Site of struggle

How can any contemporary woman (especially one with brains and a lamentably slow metabolism) not be struck by the following passage from Susan Bordo’s Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body (courtesy of COMM 395: Gender, Media & Communication)?

“…women, feminists included, are starving themselves to death in our culture.

This is not to deny the benefits of diet, exercise, and other forms of body management. Rather, I view our bodies as a site of struggle, resistance to gender domination, not in the service of docility and gender normalization. This work requires, I believe, a determinedly skeptical attitude toward the routes of seeming liberation and pleasure offered by our culture. It also demands an awareness of the often contradictory relations between image and practice, between rhetoric and reality. Popular representations, as we have seen, may forcefully employ the rhetoric and symbolism of empowerment, personal freedom, “having it all.” Yet female bodies, pursuing these ideals, may find themselves as distracted, depressed, and physically ill as female bodies in the nineteenth century were made when pursuing a feminine ideal of dependency, domesticity, and delicacy. The recognition and analysis of such contradictions, and of all the other collusions, subversions, and enticements through which culture enjoins the aid of our bodies in the reproduction of gender, require that we restore a concern for female praxis to its formerly central place in feminist politics” (Bordo, 1993, pp. 183-184).

Bartky (1998) enumerates these practices: “…those that aim to produce a body of a certain size and general configuration; those that bring forth from this body a specific repertoire of gestures, postures, and movements; and those that are directed toward the display of this body as an ornamented surface” (p. 27).

Indeed, and it’s as I’ve known for quite a while: The culture might be serving up toxicity, but we’re also feeding it ourselves… and cooking up new creations at home.

“We.” I just implicated a “we,” Bordo admonished a proactive “we”… which is who? All women? Some shadowy phalanx of feminist scholars and advocates? How do I play a role in that inchoate “we”? Does it begin with the “I”? Or is that too linear and individualistic? Perhaps I can retrain the “I” by participating in the “we” — community, then self…?

Regardless of the player, what’s the game? What is anyone to do? Are we to recognize these contradictions? Rationalize these contradictions? Strive to eliminate these contradictions by modifying practice? modifying ideals?

The simple answer is “Yes.”

I recently came across this Chinese Proverb: “Those who say it cannot be done should get out of the way of those doing it.”

Who’s doing it, and how? Or is this when Gandhi’s words should be applied? “You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

The simple answer: Yes.

Dating scripts

Who should pay on a first date? Why?

This question emerged organically, in a conversation with a male friend about our heterosexual dating expectations. I thought it’s always the man who pays on the first date. Period. A girl can offer tip if she’s feeling generous. The weight of this financial burden is alleviated by the inexpensiveness of the encounter — a cup of coffee or an ice cream or appetizers or two drinks max. My male friend thought this was “retrograde,” both in general and in relation to the dating scene he frequented 10 years ago. He doesn’t assume that anyone will pay for him, and he assumes that other adults feel the same — women included.

So I brought the question to Facebook, where brilliant friends (all of whom happen to be female and, because they hail from different parts of my life (PhD, MA, BA, high school, junior high school, elementary school), are mostly strangers to one another) shared their thoughts and built a fascinating dialogue. We discussed chivalry and wooing, the gender wage gap and gender norms, investment and obligation, politesse and evaluation metrics, hetero vs. GLBTQ cultural expectations…

I was hooked. This issue is too rich to abandon, I thought; it is the site for articulating and negotiating values around cultural norms, gender relations, romantic appropriateness, financial responsibility, and more.

So I set up an informal straw poll today and 39 people have weighed in thus far. My colleague Rhea and I might explore this in a more formal fashion later. But until that day comes, here is the initial, anonymous data. Please note, I modified the survey after receiving the first 36 responses by adding demographic questions (gender, sexual orientation, relationship status, age).

Most participants thought that the man should pay (assuming this was a heterosexual encounter), but also added interesting caveats. Here are some key quotes that represent the range (but not the frequency) of responses:

“Always the guy… ALWAYS!”

“It depends.  As a female, I always offer to split.  However, I’m more impressed by a man who declines and pays for the first date.”

“It depends on a range of scenarios, but I’ll just use the simplest ones. If the guy asked the girl out then he should pay. If she asked him out, they will probably go dutch.”

“The person who asked for the date, regardless of gender.”

“Split the bill. It shows both parties respect each other and if the relationship grows it sets the trend that they are both equal partners in it.”

A whole-hearted thank you to all who have participated! And it’s not too late to share your thoughts. The survey is still open!

Brainstorm

It was sunny in Los Angeles, 12 noon, and I’d just eaten a wedge of cheese. But still. I was cold. I was tired. And I was hungry.

While the prospect of going home and taking a nap enticed me, especially after I got lost looking for Ollin Cafe, then arrived only to find that it’d been transformed into a Mexican bakery, I pushed on. I found another coffeeshop (run by a Ghanian man whose grant for a non-profit African culture youth program I offered to edit) and read about pedagogy. When Don had to close his shop early, I again stifled the impulse to close shop myself and instead relocated to Starbucks.

There, at a crusty table co-occupied by antisocial, screen-glued men, inspiration began to flow… I don’t know that this will actually BECOME my dissertation. Most likely, the final product will barely resemble this outline. Nonetheless, I think I’m onto something here. And boy, do I feel proud…

NOTE: The formatting below is improper — not indented as it should be. If you’d like to see it in its hierarchical glory, click on the hyperlink above.
————————————————–
Dissertation: Strategic curricular approaches to social change interventions

I. Introduction
A. Hook: Allegorical anecdote
B. Thesis: Social change interventions, whether explicitly educational or otherwise, should employ strategies that are versatile/adaptable and address the whole person; such strategies include: creating a culture of participatory learning, and adopting means and ends oriented towards primary skills development.
C. Overview of paper

II. Review of lit/theoretical background
A. Participation and play
1. Participation
2. Play
B. Primary skill set
1. Asset appreciation (AA)
2. Social and emotional learning (SEL)
3. New media literacies (NML)
4. Narrative
C. Domestic education interventions
1. Current challenges
i. lack of funding
ii. test scores: low and invalid
iii. health/safety challenges
iv. cultural shifts
2. Prevailing perspectives
i. it’s lazy teachers’ fault
ii. it’s non-standardized curriculum’s fault
iii. it’s marginalized students’ fault
iv. it’s lack of technology’s fault
3. Programs/solutions
i. Status quo or even regressive: NCLB
ii. Status quo or ancillary or inadequate: Charter & pilot schools
iii. Innovative: Foundation initiatives (e.g., MacArthur’s YouMedia); Independent entities (e.g., Globaloria); University partnerships (e.g., USC’s Hybrid High or Pathfinder)
D. International social change interventions
1. Current challenges
i. lack of funding
ii. volatility: things keep changing
iii. complexity: things are intertwined
iv. idiosyncrasies: things are particular to context
2. Prevailing perspectives
i. top-down
ii. bottom-up
3. Programs/solutions
i. Status quo or even regressive: Externally produced, highly structured, “add water and stir” programs
ii. Status quo or ancillary or inadequate: Programs that allow for token or modest modification by recipients
iii. Innovative: Positive deviance; Participatory/community-oriented development

III. Argument
A. Definitions
1. Participatory learning
i. culture/norms of context: describes basic community functioning, the ways that we treat one another, the rights and responsibilities that community members have in that space — to receive feedback, access roles, pursue passions, etc;
ii. activities of learner: describes the ways that the learner engages with the curriculum — avidly, with perseverance, enriching participation/performance with dialogue
iii. theoretical origins: participatory culture; digital media & learning; educational theory
2. Primary skills
i. mode/means: use a skill-oriented activity as vehicle for exploring content; for example, learn photography through social awareness and appropriation
ii. objective/ends: proficiency in these skills is a goal of the program (whether this is the sole or priority goal can vary; arguably, richer and more efficient if it is not the sole goal)
iii. theoretical origins: arts integration; positive deviance; asset-based community development; appreciative inquiry; human development/resilience
B. The Case for Participatory Learning
1. we live in a dynamic world of constant change
2. learning how to learn, and making that experience community-supported and interest/passion-driven, is infinitely valuable
C. The Case for Primary Skills
1. owning modifiable knowledge-skills-practices efficiently prepares us for diverse contexts (regardless of whether these contexts are volatile)
2. treating the whole person is most effective
3. AA, SEL, NML, Narrative = fundamental (Community, culture, work, meaning)

III. Methods
A. Summer Sandbox
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure
B. Sunukaddu
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure
C. Explore Locally, Excel Digitally
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure
D. Playing Outside the Box
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure

IV. Results
A. Participatory Learning Case Study: Summer Sandbox
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains
B. Skills-based Case Study: Sunukaddu
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains
C. Hybrid: Explore Locally, Excel Digitally
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains
D. Hybrid: Playing Outside the Box (encompassing Play On Workshops)
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains

V. Discussion
A. Gains in context
1. Program challenges
2. Comparisons to other programs
3. Small sample size
4. Critique of assessment tools
C. Context: Informal vs. formal learning environments, Educational interventions vs. other social change endeavors
D. Audience: Practicing teachers vs. preservice teachers vs. administrators vs. parents vs. students
E. Culture: Outsider consultants, preaching to the choir?

VI. Conclusion
A. Review
B. Other potential areas of research

Awakenings

Sleep and time and conversation… Those are my healers, the restorative balms for my battle-weary soul, the shapers of my amorphous muddle. I’m awake again. After an insomniac week, a coupla night–>noon sleep binges, several rich talks with beloved buddies*, I’m awake. I’m awake.

I’ve been staying in my old apartment, in my old room, for the past four days (who says you can’t go home again?) and just realized that the internet network password, which I had staunchly insisted was invalid!, had, indeed, been valid, quite valid, valid the whole time, just case-sensitive. Can you believe I never tried it with an uppercase initial letter? That’s a no-brainer. But never did. Never tried. Assumed my intel was faulty or my computer impaired. (To be technical, the intel was a smidgen faulty since it hadn’t been texted to me in its case-sensitive glory, nor scrawled on the refrigerator whiteboard as such, but still… And my computer sometimes does hate a local network, but still… Still.) Aren’t you just boonswoggled by the metaphorical weight of this? Assumed the worst. Ignored innovation. Smugly suffered. Doesn’t that sound like most Greek tragedies, and everybody’s foreign policy?

Now, “the glass is half-full” rejoinder would be: But I’ve woken up! I’m out-of-the-box-thinking, humility-remembering, lesson-learning-for-next-timing! And I’ve got another day and a half to enjoy super smooth Internet stylings!

True. Good. Excessively beating your breast is just as self-absorbed as assuming everyone else is wrong but you. (Not that self-indulgence is so alien around these parts. I offer the name of my domain as Exhibit A, the fact of this blog’s existence as Exhibit B…) Hopefully, in my re-engagement with the world around me, I operate a bit wiser, negotiate a trifle better, enriched for having gone on this journey. I think such a thing possible. I might sense a little more perspective… We’re all just people trying our best. Just people. Love us before it’s too late. (That’s the truth Mom and I independently discovered and exchanged two days ago. “Make sure to enjoy your life” is the nugget my dad shared tonight.)

I recently welcomed a friend to the prologue of the next chapter. But it wasn’t just his** and mine — it’s mine and mine. Mine and all of ours. This is a post-quals world, right? Post-May. Pre-summer. Pleine d’opportunite, as they’d say in French. Six em!, as we’d cry to the Pop-o-Matic bubble…

Onward.

*from a distance: Mom, Jim, Rebecca, and Mark; in the flesh: Geetha, Jinah, Jenn
**he, who is just a person, a person trying his best, like the rest of us

Realization

I am now four days post-quals and the whole experience seems like a dream, a Dali-esque portrait of vibrant images stitched together crazily… The scene it describes is of a Western/technologized rite of passage whose equivalent is stripping you naked, feeding you peyote, and sending you out in the desert to channel strange visions and, hopefully, survive.

I’m still sleep-deprived but for different reasons: play, travel, and circadian rhythm compromise. I’m energized, though, to be among smart and friendly scholars in familiar Boston. Maybe this PhD is a bit like my 2003-2006 Boston experience — exciting in anticipation, surprisingly challenging in acclimation, depressing and identity-rocking at times, and ultimately, home.

Below, you’ll find what I wrote yesterday and perhaps appreciate, as I do now, how feelings can be ephemeral and how meaning-making is a continuous process…
__________________

I did it.

The thing is, I’m not sure what “it” is. Just what did I do? Here is an itemized list:

-worked from the moment I woke up until the time I went to sleep;
(-except for when I watched Top Chef: Season 4 – Chicago during my breakfast, lunch, and dinner + dishwashing breaks;)
-wrote a paper for two solid days*, then moved on to the next, despite the fact that the last section of the previous paper was unfinished and I hate leaving things unfinished, because I couldn’t risk getting bogged down and figured a slapdash last section to one (or several) papers was better than a non-existent or mostly inadequate paper in its entirety;
-went for a daily, two block walk for a cup of coffee to go;
-experienced two of the 10 days feeling cloudy-brained due to sleep deprivation, sympathizing with the concussed, strategizing work-arounds – making detailed notes since my silly cerebrum couldn’t hold a thought, going for a walk to the mailbox (can’t trust my postal carrier and your lack of Valentines is the reason – I mailed em, people), catching quick semi-naps, re-jiggering my 10-day plan;
-communicated with my beloved mother, my champion, daily;
-compromised my body’s structural integrity, perhaps (by the end of the experience, got the distinct impression that my posture kept tilting to the right – that ain’t ergonomic, and neither is my Ikea couch);
-rubbed the ends of my hair to frayed, eroded stumps;
-opted for loose dresses and my most generous jeans;
-managed to make it to yoga on both Sundays;
-got bites across my infernally expanding belly from some critter (a flea?) that I hope doesn’t live in my furniture;
-surprised myself by some of the routes that the papers took – hadn’t anticipated needing to get into X or Y topic, but realized I couldn’t speak about Z without foregrounding X and Y;
-cursed myself for these deviations from the plan because they necessitated searching for literature and adding the new citations to my stupid reference section;
-marveled at the sheer length of these documents, born of my ignorance that it would take so many pages to explain some fundamentals before I could even get into more of the “meat”;
-wondered…………..

Here’s the philosophical part and I’m warning you now, it’s not pretty. I wondered:

-if the fundamentals are the meat, if the point is to prove one’s mastery of theory and research methods;
-if the fundamentals aren’t the meat, if the point is to explore something novel, synthesize, make more of a contribution;
-who decides the point anyway – who is this for? While my professors may read these papers (I say “may” intentionally – I take nothing for granted, especially since I forked over behemoths), I’m not driven to please them necessarily, or other people in general, and doubt that honoring my own agenda will dissatisfy them, or anyone (and if it does cause dissatisfaction, tend to think that the refuseniks are in the wrong);
-then, if this is for me, how am I benefiting again? Where is the value in writing a paper in two days, on the back of another two day paper, another two day paper, another two day paper? Does that generate products of value? Are my papers any good?
-if it’s not about the product, it’s about the process, then is this nose-to-the-grindstone process one that confers any take-aways? Do I want to practice this, get better at this, this process of masochism and social disconnect? That doesn’t sound sustainable or qualify-of-life-y…
-if there’s something to be said about learning how to write on demand? Maaaaaaaybe, because procrastination and overcommitment can and has and will inspire two-day paper writing (I have a book chapter due next week, for example, and a conference and another deadline in the interim). But. Ugh. And that’s still just one or maybe two two-day papers, not four. And one or maybe two two-day papers, that I’ve done. I like to call that “finals.” So does doing four build up a muscle that makes two seem like cake? Like after a marathon, a 15-mile run is a breeze? If so, how long does that muscle last? It can’t be permanent – nothing is permanent. What will I have to do to maintain it? Is whatever that is worth it?
-if this is less of a body and muscle game, more of a brain and story game – maybe this builds up confidence or stokes a sense of self-image, as in “I can, I am — I can put something scholarly together, I am a scholar.” But can I, am I? What does middling performance prove? Whose standard are we using? Do I compare myself to professionals or am I still just a student? At the age of 31, when is my work legitimate? What is my work? Who defines legitimacy?
-Will any of these papers make a difference for me or anyone?
-Will any of my work make a difference for me or anyone? Does anyone know anything, or are we all just feeling around in the dark? If it’s the latter, then that would make my darkness-groping okay, or normative at least… But then how can we ever get anywhere? Stroke of luck? This isn’t about luck, this is about science. To what extent is it naïve to impose science’s order on the complexity of real life — dynamic systems, flesh-and-blood-and-mind-and-spirit people?
HOW DO I HELP PEOPLE?
How do I help myself? What am I doing?

To be honest, most of this emerged amorphously, intuitively, as it dawned on me that I couldn’t muster the energy to proof my papers and wondered what was the point of having worked so hard to perfect the reference sections (which no one will read) if the content is grammatically-challenged and flabby? This led me down the recrimination highway (Why hadn’t I uploaded everything to Zotero way back when and anytime since? (I know why. Time. (Why don’t I have any time? What am I doing wrong?))) and, sending the papers anyway, smashed headfirst into an existential crisis.

I cried.

Sobbing, I called my parents (as they kept running into neighbors at the Jewel, bless em), who sagely determined that I was overtired and would benefit from a good night’s sleep. True. Good point. But it was 7 pm. And I had grown accustomed to staying up until 2.

I took a walk down to the mailbox, downing seltzer from a travel mug because I thought maybe the sharp pain in my stomach that had been troubling me for hours was due to the fact that all I’d drank all day was that single cup of coffee to go… I continued on to Bricks & Scones, where there were no sesame chewy rolls, and maybe it was just as well. I trudged back home, wishing I felt better in every way, brainstorming…

The story ends well. Basically. I ended up dashing to an 8:10 pm show of Bridesmaids, where I ate an embezzled rice cake and granola bar in the dark and drank in the (synthesized?) Midwest, laughing at the broad comedy and recognizing another seasoned woman’s search for it all.

But we weren’t exactly the same, this character and me. I wear longer dresses, for starters, and I hadn’t hit rock bottom… right? I had finished my exams. I’m sure I’ll pass the defense. I wrote scads more than was expected (to our collective detriment?). I have read more than I cited (a mistake?) and still cited up a storm (the less interesting things?). I rediscovered pdf’s and hard copies of articles and books with my underlining + margin scribbling + Post It flagging, like gifts from a fairy godmother who was me, me, me leaving myself presents, Past Me to Future Me, taking care of me, three years in the making…

I don’t know. I don’t know what it was for. At least I can keep going on in this program. That’s good, to not be stranded along the PhD highway, surviving humiliation and a six-month waiting period before being permitted to sit for quals again. It’s good not to fail (although we’re supposed to celebrate mistakes, right, “teachable moments,” risk failure, seek failure, isn’t that part of the value-added in learning through gaming? – but failure feels different outside of games, it just does, and I know people who regret losing games anyway. This was a good bullet-dodge for my ego, not failing. (Am I being presumptuous? I haven’t passed the defense yet!)). I know, at least, that when it comes time to hunker down and focus and do, I can. I did. (What did I do again?)

My friends made me laugh. ☺ Via IM, email, telephone, text, postcard, face-to-face… Old friends, dear friends, good friends who I’ve been through the war with, even who I’ve warred with, busy but still finding the time to care, not just to show up in whichever mode availed but to bring their hearts with them and connect…

My family. My family is so generous, and I am so privileged, in every way.

The hell in my head, I created. I create. I know. It consists of phantasms and tricks of light. It can be blown away, like spun sugar, with a single burst of optimism, or humor, or gratitude. It can be transformed by looking at it from a different angle, a perspective shift. I know. I know.

You believe in me. I should believe in your good judgment. I deserve some slack, I guess. And a little more faith…

My intentions are pure. I just want it to matter. I don’t know about all of this work business. But I do know about all of you. You matter. I love you.

*note, I qualified the days as solid, not the papers… but if anyone would like to read one or any of the papers, here are the links:

Participation and play: Modes of learning for today and tomorrow
“Almost as necessary as bread”: Why we need narrative and what makes it work
The origin of everything?: Empathy in theory and practice
Present promise, future potential: Positive Deviance and complementary theory