I met Sandra Cisneros last night after she gave a reading for our community's "one book" program. The audience was large and diverse, and she spoke to every person in it, from children to college professors. Her voice was soft and high and from the minute she started speaking I could tell she was a teacher--I could hear it in her voice, the intonations, the caring and nurturing tones. She sounded like she earnestly wanted to communicate with us. She read mostly from The House on Mango Street, the book chosen for the community reading, but she also read a selection from her novel Caramello that retold a story that was told in House about a young boy trying to swing from trees but falling and breaking both arms, earning the nickname Tarzan. She was demonstrating her growth as a writer, from House in which she limited the number of characters to something that she felt she could handle as a young writer, to her later works for which she felt more comfortable handling the many varied characters inspired by the members of her large family.
She described her goal for The House on Mango Street as stringing "pearls on a necklace"--each small piece has value on its own and when strung together they create a different effect as a whole. She wanted to create a book that, as she said, bus drivers and waitresses and moms and fifth graders could all read even if they only had a few minutes. They could open the book and gain something from reading one hundred words or they could read the whole book and gain something else. She accomplished her task beautifully.
She talked about her experience as a young writer starting the book while she was a poetry student in the Iowa Writer's Workshop and then finishing it as a public school teacher. The influence of the poetry workshop is apparent in her vignettes--she wanted each story to be "as powerful as a poem." She was inspired to write the book as her class read literature about houses--she read beautiful, loving descriptions of houses by Isak Denison and Vladimir Nabokov, but she never read about her house. She was first ashamed and considered quitting school--she felt as if she did not belong in that world--but then her emotions turned to rage and she decided that she would write the book about her house. She collected stories from her own life, her family members, and her young students, especially the girls, and "braided" them together.
She gave advice to aspiring artists. Never expect to earn any money with your art, she said. Then if you you do, you will be astonished, and if you don't, you will not be disappointed. She told us to think of ten things that we know that no one else knows, especially those things that we wish we did not know but can never forget. Ten things that no one else in our family, our community, our race, our gender, our church knows--she called it our "ten times ten." Start there with your art.
She expressed her desire for the book to mobilize people, to instill them with a sense of responsibility, communicated in the final story, "Mango Says Goodbye Sometimes." She told all of us, especially the young women, to demand great things from our lives and to go to college, then to go back to where we came from and help the people who are still there. In the book Esperanza says, "Friends and neighbors will say, What happened to that Esperanza? Where did she go with all those books and paper? Why did she march so far away? They will not know I have gone away to come back. For the ones I left behind. For the ones who cannot out."
I am not a minority woman, and I have not been poor. But I do know the ones who are still in the small farm town where I grew up, the ones who got pregnant before finishing high school, the ones who dropped out of school to go to work, the ones who never considered college. And also the ones who went to college and returned to teach at our school. I don't think of them very often.
But I have been back since I left. I went to college and in the summers and falls I drove back tomy high school to teach the color guard in the marching band. I spent time with those girls, told them about college, talked to them about my experience in high school, told them what I had learned since I had left, told them what to do to prepare for their own higher education, encouraged their love of music and pride in what they did. My thoughts last night were that I had just left my home and forgotten them, but this morning I remember that I did go back, and I hope that some of what I tried to teach those girls, beyond how to march in the band and twirl their flags, stayed with them, even if they don't remember where it came from. I'm glad that I did that and I'm glad that I recognize now, thanks to Ms. Cisneros, that what I was doing was important.
I waited in line for an hour to get my book signed (which was not good for Mr. Cheesy because he had to go to work after I got back home at 10:00 p.m. and relieved him of childcare duties). I had that time to think about what I wanted to say to her, which I was able to articulate when a friend from school asked me about the book. The book I held in my hand, which was by then filled up with my notes about the book and about her speech, was the copy that I bought when I was in high school. I loved the book then and I have read it at least twice more. Several people, including Ms. Cisneros, asked me if I got something new out of it when I reread it. Of course I did because I am so different now, as a grown woman, a mother, a literature scholar, a teacher, but what impressed me most on rereading it was that I remembered why I loved it so much as a teenager and called it my favorite book for a while. I don't remember thinking so much about it in the way that I think about what I read now. I remember feeling the book. And I had a profound sense that I understood something that I had not known before, even if I couldn't say exactly what that was. So I told her that, and she seemed to appreciated it. And she saw the extensive notes written in my book, which is unspoken evidence of my appreciation for her.
She signed my book the way I'm sure she signs them all, but I will decide to take it as my own. "Para la Sarah. Con esperanza, Sandra Cisneros."
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Sunday, February 26, 2006
For my fellow Grey's Anatomy obsessors
LOVE the change in narrator at the end of the show. I vote for George to be the narrator from now on. But then they'd have to change the name of the show to O'Malley's Anatomy. And thank you for the cute doctor liking George. I was curious how the writers would handle the aftermath of the Mer/George hook-up--it's tricky to allow the main character to screw over such a likeable supporting character. It's going to take a lot to put McDreamy back in the forefront, though. George is way more interesting at this point. The ensemble is so strong that Mer is starting to blend in with everyone else, too. I like that. I actually think Meredith herself is not that great of a character--boringly Freudian neuroses.
Great show. My new guilty pleasure. Of course, I could always pretend I'm researching popular culture. I fully expect a CFP to come up for a Grey's Anatomy conference any day now.
Edited for retraction: After further consideration, I will retract my criticism of Meredith Grey. She is a great character--it's nice to see a character that makes real mistakes. The writers are good at keeping audience sympathy for her. But I am bored with the way she handles conflicts with her parents by having sex with the first person she sees. And that's what this whole episode was about. I was not really interested in the way she handled the George situation--I just wanted to see how George handled the Meredith situation.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Demeaning breastfeeding analogy
Breastfeeding mothers are not like cows. It is not okay to make that comparison. People do it all the time. Just to clarify, I am NOT a breastfeeding activist. But I am a mother who breastfed. And a human being.
This post was incited by a highly offensive and grossly ignorant article printed in a Canadian women's magazine. The article had the potential to make a positive statement about the real demands of breastfeeding and to offer support for women who choose not to breastfeed and who might be feeling guilt about that choice. Instead it made ridiculous generalizations and the frequent and very insulting comparison of mothers to milk cows. This is something that friends and family have actually said to me while I was breastfeeding--"Don't you feel like a cow?" No. I did not feel like a cow. Neither did my child look like a calf. Nor was I selling cartons of my breastmilk at Kroger.
I do not think this is an innocent comparison and it is not acceptable. The connotations of a milk cow are too closely related to the construction of motherhood in our culture to allow this. A cow is a working animal, a possession. It's value exists solely in the products of its body and the capacity for those products to sustain human lives. It is anonymous and expendable.
In The Bonds of Love, Jessica Benjamin addresses the problem of traditional cultural images of women that deny women subjectivity. The image of "mother" is one who gives up the autonomy of her body through pregnancy and lactation for the life of another. Susan Bordo, in her collection Unbearable Weight, has an essay about how once a woman becomes pregnant her body, her life, her desires all take second place to the life of the fetus. She is no longer a person with value as an individual. She is an incubator. Those currently in political power are passing legislation federally and in states across the country that remove all autonomy, subjectivity, and value from a woman once she becomes pregnant. This is all part of the same problem, and it is getting worse under the current leadership of our country.
I am a mother, and I am also Sarah--I am both at the same time. When I was pregnant I was both. When I was breastfeeding I was both. I give my child what she needs to thrive. I do the best I can to give the best care and all of my love to my child. But in that role of mother, I do not give up my identity and my agency as Sarah. And I want my daughter to grow up to understand that she is in possession of her body and her desires and that if she becomes a mother some day, she is still in possession of her body and her desires. The commitment and responsibility and experience and love of motherhood do not detract from that but become a part of the person that I am. That I am.
Never, ever compare a mother to a cow. It is never okay.
Edited for correction: The article I mentioned was printed in Maclean's, which is a news mag, not a women's mag.
This post was incited by a highly offensive and grossly ignorant article printed in a Canadian women's magazine. The article had the potential to make a positive statement about the real demands of breastfeeding and to offer support for women who choose not to breastfeed and who might be feeling guilt about that choice. Instead it made ridiculous generalizations and the frequent and very insulting comparison of mothers to milk cows. This is something that friends and family have actually said to me while I was breastfeeding--"Don't you feel like a cow?" No. I did not feel like a cow. Neither did my child look like a calf. Nor was I selling cartons of my breastmilk at Kroger.
I do not think this is an innocent comparison and it is not acceptable. The connotations of a milk cow are too closely related to the construction of motherhood in our culture to allow this. A cow is a working animal, a possession. It's value exists solely in the products of its body and the capacity for those products to sustain human lives. It is anonymous and expendable.
In The Bonds of Love, Jessica Benjamin addresses the problem of traditional cultural images of women that deny women subjectivity. The image of "mother" is one who gives up the autonomy of her body through pregnancy and lactation for the life of another. Susan Bordo, in her collection Unbearable Weight, has an essay about how once a woman becomes pregnant her body, her life, her desires all take second place to the life of the fetus. She is no longer a person with value as an individual. She is an incubator. Those currently in political power are passing legislation federally and in states across the country that remove all autonomy, subjectivity, and value from a woman once she becomes pregnant. This is all part of the same problem, and it is getting worse under the current leadership of our country.
I am a mother, and I am also Sarah--I am both at the same time. When I was pregnant I was both. When I was breastfeeding I was both. I give my child what she needs to thrive. I do the best I can to give the best care and all of my love to my child. But in that role of mother, I do not give up my identity and my agency as Sarah. And I want my daughter to grow up to understand that she is in possession of her body and her desires and that if she becomes a mother some day, she is still in possession of her body and her desires. The commitment and responsibility and experience and love of motherhood do not detract from that but become a part of the person that I am. That I am.
Never, ever compare a mother to a cow. It is never okay.
Edited for correction: The article I mentioned was printed in Maclean's, which is a news mag, not a women's mag.
What's my age again?
Yesterday someone asked me how old I am and I seriously could not remember. I can tell you my husband's age, and I can quote my daughter's age in months and weeks without missing a beat. But I actually had to do the math to figure out my own age. When did this happen?
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Revision is hard!
I'm working tirelessly (wait, what does that mean? I'm really quite tired but not stopping. Is that what tirelessly means?) on revising a paper for my Publication and Professionalization class (aka Everything You Should Have Been Doing By Now Only Nobody Told You Because It's Just Understood). I've been reading for my prelim exams since the summer, so while I have been writing, I have not revised anything longer than a paper abstract in months. I forgot how hard it is. I'm trying now to work in theoretical and critical discussions so it's not just me basking in my close reading (how I wish I could just bask in my close reading!) with the hope of publishing an article in the foreseeable future. I tell my students that revising is the most important and most difficult part of the writing process. I just forgot to remind myself!
I do have more to say about this topic, but I have to revise my paper now. Or I at least have to stare at my paper for a few hours while watching my life tick away in the bottom right hand corner.
Edited to say that I finished (for now). Woo-hoo!
I do have more to say about this topic, but I have to revise my paper now. Or I at least have to stare at my paper for a few hours while watching my life tick away in the bottom right hand corner.
Edited to say that I finished (for now). Woo-hoo!
You'd think we'd have gotten past this by now
http://www.literarymama.com/interact/blog/archives/000977.html
I can't even stomach a response to this right now. Too depressing.
I can't even stomach a response to this right now. Too depressing.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Breaking the baby news
Okay--so here's the post that's been simmering for a while.I was talking with a friend recently who is considering trying to have a child, and she made the comment, which I have heard and said before, that she was worried about "breaking it" to her committee. Like it's bad news. I'm going to make a huge generalization and say that this is the general feeling of grad student moms and maybe career moms in general. Even when the mom is happy and the pregnancy is planned, there is a fear of breaking the news to professors, administrators, and especially committee members. What's this all about?
I can just speak from my own experience and why I hesitated to tell professors and even other students that I was pregnant--so long, in fact, that most of my teachers actually asked me before I told them (at which point I was tempted to say, "no, just going a little heavy on the french fries"). I was worried not that I would not be able to handle my responsibilities and stay "on-track" (that was a completely separate worry) but that I would not be taken seriously as a student and scholar. I was wearing my outside obligations and commitments right on my belly. No one has ever treated me badly or dismissed me in an overt way, and my advisor has been particularly supportive, telling me about his own experience having two kids while in grad school. So I wonder if these concerns are based on my own insecurities or if there have been subtle messages from members of the department that have made me feel this way.
So these concerns lead to the topic of pressure to perform. Because I feel insecure about being taken seriously, I feel an intense need to prove myself, to be super student, super scholar, and super mom. And every time someone compliments me on managing all of these responsibilties well, I feel torn between feeling satisfied with doing my job well and feeling intensified pressure to perform well and never break a sweat (if anyone is looking, that is). My advisor has called me "remarkably efficient," which is a wonderful, gratifying, and validating compliment, but one that I feel as if I have to live up to or I will let him down. I know that he would feel awful to think that he caused any stress because he has been exceptionally supportive, so why do I feel this pressure? Do men feel this pressure, too?
As much as I know that I am generating a lot of these anxieties myself, the reality is that even if the culture of my department is supportive to families, the larger culture does not take mothers as seriously as career women who have no children (see the post titled "substantial post coming soon" for links on the Mommy track).
And a funny thing is happening in my department--lots of students are having babies, getting pregnant, trying to get pregnant, and so there is about to be a whole lot of big bellies and little babies around here. Does that decrease the problem or does it intensify prejudice against those in the "Mommy club"?
I can just speak from my own experience and why I hesitated to tell professors and even other students that I was pregnant--so long, in fact, that most of my teachers actually asked me before I told them (at which point I was tempted to say, "no, just going a little heavy on the french fries"). I was worried not that I would not be able to handle my responsibilities and stay "on-track" (that was a completely separate worry) but that I would not be taken seriously as a student and scholar. I was wearing my outside obligations and commitments right on my belly. No one has ever treated me badly or dismissed me in an overt way, and my advisor has been particularly supportive, telling me about his own experience having two kids while in grad school. So I wonder if these concerns are based on my own insecurities or if there have been subtle messages from members of the department that have made me feel this way.
So these concerns lead to the topic of pressure to perform. Because I feel insecure about being taken seriously, I feel an intense need to prove myself, to be super student, super scholar, and super mom. And every time someone compliments me on managing all of these responsibilties well, I feel torn between feeling satisfied with doing my job well and feeling intensified pressure to perform well and never break a sweat (if anyone is looking, that is). My advisor has called me "remarkably efficient," which is a wonderful, gratifying, and validating compliment, but one that I feel as if I have to live up to or I will let him down. I know that he would feel awful to think that he caused any stress because he has been exceptionally supportive, so why do I feel this pressure? Do men feel this pressure, too?
As much as I know that I am generating a lot of these anxieties myself, the reality is that even if the culture of my department is supportive to families, the larger culture does not take mothers as seriously as career women who have no children (see the post titled "substantial post coming soon" for links on the Mommy track).
And a funny thing is happening in my department--lots of students are having babies, getting pregnant, trying to get pregnant, and so there is about to be a whole lot of big bellies and little babies around here. Does that decrease the problem or does it intensify prejudice against those in the "Mommy club"?
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
The Blog
I'm pleased to see that the blog is going swimmingly. I anticipated this being a lot of me talking to myself, but I was comfortable with that being a journaling veteran. What I was out for, though, was an experience of really participating in the blog world for personal, professional, and academic purposes. I've been posting to a message board for about two years now, and I am interested in how people communicate through that medium and fashion their identities through their comments and through the little add-ons like siggies and links and other graphics. Blogging opens those possibilities endlessly. Geeky Mom (I really like her!) is talking today about a program that collects all the comments you have made on other people's blogs into one place. There's a lot to consider with that, too. As one commenter observed, you might want to make comments on other blogs that you want certain readers to see but not necessarily all of your blog readers. So there's the option of selecting comments to include and some to exclude, fashioning your identity in other ways. This is great stuff! I've got my tracker down at the bottom (it looks like a little planet--Darcy, you should get one of those) and I'm seeing people surfing in from all over the world, and I've only been running for a week. And while I have avoided the silly tags that people used on my message board (mostly because I didn't want to pay the membership fee required to post them) I have succombed to the temptation on the blog already (notice the Terror Alert and the picture of George from Grey's Anatomy).
I still have the promised post about parenting and school and showing weakness on the burner, but I'm really tired and just swamped after RB's illness. I think I'll call her school and check on her now...
I still have the promised post about parenting and school and showing weakness on the burner, but I'm really tired and just swamped after RB's illness. I think I'll call her school and check on her now...
Monday, February 20, 2006
Finally doing better
I think RB has finally recovered enough to go back to school. We went to the pediatrician today because she's been sick for several days--well, actually, she got sick, got bettter for two days, then got really sick. And, of course, the doctor examined her and said that, yes, indeed, she has a stomach virus. That's all. That happens a lot, and it's really frustrating. It feels like a waste of time and money to go to the doctor to have what you already know confirmed and to have nothing to show for it. But I know from experience that it's best to have the doctor take a look because what I see as just a bug that will go away on its own could be something more serious.
Yesterday was a bad day. Here's something about being a working parent: When RB got sick on Thursday I was concentrating on all the work I was missing. When she had to stay home on Friday but acted like she was fine, I was still thinking about all the work I was missing. But on Sunday she got really sick and I no longer had any concern about work. There's a line somewhere, and once it is crossed, nothing matters but the sick little girl, and I would do anything just to help her feel better. Today she got better, and she acted like herself again, and I still didn't care about work--I was happy to have her back to (almost) normal and to try to make her day better, which included something called "Elmopalooza"--found it at Blockbuster, never saw her more content. And I was pleasantly surprised when John Stewart made an appearance. Can't be bad if I get to see John Stewart. It turned into a good day, and RB showed me her appreciation for taking care of her in her little ways.
Yesterday was so bad and I was so exhausted that I thought even Grey's Anatomy wouldn't cheer me up. I was wrong! It was great :) I was sitting on my bed talking to the television. Love it! Last week I ran across an icon for McDreamy, but this week I love George, so I had to find a new one.
Yesterday was a bad day. Here's something about being a working parent: When RB got sick on Thursday I was concentrating on all the work I was missing. When she had to stay home on Friday but acted like she was fine, I was still thinking about all the work I was missing. But on Sunday she got really sick and I no longer had any concern about work. There's a line somewhere, and once it is crossed, nothing matters but the sick little girl, and I would do anything just to help her feel better. Today she got better, and she acted like herself again, and I still didn't care about work--I was happy to have her back to (almost) normal and to try to make her day better, which included something called "Elmopalooza"--found it at Blockbuster, never saw her more content. And I was pleasantly surprised when John Stewart made an appearance. Can't be bad if I get to see John Stewart. It turned into a good day, and RB showed me her appreciation for taking care of her in her little ways.
Yesterday was so bad and I was so exhausted that I thought even Grey's Anatomy wouldn't cheer me up. I was wrong! It was great :) I was sitting on my bed talking to the television. Love it! Last week I ran across an icon for McDreamy, but this week I love George, so I had to find a new one.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
breakfast conversation
Me: Why is it that President's Day has become the official furniture sale day?
Mr. Cheesy: Cherry wood. George Washington cut down the cherry tree. And I think he made furniture after he retired.
I'm glad I am married to Cheesy. That is all I have to offer today. RB has relasped and we are back in full sick child mode. Tomorrow it is off to the pediatrician.
Mr. Cheesy: Cherry wood. George Washington cut down the cherry tree. And I think he made furniture after he retired.
I'm glad I am married to Cheesy. That is all I have to offer today. RB has relasped and we are back in full sick child mode. Tomorrow it is off to the pediatrician.
substantial post coming soon
I am preparing to post about something big, but I have no time right now. When RB and I are home alone, I don't get to use the computer very long. She has learned to love it, too, and so instead of typing I end up doing this:
http://www.fisher-price.com/us/littlepeople/clubhouse/games.asp?section=animalsounds&gameid=lp_animalsounds
So for now I direct you to the following posts:
Bitch Ph.D.'s Mommy Track post (thanks to Geeky Mom for directing me there)
Darcy ponders the stress of job search and need to perform
And some older posts on Mommy track issues, esp. the big question: When?
Flossie, New Kid, and Academom
Still looking forward to Mer and Der (aka Dr. McDreamy)
http://www.fisher-price.com/us/littlepeople/clubhouse/games.asp?section=animalsounds&gameid=lp_animalsounds
So for now I direct you to the following posts:
Bitch Ph.D.'s Mommy Track post (thanks to Geeky Mom for directing me there)
Darcy ponders the stress of job search and need to perform
And some older posts on Mommy track issues, esp. the big question: When?
Flossie, New Kid, and Academom
Still looking forward to Mer and Der (aka Dr. McDreamy)
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Momentum found...cue sick child
After venting my frustrations on Thursday, I felt a surge of motivation and put together a beautiful list of primary sources along with a nice (but vague) paragraph that assembles them into something that could conceivably be a fantastic dissertation topic. Cue cell phone: "Mrs. Mommy, this is the Weekday School. RB has just vomited all over the floor." Momentum gone.
Fortunately, I held onto my high spirits, feeling a sense of accomplishment over my booklist and the email that had come just before notifying me that the panel I proposed for a big national conference had been accepted. Miraculously, after picking up sick child, feeding her dinner, and then cleaning partially digested food out of the carpet an hour later, I managed to get about 150 pages into Barbara Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible. I'm actually not feeling too sorry for myself because RB has recovered quickly and I don't feel like I lost too much work--I've had a lot of "thinking work" to do, and that can be done to some extent even while caring for little sick one all day Friday. And I never expect to accomplish any school work on the weekends, anyway. That time is usually spent playing with Weebles and making animal noises.
I have things to say about Kingsolver and working from home, but those things will most likely be delayed for a few days because Grey's Anatomy comes on tomorrow night and I am seriously obsessed with that show.
Fortunately, I held onto my high spirits, feeling a sense of accomplishment over my booklist and the email that had come just before notifying me that the panel I proposed for a big national conference had been accepted. Miraculously, after picking up sick child, feeding her dinner, and then cleaning partially digested food out of the carpet an hour later, I managed to get about 150 pages into Barbara Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible. I'm actually not feeling too sorry for myself because RB has recovered quickly and I don't feel like I lost too much work--I've had a lot of "thinking work" to do, and that can be done to some extent even while caring for little sick one all day Friday. And I never expect to accomplish any school work on the weekends, anyway. That time is usually spent playing with Weebles and making animal noises.
I have things to say about Kingsolver and working from home, but those things will most likely be delayed for a few days because Grey's Anatomy comes on tomorrow night and I am seriously obsessed with that show.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
What should I put off today?
Before I started grad school, someone said to me, "The thing I remember about graduate school is always thinking, 'What am I going to blow off today so something else can get done?'"
I am struggling with prioritizing my academic responsibilities right now, and Franklin/Covey, in all its highly effectiveness, is not helping much with this one. I warned you in my first post that I often rant about this problem, so it is only fitting that I address it here. I have these lists--you know the ones--and I have to read the 100 items on these lists by a certain date so that I can take my prelim exams. And it has been emphasized ad nauseam that the reading lists are not intended to be directly tied to the dissertation--the dissertation should be considered a completely seperate project. And by the way, you have to submit the dissertation proposal on the day of the written portion of the exams.
So now I have these great lists, and they are great, but I have come to the inevitable conclusion that most of the primary works I will address in my dissertation are not on the lists. And I don't even have enough books on my lists to propose the dissertation. So now I have to find and read books to cite in my dissertation proposal as primary works. Now, it has been emphasized that the proposal submitted with the prelim exams is a "draft." But I have also heard several faculty members comment that the weakest part of the prelim exams is the proposal, which indicates to me a standard that I should strive for in my own proposal, "draft" or not.
I wish that I could compartmentalize these two major projects--finish the list, take the test, and then a month later propose a dissertation. And before anyone suggests that I simply set my own deadline for preparing for the exams to allow an extra month to commit to the proposal--stop and think about that. I'm going to stop thinking about the exams before I take them? Yeah. Right.
My solution last week was to set aside the next two weeks to commit to the diss and not even try to check anything off the lists. Already failed in that endeavor. And I'm also revising a paper for (hopeful) publication--that's where Jessica Benjamin comes in. If it sounds like I'm just whining, I am.
So what am I going to blow off today so something else can get done?
I am struggling with prioritizing my academic responsibilities right now, and Franklin/Covey, in all its highly effectiveness, is not helping much with this one. I warned you in my first post that I often rant about this problem, so it is only fitting that I address it here. I have these lists--you know the ones--and I have to read the 100 items on these lists by a certain date so that I can take my prelim exams. And it has been emphasized ad nauseam that the reading lists are not intended to be directly tied to the dissertation--the dissertation should be considered a completely seperate project. And by the way, you have to submit the dissertation proposal on the day of the written portion of the exams.
So now I have these great lists, and they are great, but I have come to the inevitable conclusion that most of the primary works I will address in my dissertation are not on the lists. And I don't even have enough books on my lists to propose the dissertation. So now I have to find and read books to cite in my dissertation proposal as primary works. Now, it has been emphasized that the proposal submitted with the prelim exams is a "draft." But I have also heard several faculty members comment that the weakest part of the prelim exams is the proposal, which indicates to me a standard that I should strive for in my own proposal, "draft" or not.
I wish that I could compartmentalize these two major projects--finish the list, take the test, and then a month later propose a dissertation. And before anyone suggests that I simply set my own deadline for preparing for the exams to allow an extra month to commit to the proposal--stop and think about that. I'm going to stop thinking about the exams before I take them? Yeah. Right.
My solution last week was to set aside the next two weeks to commit to the diss and not even try to check anything off the lists. Already failed in that endeavor. And I'm also revising a paper for (hopeful) publication--that's where Jessica Benjamin comes in. If it sounds like I'm just whining, I am.
So what am I going to blow off today so something else can get done?
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Psychoanalysis and raising a daughter
Preface: It is 5:54 a.m. I have been awake since about 4:30. There is no point in trying to sleep anymore, so now I am up and not happy about it. Not RB's fault, just too many thoughts. So here are some of them.
I've been reading Jessica Benjamin's The Bonds of Love, and of course, it is troubling me. As it should. I am always upset when I read psychoanalytic theory, even the feminist revisions of it. Benjamin addresses women's desires and lack of subjectivity--men desire, women are desired. She takes on both Oedipal theory and indentification theory and proposes that girls and boys need to be able to feel comfortable identifying with mother and father at different times before they develop their own sense of gender identity in order to avoid this subject-object problem in later relationships. Girls percieve the woman as submissive and lacking subjectivity, while the father has power, subjectivity in his own desire, and access to the outside world. So as a girl tries to seperate herself from her mother she turns to the father, and later the "ideal lover," as the ones who can provide her access to worlds closed off to her--she can possess desire by being close to their desire. Okay. I follow. But what about my daughter?
The distribution of work along gender lines is pretty conventional at my house. I am RB's primary caregiver and the one who manages the running of the household. I do most of the domestic labor, and my husband is absent a lot because of his work hours (that is getting better right now, but it goes in phases). So for RB, she will likely see Mom as the nurturer located mostly in the home, serving the family, while Dad is the one out in the world doing exciting things and coming home to play--what fun Dad is! But I don't think that out interaction when we are all home together would reflect a dominant-submissive relationship. I don't think that I am demonstrating to my daughter that I do not possess my own desires. In fact, a great many decisions in our family, including the city we live in, are based on my career ambitions. My career is a priority in our family, and RB will see that as she grows up. But I don't think she sees it now, and now is the time that the psychoanalysts are so concerned with. But reading Benjamin's conclusion, there's not much point in my worrying over this because the cultural ideals of "father" and "mother" are going to exist with or without me, and we need a total rethinking of gender polarity.
I really think that our cultural assumptions have changed enough to allow for women with subjectivity. But the very existence of the Victoria's Secret catalogue promotes an ideal image of woman, not desiring but making herself desirable--object, not subject. I think my husband and I can be good models for our daughter so that she can grow up with a sense that she has the right to possess her desires, but how do I know I'm doing it right?
I have taken comfort in one thing lately. Benjamin proposes identificatory love for both parents as the healthy way for toddlers to develop gender identity and uses as examples children wanting to wear parents' clothes. RB walks puts on her dad's shoes and says, "Daddy's shoes!" and other times wears my shoes saying, "Mommy's shoes!" For now, I'm going to call that identificatory love and believe that I am showing my daughter how to be a woman who knows her desires and demands to be a subject.
I've been reading Jessica Benjamin's The Bonds of Love, and of course, it is troubling me. As it should. I am always upset when I read psychoanalytic theory, even the feminist revisions of it. Benjamin addresses women's desires and lack of subjectivity--men desire, women are desired. She takes on both Oedipal theory and indentification theory and proposes that girls and boys need to be able to feel comfortable identifying with mother and father at different times before they develop their own sense of gender identity in order to avoid this subject-object problem in later relationships. Girls percieve the woman as submissive and lacking subjectivity, while the father has power, subjectivity in his own desire, and access to the outside world. So as a girl tries to seperate herself from her mother she turns to the father, and later the "ideal lover," as the ones who can provide her access to worlds closed off to her--she can possess desire by being close to their desire. Okay. I follow. But what about my daughter?
The distribution of work along gender lines is pretty conventional at my house. I am RB's primary caregiver and the one who manages the running of the household. I do most of the domestic labor, and my husband is absent a lot because of his work hours (that is getting better right now, but it goes in phases). So for RB, she will likely see Mom as the nurturer located mostly in the home, serving the family, while Dad is the one out in the world doing exciting things and coming home to play--what fun Dad is! But I don't think that out interaction when we are all home together would reflect a dominant-submissive relationship. I don't think that I am demonstrating to my daughter that I do not possess my own desires. In fact, a great many decisions in our family, including the city we live in, are based on my career ambitions. My career is a priority in our family, and RB will see that as she grows up. But I don't think she sees it now, and now is the time that the psychoanalysts are so concerned with. But reading Benjamin's conclusion, there's not much point in my worrying over this because the cultural ideals of "father" and "mother" are going to exist with or without me, and we need a total rethinking of gender polarity.
I really think that our cultural assumptions have changed enough to allow for women with subjectivity. But the very existence of the Victoria's Secret catalogue promotes an ideal image of woman, not desiring but making herself desirable--object, not subject. I think my husband and I can be good models for our daughter so that she can grow up with a sense that she has the right to possess her desires, but how do I know I'm doing it right?
I have taken comfort in one thing lately. Benjamin proposes identificatory love for both parents as the healthy way for toddlers to develop gender identity and uses as examples children wanting to wear parents' clothes. RB walks puts on her dad's shoes and says, "Daddy's shoes!" and other times wears my shoes saying, "Mommy's shoes!" For now, I'm going to call that identificatory love and believe that I am showing my daughter how to be a woman who knows her desires and demands to be a subject.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
The first post
My time is spread thin, so I have to justify the ways I spend it. "Remarkably efficient" is what I have been called and what I am expected to be. So now I'm a blogger, and I do have justification as such--In the fall I am going to be teaching a web-based section of Technical Writing, and I will be assigning each student a blog. So, naturally, to be a good teacher I must understand all the workings of blogdom before throwing my students into it. There. Justified.
Currently, my academic responsibilities are to complete a 100-item reading list in preparation for preliminary exams and to assemble a dissertation proposal to submit at the same time I take my exams (a policy with which I disagree and about which I often rant--see how stupid it sounds when you can't end a sentence with a preposition?! What an unnecessary and inconvenient rule. I shall ignore it from here on out, but I felt the need to acknowledge it for any smart-alecks who like to catch English teachers in grammar errors. I'm one of them.). I gave my daughter, let's call her RB, her first haircut yesterday. She has bangs now--very cute! I got very excited about it and called her grandparents and then gushed to her daycare teacher this morning. She looked at me like I was crazy. I'm almost positive I am. :)
Thanks for reading. More to come.
Currently, my academic responsibilities are to complete a 100-item reading list in preparation for preliminary exams and to assemble a dissertation proposal to submit at the same time I take my exams (a policy with which I disagree and about which I often rant--see how stupid it sounds when you can't end a sentence with a preposition?! What an unnecessary and inconvenient rule. I shall ignore it from here on out, but I felt the need to acknowledge it for any smart-alecks who like to catch English teachers in grammar errors. I'm one of them.). I gave my daughter, let's call her RB, her first haircut yesterday. She has bangs now--very cute! I got very excited about it and called her grandparents and then gushed to her daycare teacher this morning. She looked at me like I was crazy. I'm almost positive I am. :)
Thanks for reading. More to come.
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