Jeever Madness
I cannot muster the “we” except by finding the way I am tied to “you,” by trying to translate but finding that my own language must break up and yield if I am to know you. You are what I gain through this disorientation and loss. This is how the human comes into being, again and again, as that which we have yet to know. (49)
Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence
Many people want to claim subalternity. They are the least interesting and the most dangerous.

Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak

I often see many South Asian Americans on social media platforms attempt (often uncritically) to claim forms of victimhood. This quote (though specifically related to the most extreme forms of marginality) speaks well to the frustrations I feel when I see people casually throw around terms like “exoticism,” “orientalism,” “appropriation,” and “neocolonialism” without thinking about their own participation in those processes.

Professor Caitlin Zaloom assigned a class to do an ethnographic study of Occupy Wall Street. One student, Sara Ackerman—who objected to being “forced,” in her words, to interview “criminals, drug addicts, mentally ill people, and of course, the few competent, mentally stable people”—did not like this. She seems to have complained several times, eventually attempting to confront NYU President John Sexton at Bobst Library; and when he (according to Ackerman) sent her to the “Mental Health exchange,” she let fly with the early-morning “open letter.”

After sending several emails through the listserv for NYU’s department of Social and Cultural Analysis, Ackerman began making slanderous threats to reveal misconduct and ethics violations among the various professors and administrators involved in the growing “scandal.”

Though the focus of the initial email is ostensibly the Occupy Wall Street assignment, there’s a lot more going on: at one point, Ackerman complains that a guest lecturer refused to call on her despite her hand being raised for a minute and 15 seconds (“a long time to keep one’s arm raised”); at another, she claims to have placed an op-ed at one of four “reputable papers” (the Washington Post, The New York Times, the New York Observer and the Wall Street Journal) where she has “close family friends” in employment, ready to be published on Thursday. (I asked Observer editor Elizabeth Spiers if she was aware of this; “we don’t do op-eds,” she told me.)

It is truly saddening to see these types of libelous attacks on the professional careers of members of the NYU academic community. I also find it appalling that Ackerman conflates her refusal to engage with the course material with an issue of academic freedom. This type of encounter is disturbingly indicative of a mentality where undergraduate students see their university education as a service that comes with various entitlements. I can only hope that this controversy brings to light the way that the term “academic freedom” is often co-opted in the name of the degradation of higher education.

I saw Asuncion last night, a play written by Jesse Eisenberg, who also plays the lead. The play follows Edgar, an aspiring journalist and academic who crashes in the apartment of his former Black Studies TA (played by The Hangover’s Justin Bartha). When his new Filipino sister-in-law comes to stay in the apartment for a few days, Edgar sees an opportunity to save her, since he assumes that she’s coming from some sordid background of sex slavery.
The play is extremely funny in its skewering of well-meaning, condescending liberal attitudes and pseudoacademic superiority. Eisenberg is great at depicting the academic humblebrag and the tendency to use scholarly awareness of racism and stereotyping to justify racism and stereotyping. After Edgar asks Ascuncion what she thinks of Pol Pot (since he spent some time in Cambodia), she responds that she’s from The Philippines, to which he replies “I know and I hate how people lump everything that’s not America together, but…”
Vulture’s lukewarm review makes sense, as the play does have a tendency to beat certain aspects of Edgar’s character over the audience’s head, but I didn’t think that was overly distracting from how entertaining the play was overall. The message isn’t subtle or new, but Eisenberg definitely makes it fun to watch. The play’s run has been extended, so if you’re in NYC, try and see it!

I saw Asuncion last night, a play written by Jesse Eisenberg, who also plays the lead. The play follows Edgar, an aspiring journalist and academic who crashes in the apartment of his former Black Studies TA (played by The Hangover’s Justin Bartha). When his new Filipino sister-in-law comes to stay in the apartment for a few days, Edgar sees an opportunity to save her, since he assumes that she’s coming from some sordid background of sex slavery.

The play is extremely funny in its skewering of well-meaning, condescending liberal attitudes and pseudoacademic superiority. Eisenberg is great at depicting the academic humblebrag and the tendency to use scholarly awareness of racism and stereotyping to justify racism and stereotyping. After Edgar asks Ascuncion what she thinks of Pol Pot (since he spent some time in Cambodia), she responds that she’s from The Philippines, to which he replies “I know and I hate how people lump everything that’s not America together, but…”

Vulture’s lukewarm review makes sense, as the play does have a tendency to beat certain aspects of Edgar’s character over the audience’s head, but I didn’t think that was overly distracting from how entertaining the play was overall. The message isn’t subtle or new, but Eisenberg definitely makes it fun to watch. The play’s run has been extended, so if you’re in NYC, try and see it!

Thanks to a tip from WalkOutOfHerMind, Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora has jumped to the top of my reading list.
Duke University Press’s description of the book:

Terrifying Muslims highlights how transnational working classes  from Pakistan are produced, constructed, and represented in the context  of American empire and the recent global War on Terror. Drawing on  ethnographic research that compares Pakistan, the Middle East, and the  United States before and after 9/11, Junaid Rana combines cultural and  material analyses to chronicle the worldviews of Pakistani labor  migrants as they become part of a larger global racial system. At the  same time, he explains how these migrants’ mobility and opportunities  are limited by colonial, postcolonial, and new imperial structures of  control and domination. He argues that the contemporary South Asian  labor diaspora builds on and replicates the global racial system  consolidated during the period of colonial indenture. Rana maintains  that a negative moral judgment attaches to migrants who enter the global  labor pool through the informal economy. This taint of the illicit  intensifies the post-9/11 Islamophobia that collapses varied religions,  nationalities, and ethnicities into the threatening racial figure of  “the Muslim.” It is in this context that the racialized Muslim is  controlled by a process that beckons workers to enter the global  economy, and stipulates when, where, and how laborers can migrate. The  demonization of Muslim migrants in times of crisis, such as the War on  Terror, is then used to justify arbitrary policing, deportation, and  criminalization.

I’m sure this will be of huge interest to anyone who wants to learn more about the racial politics of Islamophobia, race, diaspora, and the War on Terror.

Thanks to a tip from WalkOutOfHerMind, Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora has jumped to the top of my reading list.

Duke University Press’s description of the book:

Terrifying Muslims highlights how transnational working classes from Pakistan are produced, constructed, and represented in the context of American empire and the recent global War on Terror. Drawing on ethnographic research that compares Pakistan, the Middle East, and the United States before and after 9/11, Junaid Rana combines cultural and material analyses to chronicle the worldviews of Pakistani labor migrants as they become part of a larger global racial system. At the same time, he explains how these migrants’ mobility and opportunities are limited by colonial, postcolonial, and new imperial structures of control and domination. He argues that the contemporary South Asian labor diaspora builds on and replicates the global racial system consolidated during the period of colonial indenture. Rana maintains that a negative moral judgment attaches to migrants who enter the global labor pool through the informal economy. This taint of the illicit intensifies the post-9/11 Islamophobia that collapses varied religions, nationalities, and ethnicities into the threatening racial figure of “the Muslim.” It is in this context that the racialized Muslim is controlled by a process that beckons workers to enter the global economy, and stipulates when, where, and how laborers can migrate. The demonization of Muslim migrants in times of crisis, such as the War on Terror, is then used to justify arbitrary policing, deportation, and criminalization.

I’m sure this will be of huge interest to anyone who wants to learn more about the racial politics of Islamophobia, race, diaspora, and the War on Terror.

Gujarat: The Making of a Tragedy, edited by Siddharth Varadarajan, is an extremely thorough collection of essays exploring the various dimensions of the Gujarat riots. The book features diverse discussions of the violence itself, as well as the conditions in Gujarat and the Diaspora that informed the riots. I highly recommend this collection for anybody who is researching communal violence or Hindu fundamentalism.

Gujarat: The Making of a Tragedy, edited by Siddharth Varadarajan, is an extremely thorough collection of essays exploring the various dimensions of the Gujarat riots. The book features diverse discussions of the violence itself, as well as the conditions in Gujarat and the Diaspora that informed the riots. I highly recommend this collection for anybody who is researching communal violence or Hindu fundamentalism.

In contrast to utopian images of intimacy as transparency, authenticity, and ultimate belonging, diasporic intimacy is dystopian by definition; it is rooted in the suspicion of a single home. It thrives on unpredictable chance encounters, on hope for human understanding. Yet this hope is not utopian. Diasporic intimacy is not limited to the private sphere but reflects collective frameworks of memory that encapsulate even the most personal of dreams. It is haunted by images of home and homeland, yet it also discloses some of the furtive pleasures of exile. (227-8)
Svetlana Boym, “On Diasporic Intimacy: Ilya Kabakov’s Installations and Immigrant Homes” in Intimacy, a collection edited by Lauren Berlant.
mutinousmindstate:

Desis in the House by Sunaina Marr Maira and published in 2002. Get your copy.

Such an amazing book. Certain parts of Maira’s study were alarmingly applicable to people I know.

mutinousmindstate:

Desis in the House by Sunaina Marr Maira and published in 2002. Get your copy.

Such an amazing book. Certain parts of Maira’s study were alarmingly applicable to people I know.

My type of bookstore.

My type of bookstore.

I ask for a history that deliberately makes visible, within the very structure of its narrative forms, its own repressive strategies and practices, the part it plays in collusion with the narratives of citizenships in assimilating to the projects of the modern state all other possibilities of human solidarity. The politics of despair will require of such history that it lay bare to its readers the reasons why such a predicament is necessarily inescapable. This is a history that will attempt the impossible: to look toward its own death by tracing that which resists and escapes the best human effort at translation across cultural and other semiotic systems, so that the world may once again be imagined as radically heterogeneous. This, as I have said, is impossible within the knowledge protocols of academic history, for the globality of academia is not independent of the globality that the European modern has created. To attempt to provincialize this “Europe” is to see the modern as inevitably contested, to write over the given and privileged narratives of citizenship other narratives of human connections that draw sustenance from dreamed-up pasts and futures where collectivities are defined neither by the rituals of citizenship nor by the nightmare of “tradition” that “modernity” creates. There are of course no (infra)structural sites where such dreams could lodge themselves. Yet they will recur so long as the themes of citizenship and the nation-state dominate our narratives of historical transition, for these dreams are what the modern represses in order to be.
Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference (via bollywoodsuperstar)
To be recognized as a feminist is to be assigned to a difficult category and a category of difficulty. You are “already read” as “not easy to get along with” when you name yourself as a feminist. You have to show that you are not difficult through displaying signs of good will and happiness…We can also witness an investment in feminist unhappiness (the myth that feminists kill joy because they are joyless). There is a desire to believe that women become feminists because they are unhappy, perhaps as a displacement of their envy for those who have achieved the happiness they have failed to achieve. This desire functions as a defense of happiness against feminist critique. This is not to say that feminists might not be unhappy; we might be unhappy after all with this representation of feminism as a caused by unhappiness. My point here would be that feminists are read as being unhappy, such that situations of conflict, violence, and power are read as about the unhappiness of feminists, rather than being what feminists are unhappy about. (67)
White men are saving brown women from brown men…The sentence I have constructed is one among many displacements describing the relationship between brown and white men (sometimes brown and white women worked in). It takes its place among some sentences of ‘hyperbolic admiration’ or of pious guilt that Derrida speaks of in connection with ‘hieroglyphist prejudice.’ The relationship between the imperialist subject and the subject of imperialism is at least ambiguous.
Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, “Can The Subaltern Speak?”
In Conversation: Speaking to Spivak
The Hindu recently featured a very interesting interview with Gayatri Spivak, one of the most influential academics in the United States. The interview featured some interesting insight into Spivak’s personal growth as a scholar. I also enjoyed some of Spivak’s self-deprecating humor about her career and scholarship:

I see myself as a classroom teacher rather than anything. I write these  books because I can’t not write. You know, it’s that kind of a  obsession. I have read an awful lot of very excellent books to think  that my books will really make the grade in the long run but they are  written with great seriousness and sincerity. But I don’t write well  either. Many people have said this in print – that I don’t write well  and I am sorry about that… I try my best. My language has become much  simpler but not, therefore, easier to understand.

In Conversation: Speaking to Spivak

The Hindu recently featured a very interesting interview with Gayatri Spivak, one of the most influential academics in the United States. The interview featured some interesting insight into Spivak’s personal growth as a scholar. I also enjoyed some of Spivak’s self-deprecating humor about her career and scholarship:

I see myself as a classroom teacher rather than anything. I write these books because I can’t not write. You know, it’s that kind of a obsession. I have read an awful lot of very excellent books to think that my books will really make the grade in the long run but they are written with great seriousness and sincerity. But I don’t write well either. Many people have said this in print – that I don’t write well and I am sorry about that… I try my best. My language has become much simpler but not, therefore, easier to understand.

I wish I could take a class with Feminist Hulk.

I wish I could take a class with Feminist Hulk.

Conservative responses to hyper-sexual popular culture usually involve an anti-sex agenda, one that functions to contain women’s sexuality while failing to fight sexism or to work toward women’s overall freedom. Rappers and corporate industry representatives highlight the sexually repressive tone and agenda of conservative attacks on hip hop in order to encourage women’s complicity with their own exploitation. Indeed, the two positions—sexual exploitation and sexual repression—are birds of a feather. I am not interested in a less sexually open society or in sexual censorship […]. Rather, I am concerned about black women’s overall freedom and equality. This involves genuine sexual freedom of expression—not freedom of expression tied to sexist male fantasies or to male-dominated sex trades in which women are demeaned and degraded in order to appear sexually free. Nor does it involve women’s sexual repression—a returning to sexual domination of women through sexual repression in the interests of patriarchal male control. Sexual explicitness does not have to be sexually exploitative. (183-4)