The existence of Eurocentric patriarchal society relies on the creation of the “other”. Misinterpretation of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution led scientists to use biology as the basis for this concept. People of color, thought to be primitive and savage, were placed on the evolutionary chart between apes and “civilized” white men. This introduced a theory of race as a biological difference. The pathologization of newly racialized bodies fed into the burgeoning science of sexology. In her article “Scientific Racism and the Emergence of the Homosexual Body,” Siobhan Somerville argues that “categories of race and sexuality were not only historically coincident but in fact structurally interdependent and perhaps mutually productive” (246). I will use the work of Flower and Murie, Weininger, and Ellis to demonstrate how science and biology were used to sexualize and racialize bodies in order to establish “otherness,” maintaining a racist, heteronormative, misogynistic rigid definition of normalcy, as well as how this affects our modern day understanding of oppression.

In the “Account of the Dissection of a Bushwoman,” W.H. Flower and Dr. James Murie describe in disturbing detail their examination of an unnamed African girl. Race is not explicitly defined in this article. Instead, there is an intense effort to place the young woman in the category of “other” by the constant comparison of her person to that of “a standard European type” (192). The measurements of her body are first compared to a single European woman described as “the beautiful female figure” (192). Use of words such as “standard” and “beautiful” create a concept of what is normal in order to establish the Bushwoman as “other,” in her supposed abnormal ugliness. Later, Flower and Murie include European children aged four to six in the comparison to imply that the young woman was also less evolved.

Most importantly, I believe, is their attempt to establish the Bushwoman’s sexual difference and pathologize it is “other”. Once again, they compare her to subjective normative European standards. This is most obvious in the description of the young woman’s clitoris which is described as “of moderate size…and far more conspicuously situated than in the European female, chiefly on account of the want of prominence of the labia majora” (207). The pathologization of her body as “other” and innately sexual is of utmost importance. This unnamed woman’s body is seen as biologically hyper-sexual. Flower and Murie try to biologically define racial difference, and in doing so, create a standard of normalcy from which anything else signifies degeneracy.

These scientists grope desperately for discernable otherness when they speak of “the remarkable development of the labia minora…which is so general a characteristic of the Hottentot and Bushman race” (208). They explain further that her labia minora “was sufficiently well marked to distinguish these parts at once from those of any ordinary varieties of the human species” even though Flower and Murie admit “they had not attained that extraordinary extent attributed to them by most authors” (208). The young woman’s body is highly sexualized in this account. Her labia are described as “pendulous triangular lobes,” which is clearly supposed to convey her anatomy as excessive and therefore hyper-sexual (208).

I believe it is no coincidence that it is the Bushwoman who is used to display “otherness” instead of the Bushman. While racialization had a certain and severe impact on men, the added sexualization of women of color had a unique effect on all women. Because of their gender, women became inherently “other,” which Otto Weininger displays clearly in his essay on “Sex and Character”. The difference between men and women, he says, is that “the woman is devoted wholly to sexual matters…whereas the male is something more than sexual” (25). The language of othering is perhaps most clear in the words “there is a real difference between the sexes” (25). This concrete differentiation of woman as sexual reduces her to a thing to be used by men. In fact, hey says their relation “is simply that of subject to object” (27). Weininger writes, “woman seeks her consummation as the object…she is anxious to be nothing but such a chattel” (27). Essentially, he argues that women want to be enslaved to their husbands and consumed at his leisure for his pleasure. This obviously reinforces misogynistic and heteronormative concepts of femininity. Women ought to be passive, receptive sexual beings in relationship to men.

Weininger constructs the normal female as an object whose purpose is to be sexual while Havelock Ellis, in his article “The Criminal,” uses terms of “normalcy” to define his concept of degeneracy. He argues that “masculine, unsexed, ugly, abnormal women” were “most strongly marked with degeneration” (18). This harkens back to the Flower and Murie article where beauty and whiteness were signifiers of what is normal. Ellis believes that the “strongest barrier of all against criminality in women is maternity” (19). This reinforces the concept of woman as a sexual object whose main purpose is reproduction. The narrow, rigid, and fragile definition of normalcy generated by these works led to the tragedy of the eugenics movement. At its core, eugenics attempted to produce and reproduce the theory of normal at the expense of people’s physical bodies.

Bodies were racialized through the concept of sexual excess which hyper-sexualized female bodies and led to the objectification of women reducing them to reproductive vessels. All of this came from the desire to protect normalcy through creation of the “other”. Today, theories of social Darwinism and degeneracy are mostly obsolete, but their ideological offspring live on. Racism still thrives in the world, and especially in America where the one drop rule continues to reign. Flower and Murie’s detailed description of an unnamed African woman’s body no doubt seriously contributed to the modern day stereotypes of women of color as “hyper-sexual animals”. White men driven by “science” helped define the rigid gender roles that bind us to this day. These gender roles play a large part in maintaining misogynistic and patriarchal structures that stifle full expression of womanhood. They also create a heteronormative standard for our culture. This is particularly problematic for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersexed, and queer individuals of all genders. The construction of the “other” was so thorough that there is hardly anyone left who can be considered normal.

Able bodied, straight, white men of average weight and build who participate in typical masculine gender activities are “normal”. And then, there is the rest of the world. As time goes on, I believe the growing number of those who are “othered” will break down these systems that confine us. Although, this will require many different people to work together which presents a challenge for a culture of people so immersed in a hierarchical system. Oppressions are linked. For me, that is clear. I completely agree with Somerville’s argument that “categories of race and sexuality” were “structurally interdependent” and “mutually productive” (246). These categories were never biological truths; they were produced with the intent to “other” in an effort to protect an ideology of normal that does not even exist.

W.H. Flower, Dr. James Murie, Otto Weininger, and Havelock Ellis attempted to utilize science in an effort to produce and reproduce concepts of normalcy through the construction of the “other”. This ideology was created through forced racialization and sexualization of the human body. People of color, LGBTIQ folks, and women continue to be affected by the narrow definitions of what is normal. Racism, heterosexism, misogyny, and patriarchy still control our social structures. I believe it is necessary to acknowledge how these destructive systems of oppression were generated in order to understand how they can be dismantled.

Works Cited

Ellis, Havelock. “The Criminal.” Sexology Uncensored: The Documents of Sexual Science. Ed. Lucy Bland and Laura Doan. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998. 17-20.

Flower, W.H. and James Murie. “Account of the Dissection of a Bushwoman.” Journal of Anatomy and Physiology. 189-196, 207-208.

Somerville, Siobhan. “Scientific Racism and the Emergence of the Homosexual Body.” Journal of the History of Sexuality 5.2 (1994): 243-266.

Weininger, Otto. “Sex and Character.” Sexology Uncensored: The Documents of Sexual Science. Ed. Lucy Bland and Laura Doan. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998. 25-28.

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Written September 27, 2010 for Dr. Cowden’s Queer American History class at Temple University.

The study of sexology has come a long way. In early sexological thinking gender and sex were conflated, which led to an oversimplification of variant identities. Through this class, I learned of the groundbreaking language given to us by the science of sexology. As an individual who built her identity around words, the reflective dependence of the public and the medical industry is fascinating to me. There is a dominant narrative in the transgender community of being in the wrong body that I believe is linked to this dependence. Contemporary analysis and medical treatment of transgender individuals interested in medical intervention relies on this dominant narrative to force simplicity onto a community that is extraordinarily complex. I intend to investigate the origins of the “wrong body” narrative and analyze the codependence of the transgender and medical communities to better understand contemporary gender.

In the article, “Dear Doctor Benjamin: Letters from Transsexual Youth,” Darryl B. Hill says the dominant “wrong body” stories have their narrative roots in some of the earliest sexological writings. Hill writes, “In the 1860s, Karl Heinrich Ulrichs wrote about a female soul trapped in a male body,” an idea that was later echoed by Freud and Ellis in their early conceptions of inversion (150). These popular science sexologists helped create identity language the public was in desperate need of. However, Ellis and Freud’s use of the wrong body narrative to explain homosexual identities proves the problematic nature of the linkage between sex and gender in early sexological ideas.

Christine Jorgensen, the first famous transsexual, not only popularized the wrong body narrative, but also helped establish the beginning of a separation of sex and gender in sexological thinking. She strongly stated she was not homosexual, and that her feelings towards men were that of a woman’s. This helped lay the groundwork for the separation of gender and sex. After her transition, she worked closely with Dr. Harry Benjamin, a sexologist who primarily worked with transsexuals. It seems clear to me that Jorgensen’s story heavily influenced Benjamin’s understanding of transsexuality. Together they helped build a narrative that would both free and cage individuals in the transgender community. However, neither Jorgensen nor Benjamin developed the wrong body narrative. Hill writes, “As the story goes, Dr. Hamburger, citing Hirschfeld as his source, told Jorgensen that outwardly she was a man, but inwardly a woman” (150). Jorgensen said the theory “fit for her since she felt, ‘I was a woman masquerading in a seemingly male body’” (Hill 150).

An important aspect of the wrong body narrative is a presence of “wrongness” from an early age. In Jorgensen’s widely publicized story, she said, “‘I wasn’t like other children…I knew something was wrong’” (Meyerowitz 54). This wrongness came from “an aversion to masculine games and masculine clothes” present “from an early age” (Meyerowitz 54). Jorgensen’s popularity and newsworthiness made her a role model for young people, many of whom were transgendered. Hill writes, “Jorgensen’s autobiography and movie, in particular, popularized the wrong body story, which quickly became a dominant narrative in American transsexual stories” (150). This can be seen from the number of youth who reached out to Benjamin asking for help. In the letters from transsexual youth to Dr. Benjamin, seven out of twenty-one youth explicitly used the wrong body narrative as their motivation for medical intervention (Hill 154). Other motivations included same-sex attraction and gender variance. Of these, one youth, coded as A, was not counted for the wrong body narrative, however, Hill writes A’s story is “a clear explication of a wrong body story: transsexual desires emerged in response to anti-homosexual loathing, an idea common in transsexual discourse in the day” (154).

The longevity of this narrative is, I believe, due to the codependent nature of the transgender and medical communities. Transgender people are often interested in medical interventions, such as “hormones of the desired gender, and surgery to change the genitalia and other sex characteristics” (Meyer et al 3-4). Access to hormones and surgery is monitored by doctors and health care professionals. And it is often only after medical intervention that trans folks are able to feel safe and happy, rendering them dependent on a medical community which does not always understand them. Since transsexuality has always been labeled a psychiatric disorder, some of the best advocates for transgender rights are doctors, psychiatrists, and sexologists. It is important to have advocates for fair treatment, but it is also problematic for so many of these advocates to be involved in medicine. It creates dependency. Or, more specifically, it maintains dependency. Hill says that Benjamin often responded to young transgender writers and “actively schooled his patients in medical models of transsexuality,” perhaps creating the initial codependence between transgender individuals and the medical community. (162)

Today, there is a modern transgender movement that includes people of all backgrounds and professions. But the legacy and practical connection to the medical community is still overwhelmingly present. This codependency is most obvious through the use of the wrong body narrative. Initially, when I began research for this paper, I believed I would find the modern medical community to have a restricted, homogenous conception of transgenderism. It is my personal experience that the wrong body narrative is so pervasive that if one does not fit the story, she must lie to receive medical intervention. I was shocked to find this is technically untrue. The modern medical understanding of transgenderism is much wider than I expected. It was my social understanding that the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care, used to determine if one has Gender Identity Disorder and “treat” said “disorder” with hormones and surgery as deemed appropriate by a doctor, were exceptionally strict and narrow, impeding access to many transgender folks. I was shocked to find that this is not the case.

It is highly problematic that transgender people must be diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder in order to be allowed access to care. However, I was pleasantly surprised to discover the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care are extensively detailed, and that they attempt to cover all of the possible identity nuances present in transgendered people, including folks not interested in surgery. In fact, the current Standards of Care (SOC) admit their previous faults, saying, “When the gender identity disorders first came to professional attention, clinical perspectives were largely focused on how to identify candidates for sex reassignment surgery” (Meyer et al 3). However “As the field matured, professionals recognized that some persons with bona fide gender identity disorders neither desired nor were candidates for sex reassignment surgery” (Meyer et al 3). After receiving a diagnosis of Gender Identity Disorder, one usually begins “triadic therapy” which consists of “real life experience” in one’s desired gender, hormonal treatments, and access to sexual reassignment surgery (Meyer et al 3).

Gender identities among transgender individuals are vast, perhaps as unquantifiable as the human experience. Yet, for many transgender folks, discomfort in their biological sex is so high, one is willing to simplify her story to receive medical treatment. I believe that even though the SOC are well developed, implementation is not. I think it is not possible that the modern medical community is well learned in the intricacies of the SOC. In my personal experience, there is often only one psychiatrist and one endocrinologist with experience in transgenderism in any given area. And one may need to travel quite far just to reach that one individual. For surgical needs, even fewer doctors are trained to deal with sex reassignment surgery. One may need to see several surgeons in various parts of the United States to have the best care. Not to mention the expense. Simply due to lack of knowledge and training, transgender folks with more complex identities may be rejected for medical interventions or have their treatment postponed, causing serious psychiatric and physical trauma.

The trans community is tight knit, and tends to create a kind of second or chosen family for some individuals. Information is freely shared and advice about the best way to work the system to get the help one needs is often fairly easy to come by, especially for people with access to a computer. The internet makes global community easily feasible. The wrong body story is well known to be the dominant narrative in trans culture and the easiest, most direct route to medical interventions. In my personal experience, I remember getting advice from friends about what such-and-such psychiatrist liked to hear, how I could get my letter in only three months, which endocrinologist was sympathetic, etc. And I was absolutely encouraged to parrot the wrong body narrative, even though it was not the story I most identified with. Truthful discussion about identities was for friends, not doctors.

I think this is a common occurrence. Hill writes, “Wrong body narratives, so evident in the 1960s and 1970s, were also evident recently in contemporary New York, but it seems complicated by other transgressive life narratives, based on a much more complex relationship between body and identity” (169). The complexity referenced here is due to a weakening in the dependence on the medical community. Hill says, “the reciprocal influence between doctors and their patients are much more circumscribed now than ever” (169). Transgender folks are much less likely to have contact with medical professionals, especially through postal mail (Hill 169). I believe it is due to this lessening of contact that has led to a wider array of transgender identity possibilities.

Today, modern ideas of transgenderism have much greater depth and breadth, including but not limited to the wrong body narrative. Poststructuralist feminist thought extends the transgender narrative to include the concept that “describes transsexuality as a genre and suggests that bodies act as screens on which academic and medical struggles are projected” (Monro 37). It is important to be cognizant of the role society plays. Gender roles are strictly enforced, narrow compartments many people struggle to fit. As we broaden our cultural understanding of transgenderism, it may be possible to depend less on the dominant wrong body narrative the medical industry is so fond of.

Although my own personal experience and identity do not align with the wrong body narrative, I do know that it is an accurate description of many people’s experience. I am not at all interested in undermining or invalidating anyone’s chosen identity. I am simply curious to explore the connection of the transgender and medical communities, and their apparent codependence on the wrong body narrative. Sexology has always been a leader in the creation of terminology, words many people use to help understand themselves. I believe there is great power in language and using it can help build community and encourage acceptance. However, oversimplification of a complex identity is concerning, as well as encouragement to fit oneself into a mainstream narrative.

Monro says in order to combat social discrimination trans people face, we need “a new model of trans, based on acknowledgement that some of the identities covered by the umbrella term require some medical support…and that change on a social level is crucial in order to support both effective treatment and the integration of transpeople into wider society” (42). I think it is important for everyone in and outside the transgender community to better educate themselves in order to create support for each other in our expansive range of identities, and to make the world safer for trans folks. As far as I am able to see, the medical community offers a valuable tool to many transgender individuals in need. It is important to maintain the health of that relationship and build it on truth. I believe the modern medical community must work harder to understand the breadth of transgender identities and not engage in the hierarchy of them that currently reigns. Trans folks must feel safe to express their truest selves and feel free to access the care they deserve. This can only be accomplished with increased awareness and desire to make society safe and accepting of all gender expressions. With time and work, I believe it is possible, and I look forward to the freedom my transgender community will experience.

Works Cited

Hill, Darryl B. “Dear Doctor Benjamin: Letters from Transsexual Youth (1963–1976).” International Journal of Transgenderism 10.3 (2008): 149-170. < http://www.informaworld.com.libproxy.temple.edu/10.1080/15532730802297348 >.

Meyer, Walter; Bockting, Walter O.; Cohen-Kettenis, Peggy; Coleman, Eli; Diceglie, Domenico; Devor, Holly; Gooren, Louis; Hage, J. Joris; Kirk, Sheila; Kuiper, Bram; Laub, Donald; Lawrence, Anne; Menard, Yvon; Patton, Jude; Schaefer, Leah; Webb, Alice; Wheeler, Connie Christine. “The Harry Benjamin International Gender Dysphoria Association’s Standards of Care for Gender Identity Disorders, Sixth Version” Journal of Psychology & Human Sexuality 13.1 (2002): 1-30. < http://www.informaworld.com/ 10.1300/J056v13n01_01 >.

Meyerowitz, Joanne. How Sex Changed: A History of Transsexuality in the United States. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002.

Monro, Surya. “Theorizing Transgender Diversity: Towards a Social Model of Health” Sexual and Relationship Therapy 15.1 (2000): 33-45. < http://www.informaworld.com.libproxy.temple.edu/10.1080/14681990050001547 >.

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Written December 15, 2010 for Dr. Cowden’s Queer American History class at Temple University.

The point is, I suppose, that the ways in which I am supposed to interact with my education often does not allow for my genuine experience of it. At this exact moment, I have 2 final papers to write and 3 final exams looming in the not-so-distant future. But all I want to do is work I care about. I am a terribly sincere person. It is both my greatest strength and weakness, as these things often are. I spend a great deal of time manipulating assignments to link to my life in the meaningful way I desperately desire. This class has been an interesting addition. If I could have had it on a smaller scale, with more discussion and in-depth reading of the works, I would have been thrilled. I am still pleased with the class, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. But, there was something very different about it.

With so few assignments, there was nothing to manipulate. The papers were/are straight forward and challenging enough to satiate. But an odd thing happened, almost as if the class took me instead of the other, more obvious, way around. I feel incomplete. And while I should maybe just shrug this off and move along with my studying, I cannot. My work is greater than the classroom—it is my life. And I am called to participate in it. Language is so important to me. Words read have an impact I can hardly begin to capture. Essentially, books saved my life. I identify strongly with what the great scholar Gloria Anzaldúa writes in the preface to her book Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza, “Books saved my sanity, knowledge opened the locked places in me and taught me first how to survive and then how to soar.”

Reading opened the door to my survival and my success as a human being. And writing held my hand as I walked through it. I am a part of every piece I write. It is this spark of spirit that will not allow me to simply proceed with the assignment you have so carefully prepared. I hope this does not cause offense. Perhaps what I have to contribute is not precisely what is assigned. But I must live my life and do my work in a way that makes me proud. And this is the only way I know how. I will answer the question posed, and hopefully answer it well, but first I would like to share with you how I have come to the place I sit today because of this class.

I said earlier it seems like your class took me. It did. First and foremost, I participated in your class by listening. But that is not how I have come to understand participation in the way that it is best lived. Listening is an essential part of the give and take necessary to learn, and I have taken a great deal from the words I both read and heard. I thank you for that. The impact of your class on my life is forever imprinted. However, I feel I have not given enough back. I know I can be a successful student by doing what is asked of me. But to be a successful human being, as I feel your book encourages, I believe I must do more—I must share to the extent that I am capable. So, for better or worse, that is what I intend to do.

I cannot write about freedom and humanity in an objective way; no one can. More importantly, I choose not to answer the question posed in a simple and straightforward way because I cannot pretend that this book is nothing more to me than fodder for a final examination. After reading Existentia Africana, I am different. Yes, every word I read and every interaction I have impacts me. But this is special. I am not just different, I am better. I must admit, while finishing the text, I became concerned about my ability to answer this question in a thorough and intelligent manner. Yes, I had to finish the book still. I am smart, but not a genius. This is work for me; work I love, but work nonetheless. I was worried until I read the final chapter: a chapter about words.

While reading “Words and Incantations,” something inside me shifted. I was moved. It is rare that I am blessed to interact with someone who feels words in the way I do. This chapter was like a conversation with the words imprinted on my soul. There is no simple academic paper that can be written after an experience of that magnitude. I must strive to live my potential in all that I do, even if it means taking a risk like this on a paper that has the capacity to make or break my grade in this class. At some point, one must let go of the attachment she has to her words. She must let them live. I must trust in my decision to live my truth in every piece of work I make. I wish to be more than a good student. I wish to be a good person. I wish to contribute with purpose to the evolution of our world.

I believe this is what Lewis Gordon has done in this text. After interacting with his book, I am moved to do so also. Gordon takes a subject he respects, existential philosophy, and filters it through the lens of Africana studies, bringing to light several problematic aspects. Freedom, from an existentialist point of view is simply human nature. We are born free. I have the ability to write this paper or to not write it. I can decide I’d rather just call it a day and hang out with my girlfriend. I can drop out of college all together and put together a reading group instead. I have the option to choose, therefore I am free. In fact, I must choose, so I must be free. But what happens when choice is not an option? The problem with this theory, as Gordon points out, is that not everyone has always been free. Enslaved Africans in America were born into a system that restricted their ability to choose. They were born in chains yet had freedom brewing in their chests. This reality is incongruent with the normative European existentialist narrative about freedom.

Freedom and humanity are inevitably linked. Enslavement was a denial of humanity. It required a reduction of humans to property. In order to achieve this, the line was drawn by race, hence: racialized chattel slavery. Of course, simple renunciation of humanity does not erase it. Instead, a unique situation came to be: human beings were denied humanity and thus, access to freedom. History is unshakeable. The legacy of this lives on in all of us. American slavery was exceptionally brutal. It did more than steal humanity from black people—perhaps the only thing every human being has a right to. It also turned the white enslavers into people capable of such a task, in effect, humanity-deficient human beings.

In such a state, how does one achieve humanity? Well, it must first be imagined. The possibility for it always exists. In fact, it lies dormant in every human being’s chest waiting to be awoken. Gordon writes of Frederick Douglass who finds the answer in language. Ah yes, it all comes back to words. Literacy was not meant for black people during enslavement. But once Douglass found the written word, it set his spirit aflame. He began to imagine a condition outside his own. He began to understand the possibility of freedom. This possibility is what I think is so important. I am not sure any of us are born free. I believe every human being has the potential for humanity, but not every one achieves it. And, of course, access and opportunity are of great importance.

I wrote in my blog entry, “fate and the possibility of connection” that in every moment there is possibility. In each of those moments, one has a choice about how she wants to live her life, about who she wants to be—to strive to become a more human human being (as Grace Lee Boggs would say). But it is not always easy. Life is not lived in a vacuum. Chance, circumstance, and access all affect the choices we are given. And the choices we make in response to our circumstances are what make us human. Of course, I wrote this from the point of view of a twenty-five year old white woman. The hardships I have encountered in my brief time on earth have been real and challenging, but not comparable to enslavement. On a micro scale, I do not believe there is any purpose to this kind of comparison. Each individual feels their own high and low which is equal to every other person’s high and low. We can only truly know what we have experienced. But on a macro scale, it is important to recognize how the extreme difference in personal spectrums has an impact on society as a collective whole.

What we, as a people, have inherited from American slavery is the redefinition of “human”. Human used to simply mean any human being. The beautiful and terrifying thing about words is that they can have many meanings. It seems to me that everyone should be able to agree on the definition for a word so important. But that is not how the world works. In fact, with words, it can be even more complicated because of the social reality of the world. A word can have one meaning in a dictionary and another in the lived world. Racialized chattel slavery forced a shift in the meaning of the word “human” and added the qualifier, “white”. To be human, one had to be white, and arguably, one still must.

When the default understanding of “human” becomes “white,” it becomes impossible for anyone who is black to be human. Gordon describes this in a powerful way when he addresses the significance of words. In order to speak, a black person becomes an eater of a racist language. She speaks her words “whiteishly” when a white person simply speaks intelligently. Black folks can never then speak as a human being would because they are entirely externalized. Their spoken and written self is always a public one, under observation by a white and “normal” society. In effect, all definitions of what is “normal” are linked to whiteness which collapses history and reason into European Being, which denies blacks the right to live as human beings.

The lived reality of blackness is of obvious importance to Gordon since it is nearly the definition of Africana existentialism. He writes of how the black theorist demands that Reason be viewed through black experiences. This demonstrates another difficulty of existentialism with the social division between theory and autobiography. The black theorist writes from a black perspective; she brings in biography as a natural part of writing. But this is incongruent with societal definitions of what a theorist should do. As a result, the white reader collapses black theory into (auto)biography. Gordon addresses how this is problematic since it forces the dichotomy of theory and biography being white and black respectively.

It is my position that these things must be linked to restore intellectual and academic humanity. The notion that one can remove herself from her writing is preposterous. It seems to me to be the kind of thing that one could only achieve when entirely removed from oneself. White folks have the privilege and the disillusioned detriment to live in a race-free world—or at least try to. Under the right set of circumstances, a white person can live their whole life not recognizing race as a determining factor of the world. I know from first hand experience of such nonsense. I spent 23 years ignorantly oblivious. This removal from the reality of the world around me led to an inevitable removal from my self. Only when this divide is overcome can one achieve harmony with the world, and thus, humanity.

The self is always a part of world, and is therefore, always a part of theory. To be an intellectual, one must do more than provide theory or experience. I believe an intellectual must strive to be a good human being as well. When one discovers her humanity, she is capable of providing the world with the theory and experience necessary to move the world forward. Should this not be what we strive to do? Whether our mark is left in paper of stone, what we contribute as intellectuals will always live on in the collective memory of our communities, as Gordon so eloquently states.

I live my life as an intellectual in more than my schooling. I breathe it in the pollen-rich West Philadelphia springtime air. The space around my body is dense with my curious spirit. I speak with my expressions since they always seem to find the right words first, but I also sit patiently in the quiet until I am able to translate them because the words are just that important. I interact with my peers, my superiors, and my world in a way that reflects my sincerity because I believe every single momentary interaction matters. In each of those moments, I have the capacity to live my potential, and I believe it could possibly change the world. I am aware that my name will likely not be remembered, that my work may remain in notebooks stacked in an attic long after I am gone. But I believe that if I strive to be a human human being that my impact will reverberate in the souls and ears of those I encounter. And maybe someday I will be able to perform magic as Lewis Gordon has done in this text.

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Written May 1, 2010 for Dr. Lewis Gordon’s Themes in Existentialism final at Temple University.

Kierkegaard makes it clear that he believes he has never met a knight of faith. This leaves him thinking such a person is a rarity. But, he also acknowledges the possibility that every second man may be a knight of faith. And perhaps the reason he has he has never seen such an example is not because the knight of faith is rare, but instead because Kierkegaard cannot see the knight for what he or she truly is.

He discusses how such a man may exist in a surprisingly finite way, so much so that any other man may simply overlook him. Kierkegaard ascertains that it is only after careful consideration of the subject that one can see how the knight of faith actually makes the movements of infinity while, by absurdity, getting the finite out of each movement. It is the kind of thing that could easily be passed over on first meeting a person. For these reasons, I cannot get behind the assertion that Kierkegaard’s claim is that “we” do not understand Abraham. Instead, I will discuss how he does not comprehend Abraham and evaluate how this one viewpoint bears on our ethical and religious life, as well as other viewpoints including my own.

When I use the word, “we,” I mean it insofar as a collection of individuals that creates society, not necessarily inclusive of my own particular self except in the way that I am a part of the greater whole. Society’s collective conscience does not have room for Abraham because faith is not a part of the fabric of our social reality. And if one were to remove faith from the context of comprehension, she is left with an entirely different Abraham: a father with murderous intent. When we remove god’s instruction and Abraham’s faith in that god, all that remains are the actions.

This is problematic for many reasons. I believe most, if not all, people act purposefully (albeit with varying degrees of awareness). Our movements through the world have intent and significance. If one judges actions alone, the story is incomplete. We are not empty beings aimlessly bumping into our own lives. To think otherwise is a total reduction of our humanity. Our ability to have consciousness about our lives is what sets human beings apart from other animals.

The only way to truly know a person is to be them. To that end, no one can ever understand Abraham except Abraham himself. But Kierkegaard’s incomprehension comes not just from this basic truth, but also from the magnitude of Abraham’s existence as a knight of faith. Abraham has total belief, trust, and faith in god despite the horrific reality of god’s demands, and their seeming incongruence with god’s plan to make him the father of a nation of faith.

Abraham must sacrifice his only son, the one person he loves and wants the most in order to satisfy god. This “sacrifice” in the words of faith is mere “murder” in the words of ethics. When one strips faith from the scene, the action is realized. The only thing that saves Abraham (and, I argue, all of us) is the purpose behind his (and our) actions. Kierkegaard has labeled this “faith”. The difficulty with this is that faith is hard to understand. The movements of faith are so complex, only those who are able to make similar movements can comprehend them.

Kierkegaard spends a great deal of time in Fear and Trembling lamenting his inability to make such a movement. I wonder if this lamentation is due to his wish to understand what moves a man as great as Abraham, or if he is just jealous. I think he wishes he could comprehend so that he can make a similar movement in order to get back his beloved, Regina. However, I think Kierkegaard has it backward. It is not his ability to understand Abraham that will help him move like a knight of faith. It is his capacity to act on faith that will facilitate the understanding of Abraham.

This is not just for Kierkegaard. For anyone, myself included, we must make the movements of faith to even be able to begin to understand Abraham. And even then, we can never have complete comprehension of his actions. Only Abraham can fully understand the purpose behind his movements. As for the movements of faith, knowing their magnitude comes when we are faced with the truth that presents itself in moments of hardship. It is not something that can be wished into reality.

Instead, when faced with the most difficult and horrible of decisions (which none of us really ever wants to face), we must be simultaneously blessed and cursed with the ability to let go of our every hope and dream. We must look the emptiness of that meaningless existence in the eyes and bow down to it, all the while stoking the fire of faith in our bellies, mere embers of hope kept alive by sheer absurdity. We must know that all is lost. Because it most definitely is. And every ounce of our being, mind, and spirit is crushed; literally wrung dry.

Imagine that life; get acquainted with it. Learn the names of its soulless children. Immerse every cell of your being in despair. Jump off the cliff of sanity and drown in the murk of desperation. And then—right then— when you gasp for your last painful breath; when your lungs fill with sediment and your spirit retreats into the shadows your body no longer has the life to cast, ask yourself what you believe in.

It is in that moment alone that the knight of faith emerges—probably against your will. Because at that point, death is always easier. You may even beg for it. But if you are meant to be a knight of faith, you will be. Against every odd, you will claw your way out of that pit, and faith will triumph. But know that when you make your way back to world, often painfully accomplished, there will be no glory. It is probable no one will ever be able to see the greatness you have accomplished. It is thoroughly possible, as Kierkegaard so aptly demonstrates that no one will ever understand you. In fact, you may even be left unable to explain to your loved ones where you have been and why you are different. You may even lose them in the process.

Life, however, will go on, nearly the same as before. Except now you know. You know both extremities of what life can be: its deepest, most disparaging pain and its brightest, most hopeful splendor. Now, you make the movements of faith every time you complete even the most mundane tasks. You clip your fingernails, clean your bathroom, and shovel your walk like everyone else. But you do these things so completely you ingest the infinite within the most finite movements. It may take some getting used to; your equilibrium is forever adjusted.

We build our understanding of reality, our ethics and religion included, on the foundation of our experiences. We must learn to share these experiences if we are ever going to be able to have and build a collective understanding of the world. The knight of faith, as a being, is no more important than the tragic hero, the man who makes the movement of infinite resignation, the betrayer, the every-man, or Kierkegaard himself. Every person must make the movements necessary in accordance to their purpose. Each person’s purpose is essential and equally difficult for an outsider to understand.

Lack of comprehension is pervasive. It does not prove that any one person is better or more elusive than another. While Kierkegaard puts the knight of faith on a pedestal, I believe the knight walks on the same ground as all the rest. Those seemed blessings may only appear to be so from the other side. I imagine we could find something worth desiring in every single person we meet. And just as likely, every single person may wish they made the movements of another.

It is difficult to do our work. Or, more precisely, it is difficult for me to do my work. And I expect other people face the same hardship. Maybe instead of trying to desperately to break down other people, like Abraham, to find what drives them, we should set those tools on ourselves. We should chisel away the impositions, expectations, and jealousy to reveal what is truly ours. In doing so, we may make the purest movements of all. Faith or not, that seems to me an excellent result—one well worth fighting for.

Works Cited

Kierkegaard, Søren. Fear and Trembling. Trans. Walter Lowrie. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1954.

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Written March 3, 2010 for Dr. Lewis Gordon’s Themes in Existentialism midterm at Temple University.

As human beings, we rely on sight to tell us a number of things. Within the first seven seconds of meeting someone new, an impression is formed. First impressions are extremely important, or such is the motto of business professionals everywhere. It is why we shower and dress up for a job interview. It is why we try to look nice, whatever that may mean to us, when we go on a date. Consumer culture feeds on our egos. We buy things to adorn our bodies regularly, be it clothing, makeup, hair products, shoes, hats, and various other accessories. Some people may even permanently alter their physical body through assorted body modification techniques. Our external personas extend far beyond our bodies. Cars, bicycles, and houses are chosen and constructed to specially suit our preferences. All of these things together make up our appearance. But does our appearance accurately communicate who we are? I believe sight and appearance get too much credit; that, in fact, it is our ability to connect to our essential self and share that self with the world that contributes to the evolution of it.

I could continue to only speak in grandiose “us/we” language, and it would probably be powerful. But it would be inaccurate. I cannot assume to know what is right and true for anyone else. I cannot even, beyond a shadow of a doubt, say I know for certain anything about myself. As Tony Andrady says in The World Without Us, “‘Change is the hallmark of nature. Nothing remains the same’” (161). Everything is subject to change: it is one of the greatest and most frustrating things I have ever encountered. So, when appropriate, I will write as I speak, in my own voice, which is powerful in itself. There are a great many things I believe about the potentiality of our world influenced by my own experience of it, as I am sure is true for my reader as well. So instead of assuming anyone else’s truth, I encourage exploration. Perhaps the truth my reader finds will align with mine—perhaps not—but either way, we will both know. And tell me, what is greater than that?

Imagine this: I invest in the idea that my appearance is who I am. I become a thing, not unlike the things people use to categorize me at their whim. I am nothing more than a collection of objects I use to adorn myself, essentially reducing me to an object. And why stop there? Next, my mind and spirit become receptacles for someone else’s unchallenged ideas—identifying myself with the words other people use to describe me. I rely on my objectifiers to understand who I am. This happens quickly and quietly and often without my knowledge or consent. It starts early, at the well-meaning hands of my parents, and soon becomes something I expect from every person I meet. My appearance sneaks in while I sleep, lays down next to me, and envelopes my body in unshakeable murkiness. It follows me like a shadow, even in the dark, an inescapable presence.

I am a twenty-five year old white queer woman. I am short and kind of fat; I have short brown hair and brown eyes that sit hidden behind glasses. I tend to wear the same baggy outfit for weeks on end. I do not shave my armpits or legs. My face has four scars from old piercings. My left arm is tattooed from shoulder to wrist. My right forearm is also tattooed. I walk slowly with purpose; I tend to look straight ahead in a way that seems rather focused. I often close my eyes and lift my head to the sun. I make eye contact. I carry a book with me most of the time. This is what people see. But, is it who I am? Please do not misunderstand; while some of my views may be extreme, I am not an extremist. I rarely think something is entirely one way. Of course, the ways I choose to present myself to the world matter. I cannot erase how people view me. I am simply curious, in those first seven seconds, is it my race, age and clothing that matter, or something else?

I suppose it all depends on what one believes. I think that humans are more than our externalities. I believe at each person’s core is our essential self—the indescribable part of ourselves that makes us human. This self must be nurtured. With care, it can radiate from one’s solar plexus and extend past one’s bodily existence into the world. Without care, it exists, but patiently lies dormant in one’s chest. The essential self, the spirit, is perhaps the most powerful part of a person. It is so strong, it is as if one’s appearance is stripped away, layer by layer, like how “the plastic components of modern life flake and peel away…as polymer chains crack under an ultraviolet barrage of daily sunshine” in the desert (Weisman 21). When our essential self is exposed to the world, we become something greater than what we appear to be. Our existence is more than seen, it is felt.

First, we must choose to feel ourselves. Change in the world begins with within oneself. Perhaps this is why it is seemingly so difficult to make change. I observe that people are most resistant to personal transformation. It tends to be much easier to tell other people what to do. I could go on and on about all of the things that people need to do to make the world a better place. But, as soon as I have to trade in Coke and television for home gardened carrot juice and charades by candlelight, things get a little iffy. Suddenly, I am accountable for my impact. And once that voice starts going, it is hard to shut up. I know the corporate machine Coca Cola is an evil institution accused of hiring paramilitary squads to murder labor organizers in Columbia. Does the delicious taste of sweetness absolve me of my participation in such atrocities? Of course not. But, I like Coke, so I choose not to think about it. And in the meantime, I remove myself another notch further away from harmony with myself and the world.

Removal is an important aspect of externalization, and it is frighteningly easy to achieve. This world is a loud one. With every blink, our eyes land on another distraction. As a society, we are incredibly disconnected. We have evolved to a level of dependence on stuff, a word necessarily vague enough to encompass our seemingly indiscriminate “need”. This “need” for things reflects in our belief that we are who we appear to be. When we define our selves as the objects we posses, it is no wonder how quickly need transforms to greed. Necessity is entirely relative as is proven in Thomas More’s Utopia. He creates a fictional world with an entirely different set of ethics and mores. In Utopia, there exists no desire for gold or jewels. My favorite line of the book is when More writes, “they are amazed that any mortal can take delight in the dubious sparkle of a tiny gem or precious stone when he can look at a star or even at the sun” (78). How poignant. I believe it is essential for us, as a collective whole, to be able to appreciate the beauty nature has given us.

When that day comes, I predict two things will happen. First, we will likely be moved to live more sustainably. And second, we will place less importance of objects of wealth. These things are important on a macro scale. But, I firmly believe it all begins within oneself. All it takes it one moment to begin to make an impact. Tangible, material change is necessary. This is clear from texts like The World Without Us. We hurl nuclear waste, plastics, and other chemicals into the environment that our planet is forced to deal with. Something that became clear to me through reading this book is that the damage humans do to the planet is terrible, but it is really mostly terrible for humans. Nature will always exist. Even if we blow up our planet in nuclear war, or release so much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere that we burn to a crisp, nature will go on when humans cannot. In fact, as Doug Erwin says, “‘Humans are going extinct eventually. Everything has, so far. It’s like death: there’s no reason to think we’re any different. But life will continue’” (Weisman 295). Life will continue, with or without us. So, while we are here, I think we should make the most of it.

Human beings are a random evolutionary accident—just like everything else. But that does not mean we are the same as everything else on this planet. We have the amazing gift of consciousness, so we should use it. How magnificent to live on our planet at a time as special as this. Whether one attributes this beauty to god, nature, or some other force does not matter; what matters is that we are here. And we have the power to not just do but do good. It may seem like the destruction we have done to our selves, our society, and our planet is devastating. But, I think it is important to keep hope. We must be able to imagine a new reality before it can be created. To embrace the essential self can begin this process. Weisman says, “More than once, crazy, stubborn hope has inspired creative strokes that snatched people from ruin” (4). I knew all along there was a reason for my obstinate idealism.

I also know that what I experience in myself and in the world is important. But those experiences mean nothing if I choose not to share them. I am not concerned with my influence as it can be perceived as an object. It is not my influence itself that matters but the potentiality of it. I believe in the power of collectivity. If each individual member of a collective is striving to be her very best self every moment of every day, imagine how powerful that group of people could be. Someday, we may have “African surrogates of America’s missing camels, elephants, cheetahs, and lions” roaming our country in an attempt to achieve a “re-equilibrated ecosystem” (Weisman 348). It may be the only shot human beings have at survival.

I think human beings need to re-equilibrate more than just the ecosystem. I believe we have lost our connection to the spirit, what I call our essential selves. We have become collectively complicit to our objectification. The answer, as I see it, is incredibly plain. We must harness one simple moment of our potential and make a decision—just one choice—to strive to be our best selves. It just takes one moment, one decision, one choice to feel the world; to reestablish our connection to our selves and everything around us. I know. I did it. And now, I must continue to decide in every moment I am capable, to strive to live my purpose. I do not yet know what it is. But I believe in the power of the world. If I can make enough space amongst the clutter to quiet myself, I believe I will hear the answer. And perhaps I am foolishly optimistic, but I believe the same is true for all of us. Harmony is possible, probable, and powerful; we must simply begin to imagine it.

Works Cited

Killer Coke. 4 May 2010 < http://killercoke.org/>.

More, Thomas. Utopia. Trans. Clarence H. Miller. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001.

Ramsey, Lydia. “First Impressions: How Seven Seconds Can Make a Deal.” The Sideroad. 3 May 2010 < http://www.sideroad.com/Sales/first-impressions.html>.

Simply, Lee. “fate and the possibility of connection.” 9 December 2009. lee simply. 4 May 2010 < http://www.leesimply.com/blog/archives/157>.

Weisman, Alan. The World Without Us. New York: Picador, 2007.

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Written May 3, 2010 for Prof. Luttinger’s Mosaic II at Temple University

I think it is vital that we reinvent the interpretation of the word “education.” In true Socratic form, I think it is necessary to find the truth of this word—its most honest definition. Education is about gaining knowledge, and if we look at our educational system with a critical eye, it is clear that the expansion of knowledge is not its central goal. Socrates would say that knowledge is virtue (Plato 1). Virtue is attributed to general moral excellence. The question then becomes, what is moral excellence? Socrates would likely say that this lies in the discovery of truth, while WEB Du Bois would likely say that truth is only a part of it. He would say that truth should be the aim for thinkers, but not all are made for thinking. Higher education must also serve and better those who are made for working.

These two men have each come to an understanding about what education should be. They came to similar conclusions despite the extreme difference of their lives. This question of education is not new, although it is still pressing. The need for change and evolution of our educational system is high, and the quest to discover the meaning of education is still being lived.

Socrates believed strongly in the importance of universal definitions. In order to understand each other fully, we must begin with using the same words with the same meanings. In order to find these definitions, Socrates asked questions. This is best demonstrated in his conversation with Euthyphro about the meaning of piety. From pages six to twenty, Socrates asks eighty-five questions. This number is particularly staggering when one realizes that in those same pages Euthyphro asks only five questions of Socrates. Not only that, but of the five questions asked of Socrates, he answered three of the five with another question! Due to this method, Euthyphro was often put in the position of having to defend his definition. While I think question-asking is a necessary way to find common definitions, I think it is this version of communication that left Socrates with a poor reputation. While popularity is not essential, it is helpful when one wants to be heard. Socrates alienated many of his fellow citizens, ultimately leading to his execution. Although his work has lived on, who knows how he would have contributed further had he taken a less hostile approach.

Socrates was aware of his unpopularity, and, I believe, he even understood how it hindered him in his work. He says at his trial, “I am very unpopular with many people. This will be my undoing, if I am undone” (Plato 31). But even so, he vehemently sticks to his truth, to who he is, even though he knows this may bring him to his death. While Socrates does not claim the title of “teacher,” he clearly is one when he refuses to submit. He walks his talk until the very end, never doubting it is right simply because it is true. He believes the way to be true is to live “as I am” (Plato 33).

I think if there was anything that Socrates could wish for higher education; it would be the unending search for truth free from persecution. This truth would ultimately lead to the production and the reproduction of good, because for Socrates, “the most important thing is not life, but the good life” (Plato 48). Something that both Du Bois and Socrates have in common is that neither man was willing to surrender, even under extreme societal pressure. Socrates said that “a man who fights for justice must lead a private, not a public, life if he is to survive for even a short time” (Plato 34). While days of human life are always numbered, the work of these great men lives on.

The work of Du Bois touches my heart. His immense wisdom radiates through the text in The Souls of Black Folk. I think he captures the concept of education in our great nation when he says, “education among all kinds of men always has had, and always will have, an element of danger and revolution, of dissatisfaction and discontent. Nevertheless, men strive to know” (Du Bois 19). Education in its truest form is often in this vein. However, today, education is more of an extreme dichotomy with dissatisfaction, discontent, and despair for some and apathy, privilege, and complacency for others. Of course, there are those who subvert the educational system effectively enough to find true knowledge—but they are few and far between.

Du Bois was certainly one of these people, and he encouraged others, namely blacks in America, to follow his lead. He thought higher education should “teach the workers to work and the thinkers to think” (Du Bois 41). He thought the debate about higher education as an either/or to be ludicrous. He says, “How foolish to ask what is the best education for one or seven or sixty million souls!” (40) Education should be inclusive and far-reaching, to provide all with the opportunity to better themselves; to “make carpenters of carpenters, and philosophers of philosophers, and fops of fools” (Du Bois 41).

Most important, though, is the purpose of education for Du Bois, for “the final product of our training must be neither a psychologist nor a brickmason, but a man” (41). More significant than any work is the quality of the person behind the work. In order to achieve this quality man, society “must have ideals, broad, pure, and inspiring ends of living—not sordid money-getting” (Du Bois 41). Work cannot be done for gain. It must instead be done for the simple joy of the work. Thinkers cannot simply think to advance their careers, to find fame. They must instead “think for truth,” because truth is the purity of thought (Du Bois 41). These things are not simple to achieve, and Du Bois does not attempt to gloss this over. He says this change is “gained only by human strife and longing” (Du Bois 41). In fact, the book The Souls of Black Folk is, in itself, an act of resistance—a reach for truth. It embodies the very striving he speaks of. He writes with a subtle earnestness that rings of truth for those readers who are able to make themselves quiet enough to listen for it.

It is essential that we learn to listen—to quiet the chaos in our heads, to triumph over the defensive reactionary beast that lurks around our spirits. In order to find truth, we need to learn from those came before. If we simply re-start this search every time in a new context, the results will be futile. I am increasingly concerned for our world, our country, and our people. I definitely believe that this is a pressing matter about which something must be done. I think education is the best tool to dispense knowledge to the masses, so it makes sense to me that this is where my energy must be focused.

I wholeheartedly agree with Du Bois’ theory; I simply wish to update it for the 21st century. He says that education must make men. Today, I think schools must make humans, by which I mean, “people in touch with their humanity” (Simply). It is this connection to each other that is sorely lacking. For, as Du Bois says, “We often forget that each unit in the mass is a throbbing human soul” (63). People experience the world. They respond to it with feelings. What I believe has been stifled is our ability to dream; our desire to love. Few people truly love their work; there is a disconnect between the heart and the head. In fact, it is often said that people should not get paid for the work they love because it will cause them to hate it. I think the vital question in this situation is “Why?”

If people did what they love, how would they be different? How would this difference impact each individual’s life, her community, her country, the world? I recently wrote on my blog, “Imagine if we were encouraged to follow our hearts. If we were taught to learn because it made us better people. Imagine if we had education that taught people not just to think, but to be better at whatever they love, at whatever they want to do…thinking or not” (Simply). If this seems difficult, it is because we are not taught to imagine.

We are taught to be workers, to work for pay, and to search for happiness in money. Du Bois was concerned that black folk’s “strife for another and juster world, the vague dream of righteousness, the mystery of knowing” would “suddenly sink to a question of cash and a lust for gold” (Du Bois 38). I think, unfortunately, that his fear came true. Of course, it is not the fault of black folks. This system devours all who are different, forces assimilation, and robs cultures of their values and pride. Lust for gold is practically an American value. It is no surprise that our education has followed suit.

For me, truth is essential, but equally as important is action. One cannot happen without the other. With each discovery of truth, one must act on it. And, continuously remember each “throbbing soul” with a hunger for knowledge. If we can maintain our humanity, the process of education will be easier understand and implement.

Du Bois, W.E.B. The Souls of Black Folk. Stilwell: Digireads.com, 2005.

Plato. The Trial and Death of Socrates. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1975.

Simply, Lee. “Education and the Self.” lee simply. 11 November 2009. <http://www.leesimply.com>.

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Written December 14, 2009 for Prof. Rabia Harris’s Mosaic I at Temple University.

Words were once written on clay tablets ensuring their permanence. Today, the material word is much more fleeting due to the proliferation of digital media and mass produced paper works. Despite this, the impact of written language is still monumental. Artists must be cognizant of what they put into the world. Joseph Conrad ushered in a new stylistic era with his prose in Heart of Darkness, but today’s readers take more from his words than art as they are subject to the text’s virulent racism. One must not overlook the significant impact this story has on readers. As a writer, I feel a heavy responsibility to use my gift for good. It is this same responsibility that necessitates my address of racism in Conrad’s text. I agree with Chinua Achebe’s serious concerns in his article “An Image of Africa” and reject C.P Sarvan’s response, “Racism and the Heart of Darkness” which denies Conrad’s racism. In this paper, I will explain both authors’ analysis of racism in Conrad’s piece, discuss the responsibility of modern day readers, teachers, and publishers of his work, and address how racism is reproduced through the distribution of Heart of Darkness.

Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is a classic piece of work taught in high schools and universities around the world. This story ushered in the modernist era in literature and is regarded by many as stylistic genius. However, there is much controversy around this story due to its themes of exploration, colonialism, and race. Chinua Achebe writes a desperate plea and scathing review of Heart of Darkness in his article, “An Image of Africa.” He insists that the impact of Conrad’s work be assessed and calls into question the value of a story with a socially destructive message. Achebe acknowledges Conrad’s status and writes that he “is undoubtedly one of the greatest stylists of modern fiction,” thus, Heart of Darkness “falls automatically into a different class—permanent fiction—read and taught and constantly evaluated by serious academics” (783). This is problematic since the story is quite obviously, Achebe and I believe, racist.

It is the responsibility of the writer to produce work that does no harm, much like practitioners of medicine. Akin to doctors, authors have the potential to change and save lives. It is my belief that art which contributes to the degeneration of minds directly impacts the de-evolution of society and becomes something less than art. It becomes mere propaganda. It is clear to me that it is this category of work in which Heart of Darkness resides. Achebe addresses this when he says, “it seems to me totally inconceivable that great art or even good art could possibly reside in such unwholesome surroundings” (790). He is quite diplomatic when he says, “the time is long overdue for taking a hard look at the work of creative artists who apply their talents, alas considerable as in the case of Conrad, to set people against people” (789). I could not agree more. It is now time to assess the impact Conrad’s work has on our society. I firmly believe Heart of Darkness is a racist piece of writing. Consequently, to continue to teach it for its stylistic form is an act of racism.

In class, discussion of Achebe’s article led to talk of his extremism, therefore, I understand my statements may be interpreted as rather extreme. However, I think it is an urgently necessary responsibility of mine to extend the discussion. Racism is a “hot-button topic,” and people of color are often accused of “playing the race card” by which I mean the concept that people try to make things about race when they are not. This makes it quite challenging for people of color to say with strength exactly what is on their minds. Sadly, due to racist social structures, a white person may be able to say and do more to challenge racism since they are of a privileged group. So, it is as a white person that I feel I must do everything I can to extend the life of this conversation in an attempt to chip away at the racist systems that allow continued reproduction of racial privilege and oppression.

A huge part of the problem is that racism is no longer an overt act. Instead, it is deeply embedded in our systemic structures as a nation and plausibly deniable by white people. To be actively racist in 2010, all one must do is nothing. Racism and white privilege are an essential part of our institutions; it is only through conscious anti-racist actions that one does not participate in racism. I believe it is this reality Achebe alludes to when he says, “white racism against Africa is such a normal way of thinking that its manifestations go completely undetected” (788).

The ultimate proof of this truth lies in The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction, the main textbook for this course. First, Heart of Darkness has been deemed worthy of inclusion in this text by the editors Richard Bausch and R.V. Cassill, an act I consider to be racist. By not challenging the merit of its message, they reproduce racist structures taught by educational institutions. Second, the editors include an article by C.P. Sarvan entitled, “Racism and the Heart of Darkness.” Sarvan’s article is not a critique of Conrad’s text; it is a critique of Chinua Achebe’s analysis of Conrad’s story. Sarvan’s article also includes an examination of Heart of Darkness which directly opposes Achebe’s argument that Conrad’s story is racist. Last and most importantly, the editors do not include Achebe’s article “An Image of Africa.” Therefore, they actively defend Conrad’s story and attempt to thwart the conversation about racism by the exclusion of Achebe’s article. In this way, the editors do not allow the reader to come to their own conclusion, instead, they actively persuade the reader to deny Conrad’s racism. Thus, it is clear to me that The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction is a racist text.

That said, I find C.P. Sarvan’s response to be extremely weak. He attempts to say Conrad’s story is not racist because it is not about race. He argues the explorers “felt they had achieved a much higher civilization than the people they were confronting and conquering. The contempt was not on the grounds of race itself” (1706). Sarvan further insists that “the reference in Heart of Darkness is not to a place (Africa), but to the condition of European man, not just to black people, but to colonialism” (1706). I do not see the evidence for this claim; I believe it to be an interpretative stretch of Sarvan’s imagination. He glosses over Conrad’s racist imagery of the fireman described as “a dog in a parody of breeches and a feather hat, walking on his hindlegs [sic]” (Conrad 338). Sarvan says simply that this description is “cruel” apparently ignoring the dehumanization of this man (1708). Directly after this analysis of mere cruelty he asserts, “it is extreme to say that Conrad called into question the very humanity of the African” (1708). I find this odd as a dog is not a human, so clearly Conrad calls into question the humanity of the fireman.

Sarvan claims Heart of Darkness is an attack on colonialism. I find this to be a rather shallow analysis. He references a friend and says, “the skulls stuck on poles outside Kurtz’s house, Wa Thiong’o said, was the most powerful indictment of colonialism” (1708). Perhaps this is true. However, I do not understand how this “indictment of colonialism” can exist side-by-side with Marlow’s fascination, love, and worship of Kurtz. Marlow names Kurtz “a remarkable man” even though he is the same man who placed African skulls on pikes (Conrad 365). Marlow listens in acknowledgement as The Intended describes Kurtz’s death as “a loss…[to] the world” (Conrad 369). In the end, Marlow is a follower of Kurtz. Essentially, this means Marlow approved of Kurtz’s whole being, including his display of skulls which Sarvan and Thiong’o use to weakly demonstrate Conrad’s criticism of colonialism. Indeed, Achebe is correct; Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is racist. As Achebe explains, Conrad describes “Africa as a metaphysical battlefield devoid of all recognizable humanity” (788).

Symbolic language is what sets human beings apart from primates. It makes us human. I believe words should be used only to increase this humanity. Words are my world. I love language and its infinite potential. They can invoke laughter, fear, courage, elation, and so much more. Words have enslaved people and set them free. They allow people to express their love, hate, and vision for a better world. Conrad’s words have an impact far beyond stylistic uniqueness. Achebe says, “when a writer, while pretending to record scenes, incidents and their impact, is in reality engaged in inducing hypnotic stupor in his readers through a bombardment of emotive words and other forms of trickery much more is at stake than stylistic felicity” (784). I could not agree more. Conrad may have brought about the movement to modern literature, but his message goes much further. The inclusion of Heart of Darkness in academia gives permission to racism’s existence in literature. It reproduces well-embedded systems of racial hierarchy and makes it much more difficult to dismantle racist systems. It makes plausible deniability even more possible and dulls the critical eye.

Change does not happen instantaneously. It takes the conscious efforts of writers, publishers, readers, and teachers everywhere to eradicate racist literature. It may sound daunting, but these steps must be taken and taken soon. Every word read of racist literature like Conrad’s Heart of Darkness molds the minds of human beings. These people go into the world and make decisions based on what they know. No more can be asked of them. Therefore, it is essential that what young people read and learn is not racist. It is already incredibly simple to turn a blind eye toward systems of racial hierarchy in our everyday lives. Messages of dehumanization of Africans reinforce commonly accepted views of blacks as “other” which is destructive for people of all races. If racism can be defeated, I believe it must begin in the classroom.

Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is a highly problematic text due to its racist theme. Not all readers find this to be true, as demonstrated by C.P. Sarvan’s article “Racism and the Heart of Darkness.” However, I agree with Chinua Achebe who believes Conrad’s story to be racist. I also agree that “poetry can only be on the side of man’s deliverance and not his enslavement” (Achebe 789). It is time to evaluate the significance of Heart of Darkness and its damaging effects on society. The publishers of Conrad’s work must be held responsible for the proliferation of its message, and teachers should review their reasons for teaching the text. Further, students who are subjected to it should, in my opinion, actively challenge its racism through discussion and written work. I believe it is time to remove this work and all other racist literature from academia in order to move humanity forward.

Works Cited

Achebe, Chinua. “An Image of Africa.” The Massachusetts Review 18.4 (1977): 782-794.

Conrad, Joseph. “Heart of Darkness.” The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction. Ed. Richard Bausch and R.V. Cassill. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2006. 310-370.

Sarvan, C.P. “Racism and the Heart of Darkness.” The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction. Ed. Richard Bausch and R.V. Cassill. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2006. 1704-1708.

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Written October 23, 2010 for Dr. Godbey’s Introduction to Fiction at Temple University.

I am a writer, a lover of words. And when asked to describe my art, an odd thing happens. Suddenly, I cannot find the words to capture the passion I feel. Often, I simply remark that for me, writing is my spirit at work. It is, perhaps simultaneously, the most vague and most accurate description I am capable of conjuring. And, while I am sure a great many authors feel differently, I imagine a few can understand. It is my experience that words and books change lives. So, I have no option but to believe entirely in the power of the written word. Faith is an interesting phenomenon, one that is often co-opted by religious institutions, but I believe faith extends in many directions, each of them valuable and productive. There is an opportunity for readers to believe in fiction, to accept the absurd, and take the leap of faith. Life of Pi, “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas,” and “The Veldt” all ask the reader to suspend their understanding of reality and act as Kierkegaard’s knight of faith which helps develop an understanding of fiction as a medium capable of conveying spirit.

In Fear and Trembling, Søren Kierkegaard writes about faith as stepping past cultural norms and expectations to reach God. He explains three types of man: the tragic hero, the knight of infinite resignation, and the knight of faith. He uses the story of Abraham who was asked by God to sacrifice his son in order to demonstrate how each character responds when faced with the most difficult and impossible task. This text is short but incredibly complex, one I will continue to learn from for many years to come. I will focus on Kierkegaard’s most elusive knight of faith as this character is the basis for my analysis of a special kind of reader who approaches fiction with faith. This knight of faith in fiction is equally as intangible and fascinating as Kierkegaard’s character. The knight of faith in fiction believes the unbelievable and accepts the spirit of a story. It is something few people achieve and should be understood as quite extraordinary.

Kierkegaard says to his reader, “What every man has not a right to do, is to make others believe that faith is something lowly, or that it is an easy thing, whereas it is the greatest and the hardest” (62). Today many people understand faith as simply believing in some kind of god. But the knight of faith goes far beyond this. The knight will do anything for his god. The knight knows faith not as “an immediate instinct of the heart, but [as] the paradox of life and existence” (Kierkegaard 58). He does the unreasonable: he makes the infinite movement of resignation, giving up everything he knows and loves and then against all logic, grasps the absurd, the belief that he will get all he has just given up against all odds, and thus he becomes the knight of faith (Kierkegaard 57).

The knight is an extreme character. It is understandable why Kierkegaard himself questioned the knight’s existence. But, I believe in the knight of faith, and I think this knight takes many forms. He can be embodied as Abraham, as a child on a boat with a tiger stranded in the ocean, and as a person with a book armed with imagination and faith. Books can be read and understood from multiple viewpoints. And, while all experiences are valid, the reader of faith undergoes something completely different with fiction—she lives the book. The reader of faith experiences a connection of their spirit with the author’s, living the expression of the author’s connection to God through their art. Of course, this cannot be true of all books. Even though I believe all people have spirit and the capability to share it, not every author chooses to. It is like what Pi says about the agnostic; the doubter may cling to “dry, yeastless factuality…lack imagination and miss the better story” (Martel 64). This is a sad truth for many authors and readers.

So then, what is the better story? Well, Pi would say it is “the story with animals,” and I believe it is a story with spirit (Martel 317). A story can be written full of spirit, but if it not read with an equal amount, its impact will be reduced. Therefore, I think the better story is not just written, it is also read. There is an interesting commonality of structure in Life of Pi, “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas,” and “The Veldt.” Each story demands the reader to suspend her idea of reality. To some extent, this is necessary with all fiction. As Ursula Le Guin says in her introduction to The Left Hand of Darkness, “in reading a novel, any novel, we have to know perfectly well that the whole thing is nonsense, and then while reading, believe every word of it.” With these three stories in particular though, the content is more unbelievable, requiring a leap of faith akin to the movement made by Kierkegaard’s knight.

In Ray Bradbury’s “The Veldt,” the reader must accept the concept that a house could take care of the human beings inside it. Furthermore, she must believe in the power of the nursery. Bradbury demands this when he writes “‘Did you see? Did you feel? It’s too real’” (157). He wants his reader to see the yellow coat of the lions, smell the dusty hot air of the desert, and fear that anything could happen. He attempts to make the unbelievable real, which is the work of every author. After all, “the truth is a matter of the imagination” (Le Guin intro). It takes a special kind of courage to suspend one’s reality, give up the rules and boundaries set by one’s culture, and simply believe in the story. Kierkegaard explains that in order to be a true knight of faith, one must have the courage to believe, but no pride of that courage (83). The same is true for the knight of faith in fiction, for “a paradoxical and humble courage is required to grasp the whole of the temporal by the virtue of the absurd, and this is the courage of faith” (Kierkegaard 59).

Ursula Le Guin acknowledges the disbelief of most readers in her short story “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”. The reader’s lack of faith is what part of the story is built around. The beginning of “Omelas” is a beautiful description of the most joyful celebration in a place where the people are happy. Le Guin knows most of her readers will think this is nonsense. She admits she even has difficulty writing happiness. She asks, “How is one to tell about joy?” (863) Later, she attributes this to “a bad habit” we have “encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid” (863). Yes, happiness can hardly be presented as intelligent and if it is, the reader is unlikely to believe in it. Le Guin writes, “We have almost lost hold, we can no longer describe a happy man, nor make any celebration of joy” (863).

She continuously asks her reader to have faith in Omelas. Le Guin wants the reader to believe in the joy so that she can understand the pain of the child in the closet, and the gravity of the decision for the ones who walk away. After the horrifying description of the child, Le Guin asks, “Now do you believe in them? Are they not more credible?” (866). Le Guin leaves the meaning of the ones who walk away open-ended, allowing for multiple interpretations. I believe this is because she wants to leave room for the knight of faith in fiction. Le Guin is one of my favorite authors because she writes full of spirit and asks her readers to have faith. In “Existentialism and the Novel,” John Clellon Holmes says he desires authors to “communicate, across the void, the sense of your reality to my reality” (145). In “Omelas” Le Guin accomplishes this beautifully. She wants those with faith to experience “the thing we can never share except through this miraculous creative act” (Holmes 145-6).

Of all the texts, I think Life of Pi does this the most explicitly. Yann Martel says up front, “‘I have a story that will make you believe in God’” (X). It is quite clear that he wants the reader to believe, so much so, he forces them to face their faith and decide whether or not to doubt Pi’s story. I think few read this text and believe every word. However, there may be some knights of faith in fiction who push past their everyday expectation, let go of reality, and grasp the absurd in faith. Those people likely agree with Pi when he declares the story with animals the better story and then remarks, “And so it goes with God” (317). Of course God is the more absurd, less rational, and overall better story. As Le Guin says, “fantasy is an exercise of what may be our most divine and certainly is our most human capacity, the imagination” (intro).

It takes a special kind of person to suspend their belief in reality in order to have faith in fiction. As Kierkegaard explains, “the hero’s concentration…is far more difficult since he has no support in the universal” (89). Of course, this challenge of faith occurs for many knights of faith in fiction and in other aspects of life. Once one is a knight, she is a knight in everything she does. So, reading fiction is only a part of this faithful magic. The knight of faith “constantly makes the movements of infinity, but he does this with such correctness and assurance that he constantly gets the finite out of it, and there is not a second when one has a notion of anything else” (Kierkegaard 51). The knight of faith in fiction experiences the story in the finite way others do, but also in the infinite way only a person of faith can.

There are many things that could make a person into a knight of faith. It may even be fiction that does it. For “at the extremity of life, there are really only three choices open to a man: madness, suicide, and faith” (Holmes 147). Yann Martel in the introduction to Life of Pi says that fiction is “the selective transforming of reality…the twisting of it to bring out its essence” (VIII). While I definitely agree with Martel, I also think fiction is about communicating a story from one person’s soul to another. The knight of faith in fiction helps to understand how fiction, as a medium, can convey spirit.

One can imagine the difficulty in this level of faith. Many, if not most, people would argue that Martel uses animals to make the book more interesting; that Le Guin uses the reader’s disbelief to facilitate better understanding of the scapegoat in society, and that Bradbury uses the smarthouse to make a critique on technological dependence. These things are obvious, clear, and easily explained. Faith is something that may be present in all of the stories, but is much harder to grasp since each reader may have a different experience of it. I think it is important to remember the doubter Martel describes in Life of Pi. For as Holmes says, “at the exact instant that despair gives rise to the longing for faith, the atheist existentialist pulls back and ceases to be a living man, philosophizing, and becomes a philosopher, studying life as if he, himself, was not embroiled in it” (145).

Faith does more than create the better story. Faith helps maintain our humanity. Martel so keenly writes, “To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation” (28). Whether or not one is a knight of faith in fiction is not quantifiable. However, one can begin the journey to understand the immense power of fiction and have respect for the believers. To have faith is to be human, to live. If one wishes to experience the spirit of the author and live the fiction she reads, she must be willing to give up the finite, grasp the absurd, and leap toward faith. What lies there is unknown, but undoubtedly one will find a story worth telling.

Works Cited

Bradbury, Ray. “The Veldt.” The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction. Ed. Richard Bausch and R.V. Cassill. New York: W.W. Norton &

Company, 2006. 155-165.

Holmes, John Clellon. “Existentialism and the Novel: Notes and Questions.” Chicago Review 13.2 (1959): 144-151.

Kierkegaard, Søren. Fear and Trembling. Trans. Walter Lowrie. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1954.

Le Guin, Ursula K. “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.” The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction. Ed. Richard Bausch and R.V.

Cassill. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2006. 862-866.

Le Guin, Ursula K. The Left Hand of Darkness. New York: Ace Books, 1969.

Le Guin, Ursula K. “Plausibility Revisited: Wha Hoppen and What Didn’t.” Ursula K. Le Guin: About Writing. 13 July 2008

<http://www.ursulakleguin.com/PlausibilityRevisited.html>.

Martel, Yann. Life of Pi. New York: A Harvest Book, 2001.

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Written December 6, 2010 for Dr. Godbey’s Introduction to Fiction at Temple University.

well, i’m saving up my pennies to buy a Compact Oxford English Dictionary (the best of the best nerd-out for wordgeeks like myself).  in the meantime, i shall have to reference my 1987 Webster’s New World Dictionary, partly because it’s a brisk 55 degrees in my house and i can’t pull myself away from the space heater to reference my larger, college edition in the next room, and partly because i love how  the coverless worn pages fit so perfectly in my hand.  [for those of you unfamiliar, vi. is for an intransitive verb and vt. is for a transitive verb]

fail:  vi. 1. to be insufficient; fall short  2. to weaken; die away  3. to stop operating  4. to be negligent in a duty, expectation, etc.  5. to be unsuccessful  6. to become bankrupt  7. Educ. to get a grade of failure  vt. 1. to be of no help to; disappoint  2. to leave; abandon  3. to neglect [to fail to go]  4. Educ. to give a grade of failure or get such a grade in

you might wonder why i am so interested in this topic.  well, after two and a half years at temple university, i am leaving– diploma-less.  i have failed.  to be specific, i have fallen short, been unsuccessful, and disappointed (re: number 5 and both number 1s).  i am generally a straight-A student and an overachiever, and have never, in my twenty-six years, failed a class.  so for me to fail at college…it is… a bizarre feeling, to be certain.

i am like most people from an upper middle class background.  i went to a great, college-prep high school, got good grades, graduated and went off to college.  then, i made a life-changing decision, to leave my parent’s money behind in the pursuit of myself.  it is a decision i have never regretted, but has greatly altered my life path.  i worked three jobs to stay in school, but it took its toll, and in 2004, i dropped out.  even now, seven years later, my eyes well up a little thinking about it.  though i am sure it helped me become the person i am today, it still makes me sad.  it took four and half years for me to get back into college.  this time, i told myself, i would finish.  no matter what.

i took out loans so i could focus on my schoolwork, i did all my reading, i built relationships with professors.   i got my first 4.0.  i learned a great deal and accomplished tasks i couldn’t have imagined myself capable of doing.  i lived my dream.

and beside schoolwork, i learned a lot about myself.  i discovered my favorite author (Ursula Le Guin).  i found my voice and harnessed it with the power of words; i discovered i could write.  i found my spirit in a corner classroom on the 3rd floor of Anderson Hall through the words of Gloria Anzaldúa and Lao Tzu.  i discovered the power of silence, the subtlety of a well asked question, and the beauty of letters strung together with time and tears.

i am a damn good student who happens to love school, but it doesn’t love me back.  and everyone knows unrequited love is the most tragic.

it turns out the life-changing decision of my 19 year old self was the beginning of me.  my path has been a wobbly, crooked, gravel road full of unexpected turns.  when it rains, it is nearly impossible to keep moving forward.  and it has rained a lot.  but, i have learned to stop and appreciate those moments, to slow down and make the best of what i have.  because when i take the time to look around, the scenery is awfully beautiful.  i feel like my road is pretty special, even though this is an overused, banal metaphor.

as much as i love school, i have never been able to make it work for me.  academia values and rewards linear growth in one’s chosen field.  but, i suck at making choices and have never been one to grow straight.  i have had 5 majors, one twice, and i almost always prefer elective classes.  it’s not that i am a rule-flouter.  in fact, i love rules.  structure is my lifeblood.  it just has to be the right kind of structure.   maybe it was that one decision, all those years ago, that set me on this path.  but, i am simply uninterested in sacrificing myself for another person’s projected goals.  i’ve found myself to be a true learner: i go where my spirit takes me, wherever knowledge can be found.  unfortunately, this rarely aligns with requirements academia deems necessary.  so, i grow crooked.  and i pay the price.

with private loans and their interest ticking away, growing every second, and my trusty federal loans almost at their max (yes, this really does happen), i have to leave school again.  it is a terrible, terrifying thing to stand here, on the precipice of change.  however, i am lucky in that i find my spirit weakened in the city, and i long to live in a place full of quiet air.  so while it is devastating for me to leave school again, this time, i get to move my life forward, to a new home in a new state with my love.  i am incredibly lucky.

and i am also sad.  i love to learn, and i am going to miss the classrooms full of people i would probably never meet otherwise, conversations about topics that push my mind in ways i hadn’t expected, and kind professors with thoughtful syllabuses and extensive booklists.  i am going to miss the constant pressure to learn and work at learning.  and i mourn the lost opportunity for me to move my life forward.  i am now 26 with no college degree.  and this job market is brutal.  employers don’t tend to care that you are driven and smart, they want proof– paperwork.  and now, i have a great deal of debt and no real idea how i’m going to make it work.

but, i have been through a lot, and i am sure i will figure it out.  perhaps my road will take me somewhere i never could have guessed, maybe someplace even better than a stage with a cap and gown.  i suppose you could say i failed at college, but i prefer to think that college failed me.  it has lost one of its best students.

i intend to keep pushing myself.  i am putting together a syllabus and booklist of my own, and i plan to keep growing crooked.

papers

did you miss me?  never fear, i’m still here!  over these last 7 months,  i have been letting myself take in the magnitude of change happening in my life.  things have been somewhat of a whirlwind.  i am still crazy in love, which occupies a significant amount of my time (that i am more than happy to give).  i am also still in school for a bit.  sadly, money is making it difficult for me to finish.  so, things are about to change.  i am also planning to move to MA in January!  no joke.  things are happening in this life of mine.  but i am still writing!  i have found myself drawn more and more to paper notebooks.  i am in love with the act of writing and find typing to be deeply unsatisfying.  but, i’ve missed my blog.  so, here i am!

my time is awfully precious these days, so don’t be surprised if you see a pattern of more light-hearted entries.  don’t worry, i can always be counted on for a deep societal analysis every now and then.  plus, i am going to be posting some of my creative work here too!  wordpress is somewhat challenging for me since my work tends to be more experimental.  but, i’m going to do my best.  check out my latest story linked.  i’ve also recently applied for a Leeway Foundation Art and Social Change Grant to self publish a short book i am working on.  keep your fingers crossed for me!  and keep your eyes out for updates on the book.  i have totally revamped the website and might still change everything around.  so, don’t be surprised if things are a little out of whack for a bit.  i’m going to do my best to get the site all locked down so it will be super easy to read.  and, i have downloaded a new sharing widget so you can “like” this post on facebook, tweet it, and/or share this post on pretty much any website with the buttons below.  please do!  you can always leave me comments like the old days, too.  welcome back!