“After one candidate, the only one in a suit, described the many virtues of community involvement, a heckler shouted, “Frank, what clubs are you part of in the community?” leading the candidate to admit that he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to join any clubs…yet. The other candidate ended up winning her seat, returning to work with the Board members who had deposed her over the issue of her pickleball involvement” (page 99).
There are the things you study and then there are the things you realize your work is actually about. My dissertation, titled The Ends of the American Dream, studied retirement in the Southwest, but it is also about many other things: it is about families that we originate and that we make; it is about aging and confronting sickness and death; and it is about the way certain landscapes are used for leisure at the expense of future environmental sustainability.
Page 99 of my dissertation is the final section before the conclusion of Chapter 2 and includes the last bit of an ethnographic anecdote about a contentious Homeowner’s Board election cycle. It includes a brief description of the way that two of the candidates fit into (or don’t) the acceptable personae in the neighborhood. That chapter is all about what it is like to age in a housing development that was built especially for older bodies…It is also about aging in the 21st century, in a youth-oriented culture that often reviles the aging. The community where I did my research has worked hard to combat the assumption that it is “just for old people.” It has done this, in part, by creating an ideal-type retiree who fits into its unofficial tagline: “if you’re bored here, you’ll be bored anywhere.”
If my research and dissertation had turned out the way I thought it would when I planned it out, this point in this Chapter would have fulfilled Ford Madox Ford’s proposal. Instead, this moment acts as a jumping off point for some of the other concerns of the dissertation: namely, the historical, political-economic, and ecological backstories that provide some of the foundations—for some people—inhabiting a post-Covid, and (maybe) post-liberal world. Further in the dissertation, I ask who gets to belong in the U.S. and how and why that answer came to be. So I suppose that one thing Page 99 shows is that, without those who are willing to enact the boundaries and erasures of belongingness, even in one relatively small community, that answer could look very different.
What article or book that you wrote are you most pleased with? Could you talk aboutthe story behind writing it?
Oddly enough the article I am most proud of is the first one I published, while still a grad student: “Paradoxes of Visibility in the Field: Rites of Queer Passage in Anthropology” (Public Culture, 1995 N1V6:73-100). Not part of my stated research on Special Drama but rather fully within a genre of fieldwork reflections then considered the “soft” rather than the “hard science” side of anthropology, writing this essay as soon as I had returned to the States let me express so much about how I learned during my first years of fieldwork in India. I wrote about the welcome, open homosociality among women in Tamilnadu, and its flipside: how lesbianism wasn’t a recognizable “thing” at the time. Writing about this let me muse about thinginess itself, about invisibility as a cloak stitched of non-things that have no name, and the power of naming itself. A key concept of linguistic anthropology, speech as action is very much in play in the Tamil world.
In the same essay I wrote about the palpably uncomfortable continuing existence of White & English-speaking privilege in India, a colonial legacy of 150 years of the British Raj. This unwelcome inheritance cropped up interpersonally in deferential treatment tinged with suspicion. I managed to not personally drown in feeling the weight of all this on my shoulders by peppering my essay with embarrassing quotes from famous anthropologists (Malinowski, Mayberry-Lewis, Mead) that I used as epigrammatic subheadings. I took these from their own “softer” and more vulnerable writings (M’s posthumous Diary, M-L’s The Savage and the Innocent, and Mead’s Blackberry Winter). Their squeamish company helped me laugh at myself.
An unanticipated pleasure of publishing this essay is that it has turned out to serve prospective LGBTQ ethnographers as a kind of fieldwork guide. Evidently it was risky to write and publish such stuff if you wanted to have a career in anthropology. Carol Breckenridge, the Editor of Public Culture at the time, had offered to publish this piece without my having submitted it to the journal (I showed it to her to ask her advice, as I was a student in her grad seminar). Before publishing it however she wanted to make sure I understood the risks posed by doing so. I assured her that this did not feel risky to me, that I had been an out lesbian for fifteen years by then and had no plans to go back in the closet for any job where homophobia reigned. What a different time that was, when Anthro grad students could be so cavalier about T-T job options…. What neither Carol nor anyone else in my grad school milieu knew at the time was how uncomfortable I was grappling with a newly acquired “identity” I had been counseled to hide. Vision troubles in the final summer of my fieldwork landed me back home a month early, with a spinal tap and a diagnosis of MS (multiple sclerosis) the next day. Thus began a tailspin that has lasted now for almost thirty years. In comparison to keeping this bit of life-changing news quiet, outing myself as a lesbian in print felt easy and familiar, and writing a refuge. The irony is that I did write this essay in an actual closet. My first Apple computer – Grape! – sat on a desk tucked into a narrow coat closet underneath a dramatic spiral staircase with a sexy black leather banister. Perfect.
What class did you most enjoy teaching, and why?
I really enjoyed teaching using film, which I did in pretty much every course I have taught, to varying degrees. I use films of all types – documentary and fiction, indie and mainstream, foreign and not – primarily to enlarge the ethnographic picture students get through readings and lectures. Only one of my courses focused on filmmakers as well as their films. “India Lost & Found: South Asian diasporic feminist filmmakers” was exhilarating to teach. It allowed me to introduce Indiana students to a region and a history about which they generally knew very little. I focused on filmmakers from the South Asian diaspora in Canada, the U.S. and the U.K., recognizing how diasporic distance allows these filmmakers to escape the rigid censorship of the region to offer both biting critique and fierce love to the homelands they’d left. We watched and discussed multiple films in the oeuvres of Deepa Mehta and Mira Nair, as well as films by other important filmmakers including Gurinder Chadha and Hanif Kureishi. I first developed this course while a faculty member in the department of Communication & Culture (CMCL), encouraged by my film and media studies colleagues there.
Apart from this relatively rare pleasure (I taught India Lost & Found only four times), the course I have enjoyed teaching most was “Stigma: Culture, Identity and the Abject.” I feel passionate about this course. It is also probably the course for which I will be most remembered. I taught it annually for over twenty-five years, and students from three decades continue to contact me upon encountering something that reminds them of the lens we developed together in this course. I approach the topic of stigma as a compassionate rubric through which to view the lives of those who are marginalized as “different” from the norm in some way. I draw on a wide range of material that students generally do not encounter in other courses, from history of science texts about conjoined twins to memoirs of carnival life, from discussions of eugenics to the attitude of wonder fostered by cabinets of curiosity (wunderkammern). To give the best sense of my approach, here is the course description:
Cultural value systems in every society rely on sets of mutually defining terms — for example,normal/abnormal, able-bodied/disabled, free/enslaved, legal/illegal, white/non-white,heterosexual/homosexual — that largely determine local attitudes of acceptance or ostracismregarding particular categories of persons. Focusing on social stigma allows us to understandhow specific cultural value systems affect our most intimate senses of self, contribute to our verynotions of personhood, and inform the ways in which we communicate and engage with others inthe world.
Stigma theory speaks broadly to the nature of the social relationships that create markedcategories of persons, regardless of which particular attributes are devalued. In this class we lookboth at theory and at particular cases of stigmatized persons (individuals & groups), as attentionto the particularities of a given stigma keys us into the cultural values that create and support it.Since stigmas do (eventually!) change over time, identifying strategies that have been effectivein creating such change is a primary focus of the course.
The theoretical centerpiece of this course is Erving Goffman’s 1963 study Stigma: Notes on theManagement of Spoiled Identity. We will read this text closely to appreciate Goffman’s insights,and attempt throughout the semester to update them (and the language he uses to convey hispoints) by applying his model to more recent historical and ethnographic case studies ofstigmatized persons & groups. Our focus will be on the range and efficacy of the variousstrategies available for countering stigma.
Expressive arts — including written & spoken word, film/video, and performance — will beexplored as popular strategies for disarming the stigmatizing gaze. We focus in particular onartists and activists whose work addresses contemporary cases of stigma. Weekly screenings oflandmark films in fields including American studies, disability studies, black studies, queerstudies, and gender & women’s studies supplement regular class meetings; viewing these films isa critical part of the course.
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I am interested in passing the Stigma course on to anyone interested in carrying the torch. I would be happy to share syllabi and course materials I have honed for this course over the years; I changed at least some topics, films, and readings every year. The course has had many iterations: as a grad seminar, as an upper-level undergrad course, as a mixed 400/600 level, and most recently as an introductory GEN Ed course at the 200-level. In short, the rubric is malleable as well as valuable, and I hope the course will continue to be taught. DM me! (or find my syllabi on academia.edu.)
What object in your life do you make into a sentient being?
I call the lift in my bedroom Wall-E. It helps.
What is the worst piece of advice you have ever gotten?
When I was a grad student at the University of Chicago, Prof. John Comaroff was Chair of the Anthropology Department. He inaugurated and taught a professionalization Seminar in which he advised female students to wear stockings – pantyhose — when going for job talks. I consider this bad advice for at least two reasons: the advice is itself uncomfortably intimate and sexist, and pantyhose are super uncomfortable. Not a good confidence builder for fierce-feminist-yet- nevertheless-vulnerable women entering the academic job market.
Is there anything distinctive or unusual about your workspace?
I stole my sons’ two downstairs bedrooms to make one generous, accessible downstairs study for myself. The boys were young, 7 and 11, when we moved them upstairs to my old study and small yoga room. Now that they are teens, they like it (maybe even too much). Meanwhile, in my new downstairs study, a big picture window onto our front garden is where I look when I write.