Category Archives: school

Borderlands

I wanted to share here an excerpt from a paper that I wrote a few years ago about Borders & Bodies. It may be that this bit of writing makes little sense out of context of the original, much longer, treatise (and I realize that my footnotes lack full citations for each reference–if you’d like the complete bibliography drop a note in the comments and I’ll send it on over to you). Though my writing here doesn’t specifically engage with Disability Theory, I include this paper as a complement the theme of the 16th edition of the Disability Carnival–as further reading for those who enjoy engaging with academic theory about the Borderland experience:

Excerpt from “Borderlands: The Place Where We Live”

Lavie and Swedenborg assert that borders create a “third time-space” between and among borders, which is a “borderzone between identity-as-essence and identity-as-conjecture,”(1) meaning that this third time-space falls somewhere between an essential identity and a constructed identity. It is important to note that the authors’ definition includes both spatial and temporal dimensions. For them, the third time-space is not a literal place, but an identity-creating process that exists both in space and in history. A third time-space identity is relational—playing off both the past and on the areas that surround it. Yet, it is 3also distinct space from the zones that bound it. The most provocative element of this definition is the authors’ assertion that third time-space identity is both essence and conjecture, showing that there is both a determinism and a dynamism to a borderzone identity. It is the tension between the two fosters a new type of borderzone identity.

Lavie and Swedenborg apply this third time-space to several such zones, with heavy emphasis on the Southwest Borderlands in the United States. The authors offer examples, of individuals, primarily writers, who inhabit the hyphenated space between dual identities, e.g. Mexican-American. They assert that the hyphenated space is not a fixed identity, but is a process that “remains active and intransitive,” where identity is fluid and dynamic. To illustrate, they cite the Chicana lesbian poet Gloria Anzaldua, who wrote about third time-spaces as an “open wound” where two worlds rub against each other. In this zone of friction, she says, “before a scab forms it hemorrhages again, the lifeblood of two worlds merging to form a third country…a border culture.” (2) It is noteworthy that Anzaldua writes of the borderzone as a body, as this reinforces the effect that third time-space has on bodies, on people who live there. She underscores the fact that this space is neither an abstract theoretical construct, nor an empty gap. Rather, it is embodied, full of bodies; it is “the place where we live.” What matters most about third time-space is not that it exists as a space between two places. Rather, as Lavie and Swedenburg point out, what matters are the people, the bodies that are affected by the juncture between Mexico and the U.S. and other similar borderzones.

Third time-spaces are not static; they are changing, mutable, intangible. The people of these spaces develop a culture that reflects the dynamism of their homespace. As Lavie and Swedenburg point out, the art produced from the borderzone are “highly stylized domains of knowledge…that [can] incorporate the primary daily realities from which such cultural representations emerge.” (3) They explain that the narratives produced from the people of the border then create new borders, where identity, space, and place are in a process of continual re-definition. As soon as narratives are created that speak the truth of the third time-space, a new space is created in response to that narrative, as some border people embody that story or use is as a springboard for their own experience. In this way, the borders are continually in flux.

One might argue that Anzaldua, in envisioning the border as a dehiscent space, a suppurating wound, depicts the border as dystopia—as a space where bodies are wounded and unhealthy. However, even as she describes the painful frictions of the border body, they envision a co-mingling of fluid and tissue, an emergence of the “new lifeblood” of the border culture. Epidemiologist Nancy Krieger says that “bodies tell stories,” and we can imagine that the border body bears the scars of many interactions. However, these scars, rather than wounding the body of the people who live in the borderzone, are markers of an identity that built in a space of “dissension”, of “contestation,” of identities-in-process. Such scars become a part of the fluid identity of border spaces.

Lavie and Swedenburg emphasize the third time-space–the area that lies outside of borders—to affirm their vision of borderzone possibilities. They view this space as having “utopian” potential, “whose future outlines we can only vaguely begin to make out,” but would certainly incorporate their concept of a “neo-orthodoxy that would privilege identity as constructed, hybrid, fragmented, conjunctural” and rejects notions of fixed and essential identities. (4) Those who inhabit this utopian space might enjoy an arena where identity was not socially prescribed or inscribed on their bodies, but rather one in which is fluid, and difference celebrated. This is a space “where theory and praxis meet in order to form new possibilities.” (5) While it seems difficult to imagine such a scenario, an example of this that I have personally experienced are the spaces of community gardens—where people of many ages, abilities, ethnicities, and social strata work together in a common space to grow food and flowers. Where squash vines and blackberry bushes (and weeds!) refuse to honor even the superficial boundaries of garden plots and the sharing of one’s abundant crops is the only common language of many of the gardeners. (6)

Like the loamy soil of a fertile garden, the third time-space is rich with possibilities for growth as various plants cross-pollinate across traditional boundaries and sow seeds of hybrid potential. As Anzaldua writes:

A borderland is a vague and undetermined place created by the emotional residue of an unnatural boundary. It is in a constant state of transition. The prohibited and forbidden are its inhabitants. Los atravesados live here: the squint-eyed, the perverse, the queer, the troublesome, the mongrel, the mulatto, the half-breed, the half-dead; in short, those who cross over, pass over, or go through the “confines” of the “normal”. (7)

Her vision of the borderland, of the “space where we live,” (8) is not only the moving gaps of border-in-motion, as described by Rodriguez, but it is the space where for those whose identities lie outside of the ‘normal.’ In this way the borderzone encompasses those who do not fit in any pre-existing category, and it allows for self-creation, self-definition, and self-assertion. Unlike mainstream society where “claiming a self lies close to the brink of annihilating a self,” third spaces allow prohibited and forbidden actions and peoples while maintaining selfhood. (9) Borderzones are not bound by the rules of society; they do not require the “docile bodies” of mainstream social institutions. (10)

——
Footnotes

1 Smadar LaVie and Ted Swedenborg, “Introduction: Displacement, Diaspora, and Geographies of Identity,” in Displacement, Diaspora, and Geographies of Identity, ed. Smadar LaVie and Ted Swedenborg (Durham: Duke, 1996)., 17.
2 As quoted in Ibid., 15.
3 Ibid., 18.
4 LaVie and Swedenborg, “Introduction: Displacement, Diaspora, and Geographies of Identity.”, 17.
5 Juana Maria Rodriguez, in Queer Latinidad: Idenity Practices, Discursive Spaces (New York: NYU, 2003)., 31.
6 The recent brouhaha about Los Angeles’ South Central Community Garden demonstrates that such spaces are still sites of political, class-based conflict, but this is an exception. Perhaps an even more radical third space-type gardening project is that of guerrilla gardening, a group that practices ‘random acts of gardening’ in neglected, public spaces.
7 Gloria Anzaldua, Boderlands/La Frontrera: The New Mestiza (Aunt Lute Books, 1987)., 3.
8 Byrd, ed., Puro Border.
9 Lancaster, The Trouble with Nature., 234.
10 Foucault., 138.

my exam day

For those of you wanting a play-by-play of my PhD Qualifying Exams today, I offer you this quick vid clip. Ok, it’s not exactly the same because I wore my navy blue suit and left my bowtie at home. Oh, and my advisor forgot to wear his leather eyepatch. But otherwise, yah, this is exactly what it was like.

FYI: I passed, and that’s all that matters. And I am tired. So, so tired right now. Ready for a weekend with no studying!! 🙂

because some flowers are good eating…


broccoli, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

Picture: a closeup of a head of broccoli growing in my garden.

This ‘flower’ turned out to be pretty tasty. I ate it for lunch on Saturday 🙂 My goal, once the school pressure lets down a bit, is to eat one meal/day from the garden this summer. And I think I just might pull it off. 🙂

One of you, on your response to the pilgrimgirl survey, suggested that I should write about school more often. Hmmm….probably not going to happen. At least not anytime soon. Blogging is my escape from school. From the pressure that is building as my Qualifying Exams are looming. A respite from the many hours each day that I am reading, taking notes, writing mock responses to possible exam questions.

My other escapes from studying? The gym and the garden. Lifting weights does a lot to relieve the pressure. Sometimes I actually imagine myself pushing all the stress out through my arms as I’m bench pressing. It’s lovely to get that ‘release.’ The garden, well, that probably doesn’t need explaining. A few minutes with the sun shining on my face, getting dirt under my nails, running my hands through the lavender, well that’s a feeling so tangibly relaxing that it seems almost sinful.

How do you relax when life builds up on your shoulders?

I would really be interested in ideas you have for relaxing before bed. I find myself rehashing all I’ve studied the minute my head hits the pillow. Sleep is far distant and elusive. But at the same time I know sleep is what I most need during this stressful time…I also know that this stress is not an isolated thing, that academia is a path that will continue to be pressure-filled, as there will be deadlines, job talks, conferences, and all manner of difficulties that I need to get used to. I’m hoping that I can continue to build a storehouse of stress-relieving skills that will serve me now and on into the future….

an end…and a beginning

So today I finished the required coursework for my Ph.D. That means that from here on out I may sit in on a few classes, but that’s entirely at my discretion.

So, what now? My Qualifying Exam (a rather grueling oral exam) will be on April 20th.

Then the dissertation work commences…

Yeah! 🙂

my morning


I’m always searching for the perfect morning routine–one that allows me to get much accomplished while still beginning the day with peace. This morning was a very good one. I awoke at 6:15 feeling rested (thanks to turning out the lights at 11pm rather than at midnite), took a lovely warm shower, had ample of time to get myself dressed and groomed, got GameBoy to school on time, came home and checked email, then went to the garden and watered my seedlings (the peas are looking great!) and meditated there in the sunshine for about 15 min. Came home and had about 2 hours of very focused study and then headed to campus for two back-to-back meetings with colleagues (and even had a few spare minutes to meet John at the ArtBar coffeeshop in-between). After the meetings I walked home from campus (instead of taking the shuttle) to get in a bit of exercise. All-in-all it was super-productive and invigorating start to the day, which I hope to emulate in a similar fashion each day this week.

On Tuesdays and Thursday I teach from 8-9:30am so the day gets off to an early start, but it never seems as productive as when I start my day with my own agenda. I think I need to work on a routine that will help me to get busy as soon as class is over!

I’m curious, what rituals/routines help you to get a good start each morning?

feminism 101

So I’m taking a Women’s Studies class this quarter, which I really need. For too long I’ve been skirting around the edge of Feminist Theory, without ever diving in.

So today I read my first article, “Toward a Woman-Centered University,” by Adrienne Rich in 1973. I’ll share a few portions of the article that resonated with me, though I wish I could share all as I find it highly relevant to my daily life as a mother-academic. This article builds on Virginia Woolf’s notion of “A Room of Her Own” and “Three Guineas” to propose a model for a woman-friendly college. I would add that the changes that Rich proposes would be more human-friendly and parent-friendly (not just for women, IMO).

It is difficult to imagine, unless one has lived it, the personal division, endless improvising, and creative and intellectual holding back that for most women accompany the attempt to combine the emotional and physical demands of parenthood and the challenges of work.

As I write this I am sitting in the midst of laundry that needs folding, dishes that need washing, and 2 kids who are working on a rock-polishing project. While I love my life and I am thrilled by the creative tensions that occur in the process of ‘improvising’ my life, it is so not easy and sometimes I wonder if I am wasting my academic pursuits because I can’t devote full-time attention to them.

Later in her article she quotes Susan Sontag (another favorite author of mine):
The first responsibility of a ‘liberated’ woman is to lead the fullest, freest, and most imaginative life she can. The second responsibility is her solidarity with other women. She may live and work and make love with men. But she has no right to represent her situation as simpler, or less suspect, or less full of compromises than it really is. Her good relations with men must not be bought at the price of betraying her sisters.

Wow, there is a lot of meat in the quotation. I love the challenge that Sontag proposes–of living life as fully and imaginatively as possible. Yes, I have taken up that gauntlet. I’m not sure, though, that I have been completely honest about the challenges and compromises that I face in my academic path. Perhaps this is because I don’t discuss my academic path much at all on my blog? Perhaps it is just too raw? Perhaps my experience doesn’t involve such grand compromises because earlier women have paved the path for me to follow? I’ll continue to ruminate on these questions as I approach my later readings.

On the intellectual stimulation of children

When GameBoy was born, I was just finishing up my bachelor’s degree. It was a hard schedule–trying to study in the very little bit of free time that I had as a I cared for my young son. On top of that, I was sleep deprived. One day I was stretched out reading a novel for my English class on the bed with GB napping at my side. Within a few moments I feel asleep, too. When I awoke, I discovered that he had devoured the corner the corner of my book and had eaten half of the first two pages, too. My book was a gummy mess. At the time I thought it was pretty funny (though I did worry about the healthiness of wood pulp in his diet) and after that incident I was more careful from then on to keep my books out of his way. Now, whenever I run across Pamela I get a thrill of remembering that crazy-busy and joyful time in my life.

So an acquaintance was asking me about my kids, wondering if they ever complained about having been raised in the collegiate environment rather than a traditional middle-class lifestyle. I explained to her that GameBoy has been attending classes with me since he was in utero, as has CatGirl. They know no other way of life, though I think they have moments of imagining the way that “the Jones'” live. I have occasionally queried my kids about this. Would they rather live in a stand-alone house and have a Mom who wasn’t perpetually preoccupied with classes, research, and teaching? They say no, that they love our lifestyle. While I appreciate their affirmation, I do wonder how, later in life, they will react to their unique upbringing. Will they rebel by rejecting academic pursuits? Will they feel that they lost out on some essential childhood experience? Will they feel that they were too quickly thrust into the adult world of intellectuality?

It seems that everyone grows up with some sort of regret about their childhood. For example, have you ever heard anyone say that their formative years were just perfect? I suspect that we are all a bit envious of others’ experiences and we wonder if the grass wasn’t just a bit greener in someone else’s backyard. But, for now, as I see the amazing humans that my kids are becoming, I think I’ve done okay by them. They continue to digest the written word with ease (though through their brains rather than through their intestines nowadays), they have a passion for learning and a genuine curiosity about the world. They are gentle, kind, and nurturing. They have compassion for the needs of others. They share love and resources unselfishly. They can both be a bit shy, but they are rarely intimidated by adults; engaging deep conversations with people more than five times their age. It seems to me that my kids are empirical evidence that a lifestyle like ours “works,” and is laudable.

on blogging and balance


from my recent Xblog post:
“I was at lunch with a friend last week and she asked me what I’d been writing lately, and did I have any recent publications? Rather sheepishly, I told her that I’d been investing most of my creative energy into writing for blogs. And I haven’t had much left over time for writing stories, poetry, or academic articles.”

biography: Oliver Sacks


I’m writing a brief biographical article about Oliver Sacks for a forthcoming academic encyclopedia. It’s a thrill to be delving deep into the life and writings of one of my favorite authors. A few years ago Mike Davis sent one of my essays to his editor, describing my writing style as akin to Oliver Sacks’. I walked on clouds for a few weeks after that.

Below is a list of Sacks’ major publications. You probably know him best as Robin Williams’ character from the movie “Awakenings” (based on his novel with the same title). I suggest that you explore a few of his books. A Leg to Stand On is my personal favorite. The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat is probaby his most popular book. It’s good reading, too!

Sacks, Oliver. An Anthropologist on Mars: Seven Paradoxical Tales. New York: Vintage, 1996.
—. Awakenings. New York: Summit Books, 1987.
—. A Leg to Stand On. New York: HarperPerennial, 1990.
—. Migraine. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992.
—. Oaxaca Journal. Washington, D.C.: National Geographic, 2002.
—. Seeing Voices: A Journey into the World of the Deaf. New York: Harper Perennial, 1990.
—. The Island of the Colorblind; and, Cycad Island. New York: Vintage Books, 1998.
—. The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat: And Other Clinical Tales. New York: Touchstone, 1998.
—. Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Boyhood. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2001.