stabs at xenophobia, stabs at discovery

Finding it tough to concentrate on theoretical work with the violence happening in Africa and the Middle East this week. I think we might be experiencing an historical moment that will transform the world order in ways we can’t yet appreciate. Thinking about the polarities represented by protestors and armies in Libya and Bahrain brings me to my friend Dan’s “us versus them” question – are we (as feminists) standing up for “good” by fighting “bad,” or is the good that which is familiar and the bad, the strange?

I often consider this dilemma when attempting to work through the historical trajectories of xenophobia in Europe. I think the psychoanalytic perspective lends itself to understanding xenophobia – there are people in our families/communities/nations we know and trust and there are outsiders who we don’t know, and therefore don’t trust. This seems simple enough. What puzzles me about this idea is how distrust or fear of the other (some remnant of survival instincts?) is converted to irrational dislike or even hatred of the other. In moments of honest reflexivity, I can recall times travelling abroad when I have been afraid of locals who look different from me, but this has not grown into hatred.

In a Canadian Studies masters seminar last year, we discussed this irrational fear as racism. I disagreed with those who saw fear of the other as racist. If I feel afraid of someone even though I know it’s irrational, I’m not being racist. People fight with me on this one, usually arguing that our fears are manifested in racist behaviour, even if it operates covertly. This is probably true, but I don’t think we need to beat ourselves up over fearing what is different.

Taken further, we don’t need to feel guilty for preferring what is familiar. I’m thinking here of food and customs. There is something deeply relieving about returning home after a trip and shopping for groceries at my neighbourhood market. I think this is healthy. We do, however, need to take responsibility for recognizing our fear of strangers as irrational and behaving to restore respect and dignity for everyone regardless of dissimilarities in beliefs and values. This is easier said than done for me, especially when it comes to issues wherein someone’s beliefs interfere with the survival of bodies. This is one line I draw that has gotten me in some hot water in feminist/cultural studies debates, especially on the issue of honour killing, but I’m sticking to it, and working on where to draw other lines. Without a firm stance on survival and anti-violence, I find it’s easy to get stuck in feminist studies: stuck on inclusivity, paralyzed by ethics, unable to comment on violence in the world for fear of othering. In one theory course this term in particular, the stuckness hangs like a black cloud over my comments in seminar.

Speaking of feeling stuck, in hopes that making changes to my windows view would give a new perspective (brainlessly, according to Death Cab), I decided to get out of the Ottawa routine and romp around Montreal and Toronto this week. New perspectives abound, so not so brainless it seems.

At cafes, on the subway and on my friend Allison’s couch, I read Writing Your Dissertation in 15 Minutes a Day by Joan Bolker. I have to admit, I approached it cynically: maybe if I weren’t wasting time reading this ridiculous book, I’d have an extra 4 hours to spend on my dissertation. And so I met the author’s introductory invitation to make the book my own, take what works, leave what doesn’t, etc., with skepticism (and some audible sighs). The introductory chapter, as welcoming and encouraging as it was, fell on cranky ears.

Just as I was beginning to enjoy languishing in my own self-pity for being assigned this and other books that make me feel babied, I came across a series of thought provoking tidbits. Damn! The book is fantastic. Taking a cue from Chapter One: Beginning, I went on a fishing expedition for all of the writing I’ve done in my academic career. I opened old folders labeled with various undergraduate and masters course numbers and opened the papers that had “Final” in the title. Much to my shock and excitement, I’ve been writing on the same few themes my whole life. Amazingly, I barely remember writing some of these papers. No doubt this is partly because they were written at 3am the day they were due, but I think it’s also because I thought that I was selecting topics randomly all along and didn't pay much attention so long as I met course requirements.

As an interdisciplinary student, I’ve always felt a little scattered with regard to my interests. This is the first time I’ve traced my curiousities, and I am happy to report that my new dissertation topic reflects a passion of mine that has been fueling my work for years. It feels comforting to realize that the writing for this degree isn't solely about career development, but a deeper motivation to ask certain questions about the world. Yah! Carrying this energy forward.