Don’t you love it when a video needs liner notes? The first thing I immediately thought when I saw Beyonce’s “Formation” was that some folks ruts – “roots” – would show. You know, ruts: biases, fea…
Source: Getting in Line: Working Through Beyonce’s “Formation”
JANETTE is sitting on a stool upstage, illuminated by a spotlight.
JANETTE: Does anyone remember the seventh grade? The years sort of blend together after awhile, but there’s something distinct about it. Yeah yeah, all the shit we always hear about boobs and broad shoulders, raspberry stains on your favorite pairs of underwear. But there was something happening alongside the woes of puberty; well, at least it was for me. It all started with a typical trip to the mall with my rich friend, Joanna Lewis. We stopped at Claire’s, the pink and purple place with the weird jewelry and screeching teenagers getting their ears pierced. Yeah, we fuckin’ loved that place. (chuckles) Anyway, so we walk in, right, and all of the sudden Joanna’s sticking a decorative tube of goo under my nose. She was like “smell it.” I did so, and it smelled of coffee and hazelnut. It was divine. I looked down at my lanky body, clad in the regular routine of green cargo pants, a black tee shirt, and sneakers. I had dressed like this since the fourth grade, yet I felt starkly out of place. At the moment of contact with the lip gloss, I was reminded of an ever-present question: who was I in relation to what the world said I should be? I remember that well before this thought, I had lashed out at the girls in school who wore skimpy designer outfits, and incidentally, were the most socially praised. It hurt me that I would never get the same volume of love from the other kids for just being who I was and dressing how I wanted to. Maybe the lip gloss provided a window into a quick remedy for that pain. Here was a tiny tube of weird frappachino goo, which smelled good and probably also tasted good. Put it on your lips and maybe then you’ll be desirable, beautiful, worthy of love. I paid for the lip gloss and tucked it in my pocket.
TO BE CONTINUED, MAYBE
It’s been longer than I can imagine anymore since my fingers married my mind, constructing beauty out of streaming thought-nothings. In golden beach-sun Rabat, I wish to surround myself with a present which inundates my salmon-pink brain, somersaulting with unfamiliar moments. But what constitutes such moments? Part of me dives into intellect, begging to be buried, fearing any possible means of getting hurt. School, work, the ever-reliable robotic existence, always there to save my day, to engage me with a larger majesty-world which i could never hope to embody. That impossibility, also known as the pursuit of knowledge, is both frustrating and addictive in its consuming, everlasting manifestations. Research feels both liberating and confining, gives you a truth to run away with and discover; yet that truth inevitably leaves me stranded with blurry residue, a library of story-beginnings. So I grasp a wooden shovel-handle and gaze at the ground, stab the undisturbed life beneath me for a chance to taste its deep-rooted wonders. Grains of sand slither away from me, revealing the intricacies of what lies still, throughout everyday space. These treasures are simple, waiting for attention before distractions can make more interesting appearances–they patiently sigh, sitting as themselves while I search for them in vain. What’s unrecognizable is the irrelevance of the search, the obsolete process which ensnares me behind bars of cold, jail-like titanium. The only necessary motion, now, is to surrender to the spaces of air inhabiting the outside-freedom–so easy to access when I release the reservations.
“The nation”, to me, has always seemed like such a large body, loaded with historical, political, economic and cultural truths that look dissimilar among every individual as they are molded into the realities of so many national citizens. What is a national identity, and a nationalism, that is uniform or universal? Within just one nation alone, everyone’s nationalism and national identity is uniquely constituted by their experience, by the layers of race, ethnicity, gender, socioeconomic class, religion, sexual orientation, ability, appearance, ideology. No one’s nation is the same to anyone, regardless of the nation itself. Nationalism always seems to be viewed as a collective project or identity, as though our nation brings us together. But when we “share” a nation, what is it, exactly, that we are sharing? Does this concept of a nation truly facilitate an honest cohesion between citizens? What is it that we agree upon? What are we really proud or critical of within our membership, or within one another’s membership? We cause the nation to exist by being told it exists, by subsequently living within that learned order of knowledge, and continuing to teach our children that it exists. And we only live within ourselves, at all times. We only live in a nation as it is constructed before us and inside us.
June 2, 2013
Field Notes.
Today, our last day in Tokyo, we visited Roth sensei’s second cousin’s sake brewery for a sake tasting. The tasting was certainly popular; crowds of tasters swarmed around the dozens of sake bottles lined up on white-clothed tables, carefully pouring a few drops of each into their tiny cups and licking their lips to distinguish their flavors. Roth sensei’s second cousin informed the class that sake is made from fermented rice, much like wine is drawn from fermented grapes. He claimed that rice and sake are “symbols of Japan.” This statement led me to think more about why these symbols exist. How has Japanese agriculture and history ultimately shaped rice and sake as national symbols and their prevalence in the country? Why rice and sake, and why are they significant specifically to Japan?
June 1, 2013
Field Notes.
Everywhere I see a trash can in Tokyo, there are usually multiple recycling bins for bottles, cans, and/or glass immediately next to it, and there are often separate garbage receptacles for burnable and non-burnable garbage or combustibles and incombustibles. Back in the United States, I’ve always thought that at least placing recycling bins next to each garbage can would help the environment immensely, as people are more likely to recycle when it’s made convenient for them to do so. I was definitely interested and surprised by the constant appearance of waste separation while staying in Tokyo. Why does this separation occur so much more in Tokyo than in any other places I’ve ever visited? Is environmental consciousness more prevalent and prioritized in Japan than in the United States, and if so, why? I am curious about whether or not this environmental consciousness is linked to the multiple natural disasters that have greatly impacted Japan, particularly the catastrophic earthquakes and recent Japanese nuclear energy disaster of
2011.
May 31, 2013
Field Notes.
At the beginning of our day trip to Kamakura this morning, Christine, Angelica, Nicole and I became very anxious. No matter how many times we stared at our maps and brochures, we couldn’t figure out where the bus for the Hokokuji Temple and Bamboo Garden stopped. Worse yet, we had limited time, as Christine and Angelica also hoped to visit temples, shrines, caves, and of course the Kamakura Diabutsu in just a few short hours. After asking multiple locals for directions, we eventually figured it out, the stress of the frenzy still thumping our heartbeats.
All became calm, however, as soon as we arrived at the Bamboo Garden. The towering bamboo cooled our sweating backs, and birds delightfully greeted us with their song-like chirps. Even the caffeinated green tea, handmade for us under a shelter deeply hidden in the trees, bestowed bliss upon the four of us. The stress of the morning simply melted into thin air.
This incident triggered my awareness of how the beauty of nature, and rural space in general, can truly impose a profoundly peaceful effect upon its dwellers. I reflected, once again, upon how rural space within urban spaces can be utilized to produce efficiency in urban citizens. Indeed, we finished the remainder of the day without an ounce of anxiety obstructing our path. The day’s expectations were carried out relatively efficiently and as planned, only after spending some time relaxing in the great outdoors.
May 30, 2013
Field Notes.
Today, we completed the same way-finding/hoko onchi experiments we did with the Japan Women’s University students, but this time we were experimenting with students from a Sociology class at Waseda University. The student I worked with this time, Kouji, was male and twenty years of age. I noticed that Kouji’s reactions to his own hoko onchi processes were similar, but different from those of Mizuki. When Kouji was uncertain about where he was, he didn’t clearly display his confusion. Instead, he asked a fellow pedestrian for directions, or twirled around in his tracks to either randomly choose a direction or turn around and follow his original path. Whenever he did pause before choosing a direction, his anxiety was not as visible as that of Mizuki. He never looked around as though he didn’t know where he was, despite the fact that he was actually hoko onchi in this context.
These results led me to wonder whether or not the performance of hoko onchi, as both a personality trait and a visible cognitive process, are gendered. Are women more expected to be hoko onchi in Japanese society, and men thought to be secure in where they are or where they are going? Is hoko onchi viewed as a feminine characteristic?
There are at least half a dozen vending machines on every block in Tokyo, as well as inside train and subway stations. The machines contain mostly juice, water, soda, coffee, or cigarettes. These are all items that maintain the sustenance of the population in some form, whether it’s a bottle of water providing hydration, a juice box holding over a hungry stomach until its lunch break, or fixing a sugar, caffeine, and/or nicotine addiction or desire, the ready availability of these items through the constant appearance of vending machines can be understood as a method for urban efficiency. The more an urban space can readily assist the functioning of its inhabitants, the more efficiently the concentrated population of the urban space’s citizens will perform.
hannahkass 