“There is a subtext to this whole business. The firestorm of reactions to Salaita…is indicative of a continuing determination to police and regulate the nature of the resistance offered by those who speak up on behalf of the traditionally subjugated.”
by 45
The New York Times has weighed in with a strong piece on the Salaita affair. This is significant for two reasons. First, while we in academia and on social media or the blogosphere have been debating and pushing this story for weeks, it hasn’t really broken into the mainstream. With a few exceptions, no major newspaper has covered it.
I have always been a nervous, anxious sort of person. When I was an undergrad, I helped myself and mitigated my inclination by reciting the Bene Gesserit litany from Frank Herbert’s Dune. It helped tremendously with exams and deadlines. The image above states the litany in its entirety. Here it is again:
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Lately, I have much to be fearful and anxious about. I imagine things will be all right. Eventually. At this moment, I’ve also come to fear taking a stand, claiming an opinion, having feelings. Speaking is definitely risky. But, as the Bene Gesserit order wisely described, silence motivated by fear brings total obliteration. Speaking, choosing a side, having feelings. These are all costly. So is remaining silent. Choosing not to choose, while it can be defended, also exacts a price. And allows others to choose sides on our behalf. The Bene Gesserit litany reminds us to face our fears. Great sentiments, but still, they are easier said than done. Ultimately, the choice comes down to this: of all the consequences before me, which ones can I live with? And which ones will annihilate the best parts of me? The answers to these questions are often the ones that lead me to what I do. Friends and family who know me best understand and witness first-hand the agony I go through.
In the spirit of courageous action despite fearfulness, I have some questions about the Salaita affair that I’ve been thinking about these last few days. From my vantage point as a distance education graduate student, and one who very much cares about equity and inclusion, I am wondering about the politics that must be going on at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign’s upper administration. The identity of Chancellor Wise as an Asian American woman in a position of great power at an R1 academic institution in the United States has not slipped my notice. In fact, it has given me pause when expressing my dismay and any criticism of the damaging decision to un-hire Dr. Salaita. Is there a particular reason why Chancellor Wise is carrying the burden of this unpopular decision? Why isn’t UIUC President Dr. Bob Easter, who is a step higher in the UIUC organization chart, the bearer of this news? Is this a simple matter of the decision and burden belonging solely to the Chancellor’s Office? Even so, does the UIUC President’s Office have a say? Or is something else going on? If the Office of the UIUC President does hold an official opinion, what could that be? Is it something we could expect to be revealed soon?
In thinking through how one could use a critical race theory lens on these events at UIUC, the identity politics of the actors involved are crucial for greater understanding and illumination. And it seems that there are more actors at play in the Salaita affair than we first realize.
I do think that the events surrounding Salaita and UIUC’s upper administration are inciting fear and anxiety among academics, students, and higher education staff. Those feelings are making many of us do things that are not in keeping with our better selves. I do hope we find a way beyond the fear and silence. No matter what you may think of the politics surrounding the events at UIUC, I urge you, dear friends, to be brave. Find and use your voice. Remember: Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Election, 1999. Pick Flick. Image from TVTropes.org, “Go-Getter Girl.”
I am no Tracy Flick. Let’s get that out right now. I am not after supreme world domination. I don’t do what I do because I want to be the best (but I won’t turn down an offer to be better, though). I do what I do because I think the efforts I back need the hand. I’ve got two of them (hands, I mean). And a brain. And some experience under my belt. And most importantly, I have a heart. At the moment, all these are still fully functional, so I’d like to make the best use of them while I still can.
I should admit that I do have Tracy-Flick-like tendencies. Chalk up my bid for APALA Executive Board Member-at-Large 2014-2016 office to my need to fulfill a personal goal (see my By 45 list). I know it also looks good on my accomplishment belt (a.k.a. my CV). But, as I said in my personal narrative for the election, I do aim to do what I say and say what I do. I ran because I love APALA, my professional home. I have always been appointed (or tapped, as I like to call it) or volunteered myself. I have never run for office (as an adult) before. I had been exceedingly happy just being power-adjacent. I saw myself as a worker, nothing more. With great thought and deliberation, and lots of conversations with people I greatly admire (you know who you are, I hope), I ran. It’s like offering up one’s self for scrutiny and judgment, which I so dislike intensely.
I am fully aware that I am not perfect. And I don’t pretend to be, either in private or in public. Since the circle of friends I have gained in APALA has convinced me that authenticity is highly valued there, I believe that this is something I can do. And, truthfully, I would and should want to do.
The Iron Lady, 2011. Image from TVTropes.org, “Iron Lady.”
I like having a sense of humor. I am too aware of my tender spots, my vulnerabilities, and my (immense) flaws. I have no interest in cultivating a cold, no-nonsense persona. I will never, ever be an Iron Lady. Nor do I want to be. (N.b., no offense to Iron Ladies. Props to you. I’m just sayin.)
I don’t want to embody the Iron Lady trope, strictly and literally rendered. But this doesn’t mean I am not packing any steel. If I have to go with a trope commonly used in film and television, I’d rather be a Broken Bird in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). I think that trope suits me better.
At any rate, THANK YOU to those who voted for me. I take your vote of confidence very seriously and I will not let you down. I am grateful that you recognize my efforts, my desire to join people who are working to fulfill the goals and objectives set by APALA’s founders.
Duel between Jen and Yu Shu-Lien. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, 2000.
Fringe Division. Department of Defense.
Yes, we are very edgy. We’re so far out on the edge of the university, we’re sitting out here on the sidewalk!
Once upon a time, I fancied myself wanting a livelihood out of my devotion to the study of culture. I loved sociology and anthropology. However, I was daunted by the extremely detached scholarly stance that seems to be prevalent in both disciplines. Postmodernist, critical, and deconstructionist perspectives were pushing difficult questions that put a traditionalist in the hot seat, making for very tense, very offensive-defensive sorts of interactions. Coming of age in the late 1990s academy–in San Francisco, California, no less–I grew drunk with promises of social and political relevance for the emerging scholar. The subaltern was speaking and she was pissed, emotional, and that was okay. What’s more, she was learned, scholarly, and not taking any guff from anybody, just because she was a brown woman. She’ll do analysis, publish, and do social theorizing herself, with or without permission from anybody.
The promise of this sort of scholarship was not forthcoming from the more-traditional programs that I encountered. This made me opt for cultural studies at Claremont Graduate University. One of my most vivid memories of doing cultural studies at CGU is encapsulated in the quotation above, made to me by a fellow student in the program–cultural studies makes no apologies for doing scholarship with purpose. We were racking up the student debt in the tens of thousands without any promise of future employment. Much like real life, there were no guarantees. We knew it would be hard to get a job afterwards, but we were there to become activist scholars, not worker drones of the university machine. We just didn’t care. Or if we did, we didn’t talk much about it.
During my time at CGU, I was immersed in literary theory and philosophy, reading about art and literature in ways that I hadn’t done before (Benjamin? Who’s that? Hoggart who? You mean the Frankfurt School has nothing to do with sausages?). What I recall most of all about my scholarly program, however, wasn’t the intellectual growth or stimulation. It was the high level of isolation and dread that permeated my existence as a grad student. The discomfort I experienced was so palpable that I burst into uncontrollable tears during one of my paper readings in class, in front of people I had to see the next day. I had reached the limits of faking for survival. Perhaps I just wasn’t cut out to be a cultural anthropologist and scholar. Maybe I didn’t have the chops to be the well-spoken subaltern. I just couldn’t read a dense academic text each week, for each class, and still be the sort of mother and wife I wanted, needed to be. In 2000, I dropped out of CGU and the graduate program I was a part of. I left feeling like a failure. In my darkest moments, to this day, this failure still haunts me. What’s more, I left after spending a number of semesters becoming really intimate with the student health services and various forms of SSRIs.
Looking back, my trek to San José State University’s library school was a small personal triumph. It was an act of defiant return, with the recognition that I wasn’t wanted or meant to succeed.
Now, I’m being pushed out…again. Is it time for me to admit defeat? Should I finally accept that I suck? That my academic space would be much better used by a more ardent scholar? That none of this has anything to do with my being born brown, in a little-known colonized nation, and with a particular type of reproductive function?
Got words for me? Please write in the comments. I haven’t yet concluded this tale. Maybe you can help me do that?
ALAMW14 @Philly.
I do my best to stay relevant and on-top of my librarian duties by being active in the work of librarian and information professional organizations. In January 2014, I attended the American Library Association’s Midwinter Meeting in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (a.k.a. ALAMW14). I was there from Saturday, January 26 to Monday, January 27. They say, as you become more seasoned with professional conference attendance, you’ll only attend the days when you absolutely need to be in attendance. I’m finding this to be true for me.
It was cold. And very slippery with ice and snow. Considering how much of a, uh, brave, fearless person I am when it comes to pain and injury, I was my active, bubbly, inquisitive self, undaunted by fear and discomfort (I’m being sarcastic here).
I am learning that the best part of attending these professional conferences isn’t the unpaid, often-invisible work. The best parts are the people. I’ve come to be surrounded by really, really, really awesome librarians. They’re awesome because I like them and (oh dear gawd) they like me back. They bring out a part of me that is hidden most of the time, the part that is truly brave and assertive. Such is the power of the social.
At the risk of embarrassing them publicly on the interwebz, I can’t overestimate how much this group of conference peeps mean to me. It bums me out that we only get to see each other once or twice a year. But I think about them a lot, smile at their accomplishments, and shed tears at their grief, as if these were my own. For reals. No foolin. Thanks to social media, we continue our long-distance relationships between our conference-based f2f meetings.
Me @ ALAMW14. Photo credit: Lessa Kanani’opua Pelayo-Lozada.
Then there are the new friends that I make through these professional organizations. I may not know them as well as these other friends I have made through ALA. Not yet. Not right now. I expect this to change considerably. Social media has made that possible, too.
IA Summit 2014 @ San Diego, California
As I write this post, I am at the Information Architecture Summit 2014, being held at San Diego, California’s Sheraton San Diego Hotel & Marina. I had volunteered to be a graduate student assistant for the conference, so I am able to attend at a lower cost. In exchange for some time, attention, and effort, I am able to indulge (just a little bit) my info-geek-y tendencies (delusions?). I’ll be here from March 26 to March 30, keeping tabs of the Podcasting track. I’ll know more about my assignment later today, at the conference volunteer orientation. Thanks, ASIS&T!
IASummit14 swag
Unlike ALA, I don’t know anyone at IA Summit. I’m here because I was impressed by the speaker line-up (i.e., mostly Irene Au and Peter Morville). I wanted to hear them speak in person. And the conference is within driving distance from my house.
So, when the call came out for IA Summit 2014 volunteers, I said to myself, “Why not?” I didn’t think I’d get in. All I know is that I wanted to go. And I could go, if I was chosen. If I didn’t get chosen, it wasn’t Earth-shatteringly disappointing. I am already fully invested in ALA, my ALA friends, and the work we do together on behalf of the American Library Association and its members.
Now I’m here. Everything’s just icing. Drinks on Riot Games during the Opening Reception? Heck, yeah. Thank you!
As I will be attending ALA Annual 2014 in Las Vegas, Nevada this summer, in late June, and seeing my beloved ALA friends again, IA Summit 2014 is great practice for the networking and schmoozing (i.e., drinking and eating) that I will undoubtedly be doing. Since I have a very strong homebody streak, I could really stand to increase my capacity (while maintaining my t2 diabetes lifestyle).
The importance of action and activism. Lankes, 2011, Atlas of New Librarianship
Librarians are just other people | Movements and Moments.
“BCALA must question ALA’s true commitment to diversity and racial tolerance when ALA, North America’s largest and strongest library association, still plans to hold its largest and most financially lucrative function in a state that has become Ground Zero in initiating weapons laws, as well as voting policies, that potentially put the rights and safety of African-Americans at risk.”
I’d like some answers, too, please.
Then, on the flip side, we have this (from July 2013):
Espousing “social justice” is unprofessional | The Blue Skunk Blog.
Nope, nope, nope. I don’t agree. Vehemently. We need to be talking, studying about, and acknowledging the intricacies of social justice. For many, such things are matters of life-and-death. We can be professionals and be committed to social justice work. The true fallacy is linking social justice issues with political liberalism and saying that this is the only position that is for social justice. That’s just sad. And wrong. So let’s not do that. Please.
American Enterprise Institute: Conservative Social Justice Agenda. See? We’re really not that different, after all.
Have some thoughts on this? Please share them in the comments below.
Rage Face: A common occurrence on the internet.
“Change is messy. It’s angry. It’s uncomfortable. It’s full of angry people saying angry things, because they’ve been disrespected and forgotten again and again and again and again, and they’re tired of being fucking nice because it makes you uncomfortable if they act in any way that is not deferential or subservient to you and your worldview.”
I feel this quite a bit. More often lately than previously. But I’d also like to draw a distinction between being civil and being nice. I want to remain both. But if I must choose, I’d rather be civil.
Tears For Fears. “Pale Shelter,” The Hurting. 1983.
Don’t even try to take away my rage by playing up my other emotions, like guilt, shame, and embarrassment. I am enraged, not just because I’ve been repeatedly dissed. I have it because my basic humanity is too-often denied for the convenience and comfort of those with more power than me. Taking my rage away just stresses my continuing dehumanization. I have good reasons to be this upset and angry. So don’t even try to placate me. Just because I have these fires in my chest, it doesn’t mean that I don’t see the value and desirability of “letting it all go,” seeking hope and positivity. Rage fuels and motivates me. It sparks the embers in my belly and keeps me moving forward. I so wish my fuel was something else entirely, but I am a product of my environment, after all. I hold my rage and hope in constant tension.
I also want to work for peace, harmony, and healing. But not at the expense of the dignity I deserve as a human being. And since my human dignity should not impede another’s, I really fail to see the problem…more on this later…
I am a human being.
University of Redlands: Muslim Journeys Bookshelf
University of Redlands: Let’s Talk About It: Muslim Journeys: Points of View
Part of the programming we had planned for Muslim Journeys is a series of film screenings that we will hold during the Spring semester of 2014. All the films chosen by the University of Redlands Muslim Journeys Advisory Group were selected because they highlight the Points of View theme of the Muslim Journeys Bookshelf. Also, they were film titles that were not part of the Muslim Journeys Bookshelf, but greatly enhanced the theme we had selected.
Rizwan Khan travels across the U.S. to fulfill a promise.
The first film we showed was My Name Is Khan, a 2010 Indian film that was directed by Karan Johar and stars Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol. The film is quite long, running 161 minutes. The film is a fictionalized account of an Indian Muslim man named Rizwan Khan with Asperger’s Syndrome, who immigrates from India to the United States. There, he meets the love of his life, Mandira, who has a son, Sam, from a previous marriage. Mandira eventually returns his affections and they marry. After some blissful years, a tragedy strikes Khan’s family. This sends him on a quest that makes the phrase he repeats–“My name is Khan and I’m not a terrorist.”–very poignant. The film is primarily in Urdu, which requires English-only audiences to read the subtitles.
We had a film discussion after the screening. It was led by Dr. Priya Jha, associate professor of English at the University of Redlands. A film scholar, Dr. Jha focused on the film’s themes and the nuances of representations portrayed in the film. She also talked about the making of the film, providing the audience with some background information on Indian cinema and the specific screenwriter and director of My Name Is Khan. One theme that I was extremely glad that Dr. Jha mentioned was the strong tie to the African-American civil rights movement through the song “We Shall Overcome.” This was a running theme throughout the lengthy film.
We showed this film at the University of Redlands on Thursday, January 23, 2014, right before I was scheduled to leave for the American Library Association Midwinter Meeting 2014 (ALAMW14) in Philadelphia, PA. There, I participated in a focus group hosted by the National Endowment for the Humanities that was mainly on the Muslim Journeys programs that grant recipients were implementing. (More on that in another post.)
My Name Is Khan, 2010.
There’s a lot to love about this film. There’s also a lot to question. I was really moved by the idyllic portrayal of the main characters’ happy family life. It reminded me of the Filipino cinema that I came to know in my youth. Cheesy, but still comforting. It makes one long for a simpler life, carefree, and without struggle. Then there were the representations of African-Americans in the rural south. I thought that was jarring and disturbing. Remembering that My Name Is Khan is an Indian production, not a Hollywood one, made the caricature of Southern blacks even more disturbing. It made me wonder if the U.S. was exporting, unknowingly or not, disparaging views of African-Americans that are troubling, racist, prejudicial, and downright wrong. Growing up in the Philippines, I did feel smothered by Hollywood idealizations and images. Westernization, at least in the circles I frequented, was considered problematic. A double-edged sword. Democracy, economic and educational development, freedom, and all that. Great. But it was also the source of our subverted identity as a nation, as an independent sovereign people, culturally, politically, and socially. Watching My Name Is Khan brought out all of those old thoughts and feelings from my younger days. Of course, the plot of the film focused on the problematic issues faced by South Asians, whether Muslim or not, within the United States. And the strong link to the African-American Civil Rights Movement complicated matters for me. Still, I was struck by how the film provided us with a slightly different take, a particular point of view, that we may not always get to see in our mainstream media fare within the United States.
Fordson: Faith, Fasting, Football, 2011
The second film we showed under the Muslim Journeys: Points of View series is the 2011 documentary Fordson: Faith, Fasting, Football. The film centers on the predominantly Arab-American football team of Fordson High School, as the team practices for their big game against their rival, Dearborn High School, during the last 10 days of Ramadan, the holy month of fasting on the Islamic calendar. The footage is from 2009. We showed this film on Thursday, February 6, 2014, the first Thursday after Superbowl 2014. The film was introduced by Leela MadhavaRau, Associate Dean of Campus Diversity & Inclusion, and the after-screening discussion was facilitated by Bill Maury-Holmes, adjunct faculty member of the University of Redlands religious studies department and the Assistant Chaplain.
Some notable facts about this documentary: it was directed and produced by Rashid Ghazi, an alumnus of University of Redlands. Ghazi graduated from the UofR in 1989 with a B.A. in business and sociology. This documentary was shown previously at the UofR in April 2012. He currently lives in Illinois. The film runs 93 minutes long.
I really, really like this film. Not only does it provide us with the intricacies of the meanings of fasting and the breaking of the fast during Ramadan, we are provided with glimpses into how different people within a geographic location determine who Americans are and what constitutes “American-ness.” Though it has been said that baseball is the national past-time, football seems to be the national sport. The Fordson teens seem to be all-American. They may not be Christians or of an Anglo-Saxon ethnic background. But still.
Prince Among Slaves, 2007.
To honor Black History Month, we will be re-showing Prince Among Slaves on Thursday, February 13, 2014, from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. The film will be shown at Gregory Hall 161, at University of Redlands. Based on the historical biography of the same title written by Terry Alford, this narrative documentary follows the life of Abdul Rahman, who was a nobleman from a Muslim West African kingdom, captured, and sold by slave traders to a Mississippi plantation in the 1780s. Rahman’s remarkable story chronicles his quest to free his children and grandchildren.
As with last year’s screening of this film, Dr. Patrick Wing, assistant professor of history at the University of Redlands, will introduce the film and facilitate discussion afterwards.
Abdul Rahman’s story provides us with an interesting link to Islam and West Africa that we often do not think about. We have become so accustomed to thinking of Muslims and Islam as associated with South Asians, Arabs, and Middle Easterners that we forget that a great number of Africans are Muslims, even during the days of American slavery in the late 1700s.
Prince Among Slaves is part of the Muslim Journeys Bookshelf. The film runs 60 minutes long.
Reel Bad Arabs, 2006.
After the Prince Among Slaves film screening, we will be showing the documentary Reel Bad Arabs: How Hollywood Vilifies a People, which chronicles the stereotyped and negative images depicting Arabs throughout Hollywood history. Reel Bad Arabs is based on the work of Dr. Jack Shaheen, professor emeritus of mass communications from Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville. He authored a book with the same title. In fact, the documentary film extends the thesis of the book. Both the book and the documentary film are available for check-out by current faculty, students, and staff of the University of Redlands. Reel Bad Arabs will be screened on Thursday, February 20, 2014, from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. Discussion after the film will be facilitated by Dr. Patrick Wing, assistant professor of history at the University of Redlands.
Persepolis, 2007.
The fourth film screening for the Let’s Talk About It: Muslim Journeys series is the animated film based on the graphic novel-slash-memoir Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi. The autobiographical graphic novel Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood is one of the Points of View books of the Muslim Journeys Bookshelf.
The screening of Persepolis is scheduled for Friday, March 21, 2014, from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. at the University of Redlands, Casa Loma Room. Leela MadhavaRau, Associate Dean for Campus Diversity & Inclusion, will be introducing and facilitating discussion of the film. The film is a French-American production. The version we will be screening is dubbed in French, so reading English subtitles is part of the viewing experience. The film is 95 minutes long.
Persepolis, 2007.
I have to say that I absolutely love the animated film Persepolis. While the class issues are glossed over, as one may expect from the recollections of an economically privileged individual, the focus on the complexities of religion and political ideology is palpable. Many criticize Satrapi’s autobiographical work, both the film and the graphic novel, as not depicting the terror and the anxiety associated with the policing that happened in Tehran around the time of the Islamic Revolution. Perhaps. It would be interesting to see what Satrapi thinks of this herself. I thought it was a choice that she, as an author, had to make in order to render her story truthfully and authentically. As the bulk of her telling focused on the concerns she had as a child, and the influences on her impressionable mind while growing up, perhaps the terror wasn’t as immediate for her as they may have been to others. I love the style of animation and the spunk and verve of the young Marji. My daughters love this film as well. Leela is a wonderful, skilled facilitator, and an instructor in the women’s and gender studies department at the University of Redlands. The discussion she will lead for Persepolis is expected to be interesting and intellectually stimulating.
5 Broken Cameras, 2011.
Our fifth and last film screening for the Let’s Talk About It: Muslim Journeys Film Series is the 2011 documentary film 5 Broken Cameras. It was nominated for the 2011 Oscar for Best Documentary and has won several accolades, such as the 2012 Best Documentary Award at the Jerusalem Film Festival, the 2012 World Cinema Directing Award at the Sundance Film Festival, and the 2011 Special Broadcaster IDFA Audience Award and the 2011 Special Jury Award at the International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam. Beyond its acclaim by film critics and juries, 5 Broken Cameras is a Palestinian-Israeli-French production, co-directed by Emad Burnat, the Palestinian farmer in the documentary, and Guy Davidi, an Israeli documentary filmmaker.
From 5 Broken Cameras: Gibreel lying on the grass
While 5 Broken Cameras is more political than religious, it does enhance our view of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, a major issue of concern that often gets conflated with Islam and Muslims. 5 Broken Cameras tells the story of Emad and provides us with his point of view of the conflict in the West Bank, where the documentary is set. Emad bought his first camera to record his youngest son, Gibreel, and his growing years. Sounds like something I, or any parent, would do, doesn’t it?
5 Broken Cameras will be shown at the University of Redlands, Gregory Hall 161, from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. Discussion after the film screening will be facilitated by the University Chaplin, John Walsh. The film runs for 94 minutes and is dubbed mostly in Arabic, with some Hebrew. Reading English subtitles is part of the viewing experience. There are some parts of the film that depict or hint at the violence common for the subject matter. I was disturbed by them, yes. But I didn’t find them gratuitous or unnecessary. In fact,I think they enhanced the authenticity of the documentary. 5 Broken Cameras is definitely not a feel-good movie. However, it is illuminating and worth watching.
All the Muslim Journeys film screenings are free and open to the public. The Muslim Journeys series is made possible by a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) in cooperation with the American Library Association (ALA). Local support is provided by the University of Redlands Campus Diversity & Inclusion, Peace Academy, and A.K. Smiley Public Library.
You must be logged in to post a comment.