Level 3, Maybe Achieved

A couple of weeks ago I blogged a bit about our diversity training program.  Here's the way it looks.  At the first level, everyone is supposed to do a (really stupid and irritating) computer module thing on diversity.  I checked that off over the summer, I think, when we were supposed to.  (Some folks are still checking it off.)

The second level involves a variety of programs put on by various folks around campus, all of which are supposed to help us be more aware and helpful to students with what we might think of as diversity challenges.  (And to be clear, the challenges aren't the students, but rather that the systems impede or block some students, either because they're poorly designed, or because they're reflecting a history of racism, sexism, heteronormativity, elitism, ableism, and so forth.)

The success of these programs relies on folks actually wanting to learn something and wanting to make some changes, even small changes, to make things better for students (and colleagues, too!).

To be clear, once folks have done the computer Level 1 thingy, they can be done.  So the folks doing the Level 2 programs are all self-selected, and so perhaps a bit more sincerely interested.

There's also a Level 3.  Level 3 involves doing some project that relates what one's learned in the Level 2 programs to one's work here.  For a faculty member, it most logically involves either teaching or research.  And if you complete 10 Level 2 sessions and do a Level 3 project, then you get a certificate.  I'm not sure the certificate is really hugely meaningful, but hopefully the learning involved and the project actually are at least somewhat meaningful.

You're supposed to consult with one of the learning/teaching experts from that office when you've completed 4-5 Level 2 sessions, and then decide on and do a project.

So, in March, having completed enough sessions, I asked for a meeting, and met with one of the L/T experts.  She's a faculty member, and really good.  She said that some teachers change their curriculum to be more inclusive, so I said that I've changed my intro to lit a couple years ago to include all writers of color.  And I told her about using critical race theory in classes and my scholarly work.  So she said I was already pretty much ahead of the game.  And she suggested I look at some materials they had on increasing student engagement, and maybe make up a project based on something there.

So I looked, and I chatted with a smart friend who teaches high school.  And I came up with two things to try in my intro to lit course to increase student engagement.

The first involved using an app called "Padlet" which enables groups to put up a sort of virtual post-it note board.  We did that, and it was okay, until some students started putting up silly videos.  (I made the mistake of not making them add the app and so get a sign on, and thus, they were anonymous.)

But it was neat to try, and if people were really engaged and excited, it would work well, I think.

Then I tried having students in groups write a googledoc and then make it available to everyone.  And that worked really well, I thought.  One student suggested that if I made the google doc (and put the group work questions in), they could all edit at the same time and then would only have one big document to look at.  So that's what I'll do next time.

I actually really liked the way it worked, and that students who rarely talk in class contributed in the class discussion of their googledoc responses.

I have to get a bit more experience with googledocs to make one and invite folks to it (because I've never tried to do that before), but I suspect it's not too difficult to figure out the basics.

So I spent some time today writing that up, and filling out the form for the Level 3 project thing.  I still have some Level 2 programs to complete to finish 10, but I'm glad I did the project and learned something in the process.  (I sent it in today, and now am like an impatient student, waiting to hear if I "passed.")

Shaken, Not Stirred

For some reason, this semester seems especially taxing.  Personally, I feel happy and physically healthy.

I'm upset about Fie's being denied tenure.  People posting have talked about legal possibilities, but not being an employment law attorney, I know nothing about that.  I have a bad feeling that the school has all the power here.

***

Over the past year, the university has, like so many others, made noises about supporting social justice.  We've made noises for years with few results.  About 10 or so years ago, we had some anti-racism training that our then Dean paid for out of college funds.  I posted about my responses here and here.  Then that Dean left and then next Dean didn't put money there, nor did the next, nor the next, and here we are.  One of my frustrations since has been a feeling that we reach people "anti-racism 101," but never really get beyond that.

This past year, responding to whatever pressures they're responding to, the Powers that Be here decided to do more education towards social justice.  First, they mandated that everyone do an on-line course (along with an on-line course in computer security: did you know you shouldn't send someone your bank information just because they say that you won a lottery you never entered?).  It was as bad and useless a waste of time as you'd predict.

But along the at, they announced that there would be other levels of learning/activity opportunities.  Then they said those would be available to administrators, pretty much.  And then, magically, they decided that these would be more open.

Here's how it seems to work.  For now, at least, they're running a bunch of 1-2 hour (or more) programs.  Someone can sign up for 10 of these, and do some sort of project (not clear on that, since the meeting was at a time I couldn't attend), and then they'd get a third level certification.  So the programs are all second level, and then the third level is about doing 10 of them and doing a project of some sort.  And anyone can participate, including students, so that's really good.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a program before they're quite rolled out the whole thing publicly, but it counted.  So I took a look at the programs and signed up for some based on my interest and time slots.

While I'm somewhat cynical, I'm also somewhat hopeful, and really interested in some of the programs.  There will be programs on disability issues.  I know little about disability issues, but I know that there's a lot to learn, and it's complex.  Alas, those are all at times when I can't participate.  (But I emailed the leader expressing interest and my hope that they'd schedule them again.)

This week, I went to one, a screening of the movie 13th with a discussion afterwards.  I didn't really learn new stuff at the movie, but it did a good job putting all the pieces together.  The discussion afterwards was shallow mostly, though my small group included a colleague who's disabled, and they were really knowledgeable about some issues, and a student nurse who was also interesting and helpful.

I've signed up for a couple more, one on American Indian issues, which should be really interesting.  

If all goes to plan, I should finish 5 of these this year.  

The film thing was tiring.  I can't pretend that watching a film that's depressing and infuriating is anything like being oppressed by the issues in the film.  Still, it was tiring in a way that didn't leave me feeling like there's anything meaningful I can do.

***

Once again, Friday was a day of meetings, and left me feeling drained.  We had a lovely personnel meeting, one of those meetings where you talk about how tenure-track colleagues are progressing to decide if you want to vote for their reappointment.  Our tenure-track colleagues are stellar, so it's actually quite pleasant talking about them and trying to make our committee letter provide the best support for our decision to go up the line that we can.

But then we had a union exec council meeting, and that was frustrating.  The president is a good guy, but not especially good at running a meeting, so things just wander all over the place, and I don't keep focused well.  We're prepping for working on a membership drive.  It's necessary, but, well, frustrating.  Last year, before I joined the exec council, they decided to have a "friends" category of people who were interested, but who didn't want to pay the nearly $50 a month membership dues, most of which go to the state and national union offices, and which don't seem to benefit us locally.  (It may be worth reminding readers that state law means that unions for state employees--except for police and firefighters--aren't allowed to do much collective action.)

Me, I think we should really encourage people to join as friends.  It puts them on our email list and could help with getting out the vote sorts of actions.  And that's really what I think the local focus should be.  We could work with the local union temple to contribute to phone banks and so forth.

I think there are a lot of people locally who are frustrated by what's happening, who'd like to feel like they're contributing to something bigger, but who don't have/want to spend $50 a month out of their already slim paycheck.

Anyway, the president put together an interest sheet, basically a piece of paper with some categories that people could check if they're interested in that aspect of the union, and then put their name and contact info, and we'll get back to them.

Political activity wasn't on the list.  And the president wanted to put "union solidarity" instead, but I don't think most people would think of that as political activity.

And then someone said they didn't think it was the union's job to get out the vote, and I said that's traditionally been a big part of union activities in the US.

So, I got them to put a political activity check thing on the paper.

The president wanted to put together a folder thing, with the logo and such, so that we could hand it out to people.  The problem is, what we do with folders is stick them somewhere and forget about them, or throw them out.  And they're really expensive.  So we could spend a lot of money to produce future recycling paper stuffs.  Ugh.

And everything has the university branding thing, which the university paid lots of money for a few years ago, and which has been pretty much universally mocked by everyone across campus.  Using the branding makes us look 1) co-opted, and 2) naïve,  It would also take one person who didn't like the things we're saying/doing to get the university to have its lawyer send us a letter to get us to stop using the logo.  So far, the university administration has been pretty reasonable about the union, but one loud complaint could easily change that.

***
I really need something that feels like my actions matter in a positive way.  But for now, I need to go push snow around and then grade.

Red Lips?

The local college feminists are sponsoring something called a "Red Lips Project."

My initial reaction was to just wonder why.  I don't really want to criticize young feminists, but this seems so... heteronormative or something.  Traditionally, in western culture, red lips are about looking sexually appealing to men, no?

Then I figured, this must be a "thing" that I just don't know about.  And I found out that the idea comes from this tumblr called The Red Lips Project.

The idea, according to the about page on the tumblr:

Women are intrinsically powerful. But I realized that many of the women in my life don’t always have a space to express their power. I wanted to create a project to change this and give them that space. 

As a photographer, I have always been fascinated by the imagery of red lips. To me, red symbolizes power; it is a sign of strength and courage. This was corroborated further when rapper A$AP Rocky stated that dark skinned women shouldn’t wear red lipstick. He certainly wasn’t the first to say this and he certainly won’t be the last. This inspired a movement where women of color posted pictures of themselves wearing red lipstick. These pictures were just one way in which women were able to fight back the beauty norms and instead revel in their own ideals. 

When I saw these pictures, what stood out to me was how powerful each woman looked; they had all maintained their individual identities, but the underlying power behind each picture was the unifying element. 

I took inspiration from this movement to create The Red Lips Project. Each woman I photograph is asked the question, “What makes you feel powerful?” My only other request is that they wear red lipstick as it serves as both an aesthetic and symbolic unifier. Every other detail in the photograph is the subject’s decision. 

The Red Lips Project serves to remind women everywhere of their intrinsic power. I find this to be a therapeutic process for both myself and the women I photograph; we don’t always take time to pause and remind ourselves why we should feel powerful. I hope in exploring this blog you too can find ways to remind yourself of why you are powerful. 

So, I gather there's a critique in this project about a rapper who said that dark skinned women shouldn't wear red lipstick.  From reading what he said (here's [a version of?] the interview and an article about the interview that has the quote where he says dark skinned women shouldn't wear red lipstick, and also an article about how he responded to criticism about what he said from women of color) he's not making a feminist critique of makeup, but more saying that he doesn't like it much. 

This complicates things, doesn't it? 

My reaction is still that red lipstick doesn't feel empowering to me.  But having read some critiques and responses of the general idea (not specifically aimed at the rapper's comments) (here's one from Essence (2014), and here's one from Essence in 2016), I think there's a whole lot of thinking I haven't done about lipstick, especially for women of color. 

I don't know if my students have, either.  (The college feminists here tend to be pretty white, and overall, this isn't a campus where most white students are really thoughtfully critiquing racism.)

What are your thoughts?


(I don't wear make-up, and am unlikely to notice if someone else is, unless it's really sparkly or something; I'm also very bad at noticing what people are wearing unless it's a really strong color that appeals to me.  The bonus is that you can wear the same thing to see me every day and I won't be bored.  The downside is that I probably won't notice when you've put on an especially wonderful outfit and look especially wonderful in it.  I try to dress myself so that my clothes are reasonably clean, weather appropriate, and won't get me arrested.  So far, so good on the arrest part.)

To the Theater

I went to a play the other day, put on by a local amateur group, Shipwrecked!  An Entertainment.  (The play premiered in the US in 2007.)

It did some interesting things, choices the director made, and the theme of tale-telling.  But there were a couple of parts that were, well, problematic.  Or is it just me?

In short, a 19th century white European male goes off to see for adventure, ends up stranded on an island off Australia, where he eventually meets some Aboriginal people.  He saves the people, and then is basically offered his choice of brides, choosing a woman he met early on.  Later, homesick, he leaves his wife and family and returns to Europe where he writes and sells his story, to both acclaim and doubt.

The problematic, initially, for me, was the representation of the Aboriginal people.  They weren't played in blackface (thank dog) but were played in tattery looking clothes (think caveman pictures from the 50s more than not) and did more grunting than not.  Like those old caveman pictures, they were played stooped, mostly.  The crowd seemed to find the effect comic.

Now, I get that by the end the audience is supposed to question his tale, to wonder if he's ever seen Aboriginal people, or had these adventures.  But while the Aboriginal people are on stage, there was nothing to suggest that the performance was thinking about what it means to present Aboriginal people in this sort of way.

The lesser problematic part was during the choosing a wife scene, where one of the potential brides was played in broad drag.  Again, the audience laughed.

But, I wonder, how would it feel to sit with my African American or Native American students to see this play?  How would it feel to sit with a transgender student to see this play?

I don't think it would feel comfortable.  The fact is, of course, most African American or Native American students have seen far worse, experienced far worse.  But this would be like yet another paper cut in the skin of life.  I wouldn't want to participate in giving that paper cut.

To put it another way, it's not a good sign that I was grateful, ever so grateful that at least they weren't in blackface.

As tends to be the case here, the theater audience was very white.  So as the play was presenting the Aboriginal people, it felt like a bunch of white people secretly (or maybe not secretly, but imagining themselves as the only possible audience) enjoying the racism of the representation.

I haven't read the play, so maybe this performance wasn't at all what the text suggests, or not at all like the play that premiered in New York.

I did read a couple reviews (including in The New York Times), and they didn't seem to notice race issues.  But then, theater often seems like a bastion of white privilege, with white folks just not noticing racism because they imagine they're in an all white space.

Has anyone else seen the play?  Thoughts?

I saw a play last year by a Nigerian-American playwright, set in Africa, with all African characters, but played by white folks (in this Midwestern area), and it didn't feel racist in this way.  It felt like the African characters were represented with respect in a way that just didn't come across in Shipwrecked.  I think that other play was played as a sort of timeless story, a story set in a culture, but a story that they expected to speak to all humanity and represent all humanity, in the way that we imagine Shakespeare speaks to all humanity, if you know what I mean.

Is there a way this play can be performed that doesn't feel racist?

(I was thinking, if they played the European guy in shipwreck-ish clothing, and the Aboriginal characters in, say, modern business attire, could you get at the sense that the main character's storytelling is problematic?)

I love It When . . .

My senior seminar discussion today felt committed and caring and real.  I felt like it mattered to me, and it mattered to the students.

I'm so grateful for the work one of my colleagues does, both because I've learned from it and because one of the students who's taken more than one course with this colleague was able to articulate really difficult stuff well, and attributed it to my colleague.

(I need to thank him, too!)

A Conversation with a Friend

I was chatting with a friend about a mutual acquaintance, and had a bit of insight.  The mutual acquaintance, let's call him Flute (it's a Shakespeare name, right!), was on the university senate while I was on it.  I didn't know him socially at the time, and the senate's pretty big.


Imagine, issue X would come up, and there was a practical option, which wasn't actually ideal in terms of students or adjuncts or something, but was practical in terms of cheapness and actual workability.  So, maybe it's class size for intro basketweaving, which would ideally be 15, but in practice runs at 20.  We can't afford 15, and 20 is pushing it in terms of the budget.


So there's discussion and going to be a vote.  And Flute would raise his hand, and I'd know he was going to say that there's no way we can vote for 20, and he'd go on to talk about the ethics of the issue and such.  I eventually realized that I pretty much always agreed ethically with Flute, but that I didn't want to hear about that because I felt like the cause was long lost and we were all going to vote for the cheaper or more "practical" option.  That is, in a way, I resented someone speaking for what I knew was right because I'd already given up on what was right.  And Flute isn't the most eloquent speaker; he's rough around the speaking edges, and takes longer than he should sometimes, because he feels so strongly about stuff and is so unwaveringly certain about his stance.


I don't think I was alone if not wanting to hear about what we should do because I don't think I was alone in having already given up.


Now, I think of some of the times in my department when I've felt compelled to speak against an issue because I think it's ethically important, and I could see other people in my department roll their eyes, and I think I've turned into Flute in some ways.  (I try not to take very long or hold things up, but I do feel compelled to speak sometimes.)


There's so many things around here that are ethically shady: big class sizes, use of adjuncts, lowering requirements for majors and such.  But we vote for them because we feel like we're trying to survive.  I think it hurts our morale more than we acknowledge.


And in some cases, I think it's devastating for our students.  I'm thinking of the ways racism works here, the ways that administrators talk around problems with racism and systemically support racism, all while claiming not to.


I went to a training session last week on "bias" which was pretty much what you'd expect: we're all biased and we need to think about biases we aren't so much aware of and consciously work against them. 


But what we should be talking about is racism and systemic racism on campus.  Talking about bias is patting white liberal folks on the head and saying that they don't want to be racist, so if they just work a little more, then we'll make things better.  And that way, we don't have to challenge the systemic racism or even acknowledge it.


(That isn't to say that I as a white person don't need to think about my racism and work towards anti-racism in my own behavior and beliefs.  But that's not enough, and not the big issue.)

The Challenge

My lower division course on early Brit Lit had low, low enrollment, so I got reassigned to an Intro to Lit course.  I was expecting it, and it's okay by me.

I was talking to a colleague (who's a person of color and a campus leader in anti-racism work), thinking about what to teach, and we thought about how it would be to teach only literature by people of color. 

For me, it would be a challenge.  It would be a lot of work, because I usually teach really dead folks from England.  I don't teach more modern stuff often, not poetry, nor novels, nor short stories, nor drama.  And most writing by people of color in English is more modern.

But my colleague was encouraging me, and I just might do it.

I've got three dramas that would do well, and that I've taught before, Raisin in the Sun, M. Butterfly, and What Mama Said.  And there are plenty of short stories, some of which I've taught before.  My colleague suggested a novel.

But poetry?  I was thinking initially of reading some poems by and trying to Skype in a poet I know.  So, I'd appreciate suggestions for poetry.  I especially would appreciate some sonnets, because I find teaching sonnets a good way to get into poetry.  For me, the strict form helps me read the verse, and that helps me teach verse, and that helps me teach non-formal poetry, too.

I'm also thinking of teaching Persepolis.  I've never taught a graphic novel before, but I've read it, and it's really interesting.

So, wisdom of the internet, what poems would you teach?  What short stories?  What novel?

Unexpected

A bit back, a young person and I were discussing racism.  The young person is young, and white, of good will, and I suggested zie read Peggy McIntosh's "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Backpack" (linked here, thanks to the University of Michigan).  It seemed like a good reading for someone who was ready to think more about racism.  In order to make getting it easy for hir, I put up a link on my effbee page.

This morning, I got an email from my Mom.  She says she read the essay (because she saw my link) and found it really insightful and thought-provoking, and now she's passing it along to her friends at her retirement center.  (Most of whom are white, all of whom are middle or upper-middle class.)

I think of McIntosh's essay as being something everyone knows about and has read.  I am wrong, of course.  People in English departments have read it, and probably people in lots of other areas of academics.  But people who frequent my Mom's retirement center, not so much.

The thing is, my Mom and (in my experience talking with them when I visit) the other folks at her retirement center are basically decent human beings.  They don't want to be racists, and many of them (including my Mom) have done good work (my Mom tutored children and adults in basic literacy, for example, among other things), but they haven't necessarily thought about systemic racism or privilege.  So this essay is thought-provoking (as indeed, it is) and helpful to them.

It makes me proud of my Mom that she's thinking about racism and passing the essay around to her friends.  She and many other white people of her generation have changed a lot over the years, have tried to become less racist.  I'm sometimes really critical of her (because I'm her daughter, of course), but I think she's had a harder time getting where she is than I ever had, in large part because she raised me to think about race, and started me earlier thinking about race and social justice than I'd have started alone.