These journal posts are completed as part of DPH 201: Humanities at Work. They reflect on and interact with the texts read for the class and connect them to personal and multimedia elements.
Below are listed some of the strengths that stood out to me in the Skills Assessment as well as some of the areas I need to develop.
Communication - Writing
Interpersonal - Appreciate Diversity
Creativity - expressing artistically
Research & Analysis - Interpreting patterns and connections in data
Information management - Classifying, recording, retrieving data; attention to details
Physical - fine motor dexterity; inspecting or examining
Interpersonal - collaborative; persuasive
Leadership - taking risks
Project & Task Management - scheduling tasks
Seeing how my strengths mesh with each other, I was able to develop a better idea of what would fulfill me in the professional field. I love the idea of combining my ability to inspect primary material and interpret the patterns and connections within with my attention to detail. I want to work with items in museums and archives and use my skills to interpret them, but also use that knowledge base to educate the public through creativity. I love the idea of experimental archaeology and living history, being able to recreate elements of the past (ex: crochet, dresses, embroidery, etc), which would use my crafting textile skills (fine motor dexterity) and creative expression. Additionally choosing to focus on diverse and undertold stories, particularly those relating to gender and sexuality, is important to me. With all of these skills and passions I think I would thrive as an interpreter in a living history museum or as a historical reenactor.
What I need to work on though, is my confidence in myself. I often doubt my ability to solve problems and communicate effectively, particularly through verbal communication. Communication and interpersonal skills are very important when attempting to translate research to a wider audience, like a museum. Furthermore, I often have innovative solutions but am two nervous that they are not good enough to actually take risks and share them. Procrastination is also a weakness of mine...
Dr. Jen Gunter is an amazing author and now I want to read the entirety of her book. Her casual yet academic voice humanizes the topic and made me feel like I was having a late night gossip session sitting in a friend's car in the parking lot. She draws readers in with her acknowledgement of the absurdity of the stigmas surrounding menstruation.
I appreciate that she began with not simply a biological description of how menstruation happens but why we evolved to have it (especially when only a handful of other species menstruate). Understanding the biological necessity for our period makes me scream at the world for having one (slightly) less.
Once the biological basis is established, Gunter moves to the social and historical understandings and attitudes towards those who menstruate (historically considered woman or female, although we know this is not the case). Unfortunately, most of this is characterized by the social pressure to not discuss our cycles, which leads to misinformation or simply no information being available to young people attempting to navigate their periods. As Gunter notes, "without knowledge, there can be no informed consent" (Gunter 415). If we do not understand what is happening in our bodies and how other materials, like period products, affect our hormones and cycles.
This is likely no surprise to you, but I was instantly interested in her brief discussion of how women dealt with periods historically, which most of the time we don't know much about it. I was reminded of YouTuber Abby Cox's video a few years ago in which she used a variety of primary sources (including the same 1733 murder trial of Sarah Malcolm that Gunter references) to make a guess at how a menstruating person in the 18th century would have delt with their period and then proceeds to test the apron. I highly recommend her video, she does a great job with linking sources.
I was also curious about the idea that there is a lost "secret female knowledge" that allowed our ancestors to understand and have cure all solutions for their periods. Gunter stated that before the 19th century there was no reference to period products in medical texts (something Abby Cox claims as well), so of course I flipped to my favourite twelfth century medical text written by a woman (the Trotula if it wasn't already obvious) and took a quick look through. Trotula mentions the "menses" and includes several recipes/advice for regulating the flow of blood (often including bloodletting or in one case the smoke of "ginger, laurel leaves, and savin") with the aim of regulating and balancing the humoral system. However she does not make mention of what menstrual products someone with a average period, or even irregular period, might have used. If half of the humans on the planet spend significant chunks of their lives dealing with "Aunt Flo" why is talking about dealing with that so difficult?
The artistic style of the bird, with its uneven pen strokes and curling feathers, is highly reminiscent of history, old papers, and the pseudo-Greco-Roman architecture populating the capital. These were the buildings designed by white men, built by slaves, and lived in by white men. Thus the National Archives logo represents a single-minded and often exclusionary narrative of American history.
The logo of the National Archives is very interesting to me. It is the upper portion of an American bald eagle facing the right with wings flared behind (I can't help but find some resemblance to the iconic Muppet, Sam Eagle, pictured below). The bird, the symbol of our nation, stereotypically represents the 'American' values, by which I mean the core beliefs of the white Christian male majority who founded and run the country. Beliefs such as 'freedom', manifest destiny, and pulling oneself up by one's bootstraps. The bird is turned to the right, facing the future.
The archivist, as noted in Randall Jimerson's book, Archives Power, holds significant power when it comes to retaining and shaping history. As he describes, the archive is at once a temple of preservation, a prison fearing attack and theft, and a restaurant (likely some little one in the French countryside that doesn't even have a menu but the server just rattles off to you in French*) in which the archivist assists researchers with navigating the menu/finding aids. It is the archivist and the archive which controls what gets saved, how it is saved, and who gets to see it. As only 1-3% of records are kept, according to the National Archives About Page, the archivist for the National Archives is able to choose what to keep in a way that shapes a very specific narrative, the narrative of the American Dream. The narrative in which everyone has family who have proudly served in the military (military records feature prominently on the National Archives website). The archive states that their collection "records important events in American history." Who decides what is important? Important to whom? What happens when events are decided to be not important?
When framing these questions in the light of the National Archives logo, it becomes evident that the overarching story of America found in the National Archives is one that celebrates and highlights qualities praised by a white Christian America (I do not equate qualities with people, there is a prominent story on the website about Martin Luther King Junior, who is seen today as embodying many of the positive qualities of 'what it means to be an American').
*DISCLAIMER: I have never been to France. This should not be taken as a true representation of French culture.
so good, will write blog post later (hopefully)
Question: What forces have shaped the "story" Shapiro tells of her own life, her selfhood? How have those changed?
I absolutely loved Dani Shapiro's memoir, Inheritance! I was so invested in the drama of her life, who her father was, and whether or not Ben wanted to meet her. She grapples with several important concepts as she works to define who she is and what her family identity means to her.
"I am the black box, discovered years--many years--after the crash. The pilots, the crew, the passengers have long been committed to sea. Nothing is left of them. Fathoms deep, I have spent my life transmitting the faintest signal. Over here! Over here! I have settled upon the ocean floor. I am also the diver who has discovered the black box. What's this? I had been looking for it all my life without knowing it existed. Now I hold it in my hands. It may or may not contain clues. It is a witness to a history it recorded but did not see. What went on in that plane? Why did it fall from the sky?" (Shapiro 165)
The biggest, and perhaps most obvious, question posed in the memoir is what defines a family. Is family a biological or social/cultural concept? Of course, it is both, but which one means more? For her entire life, Dani defined her family biologically. She was proud of her Jewish inheritance, particularly her father's clan. After the discovery of her sperm donor father and true biological roots, she struggles with transitioning her father from a biological and social role to purely a social influence. At first, in her mind a complete and 'true' relationship ought to include both biological and social ties. This possibility is unacceptable to her mind, and she comes to accept that she can have two valid father figures, Ben and her father. Rather than cutting her identity, as defined by her family, into two separate lives of before and after the discovery, and between the two men, she learns to simply expand her concept of self and include both, not either or. It is in this stretching that she creates a new definition of family and identity for herself. Her struggle can be seen in the passage above, where Dani sees herself as two distinct items: the box and the diver. And yet, as the diver and box meet in the ocean, they join together and expand the known knowledge of the whole. Today, defining family far beyond the biological boundaries is becoming increasingly common. 'Found family' allows people to value family for the emotional and social benefits more that the genealogical inheritance.
Faith also plays a crucial role in Shapiro's definition of family. Despite claiming that she is not religious as an adult, much of her life decisions are affected by her identity as a Jew. She sought the advice of a rabbi. When Ben proposed a date to meet in person for the first time, Dani's first thought was that the time of year he proposed was during a set of important Jewish feasts. Her life, raised by an Orthodox Jewish father, is heavily steeped in the religious and cultural customs of Judaism. She clings to these customs as a way to remember her father and feel the familial connection.
Below is another quote I found quite moving. I do not have anything particularly witty to say about these words but I thought I would share it.
"I had no thoughts. I was all keen instinct. We never know who we will be in the burning building, the earthquake. We never know until we are faced with our own stripped-down, elemental selves. I wanted to flee. I wanted to stay. I wanted to rescue myself and the whole of my history." (Shapiro 56)
Tbh it's 2am and I am so sleepy and do not have enough brain cells to finish this journal post atm so I'm going to leave these chaotic notes and thoughts here and go to bed and finish this at a later time.
grappling with what defines a family, is it biological or social/cultural?
found family, today it is much more common for people to define their family as their friends or other not biologically related people close to them
Religion
she may say she is not Jewish but she does a lot of Jewish things
when she immediately thought about what was on the Jewish calendar when scheduling the first meeting with Ben
"I had no thoughts. I was all keen instinct. We never know who we will be in the burning building, the earthquake. We never know until we are faced with our own stripped-down, elemental selves. I wanted to flee. I wanted to stay. I wanted to rescue myself and the whole of my history." (Shapiro 56)
"I am the black box, discovered years--many years--after the crash. The pilots, the crew, the passengers have long been committed to sea. Nothing is left of them. Fathoms deep, I have spent my life transmitting the faintest signal. Over here! Over here! I have settled upon the ocean floor. I am also the diver who has discovered the black box. What's this? I had been looking for it all my life without knowing it existed. Now I hold it in my hands. It may or may not contain clues. It is a witness to a history it recorded but did not see. What went on in that plane? Why did it fall from the sky?" (Shapiro 165)
I fear this applies to me every year when preparing for and experiencing these lectures. I fall in love with literature and the power of story in new and deeper ways every time. Being able to meet Julia Alvarez and listen to her incredible hope in the face of a life that has not treated her well has inspired me.
Among many things, I was struck by Julia Alvarez's description of humanity as "the species that tells stories." From an anthropological sense, Alvarez is defining what makes humans uniquely humans is the fact that we communicate and build community through stories. Stories tell us who the collected 'we' is; they bond us together; they help us find ourselves though the loss of 'me' and the discovery of 'we'; they create a welcoming "portable homeland." I believe that we are drawn to stories because every individual story is a truth and when stories are collected they create truths that describe and define us as complexly as we desire. Searching for who we are is a fundamental desire of the human heart. In Alvarez's own words, "A novel is not, after all, a historical document, but a way to travel though the human heart" (In the Time of the Butterflies 324). These stories matter because they bind us together into community. By writing Dominican stories in the English language, Julia Alvarez grows a community that crosses borders and cultures. She provides a path by which to see each and every person as utterly and wholly human.
It is not simply enough to listen to these stories, though, and imagine the community it builds. We are called to put into action both what we read and what we feel when we read. As Alvarez put it, we need to learn how to "walk the writing."
I have been reflecting on our discussions in class on Tuesday about what is captured in a photograph and what is left out. There is inherent bias in the photos we take, and where we choose to keep and display them, less so today than a few decades ago. Who is in the photos and who is not? When are photos taken and what are they trying to capture?
When it comes to family history, this bias is taken further; what photos did generations previously choose to pass down? What notes, awards, and artifacts are kept? Can a family afford to keep such photographs and artifacts or even have them in the first place? What is saved is treasured, both for the person saving it and for whom it is saved. However, not all have the financial or physical means to store boxes of photographs or delicate garments. Naturally, this leads to an abundance of family evidence for wealthier and privileged families. Working-class families and families in which family history is or was not prioritized loose these precious mementos. The evidence in the world is vast and abundant and never fully found, and yet the knowledge lost without evidence remains far vaster.
I am much luckier than most and have access to boxes and trunks of my own family history. With the help of my grandparents, I have been able to identify the source, or likely source of many of the items, such as the white bowtie that my great grandfather wore on his wedding day. However, there are still some items that someone in the family thought were worth saving that we do not have the origin story for. A photo of a soldier that my grandparents do not recognize, a box of sewing notions that my grandmother cannot remember which great grandmother it came from. The stories of these items are buried under lost context. Khun reminds us that photos are not a snapshot of a moment but rather a catalyst to remember and reimagine the stories of our lives through the preservation of details. The stories that I build with these photos and family artifacts, even those to which I do not know all of the information, will give me new memories, such as the time I've spent with my grandparents, to contextualize my story with.
As I wandered through the museum on Tuesday, I was drawn to this painting. It was not one I had seen before, but I felt comfortable with what I considered similar styles (my initial reaction was that this painting is similar to Impressionism regardless of if the painting was in that style itself). I did my best to take my time with my initial observations, attempting to only write down objective facts even when my brain wanted to make assumptions and conclusions. A few of my observations included:
there is a large (compared to frame size and other figures) figure with pale skin, blue eyes, and long hair centered in the frame wearing some type of shiny gold garment draped off of one shoulder.
In the bottom left corner there is some type of dark twisted tube shape that fans out into red by the base of the main figure's white spear.
All three figures above the main figure have wings and two are very similar to each other.
After my initial observations, I looked at the plaque which described the painting as Saint Joan (A Study for an Unrealized Project for the Panthéon) painted by French artist Paul Jacques Almé Baudry between 1876 and 1886. Reading this tag I understood the main figure to be Saint Joan of Arc, a popular saint in France as she lead the country to military victory in the 15th century, guided by God. During my initial observations I thought she was wearing a gold dress, but now I can tell it is a suit of armor (unrealistic as it may be), particularly when looking at the knee detail. The fact that this is a study may contribute to why there are areas of the painting with fewer or fuzzier details (I still have no idea what the odd shape in the corner is). I loved picking this painting, because even with more context, some of the image must be left up to imagination and interpretation.
I think I was drawn to this painting because in my personal perspective it challenges femininity. She is at once radiant, beautiful, and feminine, portraying 19th century ideals, while being prepared for masculine battle. Boldly, she takes up space on the canvas and stares directly out at the viewer, confident in her position. Baudry may not have intentionally painted her in this meaning, but it is how I see myself in the painting and connect with it on a personal level.
Overall, I had a positive experience in the museum. However, I am aware that I am an 'insider' in museums and feel in many ways represented by them as a white middle class individual who grew up with a strong emphasis on education and creativity. Looking from an 'outsider' perspective, there are many closed doors in the Raclin Murphy; most of the galleries deal with predominantly white European and American artwork, depending on which gallery you are in, you can only see what was defined as art by upper class white Western society. The atmosphere is also a very refined quiet one, no one shouts and many of the 'insider' visitors study the art with very serious faces, making what may appear to an 'outsider' as highly intellectual and sophisticated commentary. I do not feel that the museum fully engages with and seeks out keys for marginalized communities, particularly non-White, non-Christian, and non-heterosexual/gender non-conforming communities. I did not have the chance to visit all of the galleries, but it felt like the museum caters towards a very specific white Catholic Notre Dame alumni group of 'insiders'.
After watching Jennifer Vosters' performance of the play she wrote about the Mendelssohn siblings, I am without words. She did such a spectacular job drawing the audience in to the story of the two siblings with incredible talent and incredible love for each other. I was blown away by Jennifer's ability to easily switch between Felix and Fanny with subtle shifts in posture, movement, cadence of voice, and hairstyles. Before watching this play, I had a vague understanding of who Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn were but did not know very much.
The play engages with the complex relationship between brother and sister, exploring how gender, age, talent, and circumstance affected the siblings. Both siblings are incredibly talented and passionate about composing, performing, and conducting music but only Felix, as the boy, is given the funding and opportunity to explore a professional life in the arts while Fanny marries. As the eldest sibling, it is only Fanny's gender that prevents her from a career as a musician and composer for most of her life. However, her bond with Felix and their collaboration allows her to get some of her music out while at the same time reminding her of what she could have become if she was her brother. The nature of the play as a one-woman play highlights their similarities and differences. Jennifer places the siblings on equal footing, telling both stories in a way that emphasizes Felix and Fanny's humanity and questions why gender needs to define them instead of their relationship and legacy.
Who: a young, caucasian person wearing a white veil and light grey habit. Her veil covers all of her hair and her neck and the habit is long sleeves with an apron-like feature running down the front.
What: The figure is standing and observing a passionflower while holding a book/manuscript with elaborate illuminations of the Crucifixion and the Virgin Mother.
When: Bright sunlight illuminates the scene, and the sky is clear blue behind the figure, indicating good weather. Flowers are in bloom.
Where: In a walled garden with a pond of koi fish and lily pads with a wide variety of red, white, blue, and pink flowers growing in neat rows in the grass. However, none of the flowers match the passionflower in her hand. There is a dark green hedge abutting the wall.
Bias:
Familiarity: I have seen this painting in person before (one of the main reasons I chose this image for today's blog post) and am already familiar with it, giving me a bias in favour of liking the image. This means I had already read the title and blurb of the painting, giving me more background knowledge on what is depicted and what it means.
Catholicism: I have a strong Catholic background and a particular interest in religious life, so I am able to easily recognize the young novice nun and the scenes in her book. I can make the educated assumption of her gender based upon the Catholic laws for religious sisters and the date of the painting (it was rarer to find gender-non-conforming representation in media such as paintings).
Memories: This painting brings up many memories for me, mainly from my time in Oxford. I first really noticed this painting when a group of Blackfriars students went to the museum to look at the new Fra Angelico painting on Good Friday. I consider those people very dear to myself. When I look at this painting, I see more than just a nun contemplating the Passion, but also myself and my friends joining in the same.
Conclusion: A young woman in religious habit stands in a blooming garden with eyes looking down at a flower while holding a book.
Conclusion if I were being subjective and whimsical: The novice nun, in a moment of peace and solitude in the spring garden of her convent, meditates on the Passion of Christ through observing a passionflower and her illuminated book. She feels sorrow as she thinks about the permanence of death and the permanence of her upcoming vows.
Question: How did this story make you think about the role of storytelling in history?
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's fiction piece in The New Yorker, The Headstrong Historian, is an incredibly moving work. Her storytelling capabilities are phenomenal and I became so invested in Nwamgba and her family. Reading the descriptions of her joys and struggles, particularly her many miscarriages brought the strong emotions of Nwamgba's tale to life. The story reveals the complications of African history by introducing the most crucial element: humans. The relationships between Nwamgba and her family, culture, and colonialists twist between positive and negative.
Stories have been the center of history and human understanding for thousands of years and in many cultures, such as Nwamgba's, oral storytelling traditions are more prevalent and powerful than the written word, which does not always exist. In the same way that I ask my grandparents about where their parents are from and what they loved to do as children, The Headstrong Historian is a story in which Nwamgba's life, culture, and heritage are recorded for her granddaughter, Aamefuna. Through the description of Nwamgba's family's reaction to her desire to marry Obierika, the reader learns how her culture perceives and reacts to slavery as well as the potential reaction of the earth god Ani; "Perhaps somebody in their family had committed the taboo of selling a girl into slavery and the earth god Ani was visiting misfortune on them" (Adichie). This comment provides the reader with some of the cultural and religious context of Nwamgba's early life. Details within the story pass along values and beliefs.
Additionally, Nwamgba's story, through its individual and personal nature (something that storytelling cannot escape), the relationship, effects, and desires within the narrative of history are complicated. She wants the guns of the white soldiers in addition to fearing their power. Additionally, Nwamgba seeks out the Catholic missionary school even when the Anglican teacher condoned it as harsh and less sympathetic to the native culture. He assumes, wrongly, what will best serve her interests. Her goal is to teach her son English so that he can get ahead in life as there was no other way for him to do so. While the education has many bad effects on the mother son relationship, the skill of English does in fact help her son get ahead in this brave new world (yes one of my favourite books). These stories flip the traditional historical narrative that paints colonization as an entirely malicious practice (don't get me wrong, colonization and slavery were bad and should not be repeated). Nwamgba also critizizes her own system in this poignent quote:
Stories allow voices to be heard and through voices one can see how any and every system has a flaw. Nothing is perfect and humanity is complicated. Storytelling is not only an ancient tradition that has helped historians piece together a fragment of the past, it "make[s] a clear link between education and dignity, between the hard, obvious things that are printed in books and the soft, subtle things that lodge themselves in the soul" (Grace's ponderings, Adichie).
While this reflection has focused on oral and written stories, there are so many different mediums in which stories are told. Here are a few other examples:
This painting tells the story of Lady Jane Grey (one of my favourite historical figures). Visual arts are stories without words but convey meaning through color, shape, and balance. Jane, in her brilliantly white outfit plays the picture of innocence at the chopping block.
Image licenced under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.
Music as a form of storytelling has been around since at least the Greco-Roman theatre tradition, and likely longer. The musical Into the Woods is a prime example of storytelling as it grapples with what it means to be a story and how history has erased the original versions of so many 'fairy tales' to create stories they thought were appropriate. Storytelling provides insight into historical thought, but it can be biased and inaccurate as well.