I missed the last two Thursdays, and so for this edition of History Thursday I am going to hit you with a double whammy!
I’ve been carefully going through the first decade of Chatelaine, Canada’s preeminent magazine for women (“chatelaine” is a French word meaning wife of a lord of a castle, or a woman who owns a large house). I’ve been going over these early editions of the magazine as part of my third and last chapter of my dissertation, which is about representations of Asians in advertising in the early 20th century.
Chatelaine was first established in 1928 and in the first ten years of publication, the magazine contained several political commentaries, serialized fiction, recipes, child-rearing and fashion advice, and of course, copious amounts of advertising. It had a few color-printed pages, though many were in monochrome. The formatting of the magazine of that time would be quite strange to contemporary eyes and it changed quite frequently, with the table of contents many times appearing at the end rather than the front, and the articles spanning multiple and disparate pages, very much like a newspaper.
We need to think about magazine ads not as peripheral to the magazine-reading experience, but as central to it.
What became apparent to me was that far from being glossed over by readers, women reading Chatelaine were engaged in consuming the advertisements as much as they were in reading the articles. Perhaps this is too obvious a point (but one that blew my mind nonetheless!), but basically what I’m saying is that we need to think about magazine ads not as peripheral to the magazine-reading experience, but as central to it. Thus, I argue that there are multiple layers of consumption occurring — the reader consumes the written matter as expected and her eyes carefully go over the glossy, colorful, full-page ads. These ads were specifically designed with her in mind and so they reflect (and speak to) a certain understanding of her likes and dislikes, her dreams and desires. They also represent a reality that does not exist. The ads encourage the reader to consume certain tangible goods, while the reader is also consuming the ad as a meaningful form of content in itself. In short, the ads are simulacra and are laden with certain meanings.
Based on this framework for understanding magazine ads and keeping in mind that Chatelaine was created by and for white women, I further ask what sorts of racial and gender meanings are being made in these ads?
McColl-Frontenac regularly bought full-page ads in Chatelaine in its early years and all of them featured its trademark “Red Indian” mascot. Now you may be wondering why a motor oil and gas company was advertising in a magazine for white women in the first place. This is because white women were increasingly driving in the 1920s and 1930s, and the automotive industry took note of this growing market for their products.
But because Chatelaine was by and for white Canadian women, I argue that its ads and its articles imagined, informed, and shaped notions of an ambivalent white Canadian womanhood that simultaneously challenged and buttressed white hetero-patriarchy. I will probably write an article on these and other “Indian ads” in Chatelaine at some point because there is just so much more to say, but for now I will start with this short post on a single example.
Notice the “Red Indian’s” midriff is completely exposed, his muscular body erotically on display for his white female onlookers. From 1928 to 1938, I saw no other exposed bodies, in ads or otherwise, within the pages of Chatelaine. When white men were depicted, they were always fully clad in suits, and the contrast is not accidental. What we’re looking at is a familiar stereotype for Native people, that of the Noble Savage. What is imagined to be Indian is both celebrated for its romantic past and marked as uncivilized.
Notice also that the Indian figure is wearing a feathered headdress, a feature specific to the tribes of the Great Plains. Frontenac, on the other hand, made contact and did battle with the Iroquois Confederacy, who inhabited the Great Lakes region and the Northeastern United States, hundreds of miles from the Plains. However, it isn’t only motor oil and the naked body of the homogenized Indian that is being sold for consumption.
What is imagined to be Indian is both celebrated for its romantic past and marked as uncivilized.
Digging deeper, the motor oil company gets its name from Louis de Buade de Frontenac, more popularly known as the Comte de Frontenac and the first governor of New France. He led various battles against the Iroquois and the English in order to secure France’s New World possession. A first contact scene is depicted between Frontenac and what is supposed to be an Iroquois chief, and a sort of analogy is made between the Iroquois “welcoming” Frontenac and Red Indian gas stations welcoming new customers.
Much like the Thanksgiving Day story that many North American schoolchildren are taught, the ad conveniently erases the memory and history of Indian genocide while incorporating the imaginary Indian into the national mythology.
Unfortunately, we still can’t get enough of consuming the imaginary Indian in our ads today. This Cadbury “Old Gold” chocolate ad from 2008 repeats a lot of the problematic aspects of the “Red Indian” ad discussed above, though instead it features what are supposed to be Aztecs/Mayans(?)
This week, we’re looking at a rather well-known anti-Chinese pamphlet by Samuel Gompers, long-time president of the American Federation of Labor, one of the largest and most powerful labor organizations in the United States (Gompers’ AFL was the precursor to today’s AFL-CIO) . In addition to advocating for an 8-hour work day, women’s suffrage, and other progressive measures, the AFL was an ardent supporter of anti-Asian legislation, such as the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act.
While many historians who have looked at this pamphlet have tended to focus on the infamous “Meat vs. Rice” argument, i.e. that Chinese workers live so cheaply that white workers could not hope to compete with them, I am more interested in examining how these labor men understood the Chinese Question as a problem of both race and gender (this is, after all, the focus of my dissertation).
Beyond Meat vs. Rice and Chinese “coolieism,” the AFL was also opposed to the Chinese on moral grounds. As the passage below shows, the supposed immorality of the Chinese was tied to their deviant family structure, sexuality, and gender roles. In a section of the pamphlet entitled “Do the Chinese Have Morals?,” the pamphlet clearly demonstrates that family life and gender roles were key areas of scrutiny which informed perceptions of the Chinese and shaped the nature of the threat they posed.
American Federation of Labor, and Asiatic Exclusion League. Meat Vs. Rice; American Manhood Against Asiatic Coolieism, which Shall Survive? San Francisco: Published by American Federation of Labor and printed as Senate document 137 (1902); reprinted with intro. and appendices by Asiatic Exclusion League, 1908. Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.
Perhaps the quotation that best summarizes the passage is found at its conclusion:
…It is impossible to tell by a survey of their domestic customs where the family relationship leaves off and prostitution begins.
In short, the threat that the Chinese posed was more than simply a matter of cheap labor, even for the working men of the AFL. The Chinese household was supposedly somewhere in-between a “normal” family with defined parental and gender roles, and a house of ill-fame with children and prostitutes living together.
A topic I’ve been following more closely these days is the idea that being in the U.S. and Canada is physically harmful to immigrants and people of color, that simply living here is killing us.
This idea is not borne of some grand conspiracy theory (e.g. “AIDS is a biological weapon designed to wipe out blacks and gays“), but rather due to the ways social, economic, and ecological pressures shape our bodies and lives, and how they encourage or discourage conditions for living well.
Basically, the scholarly and medical evidence suggests that immigrant health outcomes come to more closely resemble that of native-born people over time — in short, the longer one is in the United States and Canada, the less healthy one becomes (see bibliography below for sources).
The NYT put out an article today about the growing scientific literature on this phenomenon:
A growing body of mortality research on immigrants has shown that the longer they live in this country, the worse their rates of heart disease, high blood pressure and diabetes. And while their American-born children may have more money, they tend to live shorter lives than the parents.
The NYT article mentions some of the factors that lead to this: overworking, easy access to fast foods, and increased levels of smoking and drinking (we’ll just ignore the “culture” factor cited in the article for now, because “culture” is used to explain everything from Asian whiz kids to black criminality/poverty, and is thus a lazy and pretty much useless explanation).
Other factors that the article fails to mention are the effects of coping daily with racism and feelings of alienation, not having the free time to exercise, and lack of access to health insurance.
There are also environmental and ecological factors such as living in areas with little to no access to fresh and affordable produce, and working in occupations that are correlated with serious illness (e.g. construction = asbestos, agricultural labor = pesticide exposure, dry cleaners and nail salons = carcinogenic solvents, etc.).
In short, this place is toxic for many people of color — and it kills us, if not first our souls, then inexorably our bodies — slowly, but surely.
We find the spectacle of girls of from 18 to 25 years of age going to dances in hotels and between dances slipping upstairs to have a drink. The whole thing is the debauching of our women.
And in the spirit of the Age of Gatsby, this week we’re looking at how young women get drunk while dancing. Sort of.
“Hotel Drinking Debauching Women, Mr. Speaker Warns.” Victoria Daily Times, March 16, 1921.
I like this source because its got a lot of what I call “quotables” that are just begging for analysis and also because it succinctly demonstrates how processes of defining the nation are inextricably intertwined with race, gender, patriarchy, and morality.
In the old days men drank alone, but now women join them openly.
I’m going to be doing a weekly bit called “History Thursdays” to get me to post more regularly on my blog, with the point being to educate, entertain, and to open up new ways for thinking about the past.
The material I’ll feature are primary sources that I feel are in some way interesting or telling. These sources are either actually used in my “real research” (i.e. my academic work), or are stuff that I otherwise can’t (for now) more fully incorporate into my usual work.
Consider it a kind of “Antiques Road Show” meets “This American Life.”
Next Thursday’s inaugural segment will feature an article from 1921 entitled, “Hotel Drinking Debauching Women.” Hope you guys enjoy it!
I’ll be teaching this summer again, for what in all likelihood will be my last teaching assignment at Cal!
The course is a small 18-student seminar based on the summer course I taught last year. This year, the seminar has a new title, "Race, Gender, Science, and American Empire," and fairly large additions and subtractions to the readings.
I will be teaching Claude Steele’s very readable "Whistling Vivaldi" for the first time, which is a book about a series of psychology experiments conducted by Steele and others on the effects of subtly "being made aware of your race and gender" on academic performance. For example, Steele and others found that if women were reminded of their gender in a questionnaire before taking a math exam, they performed significantly poorer than women who were not.
Currently the course is under-enrolled, but hopefully in the coming weeks it starts to fill up!
Friendly reminder that I will be giving a public talk tomorrow from noon to 1:30 PM at 223 Moses Hall (Institute for International Studies).
The talk is based on research I’m currently doing for a chapter of my dissertation.
Hope to see you there!
Presentation Abstract:
On July 26, 1924, a young nursemaid named Janet Smith was found dead in front of an ironing board in the basement of her master’s residence located in the affluent neighborhood of Shaughnessy Heights in Vancouver. Six years later, matronly socialite and amateur actress Rosetta Baker would be found dead in her luxurious downtown San Francisco apartment on December 8, 1930 with two broken ribs, damage to her chest and throat, and a bed sheet tied around her neck. In both cases, a Chinese “houseboy” stood trial as the primary suspect, with Wong Foon Sing being accused of murdering Smith and Liu Fook for allegedly murdering Baker.
Drawing upon these cases, I ask: in what ways are transformations to the domestic sphere and the Oriental Question connected? As frontier and gateway societies, how were Vancouver and San Francisco troubled and shaped by the emergence of an idealized white womanhood on one hand, and the total success of the anti-Oriental movement on the other?
I was thinking of going old-school and using a large piece of chart paper the size of my bedroom wall to organize my research data, but decided to look for a digital solution first since so much of my data is in digital form.
Also, I can’t exactly carry around a wall of information with me when my research and writing takes me outside of my apartment.
After some research, I decided to go with Tufts University’s Visual Understanding Environment (VUE) program since it’s geared towards academics and is very easy to use.
I’ve said elsewhere that I’m currently working on a chapter on murders involving white women and Chinese servants. As you can imagine, these cases attracted a huge amount of public attention, and were quite complex with many moving parts, with tons of rumors and innuendo, and a strange and varied cast of characters.
In the course of my research, I quickly discovered that I needed some visual way to organize all my information. Large blocks of text and lengthy outlines do you no good in giving you the big picture, nor are they useful for showing relationships.
I’m continually adding to and adjusting the visual map above as I continue to process and organize all the information I’ve collected.
There’s something very satisfying about visual mapping. It’s certainly something I think more academics should be doing.
Own Words
My Korean name Ulim means, “a sound or echo; reverberation.” I suppose my grand-uncle, who gave me this name, intended for my actions and deeds to resonate all throughout the world.
I don’t claim to live up to that grand vision. It is, however, a reminder of who I am and where I’m from.
I was born in Toronto, Canada to Korean immigrant parents in the ‘80s. In my early years, I grew up in a tenement building of mostly South Asian and Korean immigrant families in a high-crime area in Toronto, near an area called Jane and Finch.
At the time, my parents were struggling to make ends meet with my father trying to eke out a living as an artist and my newly immigrated and non-English speaking mother staying at home to raise my younger brother and myself.
Though I grew up in an environment of financial hardship, my parents spared no expense to support my early passion for learning. Because of this, I was a voracious reader all throughout my youth, and derived joy from learning new concepts and things. I enjoyed the company of my many tutors, though I was by no means the perfect Korean child: I was a total failure at music, and only mediocre at art – a rather strange thing in a family of artists.
I began regularly reading Time magazine in the sixth grade and moved on to Harper’s, The Atlantic, and The New Yorker by the end of high school. As you can see, I had an early interest in the United States in particular, an interest that I maintain to this day.
This fascination with the United States would reach a major turning point in the middle of my high school years, when the terrorist attacks of 9/11, the invasion of Afghanistan, and the “pre-emptive war” against Iraq would all take place in rapid succession. Additionally, the SARS epidemic would break out in my hometown in 2003, leading to an environment of paranoia and anti-Asian sentiment. These events led not only to profound geopolitical shifts around the world, but they would also provide the context for a political and intellectual awakening in me as a young adult, and the development of my interest in studying race and racism.
It was in this frenetic milieu of neo-conservatism, the rise of the security state, and the re-emergence of the Yellow Peril and Islamophobia that I would begin my re-education and question my place as a racialized person in the “multicultural utopia” of Canada, while simultaneously being drawn to the academic study of race and racism.
Accordingly, I would decide to double major in History and Political Science at the University of Toronto with the intent of later going to the United States to pursue a doctoral degree to further study issues of race, immigration, and structural inequality. Thus, in 2007, I was accepted into the Ethnic Studies Ph.D. program at the University of California, Berkeley, the flagship program for the interdisciplinary study of race in the United States.
Currently, I am working on my dissertation which is tentatively titled, “Dirty Clothes on the Color Line: The Laboring of Race and Gender in the United States and Canada.”
My work examines the ways in which technological innovation and changes to the domestic sphere in the late nineteenth- and early twentieth century were enlisted in reshaping and policing the boundaries of race, gender, and class in the United States and Canada.
More than any book I’ve read, I credit my grandmother as my greatest influence in both life and in the academic work I do. I learned from her a love of sharing and to live with tenacity.
You can read more about my work and life at http://www.jasonukim.com
I was asked awhile ago by I Am Korean American to submit a profile to their site.
I dislike talking about myself, so after many months of distracting myself with work, I’m now finally on the site!
I knew about the site for quite some time. From the perspective of someone who studies immigration and racialization, the site is a pretty interesting window into the Korean American community, and for that reason alone, I decided I would submit my own profile to the site. I did not want to tell a rags-to-riches story, or some tragic tale of a crisis of identity, or engage in mindless navel-gazing and narcissism.
I wanted to leave a small trace — perhaps to inspire some young Korean somewhere to think and do something different.
nineteen sixty nine is accepting creative works (images, film, sound, and text), scholarly essays, and book reviews for its first volume. Submissions may address the volume’s main theme or address another topic (see below).The deadline for submissions is March 23, 2012 at 5:00 PM Pacific Standard Time.
See here for our submission guidelines.Contact Jason U. Kim (jasonukim@berkeley.edu) for inquiries.1. Main Theme: “The Future(s) of Ethnic Studies” (at least 2/3 of the published volume)
How has the field of Ethnic Studies transformed within the last forty years? What are some current examples of innovative and emerging work within the field? How do you envision the future of Ethnic Studies for the twenty-first century? This inaugural volume of nineteen sixty nine seeks to demonstrate the multiple ways in which scholarly and creative work in Ethnic Studies re-envisions the past, transforms the present, and re-imagines the future.
As such, submissions could include topics as varied as: the future of Ethnic Studies and undocumented immigrants in Arizona, analyses of race in science fiction texts, creative works exploring the connections between race and technology, the ways in which globalization/transnationalism has affected race, etc.
2. Open Topic (at most 1/3 of the published volume)
Submissions may also be on any topic that falls under the purview of NSN’s mandate as described on our website.Cover Art Competition
nineteen sixty nine is seeking original artwork for the cover of its inaugural issue. Submissions should reflect the main theme of the issue: “The Future(s) of Ethnic Studies.” We encourage contributors to make the theme their own and interpret it in inventive ways.Submissions not chosen to appear on the cover will be considered for publication in the journal as a regular submission. Please keep in mind that this is a competition for cover art and not cover designs. Thus, submissions should not be in the form of a journal cover with title text, etc.The deadline for this competition is March 1, 2012 at 5:00pm Pacific Standard Time. The results will be announced on April 1, 2012.Contact Kristen Sun (ksun@berkeley.edu) for inquiries.Images should be in a high resolution digital format, preferably in PNG, but JPEGs are also acceptable. Images must be 25 MB or less. The journal is formatted to be printed at 8.5” x 11”. Your image could be used to take up the entire cover or a smaller portion of it, depending on the dimensions of the image and the layout editor’s discretion.In the Abstract section of the online submission form, contributors should include the title of the work, the year it was created, and the medium. An artist’s statement of 40 words or less is optional.Submissions should also include a short biography of the artist, as indicated by the submission guidelines on our website.
Last year, I was approached by the department to start an e-journal.
I’m a fairly technologically savvy person so I didn’t think publishing an e-journal would be all that difficult since everything would be done online or on the computer, but of course, things aren’t that simple.
The good news is that e-publishing is booming right now, and there are many free resources to help produce professional-grade publications.
Thinking about Levels of Interaction
An e-journal has at least two levels of interaction:
1) the front end, i.e. the public face of the journal, which includes the journal itself, as well as the journal’s website, and,
2) the back end, i.e. the behind-the-scenes administrative view of the journal, including the manuscript submission and revision system.
Content Managment System aka the back end layer
By far the most technologically demanding aspect of running a journal is the manuscript submission and review process, or the back end part of the e-publishing process.
Traditionally, one submitted manuscripts in hard copy (many times in triplicate) by snail mail. Reviewers are then assigned a copy to review, and a response is sent back, again by snail mail. Nowadays, many journals accept manuscripts via e-mail, though this process resembles the old school way of doing things as authors and editorial staff still shuffle files back and forth.
Many journals have instead been turning to the web to streamline the entire process, taking cues from the explosion in user-generated content, new media, and cloud computing.
What has made the launching and management of journals easier and far more accessible is the development of online content management software, the most prevalent being Open Journal Systems.
Content management systems like OJS generate everything you need to manage a journal, all in one place. No knowledge of programming or web design is necessary, which is a good thing since developing such a back end interface from scratch is no easy task!
If I’ve lost you already, think of it as a more robust form of a blog interface: authors can upload their manuscripts through the journal website, while journal staff can log into their website and manage all submissions online.
Once revisions are completed and the manuscript is ready for final copy, OJS then moves everything along to the front end, and generates an electronic version of the journal, complete with indexing, downloadable PDFs, etc.
For the journal I’m working on, nineteen sixty nine, I decided to go with the University of California’s eScholarship platform as our back end, which is actually a modified implementation of OJS specific to the University of California’s journals.
I decided to go with eScholarship for our journal because they host everything and provide tech support for free (since the journal is being produced by UC Berkeley’s Ethnic Studies department), and because being affiliated with the University of California and California Digital Library raises the profile and academic credentials of the journal.
The Website and E-Journal aka the front end layer
The front end is actually the easiest part of the e-journal equation. nineteen sixty nine uses Posterous to host the website. I selected Posterous for our journal because it’s very simple to use when compared to something like WordPress (updates to the website can be made via e-mail for example), and because it integrates well with our Facebook Page and Twitter out of the box.
The design of the site itself is a modified version of one of the many beautiful themes available through Posterous.
As for how the journal will eventually be presented in digital form, we could have gone the route of simply providing a PDF of the journal for download on our site, or linking to the eScholarship-generated version of the journal like many professional academic journals do, but there are a few problems with these approaches.
First of all, simply presenting the journal via a link to a downloadable PDF really takes away from the reading experience. Doing that is no better than me forwarding an attachment of the journal to a friend, where the PDF would then be opened in Acrobat Reader, which would likely appear too zoomed in or too zoomed out, and remind you just how much PDFs really suck the romance out of reading as you fiddle around with the hand tool.
Displaying the journal through services like eScholarship is also quite an unpleasant experience, though I do like their platform and mandate very much. eScholarship outputs each article as a separate webpage, meaning it looks something like how journal articles look on JSTOR. The pages are static and load slowly, and it is difficult to jump from page to page. There is also a lack of polish in the presentation.
It’s great that you can read the article right from your browser without having to download a PDF and open it in Acrobat, but it’s sluggish and difficult to read.
Enter the brilliant e-publishing service, Issuu.
Issuu is a service that turns PDFs into full-fledged online publications. As you can see above, Issuu renders pages beautifully in full-screen, allowing for a pleasant and dynamic reading experience without the hassle of fiddling around with settings.
I’m really looking forward to seeing how our inaugural issue will end up!
So my friend was in a cafe in Berkeley and a random dude approaches her and offers to write her a poem. He asks for a friend’s name and a word that describes the person. She said “Jason” and “rational.”
This was the poem he wrote:
Jason Rides a Rational Wave
Jason is Not so Very Pationate
His Trip is to Be So Highly Rational
That those Around Him Give Respect Times Eight
Give him Space, Don’t call Him an Irrational
Ay, His Deadly Reason Most Arguements Will Win
His Analytical Skills are Frightful as Sin
He Approaches an Apple in Computing Power
His Power of Reason Seems to Grow by the Hour
But Rational Jason is Missing the Point
For Man is Not an Apple nor Computer
People are Pationate Emotional Slobs
T?here’s More to this Life than Money and Jobs
There’s Sailing and Surfing and Ridiing the Wave
Of Romance, the Love Dance in Musical Haze
The Torment, the Torrent, the Laughter Insane
There’s Much More Than Logic in Jason’s Unruly Brain
A Spontaneous Poem
by iDj Apple Seer
by Guest Contributor Manissa McCleave Maharawal, originally published on her Facebook page
I first went down to Occupy Wall Street last Sunday, almost a week after it had started. I didn’t go down before because I, like many of my other brown friends, were wary of what we had heard or just intuited that it was mostly a young white male scene. When I asked friends about it they said different things: that it was really white, that it was all people they didn’t know, that they weren’t sure what was going on. But after hearing about the arrests and police brutality on Saturday and after hearing that thousands of people had turned up for their march I decided I needed to see this thing for myself.
So I went down for the first time on Sunday September 25th with my friend Sam. At first we couldn’t even find Occupy Wall Street. We biked over the Brooklyn Bridge around noon on Sunday, dodging the tourists and then the cars on Chambers Street. We ended up at Ground Zero and I felt the deep sense of sadness that that place now gives me: sadness over how, what is now in essence, just a construction site changed the world so much for the worse. A deep sense of sadness for all the tourists taking pictures around this construction site that is now a testament to capitalism, imperialism, torture, oppression but what is also a place where many people died ten years ago.
Sam and I get off our bikes and walk them. We are looking for Liberty Plaza. We are looking for somewhere less alienating. For a moment we feel lost. We walk past the department store Century 21 and laugh about how discount shopping combined with a major tourist site means that at any moment someone will stop short in front of us and we will we bang our bikes against our thighs. A killer combination, that of tourists, discount shopping and the World Trade Center.
The landscape is strange. I notice that. We are in the shadow of half built buildings. They glitter and twist into the sky. But they also seem so naked: rust colored steel poking its way out their tops, their sides, their guts spilling out for all to see.
We get to Liberty Plaza and at first it is almost unassuming. We didn’t entirely know what to do. We wandered around. We made posters and laid them on the ground (our posters read: “We are all Troy Davis” “Whose streets? Our streets!” and “Tired of Racism” “Tired of Capitalism”)
And I didn’t know anyone down there. Not one person. And there were a lot of young white kids. But there weren’t only young white kids. There were older people, there were mothers with kids, and there were a lot more people of color than I expected, something that made me relieved. We sat on the stairs and watched everyone mill around us. There was the normal protest feeling of people moving around in different directions, not sure what to do with themselves, but within this there was also order: a food table, a library, a busy media area. There was order and disorder and organization and confusion, I watched as a man carefully changed each piece of his clothing folding each piece he took off and folding his shirt, his socks, his pants and placing them carefully under a tarp. I used the bathroom at the McDonalds up Broadway and there were two booths of people from the protest carrying out meetings, eating food from Liberty Plaza, sipping water out of water bottles, their laptops out. They seemed obvious yet also just part of the normal financial district hustle and bustle.
But even though at first I didn’t know what to do while I was at Liberty Plaza I stayed there for a few hours. I was generally impressed and energized by what I saw: people seemed to be taking care of each other. There seemed to be a general feeling of solidarity, good ways of communicating with each other, less disorganization than I expected and everyone was very very friendly. The whole thing was bizarre yes, the confused tourists not knowing what was going on, the police officers lining the perimeter, the mixture of young white kids with dredlocks, anarchist punks, mainstream looking college kids, but also the awesome black women who was organizing the food station, the older man who walked around with his peace sign stopping and talking to everyone, a young black man named Chris from New Jersey who told me he had been there all week and he was tired but that he had come not knowing anyone, had made friends and now he didn’t want to leave.
And when I left, walking my bike back through the streets of the financial district, fighting the crowds of tourists and men in suits, I felt something pulling me back to that space. It was that it felt like a space of possibility, a space of radical imagination. And it was energizing to feel like such a space existed.
And so I started telling my friends to go down there and check it out. I started telling people that it was a pretty awesome thing, that just having a space to have these conversations mattered, that it was more diverse than I expected. And I went back.
On Wednesday night I attended my first General Assembly. Seeing 300 people using consensus method was powerful. Knowing that a lot of people there had never been part of a consensus process and were learning about it for the first time was powerful. We consens-ed on using the money that was being donated to the movement for bail for the people who had been arrested. I was impressed that such a large group made a financial decision in a relatively painless way.
After the General Assembly that night there was both a Talent Show (“this is what a talent show looks like!”) on one side of the Plaza and an anti-patriarchy working group meeting (which became the safer-spaces working group) on the other. (In some ways the juxtaposition of both these events happening at once feels emblematic of one of the splits going on down there: talent shows across the square from anti-patriarchy meetings, an announcement for a zombie party right after an announcement about the killing of Troy Davis followed by an announcement that someone had lost their phone. Maybe this is how movements need to maintain themselves, through a recognition that political change is also fundamentally about everyday life and that everyday life needs to encompass all of this: there needs to be a space for a talent show, across from anti-patriarchy meetings, there needs to be a food table and medics, a library, everyone needs to stop for a second and look around for someone’s phone. That within this we will keep centrally talking about Troy Davis and how everyone is affected by a broken, racist, oppressive system. Maybe, maybe this is the way? )
I went to the anti-patriarchy meeting because even though I was impressed by the General Assembly and its process I also noticed that it was mostly white men who were in charge of the committees and making announcements and that I had only seen one women of color get up in front of everyone and talk. A lot was said at the anti-patriarchy meeting about in what ways the space of the occupation was a safe space and also not. Women talked about not feeling comfortable in the drum circle because of men dancing up on them and how to change this, about how to feel safe sleeping out in the open with a lot of men that they didn’t know, about not-assuming gender pronouns and asking people which pronouns they would prefer.
Here is the thing though: I’ve had these conversations before, I’m sure a lot of us in activist spaces have had these conversations before, the ones that we need to keep having about how to make sure everyone feels comfortable, how to not assume gender pronouns and gender roles. But there were plenty of people in this meeting who didn’t know what we were doing when we went around and asked for people’s names and preferred gender pronoun. A lot of people who looked taken aback by this. Who stumbled through it, but also who looked interested when we explained what we were doing. Who listened to the discussion and then joined the conversation about what to do to make sure that Occupy Wall Street felt like a space safe for everyone. Who said that they had similar experiences and were glad that we were talking about it.
This is important because I think this is what Occupy Wall Street is right now: less of a movement and more of a space. It is a space in which people who feel a similar frustration with the world as it is and as it has been, are coming together and thinking about ways to recreate this world. For some people this is the first time they have thought about how the world needs to be recreated. But some of us have been thinking about this for a while now. Does this mean that those of us who have been thinking about it for a while now should discredit this movement? No. It just means that there is a lot of learning going on down there and that there is a lot of teaching to be done.
On Thursday night I showed up at Occupy Wall Street with a bunch of other South Asians coming from a South Asians for Justice meeting. Sonny joked that he should have brought his dhol so we could enter like it was a baarat. When we got there they were passing around and reading a sheet of paper that had the Declaration of the Occupation of Wall Street on it. I had heard the “Declaration of the Occupation” read at the General Assembly the night before but I didn’t realize that it was going to be finalized as THE declaration of the movement right then and there. When I heard it the night before with Sonny we had looked at each other and noted that the line about “being one race, the human race, formally divided by race, class…” was a weird line, one that hit me in the stomach with its naivety and the way it made me feel alienated. But Sonny and I had shrugged it off as the ramblings of one of the many working groups at Occupy Wall Street.
But now we were realizing that this was actually a really important document and that it was going to be sent into the world and read by thousands of people. And that if we let it go into the world written the way it was then it would mean that people like me would shrug this movement off, it would stop people like me and my friends and my community from joining this movement, one that I already felt a part of. So this was urgent. This movement was about to send a document into the world about who and what it was that included a line that erased all power relations and decades of history of oppression. A line that would de-legitimize the movement, this would alienate me and people like me, this would not be able to be something I could get behind. And I was already behind it this movement and somehow I didn’t want to walk away from this. I couldn’t walk away from this.
And that night I was with people who also couldn’t walk away. Our amazing, impromptu, radical South Asian contingency, a contingency which stood out in that crowd for sure, did not back down. We did not back down when we were told the first time that Hena spoke that our concerns could be emailed and didn’t need to be dealt with then, we didn’t back down when we were told that again a second time and we didn’t back down when we were told that to “block” the declaration from going forward was a serious serious thing to do. When we threatened that this might mean leaving the movement, being willing to walk away. I knew it was a serious action to take, we all knew it was a serious action to take, and that is why we did it.
I have never blocked something before actually. And the only reason I was able to do so was because there were 5 of us standing there and because Hena had already put herself out there and started shouting “mic check” until they paid attention. And the only reason that I could in that moment was because I felt so urgently that this was something that needed to be said. There is something intense about speaking in front of hundreds of people, but there is something even more intense about speaking in front of hundreds of people with whom you feel aligned and you are saying something that they do not want to hear. And then it is even more intense when that crowd is repeating everything you say– which is the way the General Assemblies or any announcements at Occupy Wall Street work. But hearing yourself in an echo chamber means that you make sure your words mean something because they are being said back to you as you say them.
And so when we finally got everyone’s attention I carefully said what we felt was the problem: that we wanted a small change in language but that this change represented a larger ethical concern of ours. That to erase a history of oppression in this document was not something that we would be able to let happen. That we knew they had been working on this document for a week, that we appreciated the process and that it was in respect to this process that we wouldn’t be silenced. That we demanded a change in the language. And they accepted our change and we withdrew our block as long as the document was published with our change and they said “find us after and we will go through it” and then it was over and everyone was looking somewhere else. I stepped down from the ledge I was standing on and Sonny looked me in the eye and said “you did good” and I’ve never needed to hear that so much as then.
Which is how after the meeting ended we ended up finding the man who had written the document and telling him that he needed to take out the part about us all being “one race, the human race.” But its “scientifically true” he told us. He thought that maybe we were advocating for there being different races? No we needed to tell him about privilege and racism and oppression and how these things still existed, both in the world and someplace like Occupy Wall Street.
Let me tell you what it feels like to stand in front of a white man and explain privilege to him. It hurts. It makes you tired. Sometimes it makes you want to cry. Sometimes it is exhilarating. Every single time it is hard. Every single time I get angry that I have to do this, that this is my job, that this shouldn’t be my job. Every single time I am proud of myself that I’ve been able to say these things because I used to not be able to and because some days I just don’t want to.
This all has been said by many many strong women of color before me but every time, every single time these levels of power are confronted it I think it needs to be written about, talked about, gone through over and over again.
And this is the thing: that there in that circle, on that street-corner we did a crash course on racism, white privilege, structural racism, oppression. We did a course on history and the declaration of independence and colonialism and slavery. It was hard. It was real. It hurt. But people listened. We had to fight for it. I’m going to say that again: we had to fight for it. But it felt worth it. It felt worth it to sit down on the on a street corner in the Financial District at 11:30 pm on a Thursday night, after working all day long and argue for the changing of the first line of Occupy Wall Street’s official Declaration of the Occupation of New York City. It felt worth it not only because we got the line changed but also because while standing in a circle of 20, mostly white men, and explaining racism in front of them: carefully and slowly spelling out that I as a women of color experience the world way differently than the author of the Declaration, a white man, that this was not about him being personally racist but about relations of power, that he needed to, he urgently needed to listen and believe me about this, this moment felt like a victory for the movement on its own.
And this is the other thing. It was hard, and it was fucked up that we had to fight for it in the way we did but we did fight for it and we won. The line was changed, they listened, we sat down and re-wrote it and it has been published with our re-write. And when we walked away, I felt like something important had just happened, that we had just pushed a movement a little bit closer to the movement I would like to see– one that takes into account historical and current inequalities, oppressions, racisms, relations of power, one that doesn’t just recreate liberal white privilege but confronts it head on. And if I have to fight to make that happen I will. As long as my people are there standing next to me while I do that.
Later that night I biked home over the Brooklyn Bridge and I somehow felt like the world was, just maybe, at least in that moment, mine, as well as everyone dear to me and everyone who needed and wanted more from the world. I somehow felt like maybe the world could be all of ours.
Much love (and rage)
Manissa
Are you participating in Occupy Wall Street? Send your stories to team@racialicious.com if you would like to see them published here.
I want to first make it clear that I’m not a die-hard Twitter fanatic, nor did I have much experience in using it until very recently. I jumped on the Twitter bandwagon very late.
I signed up for my Twitter account in March 2009 and tweeted, “I’m new to Twitter and am highly confused.” As that first feeble tweet hinted at, I had joined Twitter to see what all the fuss was about and I was not impressed. I mostly thought I didn’t need it because nobody I knew used it.
Two and a half years later — an eternity in Twitter time — I had the sudden urge to give Twitter a second chance. What drove me back to Twitter wasn’t teaching, but learning. I wanted to do a better job of keeping up with current trends in the scholarly world, particularly with new books on race. I had a hunch that many academic publishers would have a presence on Twitter, and it turned out I was right — well over thirty five academic publishers are active on Twitter, including some of my favorites such as UC Press, Duke, and Minnesota.
Then I began to think about my students. I’ve been teaching non-stop since I entered grad school — as a teaching assistant (or “GSI” in Berkeley-speak) from 2007 to the present, and as a lecturer earlier this year. Though I’ve taught the same course for four years, I’ve always tried new things in the classroom. In my early years, I was quick to adopt online forum postings and Skype for teaching, and later experimented with more traditional assignments such as in-class group presentations and weekly quizzes.
I figure with all the years of tinkering under my belt by the time I complete my degree and go on the market I’ll have become a better teacher, one who’s able to create a dynamic and fun learning environment with minimal effort.
With this in mind, I thought if Twitter could help me learn better, could it also not help me teach better?
I began to research if others before me had thought the same way.
Researching Twitter for Teaching
I found a series of articles and websites devoted to Twitter and teaching spanning mostly from 2008-2009, when a few professors across the country were experimenting with Twitter in the classroom. I haven’t found much buzz about it since those years.
My biggest inspiration was from the work of Prof. Monica Rankin, who teaches history at the University of Texas at Dallas. Rankin’s experiment with Twitter was widely reported in the popular media at the time, and the fact that she was a historian like myself made me particularly interested in her usage of and experience with Twitter. A YouTube video of her experiment can be seen here.
Rankin’s rationale for her usage of Twitter was simple. She identified a key problem of the traditional lecture format: too many students + one expert yammering at the front of the room + no real interaction = ineffective pedagogy. I, too, share this sentiment with Rankin, and am loathe to carry on this draconian tradition.
But I wasn’t totally sold on Twitter being the solution to such a problem.
As the Chronicle of Higher Education wrote in 2009, Twitter is no magic bullet for the tired lecture format. Rankin herself is quoted expressing this sentiment:
“There is certainly the potential for disaster,” she agreed when I reached her on her cellphone last week. During one class session about abortion, for instance, students began an argument on Twitter that Ms. Rankin characterized only as “nonproductive and nonacademic.” She said her teaching assistant quickly brought the flame war to her attention, and “we basically kind of changed topics at that point.”
The article also includes a very insightful student’s perspective, from a different Twitter experiment:
I asked Mr. Van Wye, the student, whether some students end up derailing class sessions thanks to Hotseat [Purdue's customized Twitter application]. “Yeah, perhaps, because sometimes you have people writing funny comments, and we have to stop and kind of acknowledge that it happened,” he said. “And sometimes that takes away from it a little bit.”
On balance, though, he would vote to keep the software: “It does more good than it does hurt.”
The article also notes one attempt to cheat using Twitter, where a student tweeted a request to his fellow classmates for an answer to an exam question while the exam was taking place. However, the attempt was easily tracked and really, you can’t get much of an answer in 140 character messages unless its for multiple choice, which I would never do in a history class.
Last, I consulted Dr. Barbara Nixon’s use of Twitter-based assignments, something that Rankin and many others did not seem to be interested in implementing. While I disagree with a lot of Nixon’s design decisions (see below), I do think getting students excited about using Twitter as a “discussion enhancer” is important, and the teacher should take an active role in guiding the students into using Twitter for maximum educational benefit.
Furthermore, I found the idea of Twitter-based assignments intriguing because the majority of students still mostly do not participate in discussions in smaller venues. Typically, about 2-5 students end up being the main contributors, while the rest coast along, perhaps because they’re shy, or perhaps because they don’t know how to get a foothold in the discussion.
Some of you might say that if the students aren’t participating, that’s the teacher’s fault, and so the teacher should just do a better job and not rely on a gimmick like Twitter to do his job for him. This criticism could be valid for inexperienced or just plain bad teachers, but most educators know that even the best of us often fail to teach to our own high standards not because we are lacking in some way, but because there are things the teacher cannot control — such as the dynamics between students, students’ personalities, even the day and time of the class — that make the instructor a less effective teacher.
I am writing with this latter group of teachers in mind. No amount of pedagogical skill will turn around that dead silent 8am class filled with clique-y students that would sooner spit in each other’s faces than collectively discuss Manifest Destiny.
Thus, I view my tinkering around with different teaching tools less as the actions of a daredevil wanting to redefine what it means to teach and learn in the 21st century university, and more as the actions of a decent teacher wanting the best out of himself and his students.
My mantra for this particular experiment with Twitter is this: Twitter enhances, not replaces. It enhances but does not replace a good discussion; it enhances but does not replace a good teacher.
Guiding Princples for Twitter-enhanced Teaching
This finally brings me to my envisioning of Twitter as a “discussion enhancer.” You can access my implementation of Twitter for classroom use here to see how the principles I outline below guided my course design.
1) Twitter is fundamentally about broadcasting short messages to anybody willing to listen. It is a form of micro-sharing. This has certain pedagogical benefits, including forcing students to condense complex subject matter into simpler, more manageable parts. This is a fundamental skill for life just as much as it is a critical learning skill, and it should be nurtured and encouraged. In some of my early years of teaching, I had students post bi-weekly 250-word responses to a message board, but found even these short pieces to be far too onerous for myself and my students to read. Rather than sharing, this ended up being more akin to dumping.
2) Twitter is mostly wide open to the public, and caution needs to be exercised, and this is where I strongly disagree with Nixon’s pedagogical design. In her implementation of Twitter, Nixon has every student follow the instructor as well as every student in the class. Though well intentioned, this is a bad idea because it forces students to follow people they may not want to, for personal or other reasons. I strongly feel students have the right to decide who they talk to and befriend in class, and should have a semblance of that right online. Thus, in my implementation, only the instructor and student are required to follow each other because only the instructor can guarantee her own behavior. As such, connections between students should be made or broken organically, with students themselves being the arbiters of who to follow and who to avoid.
3) The conversations on Twitter should be purposeful, though organic. Sometimes the instructor should step in to provide structure by tweeting out a question to the class, but ideally students themselves will be generating purposeful discussion in a dynamic fashion. Some funny or off-topic remarks are to be expected, but I don’t see them as a barrier to discussion. Rather, it makes people follow the general discourse more intently, just as I do whenever Conan O’Brian or Steven Colbert send out their funny, but timely, tweets. A smart-assed quip is much more useful to an educator than is total and prolonged silence. Laughter is an entry point and not a road block to learning.
4) By following the discussion on Twitter, the instructor has a far better idea of how to facilitate the real world discussion that will take place afterwards, meaning that Twitter is a kind of warm up or opening act for the in-class discussion. In short, Twitter provides clues to what people are interested in, what kinds of questions students have, and whether students are actually doing the work or not. I strongly believe that the best educators are those that are the most prepared, and not necessarily the most charismatic nor the most knowledgeable. Twitter allows the instructor and the students to prepare for the nitty gritty of the in-class discussion, while still allowing a high degree of spontaneity and dynamism too. It gives otherwise hesistant students the foothold they need to discuss things seriously.
5) Twitter broadens out the discussion to a level you cannot achieve through traditional discussion. The best tweets are the kinds that share information via links, images, YouTube videos, etc., where you are directed to a related source you weren’t aware of. Establishing these different connections in digital space encourages establishing similar linkages in the mind. We’re reading about Orientalism and stereotypes of Asians; why not link a clip from “Sayonara” on YouTube to get the point across? Doing so creates a mental connection between the theories and concepts that are read about, and whatever is linked. Much of what we do in academia — in science, the humanities, and social science — is linking complex theories or analyses to everyday examples. Why shouldn’t we enable our students to make those same linkages too?
Later on, I will be blogging about the outcome of my class, and hopefully include some comments from my students as well.
“The Perils of Home: Race, Gender, and Labor on the Pacific Frontier”
This dissertation examines the connections between the expansion of white women’s political and economic rights in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century and the role of Chinese male domestic workers in Western North American households. Drawing from an analysis of advertisements for domestic goods, legal cases involving Chinese servants, and (white) women’s labor laws, my work examines the continuities and divergences in how Chinese domestic labor troubled and transformed notions of national belonging and gender roles in the North American West from the 1880s to the 1930s.
Race, Science, and American Empire
Designed the syllabus and assignments, and facilitated discussion for an upper division special topics seminar of nine students.
Introduction to the History of Asians in the United States
Designed the syllabus and assignments, presented over thirty lectures, and managed a course staff of three teaching assistants for a lower division course of 150 students.
Undergraduate Student Learning Initiative, under the Mellon Fellowship for Undergraduate Research
Prof. Nelson Maldonado-Torres (Supervisor)
Helped with various projects Prof. Michael Omi was working on, including digitizing his work and creating presentation slides