Are we not all broken in one way or another?  Is it not true that from the moment we breach our mother's wombs we are broken?  Is not the harsh reality of leaving our water paradise to be thrust into the cold world not a breaking of sorts?

Mark W. Bundy, the author of "'Know Me Unbroken': Peeling Back the Silenced Rind of the Queer Mouth", wishes to know Gloria Anzaldua unbroken "just as Maria Lugones wants all muted women 'to be seen unbroken'" (qtd. in Bundy 139).  Bundy's article is lyrical/poetical at times with his use of imagery and rhythm.  But I keep asking myself what is my reaction to the piece?  What have I taken away from my reading? 

Language.

The beauty of language.  The ability of language to build bridges through its human use.  These are things that I absorbed in my reading.  When discussing Anzaldua's use of language, Bundy writes: "These ongoing harvestings of yours, Gloria.  Peeling it all back--culture, self, body, voice, sex, identity, meaning, realities, love, illness, recover" (140).  All things can be discovered and known through language.  Understanding can occur through language and its use. 

If we are silent in our anguish, our fear, our anger, our love, our passion, how will anyone understand?  We need to make room for everyone's language, not just mine, not just yours: and yet, mine and yours.  In the words of the Na'vi (Avatar) "I see you."  That is what we should all be striving for by listening to the language of others.

"Adjectives are a way of constraining and controlling.  'The more adjectives you have the tighter the box.'  The adjective before writer [ex: feminist writer, lesbian writer] marks, for us, the 'inferior' writer, that is, the writer who doesn't write like them [the dominant culture]" (Anzaldua 264).  Adjectives are labels, and in Gloria Anzaldua's article "To(o) Queer the Writer--Loca, escritora y chicana," she discusses, among other things, some of the implications of using labels. 

As I have advocated before, I do not like labels, and I avoid using them for myself at all cost.  But often, we are faced with situations where we are forced to use them to define ourselves.  I could say that I am an Appalachian woman (said correctly), or what some would consider a hillbilly.  And I would wear that identity proudly, but as Anzaldua notes, that would place me in a box, and a quite tight fitting box as well. 

So if I didn't like that label, I could say that I am a feminist, or a lesbian, or a rhetorician (I'm NOT a speller), or a middle-class white woman, or, or, or.  As you can see, the list could go on and on forever.  To chose any ONE of those labels and say this is me, would be to deny those other parts that are just as important and just as vital to who I am as any other label.  I would, in essence, be dividing and splitting my identity: who I really am.

Anzaldua drives this point home when she argues so eloquently that "identity is not a bunch of little cubbyholes stuffed respectively with intellect, race, sex, class, vocation, gender.  Identity flows between over, aspects of a person.  Identity is a river--a process.  Contained within the river is its identity, and it needs to flow, to change, to stay a river--if it stopped it would be a contained body of water such as a lake or a pond" (267).  I wonder what my first-year composition students would think of this quote.  The 18 years-old students who felt that by the time you enter college your identity should be pretty much set! 

Anzaldua discusses more than just labels and identity with in this article, which is apparently an excerpt from a larger piece, but it is her comments about identity that resonate the most with me.  Is there such a thing as a lesbian writer, or a queer one for that matter?  I don't know, but I do not wish to cling to just one small part of my identity and be labeled that way.

In Mary L Gray's conclusion to Out in the Country, she summarizes the points that she makes throughout the book.  But what I find particularly interesting are her arguments about how rural youth do visibility.  Gray argues that "rural queer youth rework their disorientation from self, in places that prioritize familiarity through codes of sameness, discourage claims to difference, and have relatively few local 'others' to turn to for queer recognition" (3331-3347).  So rather then claim an identity of "otherness", they cling to an identity of familiarity to garner as much local support as they can.

As I've made reference too many times, I grew up in a rural area, and I can't imagine what it would have been like for me to try to claim a lesbian identity during those years.  I knew I was different, but I had no way of knowing what that difference was or how to label it.  I wouldn't have even thought it was sexual at the time.  Unlike many of the youth in Gray's text, I had no way of searching for "what was wrong with me" because of course I knew there had to be something!!!  Gray's investigation of how media in general and new media in particular help rural youth work out their identity and find realness in being a rural LGBT youth is critical for helping researchers understand how these youth negotiate this terrain.

For me, it wasn't until I went away to college that things began to make sense to me.  However, I was still in a very small town, with no family and only a few close friends, and certainly no internet.  Life, for any rural youth in my day who questioned their sexuality or gender, were pretty much doomed for a life of misery until they got it figured out; if they did. 

Gray's research is interesting, and there are some things to note in her Epilogue which I will get to in the next post.

"Far from being the reflection of an inner drive, [Gray] argue[s] that youth identities are cultural assemblages that work with the materials on hand" (551-567).  So Mary L. Gray, in her book Out in the Country, does not see identity as an individual thing, but as a cultural, social construction as posed by theorists like Barbara Ponse and Anselm Strauss.  Gray posits that she investigates "rural queer-youth identities as performative, socially mediated moments of being . . . ." (584-601).

In light of these statements, then, I would like to look at one particular statement she makes later in this chapter.  Gray notes, sadly, that there were in her study only "small numbers of young women and youth of color of different gender available and/or able to participate . . . ." (665-682).  The lack of racial diversity, she believes, "superficially reflects the ethnic makeup and distribution typical of rural communities in these regions" (665-682).  The regions she mentions here are the rural areas of Kentucky and it's bordering states: what is known as the Central Appalachian Region (or my stomping grounds). 

So why, out of 34 participants, did only 11 identity as women?  The answer to this is pretty obvious to me but still interesting.  As Gray states, "the rural young women [she] met were 'highly aware that a lot was at stake for them because of their desire'" (665-698).  Not only are these women identifying as lesbians, but they are actually admitting to having sexual desires.... period!!  A no-no in our culture.  Women are not suppose to have sexual desires for the opposite sex, much less the same sex.  Gray comments that "several young women [she] met were willing to talk about their experiences but were unwilling to document them or consent to have them included in this research for fear of 'blowing their cover' as more that a few young people put it" (682-698).

Here is what is sad.  I still feel this way when I am at home in the Blue Ridge mountains.  I struggled long and hard on whether or not to "facebook friend" people I knew in HS because I knew I would be outted.  I would be blowing my cover and possibly subjecting my family to.... well, I'm not sure what they might be subjected too.  Maybe it was just an excuse for me, but in the end, I decided that if these HS friends wanted to "reconnect" with me, they would just have to learn who I really am.  Let 'em "unfriend" me if they can't deal with it!!

This concludes the first chapter where Gray has set up the theories that she uses in her case studies and the methods she incorporates.  I look forward to the rest of Gray's text and seeing how rural youth see themselves as members of an LGBT community.

Finally, an article that I think many interested in Second Life for education will find useful.  Will it tell you how you should setup your class?  No.  Will it help you make the argument to administration as to why this is useful?  Maybe.  So you are wondering what exactly it does do, right?  Well, it discusses what the digital humanities research lab and studio HUMlab at Umea University did when they began thinking about using Second Life, and it describes some of the mistakes they made and how they corrected them.  Generally speaking "Spacing Creation: The HUMlab Second Life Project" by James Barrett and Stefan Gelfgren is a good foundation piece to have in your arsenal for future use.

I find that I have written lots of "yeps" and "yeses" and put stars in the margins of the text.  Pedagogically speaking, the project decided to use the space as a "constructivist user driven exercise" , and they state that the decision to do so shifted "the emphasis on results . . . from the facilitators to the users in the project" (170).  I have read a lot in this text and in others about the constructivist approach to SL, and i am a believer.

While all of this information is good, there is one quote that really caught my attention concerning "space" in SL.  The authors state that "space, and subsequetly place, have a deep and defining connection to personal identity.  Even virtual space exerts a powerful influence over identity through self expression and as a gestalt to feelings of control" (171).  I couldn't agree more.  I have been to a LOT of places in SL and I've called several my virtual home.  Any property that I have ever owned has had to be on an island and be secluded from others.  My favorite "house" in SL is a treehouse, which is basically a tree with a platform.  i don't like walls, and I don't like being closed in.  The place I call "home" now is on the main island and is surrounded by other builds with very little "nature" to it.  I hate it.  So I never log in there and I rarely go there.  So why do I call it home?  Because everyone needs a "safe" place that they can quickly teleport to, and anything is better than nothing.

I must admit that the feelings I have in real life when I am at that patch of land on the main island surprise me.  I get antsy and nervous if I stay there too long.  Zoe is not meant to be a city girl in SL anymore than Dianna is meant to be one in RL.  And maybe it's because I am living in the city in RL that I can't tolerate it in SL.  Luckily, in SL I can easily find solitude in a wide open space and chill anytime I have the need.  Now ya know why I stay logged into SL all the time. :-)

I read 20 pages (all) of Toni Sant's essay "Performance in Second Life: Some Possibilities for Learning and Teaching" and what I got out of it was basically what I already knew: virtual worlds are all about performance in one way or another.

Sant begins by discussing how SL is used in theatre, music, dance, and live art, but what I find the most interesting is when she discusses identity performance.  Sant asserts that "the mechanics of Second Life--its physics and game engine and expected or acceptable behavior--are the the rules that enable you to operate within the online environment.  Beyond this, whatever role you chose for your avatar is an identity performance" (160).  She even discusses how the name one chooses for their avatar is part of that performance and part of how we want others to perceive us in the virtual world. 

I know this to be true, at least for me, because I spent a LOT of time choosing both my first name and last name in SL.  When I signed up, last names were listed to choose from, and you then chose a first name to go with it.  I knew I wanted my first name to be Zoe, which is Greek and means life.  I couldn't get Zoe with the last name I wanted, which is McMillan for my ancestry on my father's side, so I brought some of my real life identity into SL by adding a capital B to Zoe: the initial of my real life last name.  I wanted to present myself as a fiery Scottish woman full of life.

The other thing that Sant discusses which I find interesting is the difference between role-play and real-play.  First, I had never heard the term real-play before.  By definition, Sant claims that "if a truthful exchange occurs between Second Life residents, who known [sic] exactly who is behind the avatar they see in-world, then the suspension of disbelief that is essential in successful role-play is disengaged temporarily to enable real-play between the users" (161).  I'm undecided about this.  Not sure I buy into the "real-play" concept.

Even though I had to read 20 pages to get 1 1/2 pages of something I found interesting, it was worth it.  If you don't know much about Second Life and the possibilities it offers for all types of performance, this is the article for you.

Tonight I continued Michelle Gibson, Martha Marinara, and Deborah Meem's article entitled "Bi, Butch, Bar Dyke: Pedagogical Performance of Class, Gender, and Sexuality."  And as the title of this post indicates, we're moving to the Butches, written by Deborah Meem.  Before we begin, however, I just want to say that I am not a fan of "labels" as it were.  Labels often create binaries, and in those binaries things become fixed.  If I've learned anything over the past 8 years, it is that identity is never fixed, which is what I believe these three women are arguing as well with their own personal narratives.

Meem gives us three (really four) personal narratives about her identity as a Butch lesbian.  She gives us a chart that is often used in women's studies courses called the "Multiple, Simultaneous Identities" chart.  The top line identities are privileged, the second line less privileged, and the third the least.  The chart shows that we all inhabit, or perform, different identities.  While being a lesbian/gay is a less privileged position to hold, Meem places "butch" on the top, or most privileged, line.  Her three stories actually demonstrate why she has made this identity one of privilege, and after I gave it some serious thought, I can see her point. 

This embodied performance of a more masculine persona actually brings with it a degree of power.  You are perceived to have these masculine traits that even men respect.  Well, once again, the ole light bulbs starting going off in my head.  Again, I do not label myself, but I believe I am perceived as having a more butch identity than that of femme.  If this is indeed the case, than I suppose, according to Meem's theory, this gives me a higher degree of power.  People see me as being strong, confident, and decisive (all traits that are usually associated more with a masculine identity than a feminine one).  Perhaps this explains why I have often found myself in positions of leadership or authority, when all I was trying to do was  stay hidden.

Meem mention the Bem Sex-Role Inventory test, so I decided to go online to see if I could find one.  I did and decided "what the hell, not like I'm holding anything back here" and so I took the test.  To see the results, click the more button at the bottom.  The fact is, Meem's has opened my eyes to how, once again, we perform so many different identities on a daily basis.  Can't wait to see what the Bar Dyke has to say!!!!

I had no idea when I began Eve Shapiro's book Gender Circuits that she would look at Second Life with regard to gender identity.  Anyone who knows me understands how thrilled I am about this sense Second Life is of particular interest to me. 

Shapiro begins "Information Technologies and Gendered Identity Work" by discussing a myriad of topics that have been written about the subject.  It's almost as if she is trying to legitimate the topic, or it could be that she just wants the audience to understand how prevalent this virtual world is in our real world.  I have been a citizen of this virtual environment for over three years now.  I have seen avatars of all shapes and sizes and never blinked an eye at how the real world people chose to represent themselves in this virtual space.  It took Shapiro to point out just how homogenous Second Life really is for me to even consider this.  She brings up some interesting questions as well, asking "Why was gender, racial and body size homogeneity, the outcome of allowing people to construct their own avatars?  Is this homogeneity intentional, purposefully or unconsciously produced by this virtual world's designers or participants?  Or is it a product of those who participate in Second Life?" (89).  (Note: While many choose to italicize Second Life, I do not unless I am discussing the software that must be downloaded to enter the virtual world.  If we do not italicize "world", I see no reason to italicize Second Life.)  Shapiro notes that most people likely just create their "ideal" self when they construct their avatar, but that in so doing "we created a world that reflected social body norms and hegemonically valued existing gender, race, and class scripts" (89).

If this isn't food for thought, I don't know what is.  But I do have a bit of a theory, and I'll pose it here.  While residents of SL are allowed to create their own avatar, the beginning choices are limited in what you can be.  When I researched first-year composition in this world in 2007, my students did not even have the initial choice of choosing African American.  And I had a student who wrote about the disembodied feeling they had walking around as white when in reality they were African American (my use of "they" is intentional to avoid gendering here).  Second Life does allow you to completely remake yourself once you are in-world, but that requires some knowledge and often Linden $$$ to create what you want, and many noobs (new residents) do not make these investments unless they decide to remain a citizen of this society.  So perhaps these citizens appear to reproduce homogeneity simple because they have not made the commitment to the money and time it takes to create the avatar they really want.  At any rate, it is a theory.

I want to take this one step further.  Shapiro notes that different theorists believe "that technology can produce new and reconstructed bodies and identities" (93).  There is ample evidence that this is true.  Perhaps the reason Second Life reproduces homogeneity is because it puts everyone on equal playing ground.  Wagner James Au, in The Making of Second Life and Robbie Cooper, in Alter Ego: Avatars and Their Creators, both discuss an avatar in Second Life known as Wilde Cunningham.  An avatar with nine real world individuals, who suffer from various physical challenges, behind it.  As these people say, Second Life allows them "to fly and walk and run and drive and basically experience everything life has to offer.  It allows us to fulfill some dreams and meet really cool people we would not otherwise have met" ("Wild Cunningham" from Robbie Cooper's Alter Ego: Avatars and Their Creators.  Homogeneity, for some, creates an identity that puts them on an even playing field and affords them things and experiences they would otherwise miss out on.

Obviously the first half of this chapter dealt with a lot more than just the creation of identity in Second Life, but I have written far too much for one blog post and likely bored my readers to tears, so I'll end with a goodnight.

Ok, so the section I read tonight was not totally about tattoos, but the case study at the end of the "Preview" chapter of Eve Shapiro's Gender Circuits was, and it is really what I found the most interesting about this section.

To be fair though, I should have read another page last night because Shapiro discusses the impact of challenging gender norms by discussing drag communities and how many begin to play with gender once they have been a part of that community of a while.  Interesting stuff, to be sure.  And Shapiro also talks about how technologies such as Second Life (yes she did discuss SL) allow people to bend gender rules and play with identity.

But the case study on tattooing is where I want to take this.  Again, brings it home for me in a big kind of way.  Shapiro does an excellent job of discussing, briefly, the history of tattooing.  But more interesting is the meaning or meanings behind tattoos and what they say about us.  Probably the most obvious thing is that tattoos have never been and still are not looked kindly upon for women.  Shapiro argues that "tattoos on men and women are interpreted in vastly different ways boosting masculinity while threatening femininity" (40).  This got me thinking about my own tattoos, those of my partner, and those of my niece.  If you look at my partner's tattoos, they pretty much tell a story on their own.  There is a pooh and tigger, which needs some explanation, and two Indian themed tattoos which pretty much stand on their own.  A fourth needs explanation.  People see it and do not understand what it means at all.  My niece's are probably what I would call the epitome of a woman's tattoos.  She sports a lady buy, maybe a butterfly, and one associated with her two girls.  These are the types of tattoos that I can see being appropriate gender scripts for a woman.  My two tattoos are unique.  They did not come from the wall of a tattoo parlor, and as such, if you don't ask, you won't know what they mean.  One of them matches my partners and thus the tattoo she has that needs explanation.  The other one people mistake all the time, but people rarely enter into a discussion with me about it. 

So what do my tattoos say about my gender?  I hope nothing.  They are very personal to me and not meant to scream femininity nor masculinity; they are meant to say something about my inner being.  While I am thoroughly enjoying Shapiro's text, I hate to think of all of this gender scripting and what it says about me.

It's late, I'm tired, I'm outta here.

Ok, so tonight I decided to start a book I have been looking forward to for quite some time.  The book is Eve Shapiro's Gender Circuits: Bodies and Identities in a Technological Age.  There are basically five chapters, and each one approximately 40+ pages.  So I have decided to break each chapter up into two sections to make this a little easier to absorb.  I'm a one of those people who reads slowly and needs time to digest what I read.  So tonight, I started with the "Series Foreword," "Preface," and the first 20 or so pages of "Preview: Gendered Bodies and Identities in a Technological Age." 

Blogging becomes difficult for me tonight.  I could just chat away about how well Shapiro presents the basics of gender, describing how we now know it is socially constructed and giving detailed explanations of terms in boxes that are set off in gray, allowing you to skip these if you already know the meanings.  I could also discuss my excitement when Shapiro writes "I have endeavored to write in a jargon free manner" (xv).

But what I wouldn't be blogging about is what I learned about myself, both past and present, as I read Shapiro's text.  She introduced me to a term tonight I had either never heard before, or it had never been explained in a way that resonated with me.  The term is gender scripts.  The things that we learn as we grow up that cue people into our gender identity.  The way we walk, the way we talk, the way we dress, our every action is read by the people with which we come in contact.  This is where the light bulb went off in my head, and I'm not talking no 25 watter here.  I'm talking full halogen strength.  Every since I was a kid, I've been referred to as a boy, or later in life, sir.  It use too, and I guess still does, piss me off every time it happens.  But it finally dawned on me as I was reading about gender scripts that the reason people always call me sir is because I do not act out the correct scripts for a woman.  I always thought the people were just idiots, but the reality is that they were and are reading the scripts correctly, just not looking closely.  I don't like labels.  I don't like "acting" out one way or another.  But society has set the norms for these scripts and there is nothing I can do about that.  I can't conform because I only know how to be who I am.

So while I know I will enjoy Shapiro's text, I just wonder how many more surprises are in store for me about myself.  I never imagined this blogging thing would get so personal!!!