students, feel that at least some place on this campus validates their experiences and privileges their bodily experiences. It is also my attempt to educate other white people about their whiteness, to be accountable to the places I am privileged, to make others accountable.
As Dr. Warren writes, "The erasure of the body is always a violent act a signal that the body should be, must be controlled and denied. Any erasure is indeed violent, but as cultural politics enter the vividness of the violence becomes more pronounced"(92).
He writes extensively on our racist education system and how we have been trained to privilege certain epistemologies, while marginalizing others. I very much saw myself in his struggle to work with a female student of color on her writing, as it was not at a very "proficient" level. However, what he comes to realize through the writing of the piece, and talk about performative poetics, that really, it is the racist education system that priviileges writing practice as a way of knowing above other forms of demonstrating knowledge (like oral interpretation, public speaking/student comments, performances/using the body) that structures how people in dominant positions view valuable forms of knowledge and learning (wow, that seems like an extremely convoluted sentence. Good thing this is not what I am turning in!)
As Warren marks with red pen all over this woman's paper, he realizes that he is marking all over her body, her experience. He explores how in his dominant positions, his privilege, has enabled him to say perform in this one very rigid way, mainly through writing. I love writing, I think it is an amazing way to explore and relay ideas. But should we judge all people on the same standard of what "good writing" is. I hope not, because I would be failing right now!
Anyway, I am interested in examining how being queer and female in the classroom affects all my teaching interactions. As both a professor and a student my queerness places my body in a precarious position because I do not "look" queer, yet I do not perform heteronormativity either. As a person who teaches about "others" my "othered" identities ultimately come into play, my body can not be left outside the classroom. In the end, however, this project is not about me, but about creating relationships with other people/students who are marginalized. How does my marginalization connect me to those marginalized students, while keeping me, from connecting with other more resistant students often in positions of power/domination.
Warren concludes the piece, "Until we resist the desire for absence, thereby embracing various bodies in all their excesses, we will continue to reify a system that inherently serves a racist and destructive agenda."
John T. Warren was an inspiring man, and an amazing anti-racist whiteness scholar in my field. His work, which at times has actually brought me to physical tears (and continues to this evening) will be greatly missed. He was supposed to speak at the University of Denver tomorrow I believe, and I was looking forward to hearing him speak, and getting to meet with him in office hours. While that will no longer be a possibility, I will continue to respect and engage with his work in this class and in the future. Peace be with his family, colleagues, advisees, and any one else affiliated with him.
As Dr. Warren writes, "The erasure of the body is always a violent act a signal that the body should be, must be controlled and denied. Any erasure is indeed violent, but as cultural politics enter the vividness of the violence becomes more pronounced"(92).
He writes extensively on our racist education system and how we have been trained to privilege certain epistemologies, while marginalizing others. I very much saw myself in his struggle to work with a female student of color on her writing, as it was not at a very "proficient" level. However, what he comes to realize through the writing of the piece, and talk about performative poetics, that really, it is the racist education system that priviileges writing practice as a way of knowing above other forms of demonstrating knowledge (like oral interpretation, public speaking/student comments, performances/using the body) that structures how people in dominant positions view valuable forms of knowledge and learning (wow, that seems like an extremely convoluted sentence. Good thing this is not what I am turning in!)
As Warren marks with red pen all over this woman's paper, he realizes that he is marking all over her body, her experience. He explores how in his dominant positions, his privilege, has enabled him to say perform in this one very rigid way, mainly through writing. I love writing, I think it is an amazing way to explore and relay ideas. But should we judge all people on the same standard of what "good writing" is. I hope not, because I would be failing right now!
Anyway, I am interested in examining how being queer and female in the classroom affects all my teaching interactions. As both a professor and a student my queerness places my body in a precarious position because I do not "look" queer, yet I do not perform heteronormativity either. As a person who teaches about "others" my "othered" identities ultimately come into play, my body can not be left outside the classroom. In the end, however, this project is not about me, but about creating relationships with other people/students who are marginalized. How does my marginalization connect me to those marginalized students, while keeping me, from connecting with other more resistant students often in positions of power/domination.
Warren concludes the piece, "Until we resist the desire for absence, thereby embracing various bodies in all their excesses, we will continue to reify a system that inherently serves a racist and destructive agenda."
John T. Warren was an inspiring man, and an amazing anti-racist whiteness scholar in my field. His work, which at times has actually brought me to physical tears (and continues to this evening) will be greatly missed. He was supposed to speak at the University of Denver tomorrow I believe, and I was looking forward to hearing him speak, and getting to meet with him in office hours. While that will no longer be a possibility, I will continue to respect and engage with his work in this class and in the future. Peace be with his family, colleagues, advisees, and any one else affiliated with him.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Something really smart was said
This post is sort of random and inspired by my X-Files watching, Bloody Mary, Chocolate/Chiles, coma I have induced myself into. Mainly I am writing this because, for some reason, I can't seem to write anything else, and I feel that maybe if I get this out I will be able to write something more "academic" again?
Yesterday, I was chatting with my ever-elusive best friend. For purposes of the blog I will call him Danimal Strassmonster. I was chatting with the Danimal because I had a horrendous teaching experience on Thursday. My mind was already sort of elsewhere, teaching 2-4 on Thursday which means the last day of the regular week in DU Land, and my lady was leaving for Portland, and I was trying to decide if First Friday at Tracks was going to be worth the potential repeat of last time or not? In the end, I decided no amount of emotional trauma was worth that, especially, not having my lady with me (although, admittedly I would have had the MOST AMAZING buffer of queers EVER) I went to a more queer party, Damn Gurl, put on for anyone who identifies as queer, like the Danimal, who is a straight man who identifies as queer. Anyway, I was hoping it would be more welcoming to him because the last time we went to First Friday he was practically told to leave because of his heterosexuality. While I am all for lesbian and female-only spaces, First Friday acts like it is open to anyone including allies, yet, was not at all welcoming to him. If it is an exclusive space, maybe that should be made more clear, or in fact maybe it should be made more QUEER! We are going to write some sort academic paper on this indiscretion.
Anywho, I am glad I did not go because my teaching experience has fed into my sort of heady, mindset a lot the past couple of days and I didn't need that when the "ex" and "bad friend from EP" were First Friday-ing it up. Turns out that indeed, the queer party was much more accepting of all of us, two queerly identified females, a couple of gay men, and two straight dudes. And according to Danimal it was the craziest place he has ever been. It reminded me of Drag Ball at Luther College quite honestly, an open place for the queers to gather. And it supports Prax(us), a non-profit, dedicated to ending human trafficking. Again reminiscent of the good ol' college days.
Anyway, when Danimal and I were talking about my teaching experience he made the amazing comment, that physiologically, the body is constantly shifting and so we are never the same person from one moment to the other. So this isn't a gigantic newsflash for anyone studying affect theory or the body in relation to identity, but it has made me rethink myself and my identities and my life and how I shift from moment to moment. One minute seemingly an angry queer, the next a an academic, the next a dog lover. I am all of these things simultaneously, but they also shift me constantly.
First of all there seems to be some sort of fear of making me angry circulating through the air. I am not an angry person, I am not mean. I am just not good at playing into white female civility and I refuse to try to do that to appease others, mainly other white females. That was the purpose of setting up the "You Don't Know How to Act" blog post and I refuse to play nice simply to brush over the fact that my feelings, my emotions have been deeply hurt and scarred by people, friends, a partner, even my sister who I thought loved me. I wrote that Blog to be funny with a tongue-in-cheek tone probably to cover up my feelings of being so hurt. I still have love for them, in a I love all humans, Kumbaya sort of way, but to reiterate, my feelings are still very bruised, the wounds still festering under the skin.
To anyone who thought I should have known that the ex was going to break up with me, I ask you to think about that from the perspective of someone trying to hold onto a relationship that had been falling apart for a long time. Holding on, determined to make something work. Although, this may have been naive, when I say 100% commitment, I mean it. Whether I should have seen it coming doesn't matter, because I DID NOT SEE IT COMING! "Should have" doesn't really figure in to this equation any more. To anyone who thinks I should be over it already should maybe consider the aforementioned fact. Remember that I was not the one emotionally cheating and finding an intense connection with someone other than my partner. Also, figure into the fact that as a 27-year-old intelligent woman (who many consider the upper-echelon of hottness ;-)) that being left for a 22-year-old is sort of a smash to the ol' ego. So imagine a partnership of three years dissolving, and then the girl it dissolved for suddenly turning up at all of your new social locations. While I should maybe be over it, over her, I am not. So every time she enters a room it makes me want to leave it. Every time I see my ex with her or without her, I become physiologically ill, because I am still so hurt that someone would do that to me. Then to have it thrown in my face. Now imagine that girl, that 22-year-old, trying to be friends in various ways with my best friends in Denver? Maybe other people, who do not experience things on such a visceral level, wouldn't care, they could just keep dancing, but I cannot. Maybe I will someday, but, to be honest, as much as I want to be over it, my life the past three years means too much for me to just let it go and pretend that it isn't a painful thing to have lost or one of the most painful ways to lose it.
Now that I am talking a bit more to my first female ex, I can't imagine how in the world she could talk to me after I did something similar to her. All I can think is, that maybe after three years, (The amount of time that we didn't talk and we dated other people, and her now being engaged to another wonderful woman) maybe after three years, I will be able to not feel so hurt and angry, for not only being left by my ex, but for being abandoned by several people who I thought were near and dear to my heart. I don't know what is going on in my former life, all I know is that I have not heard from anyone who was a part of it for a long time. And if nothing else, a little support or even an apology could potentially mean a lot.
To clarify though, and I am writing this because I don't want it to seem like the hurting is really where my heart is. Because it isn't. My heart is actually in this really beautiful place because I am pretty sure I have met and been dating the most amazing lady...quite possibly The One. I know...how cliche. But I am so in love with the new lady that I cannot say her name without smiling and being filled with joy. And there are lots of reasons to love her, but mainly, and I admit this to the world, she calls me on my shit, like no one else I have ever been in a relationship with. But mostly, she is just great. And I just love her. Because I am a person who generally chooses to love.
Danimal keeps telling me that because I am so happy, I should be happy for the other people in my former life for being happy. I am working on that, but for now, I just want to focus on my happiness and if and when those people who used to care about me want back into my life, you know how to contact me.
Yesterday, I was chatting with my ever-elusive best friend. For purposes of the blog I will call him Danimal Strassmonster. I was chatting with the Danimal because I had a horrendous teaching experience on Thursday. My mind was already sort of elsewhere, teaching 2-4 on Thursday which means the last day of the regular week in DU Land, and my lady was leaving for Portland, and I was trying to decide if First Friday at Tracks was going to be worth the potential repeat of last time or not? In the end, I decided no amount of emotional trauma was worth that, especially, not having my lady with me (although, admittedly I would have had the MOST AMAZING buffer of queers EVER) I went to a more queer party, Damn Gurl, put on for anyone who identifies as queer, like the Danimal, who is a straight man who identifies as queer. Anyway, I was hoping it would be more welcoming to him because the last time we went to First Friday he was practically told to leave because of his heterosexuality. While I am all for lesbian and female-only spaces, First Friday acts like it is open to anyone including allies, yet, was not at all welcoming to him. If it is an exclusive space, maybe that should be made more clear, or in fact maybe it should be made more QUEER! We are going to write some sort academic paper on this indiscretion.
Anywho, I am glad I did not go because my teaching experience has fed into my sort of heady, mindset a lot the past couple of days and I didn't need that when the "ex" and "bad friend from EP" were First Friday-ing it up. Turns out that indeed, the queer party was much more accepting of all of us, two queerly identified females, a couple of gay men, and two straight dudes. And according to Danimal it was the craziest place he has ever been. It reminded me of Drag Ball at Luther College quite honestly, an open place for the queers to gather. And it supports Prax(us), a non-profit, dedicated to ending human trafficking. Again reminiscent of the good ol' college days.
Anyway, when Danimal and I were talking about my teaching experience he made the amazing comment, that physiologically, the body is constantly shifting and so we are never the same person from one moment to the other. So this isn't a gigantic newsflash for anyone studying affect theory or the body in relation to identity, but it has made me rethink myself and my identities and my life and how I shift from moment to moment. One minute seemingly an angry queer, the next a an academic, the next a dog lover. I am all of these things simultaneously, but they also shift me constantly.
First of all there seems to be some sort of fear of making me angry circulating through the air. I am not an angry person, I am not mean. I am just not good at playing into white female civility and I refuse to try to do that to appease others, mainly other white females. That was the purpose of setting up the "You Don't Know How to Act" blog post and I refuse to play nice simply to brush over the fact that my feelings, my emotions have been deeply hurt and scarred by people, friends, a partner, even my sister who I thought loved me. I wrote that Blog to be funny with a tongue-in-cheek tone probably to cover up my feelings of being so hurt. I still have love for them, in a I love all humans, Kumbaya sort of way, but to reiterate, my feelings are still very bruised, the wounds still festering under the skin.
To anyone who thought I should have known that the ex was going to break up with me, I ask you to think about that from the perspective of someone trying to hold onto a relationship that had been falling apart for a long time. Holding on, determined to make something work. Although, this may have been naive, when I say 100% commitment, I mean it. Whether I should have seen it coming doesn't matter, because I DID NOT SEE IT COMING! "Should have" doesn't really figure in to this equation any more. To anyone who thinks I should be over it already should maybe consider the aforementioned fact. Remember that I was not the one emotionally cheating and finding an intense connection with someone other than my partner. Also, figure into the fact that as a 27-year-old intelligent woman (who many consider the upper-echelon of hottness ;-)) that being left for a 22-year-old is sort of a smash to the ol' ego. So imagine a partnership of three years dissolving, and then the girl it dissolved for suddenly turning up at all of your new social locations. While I should maybe be over it, over her, I am not. So every time she enters a room it makes me want to leave it. Every time I see my ex with her or without her, I become physiologically ill, because I am still so hurt that someone would do that to me. Then to have it thrown in my face. Now imagine that girl, that 22-year-old, trying to be friends in various ways with my best friends in Denver? Maybe other people, who do not experience things on such a visceral level, wouldn't care, they could just keep dancing, but I cannot. Maybe I will someday, but, to be honest, as much as I want to be over it, my life the past three years means too much for me to just let it go and pretend that it isn't a painful thing to have lost or one of the most painful ways to lose it.
Now that I am talking a bit more to my first female ex, I can't imagine how in the world she could talk to me after I did something similar to her. All I can think is, that maybe after three years, (The amount of time that we didn't talk and we dated other people, and her now being engaged to another wonderful woman) maybe after three years, I will be able to not feel so hurt and angry, for not only being left by my ex, but for being abandoned by several people who I thought were near and dear to my heart. I don't know what is going on in my former life, all I know is that I have not heard from anyone who was a part of it for a long time. And if nothing else, a little support or even an apology could potentially mean a lot.
To clarify though, and I am writing this because I don't want it to seem like the hurting is really where my heart is. Because it isn't. My heart is actually in this really beautiful place because I am pretty sure I have met and been dating the most amazing lady...quite possibly The One. I know...how cliche. But I am so in love with the new lady that I cannot say her name without smiling and being filled with joy. And there are lots of reasons to love her, but mainly, and I admit this to the world, she calls me on my shit, like no one else I have ever been in a relationship with. But mostly, she is just great. And I just love her. Because I am a person who generally chooses to love.
Danimal keeps telling me that because I am so happy, I should be happy for the other people in my former life for being happy. I am working on that, but for now, I just want to focus on my happiness and if and when those people who used to care about me want back into my life, you know how to contact me.
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