#reading reflection

The account was published (and I presume written) more than ten years later in 1971, and one of the most immediately fascinating parts of the text is the way it reflects the cultural views and attitudes of the time it was lived, and published in. There are definitely elements of the text that would shock a sensitive reader. 

At one point "Jan-san" (as he's called in the text) reflects almost idly, or perhaps meditatively, on a sexual assault that he committed– rubbing up against a woman on a train. This is given no particular weight and doesn't dwell in his conscience, in fact he seems to write with no shame in enjoying it. The account is broadly misogynistic in general– the presence of women is almost never commented on, and when they are, it is in conjunction with sexual activity. Homosexuality, in contrast, if brought up several times in the text and while the author does not write about participating in it, its repeated referencing, and the comment that it's "more normal in Japan" as well as other comments lead me to speculate that he did participate, and simply left it out of his account.

More fascinating than speculating on Jan-san's sexual activity or lack of it, and closer to the point of the narrative, is his study of Zen meditation. The author came to Japan to study under a master with the hope of reaching enlightenment– in his own words, finding out the purpose of life. What's fascinating to me in his account is how absolutely bad he is at it. And he writes about being bad at it. The central theme of the narrative is that Jan-san absolutely sucks as a monk the entire time he's living and studying. At the beginning of his studies he's given a "koan" (a meditative story) to solve as his training, and over the course of the narrative he never solves it. It's repeatedly made clear that other students solve their koans much faster, and Jan-san just can't do it. He spends a lot of time smoking, and he goes to the bath house, and he has sex with whores. He gets hemorrhoids from trying to sit lotus style. He meditates 11 hours a day, and he  leaves Japan without ever getting closer to the answers that he was looking for.

The Empty Mirror strikes me as a meditation on, and reflection on hubris, and ultimately on failure. The author seems excessively self-involved and it frankly doesn't surprise me that he was unable to solve his koan, because throughout the narrative the biggest character is not just Jan-san, but his ego. His own obsessive need to be succeeding, to solve things, to be in control and enjoy himself. This makes for a wild departure with other accounts of Zen study that I've read which tend to center the teachings, or the other people that the author met and interacted with. The Empty Mirror is a navel gaze, and a fascinating look at the author's psyche.

Aside from being a 'what not to do when studying Zen" manual, one of the things I loved best about The Empty Mirror was its look at the Japan of the era from an outsider's eyes, even if it was admittedly shallow due to its author's self involvement.

I don't know if I'd recommend the work to most people, but I can say that it held my attention through the entire book, and that I read it in one sitting. I think elements of it will stay in my head for a while– maybe next time I'm feeling a little too smug.

Some excerpts from the book under the cut.

it was masterful. told the reader a ton about the characters, how hollow and meaningless their lives are. how they see each other as tools to be used for their own gain.

other characters (the service staff on their elite space station) referred to a (fun!) staff party/orgy/hook-up event to emphasize that the problem is the people participating. (both, the author doesn't have anything against orgies *and* look how fucked up these rich people are).

4 September 2022

“...this practice of appropriating and fetishizing the primitive and simultaneously erasing the original source…”

This week’s readings made me re-think my reaction to week 1’s readings. The piece about Santeria really stuck out to me because of how it pulled back the curtain and sought to educate others, knowing that it could easily bring criticism and hatred. I had ended the week hoping that my research would be able to have that same effect, ridding others of false assumptions and bringing understanding. But this week’s reading caused me to re-think a little bit.

What good is being vulnerable and opening up, if you’re relying on the audience to have honest intentions? I thought of those indigenous performers who weren’t quite sure of why they had been invited to be a part of the exhibitions, but took the offer anyway, only to be exploited and viewed to death under the guise of advancing Knowledge. I had hoped to discuss African American folklore and spiritual practices during enslavement, but I'm hesitant to do it if it means people will just enter the space seeking to consume, not to learn.

A couple questions I'm still pondering, are:

Is this what my work will be reduced to? Something that’s just consumed by outsiders, but not really understood or respected?

Who holds the power in the spectacle/spectator dynamic?

31 August 2022

These readings were a fun way to kick off the course. My favorite was Chaya Babu’s Buzzfeed article about Santeria! This article really illustrated the cultural importance that religion plays within a community and within the lives of individual practitioners. This spiritual tradition serves as a way to keep people connected to their ancestors, to their cultural roots, and ultimately, to themselves. It serves as an anchor, especially in a society which can be so hostile to the existence of POC. Babu spoke about the tradition so lovingly and respectfully, and it’s one of the first major publications I’ve read on the practice that sought to understand the practice and what it means to its participants. I was just so touched by the way she honored the religion, which is completely opposite from how it’s usually spoken about by European-American culture. I also appreciated that Babu addressed how spirituality is a source of strength during difficult times, then connected two different periods of time and linking past threats (enslavement, displacement because of colonization, violence) and current threats (displacement through gentrification, police brutality). Whether or not Babu was trying to intentionally equate the struggles of the past and struggles of present day, I think she did a great job of insinuating that the threats to Black and Brown people are virtually the same as they were back then, even if they look a little different. I love that she described gentrification as a form of cultural violence! If more pieces are written like this, with a desire to educate, is it possible to remove the stigma around Santeria?

The “Letters from Africa” and “Witches Conference” articles broke my heart. It was so sad to see how deeply colonization has created a divide between Africans and spiritual traditions that are native to the African continent. It’s almost as if they completely forgot it was something that came from that region, and was practiced by their own ancestors. It makes me wonder if the damage colonization has done to cultural traditions can ever be undone. These two articles made me wonder whether Nigerians are upset with those who are literally practicing witchcraft, or if “witch” is one of those vague labels that one can be accused of if they’re doing anything that’s not in alignment with the Christian Church. On a similar note, the Obeah article mentions men being arrested for practicing. Out of curiosity, are women and men punished differently for practicing witchcraft? Is one gender more likely to be suspected/accused of being a witch, compared to another?

Rebecca Raby et al. discuss in their article “Vlogging on YouTube: the online, political engagement of young Canadians advocating for social change” how Canadian youth are working to create effective social change through content creation on YouTube, and as such youth should be considered more in the political sphere as creators of activism and social change. They do this through a case study of twenty—eighteen of which became usable—Canadian youth vloggers, by analyzing their content and the response to it, and contesting it with their literature review and research.

The goal of this reading is to recognize youth as key actors in activism, and as bringers of community care and implementers of social change. Much of this outlook is informed by poststructuralism to observe the agency youth have online, and as online content creators. Again, they do this primarily through their case study of Canadian teen vlogging channels, with a close look at the content itself and the response to the content from other users. They urge the reader to look at youth as more than passive, more than the stereotypical idea of being politically disengaged and mindless, especially due to the rise of social media use.

I actually spent most of my teen years creating content on YouTube, and have been engaging with the platform since 2006. While it was great to read about this topic being heavily researched by scholars, and in recent years, my own experience as a teen on YouTube gave me a very extensive and detailed primer going into this reading.

I would have liked to see what the authors’ recommendations for further engagement of youth online and how to foster teen activism online in a healthy, supportive way would be. While the main argument of urging to see teens as more than vapid and passive is wonderful, I felt as if it was missing a true call to action rather than just providing evidence to change one’s mind at the base level.

In Sapna Mulki and Alison A. Ormsby’s article “Breaking Green Ceilings: podcasting for environmental and social change”, the authors discuss podcasting as a communication publishing medium, and argue that podcasting is a highly effective medium to be considered for historically marginalized groups to get their stories out and have their voices be platformed. In the article, the authors use the specific example of how environmental organizations are white, cisgender and male dominated spaces, and that marginalized groups are spoken over and silenced. They branch from this notion to how DQTBIPOC-run podcasts break through this hegemony, and use the specific example of the podcast “Breaking Green Ceilings”. Through the example, they illustrate how podcasting can be used to amplify diverse voices through the “easy” nature of the medium—both in creation, publishing, and access.

The goal of this reading is to better understand podcasts as a communication tool, more specifically for DQTBIPOC individuals and communities, and how podcasting is actually a very revolutionary medium for marginalized peoples. They go about this by introducing the concept of podcasts, the environmental industry itself, and then doing a close analysis of “Breaking Green Ceilings” as their prime example to back their thesis. In the end, they conclude that their example podcast absolutely fills representational gaps, however it is a starting point to many stepping stones in creating a more diverse industry.

While I have been an avid podcast listener for over a decade, environmentalist podcasts are something I have not actively sought out, or engaged with. I have a better understanding of what many of them do, and how crucial uplifting diverse voices is within this industry.

The authors provide solutions specific to this singular podcast. I wonder if the same can apply to other podcasts in the field, or even wider social justice podcasts with the same goal. I am now very curious about how other underrepresented voices and communities make use of podcasting, and would love to read another detailed analysis of several other kinds of social justice podcasts. I think that would really elevate the authors’ arguments.

In Melanie Ramdarshan Bold’s article “Why Diverse Zines Matter: A Case Study of the People of Color Zines Project”, Bold discusses the importance of zines as cultural artifacts and as an activist medium. It notes the history of zines, and how they became more radicalized through the rise of the Internet. From that, the focus on zines by and for people of colour is analyzed through the digital publication the People of Color Zines Project and the impact and importance of such a project and archive.

The goal of this reading is to first create an understanding of zines as an art form and activist tool, and how that is rooted in the history of zine making. However, that merely serves as a base point for the central point of the article, which is reflecting on the importance of creations by and for POC in the zine community. It notes the racism and ostracization many creators of colour have faced in the community, and how zines have offered a space for reclamation of that community space and identity. This is exemplified in the article through the case study.

Going into the reading, I did not know much about zines besides that they are a short-form, often handmade medium. I did not know much about the political nature of them, mostly having come in contact with them through sparse instances of friends creating digital zines and from my own academic research on fandom and its origins. Now, I have a much more detailed understanding of the medium, of its history, and of the politics woven into the artifacts themselves and the community.

I am curious if the zine community has more potential to really blow up on social media. From my own research into the POC Zine Project, it seems email is still the primary form of contact, with sparse social media posts and their web hub, tumblr, being inactive since 2015. Can the community thrive as more widely active on social media? Or would that defeat some of the purpose of underground counterculture and/or open marginalized people to more violence in areas used as safe spaces?