Auto-dialogue

“Writing is, of course, Ev’s legacy. He used the process of putting felt tipped pen to paper as a means of threshing out the chaff, of refining his ideas, and, most bluntly, of thinking. Ev Rogers is an exemplar of E. M. Forster’s saying about human learning: “How do I know what I think till I see what I say?” Ev understood better than most of us that we do not know and then commit to write; rather, writing like talking is thinking, process not outcome. Creativity, as Max Weber said and as we know, is about bringing intellect to bear on the persistent and emotional pursuit of an idea until you’ve got it right. That’s how Ev Rogers engaged himself on a daily basis.”
-Jim Dearing via Arvind Singhal

I talk to myself. A lot.

There, I said it. The jig is up! But evidently, this “quirk” of mine isn’t quite as far beyond the pale as I’d originally believed. Perhaps it isn’t even abnormal at all. (The fact that I audio-record my musings… well… now we might be getting into unique territory. But anyway.) The how of it, though, is worth closer examination. So is the why.

According to the Mayo Clinic, “Self-talk is the endless stream of unspoken thoughts that run through your head every day. These automatic thoughts can be positive or negative.” The ramifications of their valence are serious. These stories we tell ourselves — about the world, notably about ourselves — structure our reality. Whether the world is a kind or mean place, whether effort can lead to change, whether we are good enough — those are difficult phenomena to measure objectively*, especially if they’re subconsciously articulated; mostly, we take these things on faith. And they not only impinge upon our psychic comfort, but they can sink or support our health. Some benefits that positive thinking may provide include:

Increased life span
Lower rates of depression
Lower levels of distress
Greater resistance to the common cold
Better psychological and physical well-being
Reduced risk of death from cardiovascular disease
Better coping skills during hardships and times of stress

So how do we talk to ourselves? Gently? Harshly? Fairly? Rationally? In which modes — deliberately or subconsciously; textually (e.g., via journaling), orally (e.g., via narrating), expressively (e.g., via dancing or painting), or behaviorally (e.g., via self-caring or self-harming)?

For what purpose? Ev Rogers, mentor of my mentor, harnessed auto-dialogue to make sense of inchoate ideas and discover, in a sense, his own mind. Stuart Smalley, now Senator Franken’s (in)famous SNL character, tapped it to get through his day. In the emotion regulation game Dojo‘s current iteration, players are supposed to call upon positive self-talk in order to tolerate: a torrent of invasive questions, an unpredictable cyber handslap, and the temptation to slap back. I wonder whether this forum provides an ideal space for practicing positive self-talk. I wonder whether scenarios in which players must find the bright side in an ambiguous situation, or counter a derogation with an affirmation, might be more apt…

What happens when we steal the mic, capture the conversation, program our cerebral talkradio DJs to only (or mostly) give voice to our nascent, deep, unique truths… and rhapsodize about our beauty? How will our worlds change? Then how will we change the world?


*Is there such a thing as objectivity?
NOTE: This photo was taken in a museum in St. Louis, Senegal, Summer 2010. It reads (according to my imperfect translation skills): “With nothing but your voice/ You can fill the mountain/ and empty the sea,/ you can deliver to the sky/ all the the salt of the sea/ and bring back one great day/ the words of those absent.”

Numbers

“A dominant group, controlling the production of knowledge, shapes the construction and distribution of numbers, in order to convey authority and legitimize certain perspectives” (Wilkins, 2008, p. 17).
“Dating is a numbers game” (conventional wisdom).

Our country may be terrible at math and lousy when it comes to balancing its checkbook — but boy does it love numbers! Numbers are messianic; numbers are truth. And, in certain circumstances, numbers can be bought and sold to the highest bidder! Step right up, step right up, shape em, bend em, bring em home to your kids. Insignificant details or calls to action — pick your flavor! They can even julienne fries!

The problem, of course, is there might be no “there” there. Not only do I distrust the methods that produced most numbers, but I distrust the interpretation of their significance. An unpublished manuscript by Dr. Karin Wilkins (2008) urges numerical literacy: “This literacy needs to advance us toward asking the fundamental questions that resist obedient acceptance of numbers as objective truth” (p. 21). A recent (and heavily trafficked) Op-Ed by Paul Krugman declares plainly, “nobody understands debt.”

In other words, the emperor has no clothes on; and who made him emperor anyway?

My colleagues and I have been on a literacies quest. We’ve been crusading for the new media literacies, which is related to media literacy and social and emotional literacy; now I think we have to add numerical literacy into the salad bowl (don’t you call it a melting pot!).

I also might have to launch my own Torpedo of Truth Tour when it comes to dating. Through literature reviews and participant-observation, I can affirm that dating is not merely a “numbers game.” Its sampling frame, communicative modes, discursive material, and experimental activities differ widely according to participants’ narratives or “dating scripts.” Thus, driving up your numbers will never produce the desired outcome if you’re fishing in the wrong pond, or dangling the wrong bait, or misunderstanding the nibble on the line. Considering contextual variables is more demanding to do, and more tongue-twisting to mention, than parroting a pithy formula, but them’s the breaks. Reliable facts rarely make good soundbytes.

We need to stop valuing mnemonics above reality. The world is gray; accept it. And somebody get that emperor a robe, for crying out loud. It’s getting embarrassing…

Permeability

A few ex-pats of the theater have (re)entered my life of late. So have some notoriously hard to shake habits.  The former hasn’t provoked the latter, but it has inspired a theatrical metaphor (and a public timestep or four).

I’m struggling with boundaries, striving (and lately, failing) to discern the limits between transparency and oversharing, relating and overidentifying, performing my front region role vs. overexposing my backstage sweating (Goffman, 1959). To cast it in terms of the theater, I don’t know how to light my scrim.

A scrim is a piece of material that boasts the following phenomenal qualities:

A scrim will appear entirely opaque if everything behind it is unlit and the scrim itself is grazed by light from the sides or from above.

A scrim will appear transparent if a scene behind it is lit, but there is no light on the scrim.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrim_(material)

How much do I show? When? To whom? And for whose benefit? Is it selfish to let it all hang out, an irresponsible liberation of self from the burden of exercising judgment? Is it courageous to tell the whole truth, a risk to place faith in both parties involved? Is it generous to surrender the keys to the castle, a magnanimous invitation for the other to feel at ease?

And what are the consequences of this permeability? How, if at all, does this fickle wall leave me ill protected? Sometimes, you can see right through a scrim, even when a spotlight’s shone on its face. Sometimes, pulling a solid curtain at just the right time is better for all parties involved — respects both privacy and surprise.

We talked about Les Miserables (Les Mis) last night. I saw the show in 5th grade at the Chicago Auditorium Theater and it changed my life. Truly. We also performed a concert version at Glenbrook South High School and I was cast as one of the narrators… I was so proud. If memory serves, that 1989 production of Les Mis had a scrim. I think that all of the villagers were frozen behind it at the top of the show, during the initial scene where Jean Valjean is graciously abetted by the priest from whom he stole…

Like me, Jean Valjean also grappled with a moral conundrum. While his problem was more cut-and-dry (steal bread vs. let his family starve), he still paid for his “crime.” Right and wrong isn’t always black and white (is it ever even mostly black and white?); it’s shades of gray. How does his wrong stack up relative to his right? How does mine? And how, like Valjean, will I learn from my transgression and try, in the future, to do right as much as possible? Valjean became a mayor, philanthropist, and adoptive parent, finally dragging Marius through the sewers of Paris to please the lovely Cosette (sorry, Eponine, you’re on your own).

What will be my penance? My legacy? And how will I maximize the potential of porousness? Theoretically, one of its greatest assets is its capacity to let go. Yet I’m remarkably bad at that, at least as far as personal exculpation is concerned. Let myself off the hook? Not if I can get in two solid days of intestine-knotting first!

So how do I stop singing the same old song, tapping the same old step? How do I jumpstart my rhythm, become the triple-threat I’ve always dreamed of? And to what extent do I need to consciously critique vs. peacefully accept vs. obliviously overlook?

I need better walls and better releases. I need to emulate the character of Jean Valjean, avoid the role of Jean Dujardin, and maybe, like Ginger Rogers, do it backwards and in heels…

P.S. This photo is thematically rather than chronologically appropriate. It was taken by my dear friend Mark in South Africa, 2007.

Site of struggle

How can any contemporary woman (especially one with brains and a lamentably slow metabolism) not be struck by the following passage from Susan Bordo’s Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body (courtesy of COMM 395: Gender, Media & Communication)?

“…women, feminists included, are starving themselves to death in our culture.

This is not to deny the benefits of diet, exercise, and other forms of body management. Rather, I view our bodies as a site of struggle, resistance to gender domination, not in the service of docility and gender normalization. This work requires, I believe, a determinedly skeptical attitude toward the routes of seeming liberation and pleasure offered by our culture. It also demands an awareness of the often contradictory relations between image and practice, between rhetoric and reality. Popular representations, as we have seen, may forcefully employ the rhetoric and symbolism of empowerment, personal freedom, “having it all.” Yet female bodies, pursuing these ideals, may find themselves as distracted, depressed, and physically ill as female bodies in the nineteenth century were made when pursuing a feminine ideal of dependency, domesticity, and delicacy. The recognition and analysis of such contradictions, and of all the other collusions, subversions, and enticements through which culture enjoins the aid of our bodies in the reproduction of gender, require that we restore a concern for female praxis to its formerly central place in feminist politics” (Bordo, 1993, pp. 183-184).

Bartky (1998) enumerates these practices: “…those that aim to produce a body of a certain size and general configuration; those that bring forth from this body a specific repertoire of gestures, postures, and movements; and those that are directed toward the display of this body as an ornamented surface” (p. 27).

Indeed, and it’s as I’ve known for quite a while: The culture might be serving up toxicity, but we’re also feeding it ourselves… and cooking up new creations at home.

“We.” I just implicated a “we,” Bordo admonished a proactive “we”… which is who? All women? Some shadowy phalanx of feminist scholars and advocates? How do I play a role in that inchoate “we”? Does it begin with the “I”? Or is that too linear and individualistic? Perhaps I can retrain the “I” by participating in the “we” — community, then self…?

Regardless of the player, what’s the game? What is anyone to do? Are we to recognize these contradictions? Rationalize these contradictions? Strive to eliminate these contradictions by modifying practice? modifying ideals?

The simple answer is “Yes.”

I recently came across this Chinese Proverb: “Those who say it cannot be done should get out of the way of those doing it.”

Who’s doing it, and how? Or is this when Gandhi’s words should be applied? “You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

The simple answer: Yes.

Dating scripts

Who should pay on a first date? Why?

This question emerged organically, in a conversation with a male friend about our heterosexual dating expectations. I thought it’s always the man who pays on the first date. Period. A girl can offer tip if she’s feeling generous. The weight of this financial burden is alleviated by the inexpensiveness of the encounter — a cup of coffee or an ice cream or appetizers or two drinks max. My male friend thought this was “retrograde,” both in general and in relation to the dating scene he frequented 10 years ago. He doesn’t assume that anyone will pay for him, and he assumes that other adults feel the same — women included.

So I brought the question to Facebook, where brilliant friends (all of whom happen to be female and, because they hail from different parts of my life (PhD, MA, BA, high school, junior high school, elementary school), are mostly strangers to one another) shared their thoughts and built a fascinating dialogue. We discussed chivalry and wooing, the gender wage gap and gender norms, investment and obligation, politesse and evaluation metrics, hetero vs. GLBTQ cultural expectations…

I was hooked. This issue is too rich to abandon, I thought; it is the site for articulating and negotiating values around cultural norms, gender relations, romantic appropriateness, financial responsibility, and more.

So I set up an informal straw poll today and 39 people have weighed in thus far. My colleague Rhea and I might explore this in a more formal fashion later. But until that day comes, here is the initial, anonymous data. Please note, I modified the survey after receiving the first 36 responses by adding demographic questions (gender, sexual orientation, relationship status, age).

Most participants thought that the man should pay (assuming this was a heterosexual encounter), but also added interesting caveats. Here are some key quotes that represent the range (but not the frequency) of responses:

“Always the guy… ALWAYS!”

“It depends.  As a female, I always offer to split.  However, I’m more impressed by a man who declines and pays for the first date.”

“It depends on a range of scenarios, but I’ll just use the simplest ones. If the guy asked the girl out then he should pay. If she asked him out, they will probably go dutch.”

“The person who asked for the date, regardless of gender.”

“Split the bill. It shows both parties respect each other and if the relationship grows it sets the trend that they are both equal partners in it.”

A whole-hearted thank you to all who have participated! And it’s not too late to share your thoughts. The survey is still open!