out in africa

Passing Through

2007-10-25T08:53:00.000+02:00

I’m in my last 30 or so hours here, and my sadness is increasing by the moment. Though it’s nice to head homeward before feeling “finished” with this place, I know I leave many a stone unturned. I’m also a bit haunted by an offhand comment made by a researcher during a presentation I attended here. She presented material from a project she is doing on black lesbians with HIV, the vast majority of whom contracted it as the result of rape. She discussed some of the challenges of doing “insider” research, particularly on such a heavy topic, becoming embedded in communities where there is such great need (emotional/psychological, but also material), forging bonds and friendships with women only to watch some of them die. She described the psychic toll such work took on her, her need to stop doing the interviews for six months at one point, to heal from what she’d already experienced.

Despite the heaviness of her material, she also has a congenial nature and seemed at ease in the front of a room. As she was discussing these things, she motioned to the front row, where I was sitting, and joked, “When you’re Tey from New York, you just come, take get you want and leave.” There was nervous laughter in the room- by that point, many in attendance knew me and the work I’ve been doing here. My stomach dropped. I felt both embarrassed and sad. Because, on some level, though I know the comment was made without anger or even ill feeling, (I know the speaker, have spoken with her many times,) I also know she’s right.

This is not unconnected to my thoughts on poverty tourism. What does it mean that I can come here, interview activists and lawyers, collect my “data” and escape to my comfortable liberal urban life in New York? How does that fact feel for the people I’ve met here? I admit to reassuring more than one person of my imminent return, as it has become increasingly clear that some of the resistance to my presence (or mild “hazing”) I endured toward the beginning of my time here, was a direct result of individual people’s experiences of western researchers coming here, extracting people’s stories and leaving, often to publish work in which people feel used or misrepresented, often never to return.

There are a few ways I’ve confronted some of these questions in my time here. For now, all of my interview subjects hold positions at regarded NGOs, and though they did speak autobiographically with me, they did so, for the most part, in their “official” capacities. I stayed clear of questions that seek to elicit traumatic personal memories, though I received such information in small bits through the stories I heard. In everything I’ve done here, I’ve tried to be open to forging relationships with whomever I can, but also constantly cognizant of my status as “outsider,” and outsider with rapidly emptying hourglass…

And so, in my last day and a half here, I’m really wishing I knew when I could return. Not just because my “work” remains very unfinished, but because, as I’ve interrogated my place here, as I’ve talked to dozens of people, and forged nascent friendships with a few, I’ve come to realize that I don’t want to be a “researcher” who visits this place, leaves, writes, moves on and never returns. Something about this place, its fragility, the people I’ve met, leaves a deep imprint on me- and I’m in no way finished engaging with it or them- or with these issues of who I am in this place and best I can negotiate that.

I’m unsure what to do with the blog once I return home. I may use it to help me formulate thoughts or observations on my experiences over the past six weeks. I may just save it for my next journey here, whenever that may be. Any suggestions?

Jacaranda

2007-10-22T19:58:00.000+02:00

And now for something totally aesthetic and not-at-all intellectual (or “esoteric” as my partner’s mother recently labeled this blog)…

I’ve just returned from 5 days in Cape Town, and beyond merely being relieved to be back in a city that FEELS like a city, complete with grit and density and the spirit that Joburg has- it seems the Jacaranda have exploded in my absence. Jacaranda trees are everywhere in Gauteng, and their purple blossoms litter the ground everywhere I look, the formal announcement of spring. (or exam season- at Wits, a popular saying goes, “once you see the Jacaranda bloom, you know it’s already too late to start studying for your exams!”) Melville, the part of Joburg I’m living in is lined with them- and they are breathtaking. Just thought I’d share… I'm sad I won't get to see the season truly run its course, but I'm headed home on Friday…

Poverty Tourism

2007-10-20T17:42:00.000+02:00

It started with an email. I dashed off a quick note to Ayesha, the head of the IHRE program, for which I’m teaching, telling her I heard that group tours were a cheaper way than taxis to get into Soweto and I wondered if she had an opinion of which was the best one to take. I’ve been to Soweto with friends a number of times since coming to Johannesburg (or “Jozi,” as my locals call it)- for Soweto Pride, to visit some friends of friends, for the best dinner I’ve had here (mutton curry and pap at Nambitha’s on Vilakazi Street). My friends, however, don’t seem much interested in visiting the Hector Peterson museum, (named for the 12 yr old boy, one of 20 school children shot and killed during the Soweto uprising of 1976), featured in this iconic newspaper photo:
I'd like to see it, and I'm increasingly aware of how little time remains for me here. Ayesha wrote back, giving me the name of a well-known tour company, but telling me also that she objects to township tourism- a viewpoint with which my sympathies lay more and more. I had called this company the day before, but was put off by the invitation to tour a local church and enter the homes of residents in an “informal settlement.” Something about it felt invasive. I was uncomfortable…

This weekend, I’m in Cape Town for a batch of interviews and a few hours of relaxation by the water. Cape Town really feels like a tourist city to me, particularly the closer one gets to the ocean(s). It seems I can’t go anywhere without being approached by a barker or seeing a flyer proclaiming, “ Come for a township tour! Witness first hand the living conditions, joys and sadness of the ‘townships’ where the Democratic revolution was nurtured and fought. Home to Cabinet Ministers, poets, gangsters and workers!”

So, I’ve been thinking- what is it about bearing witness to poverty that appeals to so many visitors? Is it the particularity of South African history and the clear role of the township as a symbol of the apartheid government’s racist ideology? Is it the rare opportunity to "visit" poverty in relative safety, to see but to not have to stay? What's the draw? There is an incredibly engaging and vibrant culture in Soweto, but that’s not what these brochures seem to advertise.

So, I felt awfully clever when I thought of the term “poverty tourism.” Of course, I’m not the first to think of it. A quick Google search revealed a host of hits, including this article from the Mail & Guardian, a liberal SA paper, on the potential salutary effects of poverty tourism- money for the people in the communities. At least one interviewee claims that he doesn't find the traipsing of tourists through his home invasive... so does that make my discomfort paternalistic?

To be fair, it's also not just tourists who've been bitten by the township bug. A book on the SA bestseller lists this week, Khayalitsha: uMlungu in a Township, tells the story of an Afrikaans journalist's time living as the sole white person in "Khaya," a notoriously poverty-ridden township outside Cape Town. And that is the entire plot of the book- the fact that he did this- and copies are flying off the shelves as locals reach for their own glimpse into township life. (As more than one person has told me, the only white people who actually set foot in the townships are tourists; the locals avoid them or drive through at top speed.)

Anyway, I’m undecided about what to do- do I take the tour, refusing the parts that make me uncomfortable, or forfeit the chance to see the landmarks I’d like to see? An invocation of larger questions of outsider-ship that have been plaguing me in my time here...

Narrowing the Field of Possibilities

2007-10-10T17:46:00.001+02:00

Hi, my peeps,

So, I think I’ve narrowed it down to two possible dissertation topics. Anyone care to weigh in? (C’mon, NYUers, I know you’re reading…)

OPTION #1: “Rainbow Nation: Democracy and the Consolidation of LGBT Political Community in South Africa, 1986-2006.”

South Africa is a fascinating paradox for anyone interested in studying sexual rights: one the one hand, it has the most liberal egalitarian Constitution in existence, which enshrines both gender equality and protections for sexual minorities. On the other hand, a deeply entrenched culture of patriarchal and homophobic violence mocks these revolutionary principles, creating a climate of fear and intolerance that is deeply palpable. It seems that the story of sexual rights in South Africa has reached a tipping point, where either these new rights will take hold and begin to create substantive social change, or the active, de facto resistance to this new legal regime will render these rights virtually meaningless for many LGBT South Africans. The story of how this came to be engages South Africa’s processes of democratization and constitution-making, as well as its rapid (by comparative standards) mobilization of a large network of NGOs focusing on sexual rights. This dissertation project examines the relationship between South Africa’s democratization and the consolidation of a Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender political community. I want to analyze the rapid NGO-ization of sexual rights here, and its accompanying schemas of authenticity and authority, as well as it’s racial politics- and how they affect and are affected by the surrounding culture of patriarchal gender relations and violent resistance to sexual rights. By doing this, I hope to gain insight into the classic sociological question of whether law can, in fact, create social change.

OPTION #2: “Beyond the Body: Toward a New Theory of Gender-Based Violence”

This idea is less formed in my head, but I’ve got a bunch of data collected which I plan to analyze once I’m home. Broadly, I want to level a critique of the concept of “gender-based violence” employed by international human rights activists and NGOs. Essentially, the argument goes like this: the typical idea of gender-based violence relies on two distinct principles: (1) an essentialized notion of harm, (2) to a female body. Thus, IHR activists concern themselves with violent things that happen to womens' bodies: marital rape, genital cutting, veiling, etc. My work in South Africa provides evidence that there are many types of harm elided by these formulations: there are forms of gender-based violence that are about gender stereotyping and/or sexuality (e.g. reparative rape of lesbian women because they are lesbians, the identification of lesbians for attack because of atypical gender performance). There are also ideological forms of gender violence, like patriarchy and its associated legal regimes, property laws, legal exclusions, etc. There are institutional forms of gender violence, like the failure of police to intervene in domestic violence cases, because that is the “private” sphere, or the lack of specific policing or tallying of hate-based criminal activity. It would seem that the limited formulation of gender violence by human rights activists allows them to avoid engaging with thorny issues of cultural practice and western interventionism, but at the same time, it exacts its own consequences in the form of limited public understandings of what gender actually means. The dissertation would examine the history of debates around gender violence in a selection of cultural contexts, American, African, and possibly a third, to make sense of what might be done to forge a more comprehensive model.

What do you think? I'm listening... (See under-used "Comments" option below...)

The 07-07-07 Campaign

2007-10-07T21:40:00.000+02:00

“Sizakele and Salome should have been here.”

This was the slogan embalzened on the t-shirts on marchers at Soweto Pride last weekend. It adorned signs and banners at the parade yesterday, too.

I realize that I’ve been mum about my actual research agenda here, and there have been a number of reasons: First, it’s shifted a bit as I’ve made myself available to what I’m experiencing. Second, though six weeks away from home can feel like a very long time, six weeks in a new cultural context, in a new community of people, in a new place- well, it’s actually not much time at all. I am almost four weeks in and I feel very green, and I’m still working on getting the lay of the land.

I can say this - there is an epidemic of horrific violence against black lesbians in South Africa. On July 7th, 2007, two lesbian women were raped and murdered in Soweto. A few weeks later, a 19 year-old lesbian was killed in KwaZulu Natal. Recent statistics from some community-based research show that astronomical levels of homophobia are experienced by LGBT people here, but black lesbians, in particular, are increasingly the targets of gruesome, often sexualized, violence and harassment (often from members of their own families and communities). Pride photos from yesterday show signs for the 07-07-07 Campaign- a coalition of activists and organizations here working to end this rampant homophobic violence.

I’ve been working in and among many of these activists during my time here, and I’m bearing witness to incredible spirit in the midst of daunting obstacles. South Africa has a deeply ingrained culture of patriarchal violence, in general- and a big, big crime problem. As we know from many examples from all over the globe, there is often a rise in crime and violence that accompanies the aftermath of democratic transitions- but the deeply gendered nature of what’s going on here feels, to me, particular to this time and place. Many people here fear violence, carry that fear with them daily- but the burden that rests on black lesbians, and in particular, masculine women, is deep and heavy.

This story seems to have galvanized people across the globe. Do a Google search for “Sizakele and Salome” and you’ll find articles and blog posts from the US, Europe, the UK, Africa, Asia… Marches and demonstrations have happened in many cities. People are touched. I find myself also deeply affected by it, even as I stand in solidarity and in wait for my return to a place where I feel mostly safe on the street. And, it goes to the heart of so much of what I do in my life and my work- which is to think about the ways in which our ideas of gender matter, what happens when we deviate from those norms what are the prices that we pay, emotionally, bodily, materially.

Anyway, for those who are interested, there is much to be found on the web about the campaign, including info on some of the more than 20 organizations joining together in protest of the police inaction on their behalf. Read up on it- I imaigne you'll be moved, too.

Pride in Pictures

2007-10-06T15:41:00.000+02:00

Johannesburg came out in full force today for Pride 2007, despite some pretty inhospitable weather.

Politics, and in particular, antiviolence campaigns made a big appearance...

As did pagentry...

There was a loud call to move next year's parade to Soweto, from the upper middle class enclave of Rosebank, where it was held this year.

Oddly enough, I seem to run into these guys everywhere. (They are often on street corners carrying the same sign.) I didn't realize they were gay!!!

A demo by many of the people I've been getting to know during the after-party was a call to action on behalf of recent victims of homophobic violence.

New Friends

2007-10-04T21:26:00.000+02:00

So, I've had a number of uninvited houseguests in my brief few weeks here- but I think tonight's is my favorite. Because he's fuzzy. And persistent. A prize from me to anyone who can tell me what on earth he is.

Vital stats: 3-4 inches long, slow-moving, curls into itself when swatted with a broom. Appears agorophobic. Has creepy, shiny legs.

UPDATE: We have a winner in the "Name that Bug!" contest! Dr. Mark R. Meadow entered the first plausible submission late last night. It appears that our furry friend is, in fact, a Tolype (or "rabbit looking moth." See photos of his (slightly more fashioable) friends:

For more bug fun, check out the Name That Bug website.

(un)Civil Disobedience

2007-10-03T18:29:00.000+02:00

Campus was abuzz with nervous energy today. Wits announced a few days ago that there is to be a significant tuition increase for next year, as well as the conversion of many campus dorms to private corporate owners, (an interesting microcosm of larger neoliberal campaigns here). There were protesting students marching throughout the campus, singling, chanting, clapping their hands. The protest wasn’t confined to the hallways and sidewalks, either- students were marching directly into classrooms, disrupting classes and insisting that their fellow students disband to join the march. (Many of those protesting are here from neighboring, embattled Zimbabwe. As international students, they stand to suffer the sharpest increases in tuition fees, up to 45%- and at a time when they and their families can least afford it. For more on this, see
this story from today's edition of The Zimbabwean.) Anyway, Wesahl (my co-instructor) delivered a warning to me as we walked to class from her office- apparently, apart from destroying lots of campus property during the last tuition strike, protesters also assaulted fellow students who refused to leave their classrooms when directed. An “either you’re with us or against us” credo reigned.

So, as you can imagine, I felt a bit tense when five minutes into our class meeting, I heard distant chants form within the law school building itself. Wesahl and I made eye contact from our respective positions at the front of the room- what to do? Do we simply let our students (those who appeared for class) leave? Do we wait to be interrupted and then disband, forefitting our valuable class time? I knew instantly that were it just me, I’d wait and see what happened. But I was acutely aware of my responsibility for the 10 or so students in the room- they would stay if I told them to and go if I told them to. Instinctively, though- Wesahl and I both shrugged and decided we’d leave if they came and interrupted us. We made sure to distribute the handouts early in the class and to make all necessary announcements, just in case.

As luck would have it, because it’s a small classroom with no windows, the marchers came down our hallway and kept on going, right past our door.

I must admit I was disappointed. Part of me really wanted to see what would happen. I felt a solidarity with the marchers, and wanted to cheer on their sentiment, if not their tactics. We talked in class for a bit about the spirit of dissent being an integral part to university culture. For me, apart from today’s events, there is something about being in this place that awakens my activist spirit. Perhaps it is the blanket injustice I see happening all around me- but I also think it’s more the richness of the political culture here. Our class is mostly American students, as well- and this felt like a decidedly different sort of protest than the kind we see on our campuses back home. There was that hint of danger to it, of uncontrollability. It was also another poignant lesson in how the occasional incident of unrest creates a climate of fear that far outweighs any actual risk. I found the discomfort exciting- and I guess my students did too, as later on in the day, while walking towards my waiting ride home, I came upon the crowd of protesters rallying inside Senate House (one of the main university buildings). I recognized a handful of my students among them.

Overload

2007-10-02T21:50:00.001+02:00

Alright- I know, I’ve been neglecting the blog. The pace of life here has increased, and I’m finding myself with more to do than I’ve got time in which to do it all. And my mind is spinning with all of the sensory “input.” Stay tuned for tales of Soweto Pride 2007, the Forum for the Empowerment of Women’s Conference on fostering black lesbian Leadership, book launch of the prison letters of Simon Nikoli, and the excellent experience of teaching Islamic law with my new colleague Wesahl- as soon as I’ve come up for some air…

Meanwhile, business as usual back home...

2007-09-27T20:29:00.000+02:00

A disturbing briefing from SRLP at home...

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Police Brutality Strikes Fifth Anniversary of Sylvia Rivera Law Project
Contacts:
Jack Aponte jack (AT) srlp (DOT) org
Naomi Clark naomi (AT) srlp (DOT) org

NEW YORK - On the night of Wednesday, September 26, officers from the 9th Precinct of the New York Police Department attacked without provocation members of the Sylvia Rivera Law Project and of its community. Two of our community members were violently arrested, and others were pepper sprayed in the face without warning or cause.

The Sylvia Rivera Law Project is an organization that works on behalf of low-income people of color who are transgender, gender non-conforming, or intersex, providing free legal services and advocacy among many other initiatives. On Wednesday night, the Sylvia Rivera Law Project was celebrating its fifth anniversary with a celebration and fundraising event at a bar in the East Village.

A group of our community members, consisting largely of queer and transgender people of color, witnessed two officers attempting to detain a young Black man outside of the bar. Several of our community members asked the officers why they were making the arrest and using excessive force. Despite the fact that our community was on the sidewalk, gathered peacefully and not obstructing foot traffic, the NYPD chose to forcefully grab two people and arrested them. Without warning, an officer then sprayed pepper spray across the group in a wide arc, temporarily blinding many and causing vomiting and intense pain.

"This is the sort of all-too-common police violence and overreaction towards people of color that happens all the time," said Dean Spade, founder of the Sylvia Rivera Law Project. "It's ironic that we were celebrating the work of an organization that specifically opposes state violence against marginalized communities, and we experienced a police attack at our celebration."

"We are outraged, and demand that our community members be released and the police be held accountable for unnecessary use of excessive force and falsely arresting people," Spade continued.

Damaris Reyes is executive director of GOLES, an organization working to preserve the Lower East Side. She commented, "I'm extremely concerned and disappointed by the 9th Precinct's response to the situation and how it escalated into violence. This kind of aggressive behavior doesn't do them any good in community-police relations."

Supporters will be gathering at 100 Centre Street tomorrow, where the two community members will be arraigned. The community calls for charges to be dropped and to demand the immediate release of those arrested.

Marx on Cell Phones?

2007-09-23T00:00:00.000+02:00

First, an explanation why I’m not sharing details about my research itself: I’ve really only just begun, and it's hard to see any forest beyond the trees right now. But more than that, the research I’ve done so far has been pretty intense for me- both because of its content and because of the inevitable insecurities that accompany a first trip into “the field.” I’m not sure I really want to broadcast any of that at this point- though for those who are interested to receive a few small details privately, email me. Suffice it to say that the richness of my experience thus far proves difficult to articulate, even in my own reflective writing.

So, I’ll divert back to sharing the interesting tidbits of consumer culture here. First, absolutely everyone has a cell phone here. EVERYONE. Many people without much money buy very (by US standards) inexpensive phones (a baseline model can cost as little as $20.) The two main cell brands have pay-as-you-go plans, where if you have any money on your phone at all, incoming calls are free and sms messages (texts) cost very little if anything. So, not only are cell phones ubiquitous, but the culture around them is extremely permissive. First of all, it is typical for someone to either pick up their cell or answer an sms in the middle of dinner, an interview, a serious conversation, walking down the street- anytime. And I’ve had more than one person display annoyance when I wasn’t immediately available for consultation. (I am actually deeply ambivalent about cell phones and often ignore mine if I’m not anticipating a call.)

Shortly before coming here, I was reading an interesting series of online postings by friends who, for political reasons, have refused to purchase cell phones. It’s a pretty compelling Marxist argument- that the privatization of communication technology basically creates a situation where it becomes compulsory to own a cell phone. (For example, if all your friends ditch their land lines and you’re traveling and staying with them, nobody can reach you; if cities stop tending to public phones, that creates security risks for folks without their own phones.) My friend Dean has argued persuasively about how poor people really shoulder the burden of this new “need.” (For an old-ish version of his ideas about cellies, check this out.)

So, I’m trying to work through how/if South Africa fits into this model. I feel like one could argue it either way: We might say that the Marxist analysis maps neatly onto Africa- or anywhere for that matter. I suppose another way to look at it, however, is that now, in places with little or no electrical infrastructure, people can now communicate. And whatever deal the phone companies cut with Motorola produced inexpensive and widely available technology (expense, of course, always being relative to what one has). Some take this idea to the extreme and argue that cell phone technology actually itself helps people by creating new economic opportunities for people who might not otherwise have them. (See, for example, this article. I'm not sure I'm buying that, though.) What do you all think???

In the meantime, it hasn’t escaped me that the place where I’m staying has two land lines- one in the “landlord’s” house and one in the “cottage” I’m renting- and neither works well. (They both ring intermittently throughout the day and night, if they’re plugged in.) Apparently, the phone company needs to come replace much of the neighborhood wiring- but shockingly, they’re not doing it. Connection?

Update on "Fair" Grading

2007-09-20T14:37:00.000+02:00

An update to my earlier post about grading and evaluation at Wits. Apparently, it turns out that the exams themselves must also be written way in advance on the exam date and submitted for evaluation, (another remnant of colonialism in the form of english educational practices). This part seems to have some additional practical benefits to me. I know from my own experiences as a student that it was extremely frustrating when I felt like I was being evaluated on content that wasn’t among the most important we covered in a given semester. And though I probably open myself up to charges of “teaching to the test,” I do think having the standards for evaluation set in place at the beginning of a term can aid in focusing content and class time and checking in with students to see that they’re really “getting” the stuff on which you plan to test them. Of course, there’s the whole compulsory nature of this system that I’m certain ruffles more than one feather…

A side note: my research has begun in earnest, and I’ll be posting some general thoughts and experiences over the weekend, which is a 3-day holiday in South Africa.

"Fair" Grading

2007-09-17T17:38:00.000+02:00

Not a long essay today- just an interesting tidbit. Wits (the University of the Witwatersrand, where I'm teaching) has a policy that all courses must include final exams, which count for at least 50% of a student's grade- and that each batch of exams must be graded by the professor and then reviewed by an outside evaluator. The evaluator must be from the same discipline or field, but cannot be connected to the University. I'm interested to find out the precise history of this policy, but apparently, it was implemented as a response to complaints of unfairness in grading. This is so interesting to me, as I’m someone who believes that grades are totally subjective anyway. I’m sure it stems student complaints, if nothing else.

What is a "researcher" anyway?

2007-09-15T21:19:00.000+02:00

So, I know I’ve already posted a about the scary discourse around violence in Johannesburg, but I feel I need to revisit the topic in light of my first few days actually being here. (Any, by the way, I’m certain my daily blogging will wane a bit in the coming days, as my course begins on Tuesday and I hope to actually start my interviewing shortly thereafter).

So, it isn’t only Americans who talk incessantly about safety issues. It feels like everyone here is in constant dialogue about what they have experienced, what they’ve heard has happened recently in their neighborhoods, in the neighborhoods of friends and colleagues, to people they know and people who know people they know. I feel as if I’ve spent my first two days here bearing witness to overwhelming anxiety about the risks people perceive to be a fact of everyday life here. At the same time, nobody talks explicitly about being frightened. It’s the proverbial elephant in the room. They certainly own their experience – talking about “my mugging” or “my smash and grab” (when someone breaks your car window to snatch a purse or bag lying on a seat). But the fear seems to get externalized in this really interesting series of warnings and observations.

For example, it seems like everyone here has a different theory about who are the most likely targets- and that theory is often based on their own location. South Africans will tell you you’re more likely to be targeted if you look foreign, if you stick out. Americans will tell you it is Africans who are more at risk. White people tell you it’s blacks. Lots of folks think it's about being the wrong sort of person in the wrong sort of neighborhood. It also seems to be one of two ready conversations with which to greet strangers- the other, of course, being Rugby. (Joburg itself almost shut down the other night, because there was a match on. Something tells me I'll know a lot more about the game by the time I leave!)

Anyway, my new IHRE colleague Tim made an interesting observation – this obsession about where not to go has become another version of the apartheid era idea of group areas. Though not solely structured by race now, there is this keen sense that certain people belong in certain parts of the city, and that there will be penalties for crossing over into the “wrong” territory.

So, tonight I feel confused about what it means to be a "researcher" in another culture. Does it mean maintaining this observant eye, which feels at times voyeuristic? In bearing witness to the fear of others, I'm also present, and attempting to negotiate my own feelings of anxiety over what I'm hearing. At moments, I feel hopelessly like a stupid American tourist, who just happens to have some sense she is here doing something work-like. As the NYLONers will no doubt perceive, I'm having little trouble "locating the researcher in the research;" perhaps, I'm still at work on locating the research outside the researcher...

An aside: I’m also experiencing the reality of my disability in a harsh, harsh way. For those of you who know me well, you know that the day-to-day reality of my life in NYC is quite navigable for me. Here, it’s a whole different ballgame. I’m utterly and completely dependent on others, because I can neither walk nor take public transport. And so, I’m in this constant state of confession about my vision, my limitations. And it feels burdensome, and people don’t understand. It has been a long while since I’ve felt this way…

Milking Ubuntu

2007-09-14T15:12:00.000+02:00

Well, friends, I made it to Johannesburg in one piece. I’ve discovered the secret to conquering 17 hour plane rides: Tylenol PM. I’m serious- I’m buying stock.

I’ve been here less than 24 hours and I’m already fairly overstimulated. There are so many little tidbits I could share, from the disturbing gentleman sitting next to me on the place, who was screening a charming little film called “Taliban Bodies” on his laptop- to the conversation I observed at dinner last night between the children of my landlord about whether the room in the Apartheid Museum that is lined with nooses is too upsetting to really be useful as a statement (especially since they're probably not the "real" nooses anyway).… but the one I’m thinking about at this moment actually comes from the supermarket.

After checking out the local “corner store,” I gratefully accepted a ride from the administrator at Wits who works for the International Human Rights Exchange (IHRE, for which I am teaching) to the Roseland mall- an indoor shopping mall with everything from movie theatres to grocery stores to upscale house wares boutiques. As I was stocking up on everything from TP to toast, I began to notice a common theme in grocery packaging- references to human rights. For example, the milk I bought reads:

Mageu Number 1
Give Your Body a Boost!
WE SALUTE THE SPIRIT OF UBUNTU

For those who don’t know, “Ubuntu” is a Bantu word meaning (depending on who is doing the defining) dignity, community, humanity. Some see it as a type of humanitarian philosophy, encapsulated in the idea that “I am who I am because of who we all are.” It is a sense of connectivity to others, an affirmation of shared humanity. It is also one of the explicit founding values of the new Republic of South Africa, one which also appears frequently in its law and jurisprudence. Apparently, it is also an ideology supported by at least some part of the dairy industry. Do you suppose it makes the cows more harmonious? More able to understand and appreciate one another's essential bovineness? I'm being flippant, but it’s interesting to me- this commoditization of rights and dignity. I wonder where else it will appear…

On danger...

2007-09-08T09:45:00.000+02:00

It’s T-minus 96 hours and counting… I’m filled to the brim with nervous energy. I’ve not slept through the night in days.

At about 3am last night, I lie awake reflecting on the idea of danger. It seems that I can’t tell anyone where I’m headed without immediately receiving a stern lecture about how dangerous South Africa is, how I need to be hyper-vigilant at all times about my safety. I’ve been told to hire a bodyguard, to never venture into downtown Johannesburg alone, not to walk on the street alone, and never to worry or feel “guilty” about being utterly and completely paranoid at all times. To my knowledge, every single on of these lectures was delivered by someone who has either never been to South Africa, or who went and left without incident.

I would be a liar if I said I won’t carry some trepidation with me onto the plane. And, of course, I will be vigilant about my personal safety. But I think this kind of obsessive focus on the possibility of danger and harm is timely and interesting. Social scientists are rapidly developing a literature on what they term “risk society,” this idea that we have become a culture obsessed with calculating risk. German theorist Ulrich Beck coined this term to differentiate the specific types of risks associated with late modernity. It goes something like this: human beings have always been vulnerable to natural disasters. Now we’re also vulnerable to risks and dangers associated with modernization, man-made risks. And part of the process of modernization has been to calculate the best and most efficient ways to respond to those risks. (These calculations are, in many ways, produced and mediated by the media.)

So, how is this relevant? Well, in the post-9/11 U.S., I think we’re acutely aware of our profound vulnerability, particularly to the acts of unknown others. It is a specific type of fear of other people we carry with us. Judith Butler wrote poignantly in her book Precarious Life about the ways America chooses to transform that fear into aggression and violence, rather than simply to mourn the fact of our fragility and work towards peaceful coexistence. I’ve been reading and thinking about these ideas- and about violence in general- lately. I think it’s all really interesting, when we fear violence, when we enact it, what violence can represent (the outward expression of political resistance, repression, desperation).

I’m not sure what any of this actually means in the practice of my life. But I did have a moment about a month ago, driving in our car down Flatbush Avenue, when I realized that we’re all profoundly vulnerable, every moment of every day. And I made a conscious choice to attempt to leave that fear in the back of my mind, not to give it airtime or attention. And so, while I won’t be adorning myself in gold leaf and walking half-naked through the streets of downtown Joburg alone after midnight, I also won’t spend the next six weeks of my life stewing in guilty paranoia about my personal safety. I’m reminded of the following Eleanor Roosevelt quote read by a remarkable woman named Joanne, with whom I sat on a “diversity” panel at GSAS new grad student orientation yesterday: “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ Do the thing you think you cannot do.” Perhaps this will be my mantra in the coming weeks…