Limits · of · Sagacity

I don't think it's quite fair for people to take you for granted as the local race man if that's a role you're not comfortable in. It almost sounds like it might be better for your head to get away from it for a while. For what it's worth, I'm going to point you at Cobb so you can see if you find anything useful there; the experiences aren't parallel, but hey - maybe there's something in his toolbox you can use.

As for Native American SF, there was a fellow named Craig Strete doing Native American-themed SF back in the 1970s, and certainly R. A. Lafferty's Okla Hannali is on the ill-defined frontier between SF and magical realism. I think there's a lot of room for discussion as to where Native American, Hispanic and other non-Anglospheric people fit into SF, which I certainly agree is unique to Western Civilization as we know it.

SF may have started in the context of Western civilization, but it has always been subversive, and lends itself to the perspectives of other cultural viewpoints. There's no ownership there, I think, at least anymore.

And as for "Anglospheric" SF - that's a blind alley, and pretty Anglo-centric, to boot. It actually becomes a tautology, if pursued too hard. Or you end up back at ownership, which then gets into dominant vs. subordinate group relations. Feh.

Well, at the risk of exhibiting my ignorance, it's subversive only to the extent that it presents different futures (and alternative presents/pasts) that don't always agree with the dominant contemporary culture. To the extent that SF says there's going to be a future, and it's going to be better, it's totally on board with mainstream American attitudes. I think utopian SF has always been a outlier to the genre, not really representative of SF's mainstream.

I agree that it has always been open to other cultural perspectives. Sometimes it's been used as a way to examine other human cultures, by presenting them as alien cultures, which may actually make those cultures easier to understand for some people.

How is noting that SF has its roots in the Anglosphere a blind alley? Let's face it: the major authors, venues and works have almost all been American and British, with the exception of Jules Verne. I'm not at all saying that's where it has to be, or that it can't catch on anywhere else. I am saying that there are features peculiar to the Anglosphere that encouraged the development and growth of the genre, and made it more influential here than in other countries and cultures.

By defining SF=English-publishing SF, you've made an Anglo-centric mistake. What about all of the work published in Spanish, just for example, which has much more pride-of-place than the literary disdain for SF in English-speaking countries.

I think we're close to agreeing on much of it, though, and some of the remaining disagreement may simply be a difference in emphasis.

It's ironic that you mention Spanish SF. I speak the language, have some of the genes, and have some familiarity with the history, but thanks to be raised as a military brat I don't have any cultural connection to anything south of the Pyrenees/Rio Grande. I'd welcome any recommendations you might have in that area.

Like most American SF fans, I admit to viewing non-Anglosphere SF as something going on in "the colonies", as Bob Tucker once referred to Europe and Japan. With the exception of Stanislaw Lem, Karel Capek and a handful of others, though, you really don't get much exposure to foreign SF as an American fan unless you're actively looking for it.

izzybelbooks is working on this very topic. I'll see what she has been able to dig up (there's apparently a lot more than people realize).

This seems to be my day for getting SF recommendations - first a couple of friends recommended Richard K. Morgan's stuff, and now this. :)

It's a similar thing with LGBT...

Good luck bud.

Well, yeah. I had a chance to write a bit about that here - thank you for the support.

Thanks, I'll have to pick that up.

They were just talking about WEB DuBois the other day on "Philosophy Talks" on NPR. They mentioned this, and mentioned it in context with his conflicts with George Washington Carver. It was very interesting.

More to the point, there's a very good book I read recently called "Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny" by Amartya Sen. His major point is that multiculturalism (and to a certain extent, globalism, being an economics guy) should mean that everyone becomes aware of the fact that we are all composed not just of one, or a few, "memberships" in various identities, but many, and that we all, whether we like it or not, have to find ways to deal with all our identities. He sees being able to, as a society, have the space and culture to be able to accept this as absolutely necessary.

He makes a very good point that identity politics, which for example phrase recent events as a "battle between civilizations", force us into being just one thing, or nexus of things, like "Western Secular" or "Muslim", and goes on to detail how this is a recipe for violence.

I can't help but agree. It's probably naive, but I would prefer to eschew category when it comes to things like literature; much of the best SF is the best precisely because it has challenged the dominant culture of it's time. Not always well, or without a raft of it's own problems, but often.

So Native (and yes, subversive) SF would be, I think, in good company. Certainly, when folks like Delaney started, I doubt that they were trying to write standard "white guys in space" fiction. Reacting to it, and perhaps against it, certainly. But of all the genres I'm aware of, SF is perhaps the least bound by convention; yes, it's full of racism, sexism, misogyny, homophobia. It certainly at times descends into jingoism and bigotry. But there are times, a lot of times, where it truly does transcend all that. Sometimes it does both simultaneously.

Bob Terry, in his essay "The Ups and Downs" says:

"What makes an up an up and a down a down is that an up can do more to a down than a down can do to an up." He goes on from there to point out that we are all ups and downs simultaneously, and we move from up-ness to down-ness (and vice versa) often without noticing. And he then goes on to say that this business of not noticing is an important part of the problem.

So, yeah, I find myself cut into pieces when I get asked to fit into one box. Ain't happenin' -

*nods* Yep. Power can't be forgotten, as much as many want it to be. The hardest thing I find, as someone who by dint of birth and background is accepted as "one of us" by the dominant culture (as long as I keep my mouth shut about certain things) is trying to convince others of similar backgrounds of their power and privilege. It's shocking to me how hard that is, but it's a necessary step for them (and me) to take before we can even try to start having any sort of understanding or solidarity with the rest of humanity. It's interesting how this expands out, too, and how different standards of what power or privilege mean make things different all over the world.

Oddly, part of what made me realize my own position was living in Java. I will never be Javanese, I was told in so many words, so my opinions (and much else) were not something that anyone would concern themselves with, except as entertainment. That's an experience I would wish on nearly everyone from a privileged background.

In no small part, I think that this has something to do with a sort of "spiritual maturity" - naturally I would think that, given my training. But the ability to see others as they truly are, even those we are very close to, and not project on them our own fears and hopes and assumptions; on a day to day level, that's a challenge. But it does serve to keep people out of boxes, and pieces.

i get where you're coming from re: teaching [sort of]. i got to TA for the lone woman in UIUC's Philosophy Dept, during the [you guessed it] obligatory Philosophy of Feminism class. she was pretty much flat up told as she was hired that it would be one of her required job duties as the only woman on staff [at that point. to give UIUC </i>some</i> credit, they've had up to, what, 3 women on a faculty of 15 or so?].

Yep - re: Philosophy Dept. decision-making "process" - let's really miss the point in a really big way, shall we? (wry smile)

Put another way - it shouldn't be the responsibility of the people in the subordinated group to deal with, explain, and do the work of responding to discrimination on the part of the dominant group. But one of the ways in which those in the dominant group use their privilege is to put that onus on the subordinate group - often as a "reward" because of their "advantage" in understanding what's going on. Which then lets the dominant group feels special (gold medal, anybody?) for recognizing the problem, but excuses them from having to do anything about it.

(sigh)

Hmmm. I see this all the time, come to think of it. Handy way of dealing with the issue.

It seems a similar tactic to another one I see a lot, especially at work, with management talking to the workers. It basically goes like this.

Workers: "Things are broken! This is terrible! Do something!"

Management: "I disagree with the premise of your question."

Workers: "What? That's absurd! It's patently obvious we're failing in major areas!"

Management: "Well, if you really feel that strongly, I think we should start an employee discussion on that; please do that and report back to us in 6 months"

Workers: "Ummm. Will you listen to what we have to say? Will you do anything?"

Management: "We respect your opinions. Remember, you "own your own career"
here, so make the most of it. We have an "open door policy", so bring your complaints to us any time"

Excellent tactics. Get other people to do things. Deny anything is wrong. Give yourself a big pat on the back for listening and enabling them.

I wonder if this is a general pattern in power relations?

And yet, wouldn't there be a huge outcry in most places if a man tried to teach a Women's Studies course (for example)? I strongly suspect it would be seen as "yet another way women are being marginalized."

...all of which essentializes identity and re-embeds inequality in a way that makes it impossible for anyone to say anything outside of their own experience.

Let's back up a little bit - a "Women's Studies" course is going to cover a lot of things, and in particular, it will likely get into structural inequality and sexism. These are things that men need to address in meaningful ways if we're going to solve anything.

...all of which essentializes identity and re-embeds inequality in a way that makes it impossible for anyone to say anything outside of their own experience.

That definitely touches on some of what I've been thinking about and saying here. Where is the line between seeing each of us as an island unto ourselves and seeing us (or at least "us" within some category) as homogeneous in every way? That's an intrinsic part of many human struggles.

I'm not sure I can express this adequately, so bear with me.

I think that identity is not essential, it's constructed out of relations with others. As much as we like to think of ourselves as islands, I don't think we are.

Given this, when we identify ourselves as being a particular thing, what we're doing is taking a given set of relations (past, present, and future expectations), generalizing them, and internalizing them.

This seems to be tied to memory and emotion in a definite way that I'm not particularly equipped to explain. However, it seems like something we all do.

There are probably very good reasons for this. Pattern matching and expecting things to go particular ways are essential talents that humans have, and are essential tools for us to navigate our existence. Determining that a mushroom is poisonous is something we probably only have to do once, and we can learn from someone else eating it.

But, when it comes to dealing with other humans, it tends to get in the way. We get ignored, misinterpreted, misunderstood, and when there is a power dynamic going on, we can get put into positions we don't want to be in. In fact, I might argue that in some ways, that misunderstanding and misinterpretation, in fact, the whole abstraction process, is one of the things that generates and sustains power.

Given that, a natural progression follows. We aren't understood/respected, so we define ourselves against that. We dehumanize as we are dehumanized. This brings solidarity with others who define themselves similarly, and provides a bulwark against the depredations of others who don't understand us, or respect us. If we push back, a similar thing happens on the other end. At this point, we're just smacking each others identities into each other; there is very little real communication, or relationship happening.

Most frighteningly, this process can be created in others (case in point being the radio broadcasts in Rwanda) and used for political ends.

This may sound like I'm not very happy with any sort of identification. That's not actually true. I think it's important to realize the identifications (plural) that are in part handed you by the larger societal workings of this process, and I don't think we have any choice to play in that space. It's already set up for us. But what I do think we can do is make that more nuanced, and be open to real relationships, and most importantly, never fall into the trap of making the person we are relating to an "exception" to our general ideas about what particular identities they have mean.

I think that's everyone's responsibility. No one can get a pass on that part.

But, for those of us who's identities bring us power, we have an additional responsibility, I agree with you. It means that we MUST never ignore the connections that we have and the power we have over others. So, bringing it back around, placing the onus of teaching about things like structural inequality on those on the losing side of that is wrong, for the very reason that we then box that issue in with the conception of the "other", and can ignore it. It's not very effective, either. Frankly put, if people in positions of power have any real interest in changing those power relations, then they have to lend that power into the discussion, as an asset they can bring, bring it into consideration in a frank communication between humans, understand how it operates, and be able to put it aside in preference to real relationship.

Precisely. Thank you.

I don't understand how we can "never ignore ... the power we have over others" and still "be able to put it aside in preference to real relationship." Aren't "never ignore" and "put aside"--not exactly contradictory, but working against each other? If we "put aside" the power, isn't it just the elephant in the corner?

Being aware of it means having the capability of managing it. It is then at least somewhat possible to put it aside. Sure, it's still there, but you can work around it.

To take a rather practical example, I have relationships with people who could, if they wanted to, break me in half. Large, strong, some of them trained to do that sort of thing, or with violent tempers. I and they are both aware of this fact, but we have managed to put that aside and have good, trusting, non-violent relationships in spite of the fact that they are more powerful than I am, physically.

I think that this can work on other levels of power too, the same way. I have to realize that I'm more powerful, and make it a non-issue by building up trust, allaying fears, and not using that power in the context of the relationship. But I can only do that if I am aware of my power, and how I use it, or choose not to.

Belated question: how did it go being the TA for the course?

the prof, Kate Abramson, was one of my faves there. thankfully, she got the hell out of UIUC before long.
I got to largely serve at a second opinion that no, she wasn't crazy for saying that feminism was important, still important. happily, more students raised hands to the "do you consider yourself a feminist" question at the end of the semester. it was amazing, however, the number of people in the class who considered the question of sexism and gender oppression to be moot.

I was only a grader for the course [cakewalk] and was limited to helping provide real world examples to [again] help student understand that Kate wasn't just making shit up. in all, a better experience than being discussion section TA for a large 101 class the next semester. boy, did that help cure me of academia. [there were many reasons I left grad school, but that 101 course helped clarify many of them]

*listening*

No, it shouldn't be the non-dominant group's responsibility to educate the dominant group about the issue of their dominance, but--do you really trust the dominant group to do it? If white people design the course and pick the texts and teach the course, doesn't that smack of...oh, I don't know...something like history being written by the badgers victors?

Well, yeah. That's the obvious danger. There's a need for those in dominant positions to recognize the power imbalance *and* want to do something about it. The Freedom Riders are an example of this, I think. But in so doing, such people risk the wrath of those in power.

What I'm trying to get at (I'm feeling particularly "senior-momented" and inarticulate this morning!) is this: won't what a white person teaches inevitably be filtered through the white experience? If they're teaching white people, where's the reality check? (Yes, proper texts are helpful, but for many students, the teacher's voice--especially a teacher they can relate to--sounds louder than the texts.) And if they're teaching people of color, how presumptuous.

B ran into something like this when he took a course (I forget exactly which one it was) about Asian American writers from a white instructor. Her interpretation of the texts struck him in places as quite clueless.

I know a great deal about growing up as Asian in the reasonably mixed society of inner-city Minneapolis, but I still only know it as an observer. No matter how well I know my kids (and they, me) and no matter how involved in their lives I have been and no matter how much (as any good parent) I feel their joy and pain, I'm still not Asian American.

The Freedom Riders seem to me a different thing; they were acting, not teaching.

I had to think about this a little bit. Generally, I agree with you about the dangers implicit in letting those in dominant groups attempt to teach about the dominant/subordinate relationship. But a good bit of your objection arises, I think, from the idea that there's nobody there to offer a critique of the teaching. If those in dominant positions resist or reject any critiques, they will end up reifying that dominant/subordinate relationship. Put another way, it's not so much a potentially error-ridden lecture as an opportunity for dialog.

And while this is an interesting issue, it's also a side-step from my original point that the responsibility for unlearning racism or sexism, etc. (and then undoing racism, sexism, etc.) ought not be placed on the shoulders of those in subordinate positions.

You know, this is all very tricky--just discussing this with you could be construed (has been construed by some people in the past) as my putting the responsibility for educating me on your shoulders. Where is the line between friends discussing things (even if they are things that they and/or other people have discussed and written books about and taught classes about before) and "Teach me, oh Person of Color"?

I don't know enough about the current structure of academia to know what kind of critiques teachers might get at the higher levels. And certainly white (or male, or straight, or TAB*) teachers can teach the facts: what happened, how it happened, statistics, events, and so on. But there again we get into that history-belongs-to-the-victors thing. They can teach about how they came to their -ism and ask students to explore their own. But is that enough? If it were, why would any of these classes use texts from the non-dominant groups? If it's all about me being racist, why does it matter to me what you have experienced?

This may all be strongly influenced (in various ways) by my own extreme distaste for being told what I think, feel, or experience by people who haven't walked in my shoes--heck, by anyone, actually, no one else being privy to my actual thoughts and feelings, but only to what they observe of what I communicate (intentionally or otherwise), and to only what they observe of my experiences.

*TAB=temporarily able-bodied

P.S. My initial response to "I had to think about this a little bit" was "Ah, my work here is finished." Truly, my day is made when I discover that I have given an intelligent person something to think about.

(chuckle) You generally make me think. And a LOT, too, sometimes. :)

Where is the line? Well, it has to do with power. Where it is located, and how it gets used. The "[t]each me, oh Person of Color" is indicative of the power and privilege white people have, specifically in getting to ignore it (the same goes for men, straight folks, TAB - I *like* that acronym, BTW). The use of texts and experiences of people who are part of subordinate groups is useful to the extent that they reveal that dominant/subordinate relationship and dynamic. But it isn't enough to stop there; you need to explore what the implications are for people in dominant groups. kashma talks about this in another response here. I would recommend it.

The "[t]each me, oh Person of Color" is indicative of the power and privilege white people have, specifically in getting to ignore it

Yes, I understand that. But I have had the experience (more than once, less than ten times) of having what I thought was a conversation, an exchange of ideas, with someone who was at least a friendly acquaintance, only to have them at some point accuse me of requiring them to educate me. Now maybe it's privilege to think I'm having a friendly conversation when I'm actually being an asshole, but it doesn't seem much like privilege to be treated like an asshole when I'm not seeking education at all, but think I was having an exchange of ideas with a peer.

The assumption behind this seems to be that the white person (man, straight, TAB) can't possibly already know anything about the topic of conversation, and therefore any attempt on their part to discuss it with the person of color (woman, GLBT person, person with a disability) is a demand for education. That tends to discourage a lot of attempts at conversation.

I really don't think I'm entirely clueless here, as not only am I a woman, but I have spent the past 24 years as the parent of kids who (1) are adopted, (2) are Korean, and (3) have disabilities. This means that I am also a member of a multiracial family, and I at one time had three kids under 5, and later four kids under 10. I have some passing familiarity with being asked intrusive questions, stupid questions, and repetitious questions, as well as honest and polite but definitely "educate me" questions.

It's hard to diagnose without actually having been there, but I have to suspect that you got the backblast from lots of previous encounters with people who were clueless. Which is uncalled for and unfortunate, but also not all that surprising. (Put another way, people in subordinate positions can be idiots, too.)

And dialogs are not always clean and clear; something to do to defuse the tension is to talk about parallels between your experience in a subordinate group, and the subordinate position the other person is in. Of course, even this does not always work - talking about one's experiences as a member of the LGBT community might NOT go over well with someone who is African American and Christian. I suspect you might have tried this, though.

(Put another way, people in subordinate positions can be idiots, too.)

Well, yeah. That.

I suspect you might have tried this, though.

Not so much. The only really subordinate group I'm in is "women," and I simply haven't had the kinds of bad experiences that so many women report, so I don't have a lot to talk about. (In fact, I have been explicitly told by other women more than once that I don't "count" in discussions because I haven't experienced [fill in indignity or abuse].)

But the "educate me" thing--yeah, I've been on the receiving end of that.

For some additional thoughts on this process, check out this post.

I don't want to quote from a post without permission, but that person's line about trying to slip things in so that people say, "Oh, I never thought of that" is certainly what I try to do.

I've read the comments so far... and wanted to point out an experience I had.
While at the U of M, I took an African class that was taught by a Caucasian (at least, to look at her, one would assume so) female.
I thought she did by far the best job of all the "minority culture classes" (My minor at the U was Minority Studies) in presenting such very sensitive topics as slavery in Africa and the on into the New World of America from a cultural and historical perspective. I was sad to witness how nervous she was before we broached this part of African and then American history.. and how many disclaimers she felt she had to say before we could move forward into this part of the class. I learned a great many things from that class that I remember and sometimes discuss with others as appropriate. The point is: Now and then, I think back on what a delicate position she must have felt she was in.... lecturing about African culture when she obviously looked rather Caucasian, though I found her to be very qualified.

2nd Thought: Do not like to think of badger2305 cut or in pieces! No one does - but certainly not someone of your caliber!

3rd Thought: "One of the greatest gifts one being can give another is to sit in
acceptance of their complete and entire selves."
That's a quote from me... after musing about some of what I saw and heard at Wiscon this year.
That's pretty much what I wish we could all do for each other.

3rd Thought: oh, yeah!
2nd Thought: I'm agin' it, myself.
1st Thought: well, yeah. Establishing one's credentials can be tricky at the best of times. When I first started teaching about race and ethnicity, I would not actually identify my own racial background, for fear that it would turn the class discussion towards me as a person, rather than what I was teaching. I've gotten to the point now where I will mention my racial background as a useful illustration of how my experience has given me certain insights into these issues that others may not have (and conversely, I'm interested about my students' insights from their own experiences).

1st Thought/response: I can see where mentioning your background as a useful illustration of your experience would be ...well.. useful. I like your approach to being interested in your students' insights as well. Gee, if we all learned to relate and understand each other just a little, think what this world could be!
:\

2nd thought/response: GOOD! :D
3rd thought: Glad you liked it!! :D

if this is too much trouble, i totally understand, but if you have them available in softcopy, i'd love to see copies of your syllabi for the race/ethnicity classes you've taught. (then i can go look up the readings lists. woo!)

Heh. Here are the textbooks I used:

Gallagher, Charles A. 2004. Rethinking the Color Line: Readings in Race and Ethnicity (2nd edition). Boston: McGraw Hill.
Aguirre, Adalberto Jr. and Jonathan H. Turner. 2004. American Ethnicity: The Dynamics and Consequences of Discrimination (4th edition). Boston: McGraw Hill.

Aguirre and Turner have a Unified Field Theory of Discrimination that I do not totally buy. Gallagher is a decent anthology of articles and essays. I'll see what I can do to put together a list of the articles I actually used.

On a much lighter note, I found myself thinking about the "racial draft" episode of the Dave Chapelle Show, in which the various races draft celebrities with mixed-race heritage. I thought it was pretty damned funny. Alas, there are no videos available on-line (I think the ones that were posted were removed for copyright reasons). The Whites got Colin Powell, the Blacks took Tiger Woods, and the Asians drafted the Wu-Tang Clan.

The Whites got Colin Powell? How....appropriate. :)

That makes two of us who feel insecure as light-skinned Native Americans.

On a brighter note, I'm looking forward to being back in Iowa so Kyle and I can hang out with you--you know, in between the thesis whatnot on your part and frantically applying to grad schools on our part.

Badger, Russell Bates, a Kiowa, wrote some interesting science fiction in the 70s and 80s; don't know what he's doing now. He won an Emmie for a Star Trek cartoon that used Native American symbols for an extraterrestrial race.

Joe Haldeman