Once a wallflower

Emerging protea (Photo by Tseen Khoo)

I started this post wanting to write about the value of participating, and the context of not-participating.

It got a bit long.

When I was an undergraduate, meandering through my Arts degree and waiting for purpose to strike, I felt incapable of participating properly in tutorials. I hated them. I was happy to listen to the better lecturers and tutors discuss things about the subject, and I usually had no significant questions to ask during the smaller classes. If only there was more of an understanding of us introverted types (which seems all the vogue right now), and allowance for leveraging my listening skills as an introvert. Maybe I should’ve just faked it.

Dreading these forums for learning, and knowing that a percentage of marks were allocated to just showing up, my undergraduate years were conflicted. Being introduced to the scope of knowledge materials and the expert-led winnowing of topics (however biased) thrilled me, but the compulsory face-time that brought me very little insight and a lot of angst tempered my enthusiasm.

Conversely, I loved lectures. They required minimal engagement with the lecturer or your peers, and I could get excited or confused at my leisure. Excitement I’d channel through assignments and reading, confusion I’d address by visits to the library to read around topics or terms of which I was ignorant. This dynamic suited my learning style really well. Plus: double-bonus if there was no project work (yeah, not a fan of that either).

 

When is a career interruption not a career interruption?

One of these is not like the other (Photo by Tseen Khoo)

The issue of career interruptions is a difficult one in higher education. Particularly given the gendered nature of many ‘interruptions’ (i.e. maternity leave, and who often ends up as the carer for family), I think this is a facet of life that funding bodies – and promotion systems in universities in general – don’t handle particularly well.

Major funding bodies churn through a lot of applications and are most often desperately under-staffed. So, in writing this post, I’m not looking to blame them for not being incredibly considerate of every snowflake situation.

I do wish, though, that there were more effective overall systems in place to consider the nuances of people’s track-records. Or at least a smidge more honesty in what they’re really looking for: unproblematic high performers without ongoing (or potential for) negative issues/conditions.

It bothers (and angers) me that accommodating the interruptions that life sometimes throws at you is often inadequate and perfunctory in research and higher education. Because some basic processes are in place, it feels as if this is assumed to take care of things.

The opacity of how funding bodies decide what counts as an ‘eligibility exemption’ (whether your career interruption justification is accepted) is frustrating.

 

You want a voice?

Gingerbreak man (Photo by Tseen Khoo)

When issues like the representation of cultural diversity on Oz TV, racist comments against Asian Australian soldiers, or anti-Asian pollies hit the news, my Twitter and Facebook streams start humming with responses and opinions.

It’s great to know about what everyone’s thinking and how they view the various engagements with the controversies.

I tap into quite a few Asian Australian community pockets through my AASRN, Peril, and (now defunct) asian-australian_discuss connections. I’d be the first to admit that not many of my Asian Australian connections are those within badged ethnic community groups (e.g. Chinese societies or Malaysian associations). This is somewhat deliberate. I’ve never had the patience (or stubbornness) to fight the good fight from within one of those organisations, and am cynical about the reasons why many people seek to be leaders in them.

Inevitably, however, when issues like these emerge, I start hearing pleas (sometimes, they feel more like demands) for a representative body or voice for Asian Australians.

Some start saying things to me like: ’Where is our voice?’ ‘Who speaks for us?’ ‘Why aren’t our opinions getting out there?’

When I’m not feeling cynical and cranky, I commiserate and agree that it’s very difficult to be heard sometimes. That it would be great to have better representation and champions out there in media-land. That, sometimes, there does need to be an organisation who will rise up and smite those who seek to stereotype, dismiss or devalue.

When I am feeling cynical and cranky (which seems to be with increasing frequency), I may still say some of those things outwardly. But, inwardly, I am annoyed. Sometimes fuming. Occasionally furious.

What I’d love to say, but usually never do, is: If you’re that worked up about an issue, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

 

Screening diversity

Recently, the mediasphere has been running hot with a series of articles and associated commentary about the lack of cultural (racial) diversity represented on our television screens, and in Australian media in general.

Spurred on by criticisms about the Australian television industry from Firass Dirani and Jay Laga’aia, various commentators contributed to the debate about representing cultural/racial diversity on Oz TV (and many readers voiced their concerns in the very active comment sections). Dirani started the momentum by calling for a more accurate representation of 2012 Australia on TV, while Laga’aia tweeted about being written out of Home and Away and his tweeted comments caused a stir.

The question of culturally diverse representations in our media is a constantly challenging issue, but the conversations that were re-ignited and given air-time since February this year clarify just how big the gap is between the reality of the street and what we see on our screens.

 

School’s in

My eldest started school recently. It was a relatively easy transition for her from being on holidays (and three-day-a-week kindy last year) to being a preppie at the local primary school. She was excited, and the excitement has stayed strong. She was even asking to go to school on weekends. We’ve yet to decide whether this is encouraging or pathological.

The school’s within walking distance of our house and, while we didn’t buy here specifically for the schools, the high level of facilities available in the area did sway us. Neatly enough, these facilities included this public primary school that seems to have great input and engagement from the surrounding parents and community. It has a poncy new gateway, newish prep building that stunned me with its technology and friendly classroom spaces, and separate subject classes (French, Art, Music, Motor skills programme…). I’m so out of touch with contemporary school education and expectations. I’ve been ensconced in universities and I didn’t think I’d be having kids, so never paid much attention to what went on in the sector (terrible, I know. More guilt, please).

 

Not about Fail-lard

I started an entry that was going to maunder on about how my high hopes at having Gilly in charge have been dashed. Then I realised this would be the kind of entry that 100s of other bloggers have already written (or are writing) and they would articulate their frustration and anger with much more aplomb. My reaction to the dismissal of same-sex marriage and the proposed East Timor Solution is a very mediocre but heartfelt *headdesk*. Life, death, taxes AND being disappointed in politicians.

Speaking of the undead…

I think something akin to the Pacific (or East Timor) Solution should be on call for those who really, really like Twilight (angryasianman’s post reminded me of something on regretsy.com that also made me guffaw: Shoes of the Damned).

 

In come the Gillard years (hopefully)…

I’ve got to hand it to you, Australia. You get an idea in your head (e.g. let’s change PMs) and – ta-dah! – it’s done.

Goodbye, Mandarin-speaking KRudd. Hello, first female PM JGillard.

I’m hanging out to see how Gilly gets down to business.

 

Maya Angelou… “Who?”

I’m usually careful not to assume that regular, non-acas will know the texts and jargon that I deal with at work on a regular basis. No-one needs to banter about interstitial spaces or the Symbolic over a meal (no invites for Homi and Slavoj to my place), and I’d much rather engage with everyday doings and pop.psych or pop.cult moments.

The other night, though, my sibs and I were talking about poetry.* More to the point, the sentiment that poetry is a dead form. There was a half-baked theory we were playing with about hip-hop/rap being the new poetic forms that appealed to the people. I was saying something about the effectiveness of poetry as a transformative element for issues like racial injustice or consciousness-raising, and used Maya Angelou as an example.

My sibs responded with: “Who?!”

I was a bit surprised, then realised it was probably my Women’s Studies 101 hind-brain in action. I tend to assume that most people have heard of the authors I’ve studied, but many of them – particularly when we were looking at black women’s texts – are from the US.

Just for the record, because her influence and writing have earned my admiration for many years: Here’s Maya Angelou.

From Angelou’s Wiki entry:

With the publication of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Angelou was heralded as a new kind of memoirist, one of the first African American women who was able to publicly discuss her personal life. She became recognized and highly respected as a spokesperson for black people and women. Angelou’s work is often characterized as autobiographical fiction.^[5]Angelou has, however, made a deliberate attempt through her work to challenge the common structure of the autobiography by critiquing, changing, and expanding the genre. Her books, centered on themes such as identity, family, and racism, are often used as set texts in schools and universities internationally.

—

* Just in case you think that we’re oh-so-fwah-fwah discussing the genre of poetry and its possible genealogies, let me assure you that our conversations are usually more concerned with kungfu and monster movies, where we’re getting our next yumcha fix, and catching up about The Amazing Race (our family even has a hand-turned, hand-drawn globe-trophy for the person who picks series winners…).

 

Hey Hey + Safran

It has been such a while since I posted, and I’ve been itching to get back into it. Blogging is so much about habit; the less one does it, the less one thinks to do it. I read other people’s well-written, savvy blogs (e.g. Eurasian Sensation, Strong Coffee Please, Unique Schmuck) and automatically feel inadequate. Rhubarb rhubarb about blogs serving one’s own needs and not being for others but, really, having a public space like this freaks me out sometimes. I self-edit a lot when I post about work stuff, and keep reminding myself that this blog may only be regularly read by a handful of folks but can be found by anyone. I also stop myself from writing too much about my academic work because – I cringe even as I think this – it’s work that needs to be channelled into publications and I have little enough time to do that properly (also, there’s that little issue of ‘pre-publication’ if things turn up on blogs before Haughty Publisher X gets their hands on material).

Good golly, how did this post become a defence for my slackness and mediocre content?!

To the topics in my title:

1. Hey Hey and the infamous ‘black face’ skit

Chris of Eurasian Sensation has already done a fairly comprehensive job of discussing this and the various developments around the issue (see HERE). I guess I’m just putting in my 5 cents as a matter of record more than anything else. I sure as heck haven’t got any amazing insight to add – it’s almost midnight and I was up at 4.30am this morning, orright? I didn’t find the skit particularly offensive but I did think it was a really stupid thing to do, given contemporary sensibilities. It’s not as if Hey Hey is known for challenging takes on issues, or any irony, so including the skit just seems dumb. Yes, I’m saying that it could be a skit that could function beyond just ‘being racist’ but that show sure wasn’t going to pull it off.

I was annoyed by those who dismissed Harry Connick’s comments as an ‘American’ response. Puh-lease. Australians wouldn’t be offended by ‘blackface’ because we’re such a laid-back bunch of funsters? And haven’t had any history/experience persecuting black people? I can think of quite a few people who would happily set them straight on that latter point, and how…

And, finally, Daryl Somers? Wasn’t funny for the almost 3 decades for which Hey Hey ran, and his penchant for lame double entendres was particularly appalling in his role as compere for Dancing with the Stars. All of that, plus the running ‘jokes’ with Kamahl, add up to a Barry Crocker of a celebrity. Shame, Dazza, shame.

2. John Safran’s Race Relations – Episode 1

I know this series had its fair share of controversy before it even aired (which is ridiculous, in my book – how can you be pre-offended by a show? You could be dubious about the content but, until you actually see it, how could you be offended? Inquiring minds want to know…). I must admit to not being very interested in it because I’d watched Safran’s stuff before and had never been particularly engaged, but my sister and her partner recced it today and – good lemming that I am – I watched it straight away.

I enjoyed it. I was appalled, I cringed, laughed, and called out, “Idiot!” at the screen a few times. This is the way telly should be. I had no expectations about the show, and didn’t emerge enlightened about much at all (though my admiration for Penny Wong was only exacerbated by the fact that she didn’t return Safran’s phonecalls). But I didn’t care. Given my work is researching and analysing race relations all the time, I don’t actually want heavy doses of that material in my off-time (perhaps this explains the lack of substantial posts in this blog…ahem).

While I know we’re not meant to take much of what he’s doing seriously, I was slightly disturbed by Safran’s puppy-like embrace of his ‘Eurasian preference.’ Having done way too much reading about exoticisation and racial/cultural essentialism, particularly in terms of the gendered nature of ‘Asian’ stereotypes, it was hard to dismiss his ‘preference’ as a quirk. I’ve met too many pasty white boys who like ‘Asian women’, and it’s hard not to get the heebies about it. Even worse are those pasty white boys who like ‘Asian women’ AND costume themselves with Asian clothing and accessories. While I love indulging in the awfulness that is Steven ‘The Orientophile’ Seagal (cf. Glimmer Man), seeing manifestations of this in real life is another thing. I once sat behind a (pasty white) composer of ‘fusion’ music at a conference and he wore a brocade jacket with frog-buttons and also had meditation beads around his neck – OMG*gag*. I guess I have a wariness in general of anyone who dresses up ‘ethnic’, and sometimes this wariness is directed at ethnics themselves (yes, I’m talking to you, Kylie Kwong…).

Next time?

My Asian credentials, let me show you them…