the memory of songs

Well, along with Devon, I made an appearance on Will's blog! The topic of the conversation was songs from the 80s...particularly songs that were not really mainstream. When I think about the 80s (and early 90s) I feel grateful that I was queer(ed). I feel that I had access to this great community of outsiders (gothic, punk, new wave, etc) that listened to great music that, in its time, was very much contercultural. I see the undergrads walking around campus sometimes sporting a mohawk or gothic wear (that I'm sure they purchased at the local mall) and I am reminded once again how things do not remain the same...they change and morph into a fad that is only a former shell of the protection and confirmation of idenity that it once was...the creation of the audience has, finally, been materialized. Things change in many ways and, as old as I am now, I should come to expect it. But I still am nostalgic but what is troubling is that even the nostaliga that I hold onto is, in itself, being commdified...it seems that capitalism knows no bonds. I was walking around in target and I saw shirts that were clearly made to look as if they came from the eras of the 70s and 80s...shirts with logos and pictures, etc. These looked exactly like the shirts that me and my friends would purchase (at say, 50 cents to a dollar at most) at the local Goodwill or Salvation Army. It is sad that cultural memory has been coopted, slapped on a t-shirt and sold for a lot of money. Better yet, I saw a young guy the other day wearing a Pixies concert t-shirt that (the concert) took place in the 80s....he wasn't born yet! I just am saddened by these artefacts that are being sported around today as fashion and the wearers have no idea as to context...it just looks pretty. One thing that I feel has not changed is, to a large extent, me. I still feel like I'm on the outside watching...just watching all these people running around in circles..."I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad." I found the lyrics to Tears for Fears' song "Mad World" a song from my youth....It's funny, I can still remember dancing to it with my pink/eggplant colored hair, black clothes, doc martins, and a huge nose ring surrounded by a community were I very much felt at home. Now we have advanced degrees, babies, partners, etc.

Mad World

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tommorow, no tommorow

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you’cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It’s a very, very
Mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday, happy birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what’s my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you’cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It’s a very, very
Mad world

Is it a choice?

It was hinted to me by a fellow TA the other day to come to her class and speak on being gay. First of all I have certain misgivings about that...not that I have a problem with my sexuality or the fact that the entire world knows...but sometimes I feel such academic discussions lead to a sort of tokenism. Anyway, I politely declined for the simple reason that the class is at 8 in the morning. Seriously, who's gay at 8 in the morning?

untitled

today is the day that i clean up my life for
the voices that tell me otherwise i have stowed
away in urns upon the mantle like fingers pointing to the
ceiling in my mind where cloaded and dark my
thoughts circulate in storm systems that spell out a language
written in a glowing electicity
yes today i will clean up my life by
extracting the tirednesses that cling to and color my body
i unfurl them with a snap
cuting into fragments the halo of stale, smoke-filled air while
throwing out into the spaces that remain
the smell of linen and bleach then
folding them neatly into drawers designed for waiting
waiting
unitl i retrieve them once again
to make a bed
in which i will sleep

"Wotcher, Harry!"

Yes, I admit that I have read all of the Harry Potter books. Certainly there are issues with the books that upon further investigation, from a critical point of view, one would find very problematic. They are works whose aesthetics are firmly grounded within white, male heteronormativity. However, Rowling does work with the narrative in ways that subvert the aforementioned master narrative. Hermione is a character that the author seems to struggle with because Rowling created her as a strong female. However, as the books progress there is this tension created by Hermione transgressing traditional roles of femaleness that Rowling seems to avowal and disavowal at the same time and Hermione's resolve seems to be dissolving slowly...the disavowal becomes stronger ( I note this particularly within the fourth book). Ginny is another strong female character. The fact that she comes from a family of men seems to give her a sort of rebellious agency...she definitely is more assertively vocal in standing up for herself in terms of male dominance than Hermione. Professor McGonagall is also an extremely strong female character who creates resistant space that, despite fulfilling some types of stereotypicality, exerts an autonomy that has not yet been (to this point anyway) compromised.
Professor Snape, Tonks, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom are really good examples of sites of queerness. It is interesting indeed how these bodies negotiate their "I-ness" throughout the series...especially within the fifth book. Professor Snape is probably the most complex character within the Harry Potter books. I think Rowling did an excellent job in portraying how one negotiates a marginal body so that the readers' perception of right/wrong and good/bad are problematized on many different levels. Snape is a character that actively challenges binary construction and he, more than the others, disrupts our typical notions of the dominant narrative that the author is working with/under. He also is a character that subverts the subject(ivity) negotiations for the rest of the characters...with the exception of Dumbledore and, perhaps, Hermione. Tonks is also a fascinating character. Her greeting to Harry: "Wotcher, Harry" is telling because the word "wotcher" is classed. It is a word that essentially means "what's up?" or "hello" and is used throughout the working class discourse community in Britain. Furthermore, I also like the fact that Tonks has the ability to morph her body. She can shapeshfit physical features such as her hair color and/or face. It is a rare gift and looked upon positively. Again, Rowling's depiction of the fluidity of the body and how it can transgress normativity at the site of gender and class is, indeed, provocative.

The fifth book is probably my favorite thus far. I think that it has the most complex storyline and Rowling's development of the characters seems to go beyond typical notions of reader expectation. In some ways, this is typical of a "good" story but I argue that it is the character of Snape and his subject position(ing) that gives this text its edge. To add to this, the character of Dolores Umbridge is also an extremely interesting character in the fifth book. The site of the ideological deployment of education and how it inscribes itself upon the body is clearly seen in her punishment of Harry. I immediately think of Foucault and Althusser in this instance. I think that the "detention scene" in the fifth book is particularly telling in its depiction of how a body is inscribed by ideology.

Finally, I think that as a reader of these texts, I find myself making comparisons from the text to material life. I think as readers we all do this. The text mediates how we negotiate our subjectivities within the culture/discourse communities that we are apart of. For instance, I can point out in my life someone who acts out or plays the role of Dolores Umbridge and someone who fulfills the role of Cornelius Fudge...hence making my existence in life at this point almost intolerable. But, please don't assume that I think of myself as Harry! I think that of all the characters in the books, I am more "Snapish." I guess this is a good example of how, as a reader, I am making connections between a story and its reflection within the material world...the world that I live in...and how I too am negotiating and renegotiating my own subjectivity/subjectivities...too bad we don't have spells though.

I am haunted by poems II

I am taking a trauma class this semester and I have been reading a lot of articles on the Holocaust and testimony. Last night (or I should say this morning) I re-watched Schindler's List and, consequently, could not go to sleep afterwards. So, I started going through some poetry, particularly poetry written about the Holocaust and I found a beautiful yet disturbing poem by Irena Klepfisz. Klepfisz is not only a poet but also an activist within the Jewish, Lesbian, Gay, Queer communities. The dots between the words and phrases represent the white space in the printed version of this poem that this blog did not let me include here.
*************************************************
Death Camp

when they took us.....to the shower.....i saw
the rebbitzin......her sagging breasts.....sparse
pubic hairs.....i knew..........and remembered
the old rebbe......and turned.....my eyes away
i could still hear.....her advice...........a woman
with a husband.....a scholar

when they turned.....on the gas.....i smelled
it........first................coming at me....pressed myself
hard to the wall.............crying.....rebbitzin.....rebbitzin
I am here with you.........and the advice you gave me
i screamed........into the wall............as the blood burst from
my lungs.......cracking.........her nails in women's flesh.....i watched
her capsize......beneath me..........my blood in her mouth.....i screamed

when they dragged my body.........into the oven..............i burned
slowly at first.........i could smell my own flesh..............and could
hear.........them grunt.........with the weight of the rebbitzin
and they flung...........her on top........of me............and i could smell
her hair burning..........against my stomach

when i pressed through............the chimney
it was sunny..........and clear.........my smoke
was distinct..........i rose quiet.........left her
beneath
*******************************************************

This poem is so powerful to me....so many intersections, so many things are being touched upon and blended together. This poem is attempting to go beyond language....I feel compelled to write about it...study it...parse it out...but I also understand that to do so would be an injustice to its message/imagery because i realize that i now know nothing.

Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays everyone,
Sorry I haven't been posting...can you guess what my New Year's resolution will be? Anyway, I'm off to Florida
Be safe
Oh and by the way, this counts as a post :-)

I am haunted by poems.....

A story

Absence is homesick. Absence wants a home.
but Absence left without a glance at home.
Home tried to hold in Absence’s despite,
Home caved, shuddered, yet held
without Absence’s consent. Home took a walk
in several parks, Home shivered
in outlying boroughs, slept on strange floors,
cried many rifts of music, many words.
Home went out to teach school, Home studied pain control
Home learned to dive and came up blind with blood
Home learned to live on each location
But whenever Absence called, Home had to answer
in the grammar of Absence.
Home would hitch-hike
through flying snow, Home would roast meat,
light candles, to withstand the cold. Home washed the dishes
faithfully. But Absence
always knew when to call.
What if Absence calls
and a voice answers
in the accent of Home?

--Adrienne Rich, Time's Power: Poems 1985-1988

addendum

I would also like to add that many of my friends attended my paper reading. I am extremely lucky to have such a supportive community around me to which I am grateful, indeed.

SWIP conference

First of all let me start by saying (or writing) that I would like to post more. However, my approach to blogging at this moment is somewhat akin to doing homework and class assignments which for some reason I have been very resistant....In some ways it doesn't make sense because I really like my classes and the material is extremely germane to my dissertation project...but then again, now that I think about it that may be the problem. In any event, more on that later.
Back in the summer, I was informed that the Society of Women in Philospophy (SWIP) put out a CFP for their conference Engendering/Queering Race. I was encouraged to apply to read a paper. I was extremely excited about this opportunity because issues in queerness are still rare and to be in a space that was dedicated to this particular conversation was a welcome event, indeed. In any event, I submitted my paper and it was accepted. Now, here comes the tricky part.
On Friday November 11th I went to the opening event which was a mixer. Hardly anyone was there except for one of the organizers, two ISU women studies students, and another presenter. One of the ISU students at this mixer is also a friend of mine. This person is also someone who identifies as transgendered. My friend took me aside and said that there may be some problems because many of the women in this conference are 2nd wave feminists and are extremely uncomfortable having a male body present at this event. I was a little confused because the CFP was not gender specific and if this conference were a women only space I wanted to respect that. My friend also disclosed to me that the self identification of transgender that my friend (the limits of language do not permit me to use an appropriate pronoun!) espoused was also extremely problematic for them. Consequently this friend of mine had been having a very difficult time maintaining a space in this organization that was safe. I was standing there thinking, "hello double queering." Listening to my friend talk to me about the experience of being transgender within this space was heartbreaking. The psychic violence that surrounded my friend was unbelievably intense. Trauma to be sure, and the wounding even more so. Throughout this evening I was continually reminded of Audre Lorde and the impossibility of dismantling the master's house using the master's tools. But where do we go from here? It is at times like this that I realize how important my work is for me. That, indeed, marginalized groups (in this instance the gay and feminist communities of which I am apart of and am also implicated within) reify the very terms of oppression that they claim they are fighting against. And that was only on Friday.
Saturday November 12th at 3:15 was the day and time assigned for my paper. I show up a 2:00 because I wanted to hear the paper before me and to have the opportunity to mill around a bit and meet people. The friend that I spoke of earlier in this post came up to me and quickly ushered me out of the room. Apparently the idea of a male body presenting at this conference was being hotly argued on the administration level. The idea that I was to present broke a rule. The committee that accepted my paper claimed that my name was gender neutral so they just assumed that I was female. Now, for those of you who know my name, it is Hebrew and it is gendered...it is a male name. However, I can see from a Western perspective it could claim a type of neutrality...which is kind of cool now that I think about it. In short there was a rift in this organization and at the time that I walked into the room the volatility was at its peak.
I asked my friend if I should speak. My friend said that we should ask one of the organizers. This particular organizer (she also encouraged me to apply to the conference) said that she wanted me to present but understood if I didn't want to. My only concern was that I was transgressing a space...that would my presence contribute to a positive dialogue or exacerbate the situation would depend if I should speak or not. This organizer said that change needs to occur, that they accepted my paper and to prohibit my paper from being read would be an act of discrimination. I thought, "wow, how do I get myself into these situations..." This organizer wanted me to read my paper and she (as well as my transgendered friend) had been attacked continuously throughout this conference.
I am a talker but more importantly I am also a listener....This was a situation that had nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with power and what my body was signifying. The compromise that was made involved setting up two spaces. One space was for the bodies that wanted to hear my paper and the other space was set up for the women who did not want to hear my paper (and to talk about not wanting to hear my paper). It was a wounding right before my very eyes. It hurt.
So, I read my paper. It's funny how at times like this my pedagogy comes to the surface. I wanted to get everyone in a circle because for me this takes away some of the power space between the speaker and the audience. I wanted this to be teachable. Time and size did not permit me to do this. However, I did read my paper sitting down in front of the audience without a table or podium between me or them. The talk went well. The questions were difficult, context bound, and, in some instances, ideologically and politically loaded. I took them all and I answered as honestly as I could. The important part of this entire ordeal was the importance of voice and that even the women who chose to go into the other space were being allowed and accommodated to have a voice in that. Silence and nonpresence has its/their own voice. But voice is one thing and wounding is quite another. The bodies that were under attack at this conference because of difference was depressing indeed. That's what I wanted to bring to the fore...or the surface, if you will, to let them float...to be recognized in the very least if not extensively discussed. There was active marginalization and it was just as ugly and traumatic as any larger cultural ideology could deploy. It was queering the already queered and it affected me in profound ways. So, I read my paper and I answered questions and I hope that my presence helped instead of hindered. I guess only time will tell.
"What if it were possible to incite a slight shift in the character of political expression and political claims common to much politicized identity? What if we sought to supplant the language of 'I am'--with it defensive closure on identity, its insistence on the fixity of position, its equation of social with moral positioning--with the language of 'I want this for us'?"--Wendy Brown, States of Injury: Power and Freedom in Late Modernity, 75.

My first post

Well, this is my first blog. I don't know what I am going to do with it exactly. I am sure many are probably curious as to why I chose the name. Since a lot of my research in school revolves around issues of queerness and gender (within literature and culture) I have noticed that there is a certain amount of commodification that has incarnated itself within queerness. Theory and practice, both together and separate, seem to reflect this situation. Since I identify as a queer(ed) body I am struck by this phenomenon. Queerness seems to be gaining a certain type of "catch word" status within the academy (as well as popular culture) and with that status comes a certain amount of codes and categorical violence that forces bodies to fit under certain rubrics of queerness. Queerness doesn't necessarily refer to sexuality per se but encompasses many aspects of marginality. It's a position of analysis that places the examiner on the outside looking in. A difficult position to be sure but one that is being eroded through capitalism and intellectual profitability. It seems to me that queer now requires a body to act and behave in certain ways and to direct its queerness within certain directions. I am constantly being criticized for not following certain codes of queerness by others who identify as such. I don't easily assimilate within any type of discourse community normal, queer, or otherwise because I think issues of community should always be rigorously challenged and questioned from a site of queerness. This position questions not only heteronormativity but also, and at the same time, queer communities of practice. Anytime the "I" takes upon itself the criteria that establishes it within the purview of a universal "we" there is always an amount of queering that is taking place. I am interested in what goes into these (As Wendy Brown terms it) "wounded attachments." There are voices that are always being silenced in any kind of community. I am interested in the terms of these silences that transcend the "normal" binary of good/bad (and this binary's [and yes, I'm giving this term a certain amount of agency] multiple linguistic forms). I want to interrogate what gets silenced (a form of double queerning within a queer community for the sake of political formation, the "we" if you will) and WHO gets to decide. If you think about it...this gets one into a lot of trouble and often the one who asks these questions is the one who finds him/herself pushed into the corners. I realize that I am rambling at this point but as I work through issues of intellection and my own personal life within this blog I will hopefully be able to parse through issues of queer(ed) subjectivity and procure some sense of meaning on both political and personal levels.

test

testing one, two, three!