On Friday, September 25th, I attended an event at the USC Caruso Catholic Center hosted by many organizations including Pando Populus. This organization takes it name from the pando tree and describes its significance on its website: "Above ground, Pando appears to be a vast grove of individual trees. Underground they are all interconnected through a single root system. Each part is affected by and nourishes the other. It has survived this way for as long as 80,000 years." The pando tree is a synecdoche for the interconnectedness of all life and an analogy for how we must work together to correct the damage done to our environment.
The event was held in support of Pope Francis's visit to Washington D.C. and the release of his encyclical "Laudato Si." The event was religious-themed with the Bishop Mary Douglas Glasspool representing the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles, held in a Catholic Church, with speakers from the Muslim Public Affairs Council, Faith2Green, and Interfaith Power and Light. The theme, "The Pope is Pando" lauded the work of Francis as a figurehead and representative of how religion can be a uniting force for environmental activism. I've previously discussed the rhetoric of creation care as an emerging social movement with the potential power to tip the scales in favor of larger influence. While the group I studied was primarily evangelical rhetoric, it's clear that many religions are finding common ground in the spiritual to influence their view of the natural.
Logo for the Pope is Pando event. Retrieved from this site.
In Francis's encyclical, he made repeated mention of an "integral ecology" where life is integrated in a familial metaphor. Common to Catholic and Christian rhetoric, the familial metaphor connects people and faith leaders as fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers. Francis incorporates the environment in the familial metaphor as shared children in God's creation. He argued that the Earth and nature are female family members: "our common home is like a sister with whom we share our life and a beautiful mother who opens her arms to embrace us" (p. 3). The feminization of "Mother Earth" is a phenomenon I would like to explore in a different blog post. For now, I will say that emphasizing the femininity of nature implies vulnerability in need of our protection and to motivate us to save her as one might a damsel in distress. Francis argued, "This sister now cries out to us because of the harm we have inflicted on her by our irresponsible use and abuse of the goods with which God has endowed her" (p. 3). If we are all interconnected - a united organism - then a threat to one part of it is a threat to the whole. Faith appears to be one way that people are transcending differences in order to focus attention away from economics and politics and onto justice, morality, and the environment.
In the beginning of Summer 2015, I taught COMM 204: Public Speaking to ten amazing undergraduate students. We tackled many important topics, such as logical fallacies, overcoming communication anxiety, and building sound, reasoned arguments. A few weeks before the course, one of my friends and colleagues, Kari Storla, forwarded me an article about autonomy and self-grading in the classroom. My first thought was dismay, shock, and disgust - let students....grade...themselves? It seemed like a ridiculous and pointless idea.
But, after my gut reaction passed, I thought that public speaking might be the perfect course to tackle this interesting and innovative idea. I drafted a 25/25/50 rule: each student self-graded up to 25 points, the peer grades were averaged out of 25, and I provided the remaining 50. The article noted that few professors give scores below 50%. If 50% is given automatically, why not give the students some autonomy and control over that experience? I gave it a shot and this is what happened.
Overall, I found that the students were quite fair to themselves and their classmates. With the knowledge that everyone was peer-grading, there was a collective dependence on giving everyone decent scores. I averaged grades and all scores were anonymous, but the students still felt responsible for creating a supportive and welcoming environment. Even when comments were quite harsh, "This didn't really address the prompt, not sure I understood it," students (except for 1) still never graded below a 20/25. Across all speeches, there was agreement between the student self grade and the peer grade. Students, on average, gave themselves a 23.6 and the class gave them a 23.4. Even given the opportunity, only 1 student gave themselves perfect 25/25 across all 4 speeches. This same student also received the highest peer grades and the highest score in the course, despite the student having the third highest score from myself, on average.
There were no statistically significant differences between grades and a student's race, but there were some interesting patterns. The top three peer graded students were Caucasian while the lowest three were students of color. Overall, though, the peer grades spanned 24.4 to 22.8, a difference of 6%, which could bump a student half a grade. The students of color were also more likely to give themselves lower peer grades. For example, the lowest average self grades, 22.25/25, 22.88/25, and 23.50/25 were all students of color (and two international students). One student (briefly mentioned above) gave consistent low scores to two students of color, averaging a 19.3/25 and 18.2/25. These discrepancies and outlying scores did not affect the overall student average nor did it vary significantly from peers. Because of the low number of students in the class, teachers may want to keep potential biases in mind (for themselves and students participating in peer grading).
The self- and peer- grading was done through an app that I previously wrote a post about: Socrative. In the past, I used this app for pop quizzes and anonymous feedback, but in Public Speaking, I used it for immediate scoring of students after speeches. I did not allow technology use during speeches, but started the Socrative quiz for students to give feedback out of 25, with both positive comments and constructive criticism.
I also used Socrative to asked students how they liked the self- and peer- grading. In response to the questions, "I like the method of self and peer grading in COMM 204 this summer," all students responded "Agree" or "Strongly Agree." In response to "I felt like I had more control over my grade because of the self and peer grading policy," I only had 2 neutrals, with the rest "Agree" and "Strongly Agree." In response to "The self and peer grading makes the grading process more fair than just having a teacher grade," I had one neutral response and the rest "Agree" and "Strongly Agree." I had the same one neutral student in response to "I felt that my classmates and myself were reasonable and accurate graders." Students were more neutral towards, "I think that peer and self grading could work in other COMM classes," with four neutrals and the rest, "Agree" and "Strongly Agree." The students all marked "Agree" or "Strongly Agree" with "The self and peer grading policy has positively affected my experience in COMM 204."
In the comments, the students were quite candid about how they marked themselves and others. One student admitted, "I felt that I was obviously more bias about grading myself than my peers. I tried to be as unbias[ed] as possible, but I think it was easier for me to mark someone off for something than myself." One student noted the potential risk, "It's an interesting system to implement, although it also relies on the assumption that your classmates also grade you honestly and fairly." Other students saw the process as very beneficial: "Getting to know peer and teacher feedback helps improve and motivate me and helped me boost my confidence."
Overall, I think this experiment was a success. The students responded positively to the policy, despite concerns at first. I was sure to emphasize the community aspects of the course and how important it was to be both fair and supportive. I think this helped the students see the benefit of engaging with this grading system and giving their full attention to their peers. I could imagine this process working well in other classes that might do presentations. In COMM 206: Communication and Culture in Spring 2015, I had many students mentally check out during student presentations about readings. If the students were tasked with grading, however, and knew that they would be as well, perhaps they would pay more attention to their peers. I'm happy that I experimented with this teaching experiment and would encourage students in a Public Speaking or other presentation-heavy course to try it out as well.
I am one day late posting my blog this week, and for good reason. I spent most of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday engaged in family activities (and traveling back home). There has been increased talk at USC about the state of graduate school life and mental health and how current students can improve their quality of life while undergoing an incredibly stressful program of work. During my years on the Graduate Student Government, I worked for 15+ hours as Community Service Director, took three courses which was 9+ hours of in-class time plus reading and homework, worked as a Teaching and Research Assistant for faculty for 20+ hours a week, all while expecting to be doing personal projects, attending conferences, and publishing papers. Now that classes are over, I've passed my qualifying exam, and I am no longer a member of GSG, my time is mostly dominated by working on the dissertation. This is a no less stressful but more flexible academic assignment. I list these responsibilities not to brag about my own accomplishments. Instead, it helps me to reflect on the immense pressure I experience, when I am a graduate student who is not also supporting a family on $30,000 a year, dealing with health issues, or serving as a member of a prolific research team.
No matter our responsibilities, there is a great amount of pressure of students to succeed in public and suffer in private. It is very uncommon for people to discuss their workloads and admit failure or shortcomings. Instead, they turn into perverse competitions where we compare our workloads to others (I'm guilty of participating in this). When all we are told is "publish or perish," it is difficult to not have some sadness behind congratulatory statements or to take rejections from conferences lightly. To admit failure is to lose the game of PhD life and to express that openly is frowned upon. Research indicates that 60% of graduate students feel hopeless and depressed nearly all the time and 1 in 10 have contemplated suicide. But, there are few, well known resources for these feelings.
I took up this blog post in response to amazing statements made by my colleagues, Ritesh Mehta and Cynthia Wang, who reflected upon their time at USC. Ritesh made a profound and poignant statement at his dissertation defense about how students should not have to suffer in silence and be afraid to reach out to one another. Although the program is 100+ students in size, it can be quite lonely work staring at a computer screen all day. Cynthia posted similar sentiments on Facebook about sharing failures and talked about being rejected from a journal. I am proud of both of their statements and wanted to make one myself: I recently was rejected from a journal. Although the comments were quite positive, there was a sinking feeling that there was something else back on my plate that was simply unbearable. There was no room to fit it back into the growing list of tasks, assignments, and responsibilities.
I don't think that any of our problems are the result of USC. I would encourage any potential graduate students to consider this amazing and supportive program. I think the problems are deeper, within the PhD experience, and the academic community at large that engages in competitive mentalities and focuses on output instead of the process. Similar to ongoing debates about the requirements placed on medical residents, I think more conversation should begin about the mental well-being of graduate students. Reducing the stigma of sharing is something that I hope will get better as more students create a culture of support rather than judgment. This is something that will ebb and flow with time and does nothing to address institutional expectations. Indeed, when we think about the contributions that we will have as graduate students, it pales in comparison to what we will do as faculty members. Perhaps we need to treat graduate school more as training for academia than a full blown toss into the deep end of academic publishing and stress. This article provides some other potential solutions including increased acknowledgement, specialized training, and more resources.
I took this weekend off, postponed my blog post, and had a friend cover the class that I'm teaching over the summer. I felt guilty for a while for this decision I made, but I think that more of us should be okay with taking more breaks, more mental days off, and enjoying ourselves with family and friends. The computer (and that R&R) will still be there tomorrow.
There are many issues that I feel compelled to address as a rhetorician and social agent of change (Klumpp and Hollihan argue). Engaging with these issues, however, requires reflexivity about my own status as a privileged, white, heterosexual, cisgender, able-bodied, female and how that type of person/body can speak for others. Can I speak for others? Perhaps literally, yes, I could use my platform on this blog and as an academic to speak for others. It wouldn't be well or with full knowledge, but I could. Thus, the better question would be should I speak for others?
On one hand, attention to these important issues of transgender rights, racial inequalities, gender equality, and equality more broadly should have as many advocates as possible. People of all description can be allies and amplify the voices and stories of those who can speak more genuinely about these problems.
On the other hand, speaking for others complicates issues of voice, could serve to isolate the voices of others, and reifies a system in which certain voices are more valuable than other voices. In an academic exchange in a journal, Campbell and Biesecker addressed the issue of speaking for women in rhetorical history and how the "canon" of rhetoric that is studied systematically removes female voices. Though Campbell erred on the side of including as many voices as possible into the current canon, Biesecker was in favor of rejecting the canon as a system of tokenization.
The rhetoric of tokenism highlights certain voices that triumph against an oppressive system as evidence that the system is not oppressive. The lauded status of certain individuals (Cloud has an excellent article on Oprah as exemplar) is unique and worthy of note, and their success is linked to their individual qualities. If others simply embodied these same qualities, they could also rise above the system, meaning that change is unnecessary.
This is the token black character on South Park, literally named "Token." Retrieved from this site.
Part of the problem in speaking for others is this dynamic of visibility, voice, invisibility, and silence. To speak for others is to reify that certain voices are not being paid attention to, but it also silences their actual message in favor of a conduit. To remain silent, though, is to allow and passively participate in the maintenance of the status quo.
I am still working through these problems and try to keep them in mind in the work that I address and the comments that I make. I try to always be reflective and aware of the position from which I consume information and process opinions. For now, I err on the side of commenting from my limited position, especially when certain issues are prevalent and pressing.
One issue that has recently emerged, and one which I am reluctant to rehash considering the wishes of my colleagues, has been the Annenberg Innovation Lab Black Twitter project. I wish only to comment on this situation's similarities to the issues of authorship, voice, and who is allowed/should study others as a researcher. A summary of the incident can be read here and an excellent response by my colleague Dayna Chatman can be read here. This incident helped me reflect more on my status as a researcher and how academia as a whole can be more reflexive of how our personal situations affect our approaches to certain issues.
Responding to security concerns regarding an on-campus shooting in the fall of 2012, the University of Southern California (USC) built a chain-link fence around its campus for the start of the 2013 spring semester. The main section of USC’s University Park Campus was enclosed and ushered in with it new security protocols. Previously, the campus was a free space to walk through at any time of day. Now, anyone wishing to enter campus must negotiate the new openings around the fence. USC affiliates and visitors alike are subject to the gaze of security guards who check identification at specified gate entrances after 9pm. In spite of USC’s presence that extends outside of the main campus area, community members and non-USC affiliates are restricted from accessing campus spaces. The previously unfettered access of the community to campus spaces has been replaced by prominent visual and physical barrier to movement and agency. The
fence has been justified as a security measure to protect students on campus
during certain hours. USC does have a primary importance in protecting its
students, but choosing to isolate community members because of a few
representatives influences the entire community. The consequence of such a
symbolic action is to conflate a few violent individuals with the community and
to reinforce narratives that off-campus spaces are not safe. This physical
division operates as a linguistic turn from the USC community to USC vs. the
community. This “us vs. them” mentality occurs through labeling the community
as separate from USC affiliates. Carrying a USC ID card provides one access;
without it, bodies are turned away and disciplined from entering. In creating
this distinction, the community is labeled as violent, criminals, trespassers,
unwelcome, and the other. “These names shape our relations
with our fellows. They prepare us for some functions and against others, for or
against the persons representing these functions. The names go further: they
suggest how you shall be for or against” (Burke, 1984, p. 4). The fence helps
establish hierarchies in naming that teach USC affiliates how to respond to and
treat community members. These rules only operate between 9pm and 6am, but the
labels last longer. Symbolic naming reconstructs the relationship between the
community and USC that cannot be changed by the hour of the day.
In
restricting the movement of the body, USC also controls when those bodies can
be seen, have a presence, and occupy certain spaces. Control over the body, or biopower
and biopolitics, is a power over the movement of the body, its ability to be
seen, and to be heard (Foucault, 1982; Hollinshead, 1999).
Casper and Moore (2009) refer to “hysterical blindness” where institutions or
people either choose not to or are somehow restricted from seeing or being seen
(p. 10). “Hypervisuality” is this opposite, where people are targeted, heavily
observed, and monitored (Casper & Moore, 2009, p. 10). This “complex
system” of sight and obstruction means that powerful political entities can
control who can see and who is seen (Casper
& Moore, 2009, p. 10). At USC, bodies of students become
marked, by carrying a marked ID, and those of community members unmarked as the
“other,” not welcome within campus spaces (Phelan, 2004). Visitors to campus can apply for single-entry access for a
specific purpose, creating a temporary mark of approval and access by
institutions of power. The body receives either acceptance or denial at the
fence border based on its membership in the Trojan Family. As Greg Dickinson (2002) notes, “the subject comes
to known itself in some more or less coherent way depends on an ability to
locate itself” (p. 7).
Locating oneself either inside or outside of the campus borders changes how one
defines membership, identity, and body autonomy. Knowledge of surveillance by
guards also contributes to one’s ability to locate oneself within the political
power structure as a target or threat worth monitoring.
There
are concerns that these policies endanger community members while offering
little extra protection for USC. Vice President of Student Affairs Michael
Jackson published an updated campus policy online that said, “We are taking these steps because we care about the security
and safety of our students, faculty, staff, guests and neighbors” (para. 4). It
is an interesting rhetorical decision to separate “guests” of USC from its
“neighbors,” but certainly these are fluctuating categories. The real
importance in this statement is that somehow the construction of the fence will
not only add protection for USC affiliates but also to the community members.
To the contrary, the
Los Angeles Times reported on January
13th, 2013, that blocking the USC campus off from non-students,
faculty, and staff poses a risk to community members. For example, community
members exiting the Exposition/USC stop on the new Metro Expo line used to be
able to walk through “the safe, well-lit
shortcut through campus” to catch buses at prominent Jefferson Boulevard stops (Jennings
& Xia, 2013, para. 9). Now, community members have to circle the entire USC
campus or change their regularly traveled public transportation routes home. The
construction of the fence not only places the community under additional
surveillance, but it also directly influences the movements of the community,
with yet unseen benefits for USC. A Daily
Trojan letter to the editor echoed these concerns noting that “as a university we should not sacrifice freedom of movement
for relatively little or no added security” (Brown, 2013, para. 4).
Though
erected and implemented for supposed safety and benefit, borders oftentimes
exacerbate economic, class, and racial divides by establishing rhetorical
divisions in identity and membership. How bodies are restricted in their movement,
displaced, or undervalued also restricts voice and visibility in terms of the
powerful and the powerless. Surveillance, monitoring, and the construction of
boundaries are all ways that bodies are disciplined and controlled. These
barriers to full cooperation and integration, both physical and symbolic,
construct an environment where identity is defined through one’s relationship
with institutions of power. USC’s fence highlights the modern implications of
race, borders, and visibility, where hierarchies still enact biopower and
violate political autonomy.
A Change.org petition has been started to “Take down the USC gates.” This
petition notes the importance of welcoming, opening spaces, and condemn the “us
vs them” mentality that the fence represents. The petition includes a space for
comments and a letter addressed to USC President Max Nikias and the Provost
Elizabeth Garrett. The petition is nearing the 500 signatures needed to be sent to Nikias and Garrett. The power of
such a petition may be limited in terms of practical changes, but the petition
is itself symbolic that the USC community is in part against the policy instituted by
the administration. A lack of student support and involvement, however, many indicate that many are already accustomed to the surveillance and limitations that it imposes. Some may be optimistic about the future of surveillance,
but it appears that great action and effort to shift notions of visibility are
needed to reclaim privacy and personal autonomy.
References
Brown, N. (2013,
January 22). In response to security measures. Daily Trojan. Retrieved
from http://dailytrojan.com/2013/01/22/letter-to-the-editor-75/
Burke, K. (1984). Attitudes toward history. Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press.
Casper, M. J., &
Moore, L. J. (2009). Missing bodies: The politics of visibility. New
York, NY: New York University Press.
Dickinson, G. (2002).
Joe’s rhetoric: Finding authenticity at Starbucks. Rhetoric Society
Quarterly,32(4), 5–27.
doi:10.1080/02773940209391238
Foucault, M. (1982).
The subject and power. Critical inquiry, 8(4), 777–795.
Foucault, M. (2012). The
history of sexuality: An introduction. New York, NY: Random House Digital,
Inc.
Hollinshead, K. (1999).
Surveillance of the worlds of tourism: Foucault and the eye-of-power. Tourism
Management, 20(1), 7–23. doi:10.1016/S0261-5177(98)00090-9
Jennings, A., &
Xia, R. (2013, January 15). USC rolls out the unwelcome mat. Los Angeles Times. Retrieved from
http://articles.latimes.com/2013/jan/15/local/la-me-usc-safety-20130116
Phelan, P. (2004). Unmarked:
The politics of performance. New York, NY: Routledge.
These are questions that guide my research and I believe they are important for all researchers and communication scholars. Feel free to add questions in the comments and debate the value of these questions. Within my interests in politics, policy formation, and the negotiation of power, I try to consider:
General Research Questions
What is my object or artifact of inquiry?
Is this artifact "interesting" or valuable to the academic community?
What questions operationalize and analyze my artifact?
How do I answer these questions?
Whose shoulders can I stand on?
Topic Specific Questions
Why do people believe some things over others?
What influences information consumption?
How are people accessing and processing information and data?
What are the effects of technology on social, political, and cultural activities?
Who has power, how did they obtain it, and how do they use it?
Who are the privileged/marginalized voices and what do they say?
What elements of speeches, advertisements, images, and narratives make them persuasive?
After going to three conferences so far in my academic career (a limited number compared to some of my prolific colleagues), I have already noticed some stark differences between the larger, medium-sized, and smaller conferences. The differences between the Eastern Communication Association, International Communication Association, and the Visual Communication Association conferences left me with much to think about for future conference planning, scheduling, and budgeting.
What is most surprising is that across the board, conferences cost around $700 each. Some of us are lucky enough to receive university funding to help subsidize these costs, but for most unfunded students, post-docs, and recent hires, these prices are restrictive in how many conferences it is feasible to attend. Using the ICA conference as my large conference and VisCom as my small conference, I have listed the pros and cons that I have experienced as a conference novice.
Large conferences - ICA as exemplar
great variety
I was thrilled to see all of the variety in panels that I could attend. From early morning to early evening, there were dozens of panels that interested me in a variety of topic areas and disciplines. There were even panels in different formats, from posters to panels to speed sessions, to keep my attention.
overlap in panels
Although the number and variety of panels were great, there was a lot of overlap where I was interested in multiple panels and had to chose which to attend. This is an obvious converse to the above point, but I still felt rude for leaving panels early and had difficulty choosing between panels of interest to me. A few times I felt that I had chosen incorrectly, but felt obligated to stay and be respectful to my fellow scholars.
large amount of people
This aspect is half green and red simply because for some, this is a positive attribute. For me, however, I felt quite overwhelmed by the amount of people at the conference, resulting in my clinging to the few people I knew and meeting very few new scholars. Surprisingly, for the conference being so large, I had only a dozen people present at my panel.
major city
Although I didn't explore Phoenix, I knew many of my colleagues who took time to visit the Grand Canyon, go on local tours, and simply wander the city. Next year the conference will be in London, so ICA offers even more sightseeing and travel opportunities. The major city also helped keep prices for flights and hotels down due to competition.
Small conferences - VisCom as exemplar
great variety
Although the conference was only about visual communication, a small subset of communication, the variety of presentations was astounding! From discussions of the body to politics to memorials to evolution, the panels did not disappoint in variety!
small amount of people
The small amount of people made for an inclusive and welcoming atmosphere. There was only one panel scheduled for each time slot, so everyone at the conference attended everyone else's panel. Not only was I presenting to many more people than at ICA, but I was having the same scholarly experience that my colleagues were having as well.
price for value
The registration fee for VisComm was more than double ICA's registration, which was surprising to me. One good aspect of this was that the food was included, so I did save some money there. Although I normally do not spend a lot of money on food anyway, it was a nice change to feel well-feed (and how good the food was!) at the conference.
location
This is in part related to the price issues above. The VisCom conference was in Midway, Utah, the closest airport being Salt Lake City, which was 1 hour away. The location was inconvenient and the prices to fly into Salt Lake City were expensive and the traveling complicated. The hotel site was beautiful, with a crater, mountains, and landscaping, but the high cost of the flight and hotel caused me to leave without venturing too far from the conference room.
View outside of the Homestead Resort in Midway, Utah
Poster Presentations - ECA as exemplar
genuine interest in project
People who stopped by to read more into my poster were genuinely interested in my project. Additionally, we had more in-depth and nuanced conversations about the specific aspects of my project that was particularly interesting. I was not talking to an entire room, answering a few generic questions, but was having a personal conversation with a fellow scholar. There was opportunity for sharing, brainstorming, and more intimate discussion.
repetition
Within those intimate conversations, though, I found myself repeating the basic tenets of my piece over and over again. In a larger panel discussion, I could have answered the questions for everyone a single time. For individuals, however, it was necessary to give my five minutes spiel for everyone who came around. For a two hour poster session, I was hoarse by the end of it.
chaotic/loud
The ECA's poster session was the first that it had put on for the undergraduates. They apparently had more interest than expected because the room was quite small and posters barely had enough space to stand beside without standing in front of someone else's. If the posters I were sandwiched between each had visitors, it was hard to even see my poster let alone have a conversation about it. These issues may have been alleviated with a different set-up and space, but it is an issue to consider when applying for a poster session.
Overall, I greatly enjoyed my conference experiences this year and look forward to my upcoming year of conferences, which is already being filled by my planned attendance at the National Communication Association conference in Orlando, Florida in November.
Consumption and food are not new contributors to political identities, but one may imagine it is so considering the multitude of coverage surrounding the Chick Fil-A "eat-ins" and political denouncements. The old adage, "you are what you eat" echoes common academic themes of consumption outlining important characteristics of someone. Eating is something that people do consistently, and even the absence of eating communicates political, social, and personal values.
As a vegetarian, I have had my entire life of experience defending my choice of following a specific dietary habit. Refusing meat, questioning waiters at restaurants, and scrutinizing ingredients lists are often activities that I have to defend or justify as outside of the norm. People are vegetarians for multiple reasons, often attributing actions to animal rights, environmental concerns, allergies, and religious restrictions. For me, my vegetarianism is a product of tradition and family, being raised a vegetarian since birth and eating and cooking in the vegetarian lifestyle is an important part of my family life. For any reason, removing certain parts of a diet begs the question of explanation (and sometimes inclusion of certain foods, such as cultural foods). These questions would not be necessary unless one's choice in consumption were meaningful or symbolic.
This relationship has risen to great importance and attention in the media with the recent discussion of Chick Fil-A's support of traditional marriage groups and anti-homosexual groups. The politics of the organization has encouraged politicians, celebrities, and the general public to associate their products with their ideologies. Similar reactions have plagued organizations that participate in child-labor, unfair business practices, or are unfair to their employees. Boycotting has been around since the creation of the United States, when people refused to purchase items that were unfairly taxed. What, then, is the issue with Chick Fil-A boycotts and the discussion at hand?
I don't necessarily think that there is anything inherently "wrong" about the Chick Fil-A argument. I would rather media attention be focused on the rights of the LGBTQ community or contextualize these discussions within the larger battle for universal rights and marriage equality. Instead, news reports are often solely focused on the actions of individuals and the organization as opposed to the cause that is driving the discussion. When the news reports become overwhelmed with free speech and balancing the scales by allowing both sides their viewpoints, the actions of Rahm Emanuel and Tom Menino are undermined and discredited.
The most important part of these demonstrations is the power of the individual. Through simple actions such as spending money, kissing, and eating, bodies act as rhetorical tools for the creation and expression of identity. Even if I did consume meat, I would have been happy to participate in the Chick Fil-A boycott, using my consumption, or lack thereof, to complement my political and personal values. Although I admit I was skeptical of the ban at first and questioned its fairness, I am now proud of my alma mater, Northeastern University, for banning Chick Fil-A's establishment in our student center. Banning Chik Fil-A represents the importance of the LGBTQ community on Northeastern's campus, which recently approved general neutral housing, preferred name and pronoun identification, and multiple student groups and training groups for inclusiveness on campus.
Instead of allowing for the power of consumption to force the Chick Fil-A to leave, Northeastern used its political power to avoid the issue altogether. The issue, then, becomes when people are willing to consume, purchase, and use their bodies as supporters of hate, bigotry, and exclusion and are defended as heroes of free speech. In that world, our world, change will be slow and riddled with obstacles. Recognizing the power of consumption and encouraging people to eat consciously may be part of the solution towards equality and empowering businesses as political entities.
As a continuation of last week's post, I'd like to discuss the second paper on the Body and Visuals Panel at the Visual Communication conference I attended at the end of June.
The second paper was interested in collecting narratives of tattoos based on the history and evolution of the tattoo. Although tattoos can be used for a variety of purposes such as branding (e.g., Holocaust survivors), identification (e.g., gang or group loyalties), and memorials (e.g., dates of a loved one's death), the underlying link between them all is the narrative behind its acquisition and personal importance as permanent (mostly, at least) body art. The presentation mostly focused on the functions of tattoos, types of tattoos, and the basic storytelling design of tattoos.
Although the paper was in its beginning stages, the most interesting part for me was the overarching idea of "modification" and changing the body from its "original" form in order to tell a story. In ways that remind me of the transgender body, the "original" form is, for whatever reason, not the correct form, so modifications are undergone to make an outer body reflective of an inner soul. Additionally, the researchers discussed the personal vs public nature of tattoos in terms of placement, size, and color. A small black outlined tattoo on the hip bone has a different meaning than a colorful, bright, large face or neck tattoo. Prominence can change the significance of the tattoo and reflect the private vs public nature of the tattoo's narrative. From the heavily tattooed to the minimalists, from the professional to the amateur, tattoos all tell stories.
I would like to expand upon the idea of storytelling by expanding the narrative beyond just the physical tattoo. Not only can a tattoo be a narrative, representative of past events, victories, losses, membership, and loyalty, but it can also be the narrative in and of itself. Consider, for example, tribal cultures that use tattoos as markings for the transition from childhood to adulthood, where the very act of getting the tattoo is the transition. Enduring the pain for long hours symbolizes manhood to the tribe. The design and pattern of the tattoo is thus trivial; it is the act of being tattooed that truly holds narrative importance.
A modern example that comes to mind is the show Ink Master. Jumping on the skill-based competition reality show craze, Ink Master is a competition for tattoo artists. The trailer is below, but don't be fooled by the pig carcasses and painting challenges. During every episode they tattoo real people, whom they called the "human canvasses". Completing the metaphor of tattoo as an art, the humans serve as the canvass and location for the design. Perhaps the most painful part of the episode is the critique section, where the tattoos are described and critiqued in vivid detail by the judges. The person who just got the tattoo can watch and learn everything wrong with the permanent image now engraved on their skin, for the purpose of deciding who is eliminated from the contest. Who would do such a thing? Well, apparently at least 52 (ten contestants, one eliminated each round, finale is the final 3) or
To be a "human canvass", you apply through the Ink Master website, where you describe your tattoo of interest and "the full story of why you want to get the tattoo". Because part of the episode shows the interaction between artist and canvass, the story behind their tattoo is important for the appeal and entertainment value of the show. The most interesting episode, however, was the finale, where human canvasses signed up and volunteered to get any tattoo. I repeat, they came on the show and allowed the three finalists to mark them with any tattoo the artist wanted. Although these were the final three and arguably the best of the contest, they were still deciding the location, design, color, and style of a permanent mark for someone who had no say in the matter.
Surprisingly enough, the calculation above reflects only a fraction of the applications received to be a human canvass. The important part is the last sentence on the screenshot says "due to the high volume of applicants, ink master is unable to respond to everyone". In other words, so many people are willing to get tattoos on the show, for which they receive no monetary compensation or even travel reimbursement, that they cannot even send a rejection email.
The narratives of the tattoo, especially those in the finale episode, is not the tattoo, but the experience of getting the tattoo. The design matters not at all, could be anything from Japanese lotus flowers to a pin-up girl to a tribal arm band. When someone asks about the tattoo, the story will not be about its design, but a narrative of being on TV, the anxiety about its quality, and the ignorance as to its design.
The narrative power of tattoos, therefore, is not limited to the story in the ink, but is truly the story of the person who decided to get a tattoo, their reasons, experience, and story.