As I approach the end of my first year of graduate school, I find myself craving some sort of pleasurable diversion from my studies. Colleagues have recommended running, yoga, and gardening but I exercise by playing basketball and get my nature–outdoorsy fix by hiking. Since the turn of the calendar year I tried getting back in the habit of watching TV, both in search of a mindless escape from my coursework as well as a way to remain current when my friends talk about people of color focused premieres like Empire, Fresh Off the Boat, and Jane the Virgin, binge-worthy political series such as House of Cards, Homeland, and Scandal or LGBTQ hits like Orange is the New Black and Transparent. Despite these rich programs, TV has failed to sedate me. My undergraduate and graduate study in Women’s Studies has manifested itself in a permanent lens of cultural criticism where my viewing is preoccupied with a critique of narratives so deeply embedded in American television and mainstream film; narratives of American exceptionalism, justified police brutality, Islamophobia, white supremacy, neoliberal multiculturalism, racism/colorblindness, heteronormativity, misogyny, and corporate feminism. Without divulging (yet) which shows have been binge-watched by yours truly, I’m here to say that TV and film are not my forms of escape precisely because I can’t even manage to watch a re-run of Bee Movie (2007) without reading portrayals of racial mixing, coalitional politics, and multispecies ontologies. And to be honest, there never is an escape when one studies gender, race, sexuality, class, and nation. Consuming contemporary television, nonetheless, has brought me to realize that while I’ll never truly be able to diverge away from my studies (because what I study is everywhere), an ongoing challenge will be to discover a place where I can sustain distance from my work. Does such a place even exist? My exposure and training in queer, feminist, and anti-racist critique is much needed in a moment that is presumed to be gay-friendly, post-racist, and populated with folks “ready” for a corporate feminist to run for office. My inability to escape might not be such a bad thing.
Now, while this blog will try ardently to avoid clichés, I can’t help but think that knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss. I spent the past weekend in New York attending the inaugural LGBTQ Scholars of Color Conference. I participated in a speed-mentoring event where senior-level QPoC scholars spent 10 minutes entertaining the questions of entry-level QPoC scholars. Anneliese Singh, Associate Professor in the Department of Counseling and Human Development Services at the University of Georgia was my first mentor during this event. I expressed my challenges in grappling with the constant bombardment and accumulation of micro-aggressions. She simply told me something along the lines of, “Your mind will never shut off. Determine your non-negotiables and cope by doing something that sustains you and is productive for your work.” This brief conversation served as the impetus to finally starting this blog. If my mind fails to shut off I might as well record the thoughts somewhere.
Prior to majoring in Ethnic & Women’s Studies, I was an avid writer, where writing was neither theoretical nor analytical, but beautiful. My mom’s home in California houses countless notebooks filled with love poems, heartbreak poems, teen-angst rants, scattered scribbles, and queer manifestos. I miss these youthful and messy forms of writing. As a graduate student my writing is now primarily confined to critical and theoretical final papers and research benchmarks en route to the dissertation. Such assignments are simultaneously enjoyable and challenging but fail to indulge my love of writing just to write. Doctoral programs in the humanities so often embed its students in rigorous reading and writing assignments with the intent of reaching expertise in a field rather than also cultivating a space where writing can be fluid or public. As an undergraduate I found time to study, work, play, and invest time in queer of color and feminist student organizing. Now that I have almost one year of doctoral study under my belt I’m faced with the difficult reality that time is both precious and fleeting.[1] The lines between work and life are blurred and my engagements in radical politics have been relegated to online activism. Now that I’m beginning to manage the inescapability, I find myself craving a space where I can express my musings. This blog is just that; moments of reflection and deep thought about PhD problems, radical ravings, queer qualms, and feminist frenzies.
Most importantly (and personally), this blog will symbolize and work to sustain my voice as I progress through the prestigiously gut-wrenching thing they call the academy.
Here’s to coloring outside the lines---
[1] Oh, and time is dangerously linear. Hello progress narratives. Hello future blog entry.
Now, while this blog will try ardently to avoid clichés, I can’t help but think that knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss. I spent the past weekend in New York attending the inaugural LGBTQ Scholars of Color Conference. I participated in a speed-mentoring event where senior-level QPoC scholars spent 10 minutes entertaining the questions of entry-level QPoC scholars. Anneliese Singh, Associate Professor in the Department of Counseling and Human Development Services at the University of Georgia was my first mentor during this event. I expressed my challenges in grappling with the constant bombardment and accumulation of micro-aggressions. She simply told me something along the lines of, “Your mind will never shut off. Determine your non-negotiables and cope by doing something that sustains you and is productive for your work.” This brief conversation served as the impetus to finally starting this blog. If my mind fails to shut off I might as well record the thoughts somewhere.
Prior to majoring in Ethnic & Women’s Studies, I was an avid writer, where writing was neither theoretical nor analytical, but beautiful. My mom’s home in California houses countless notebooks filled with love poems, heartbreak poems, teen-angst rants, scattered scribbles, and queer manifestos. I miss these youthful and messy forms of writing. As a graduate student my writing is now primarily confined to critical and theoretical final papers and research benchmarks en route to the dissertation. Such assignments are simultaneously enjoyable and challenging but fail to indulge my love of writing just to write. Doctoral programs in the humanities so often embed its students in rigorous reading and writing assignments with the intent of reaching expertise in a field rather than also cultivating a space where writing can be fluid or public. As an undergraduate I found time to study, work, play, and invest time in queer of color and feminist student organizing. Now that I have almost one year of doctoral study under my belt I’m faced with the difficult reality that time is both precious and fleeting.[1] The lines between work and life are blurred and my engagements in radical politics have been relegated to online activism. Now that I’m beginning to manage the inescapability, I find myself craving a space where I can express my musings. This blog is just that; moments of reflection and deep thought about PhD problems, radical ravings, queer qualms, and feminist frenzies.
Most importantly (and personally), this blog will symbolize and work to sustain my voice as I progress through the prestigiously gut-wrenching thing they call the academy.
Here’s to coloring outside the lines---
[1] Oh, and time is dangerously linear. Hello progress narratives. Hello future blog entry.
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