Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Language

One question that's really been at the forefront of my mind lately is "How does this all tie back into Education?"I received comments back on my AERA conference proposal and all were fairly positive, but all kept saying "We would like to see more clear ties to Education."

The connect--or at least one--came to me this morning as I was thinking about how all of my participants tie together.  3 of the 4 are second generation, and yet all three speak the language of land where their parents immigrated from.  In the twentieth century, this was practically unheard of.  America, the great "melting pot" was the place where you came, shed your former identity, and took on a new American identity and system of values.  It's really only been within the last 20 years or so that "pluribus" as Lessow-Hurley (2009) frames it has been accepted and encouraged.  This is what I noticed especially in Rose's narrative--talk about nurturing both an "American" and "Syrian" identity; an "American" and "Muslim" identity.  As Sapir-Whorf (1956?) theorized, language and culture are integrally linked, and all three second generation participants talked about the importance of learning the language in order to better understand the culture.

In the wake of World War I and II, schools lessened opportunities for foreign language learning as it was perceived as more of a threat than a boon.  Most foreign language programs and dual language programs were eliminated during this time as a result of growing isolationism and nationalism (Lessow-Hurley, 2009). Maintaining a home language was enough to make individuals seen as national threats. While English-Only movements still exist and receive some legislation, we have seen some attitudes again shift towards favoring multilingualism in the US. In an effort to strengthen national security, President George Bush launched the National Security Language Initiative (NSLI)  in 2006 to push for more foreign language study.  The initiative designated funding to support language instruction at every level of education, but it was never funded in the long run (Zehr, 2007).  As the department of Education in the state of Missouri recently stated (DESE, 2011), more students are now taking foreign language to help prepare them for a future in a more global society.

The success of the participants in my study and their comfort with multiple cultural identities should further encourage language studies.  Growing up in the 1980s when little foreign language support was available in schools, they learned through trips to their native countries (at least as often as every three years) and through six months to two year stints living in the country at some point during their young adult lives.  In each case, these times of living abroad were mentioned as transformative and valuable experiences, often leading to job opportunities in the US related to their foreign language abilities.

While I know that there is other information related to Education to be drawn out (including Rose's focus on storytellers as important educators in her life!) language and cultural knowledge gained through language learning seems a critical point in my mind.  If we want our children to learn and grow confident in who they are and how they understand the world, we must provide more opportunity and encouragement for language learning in our schools.

References:
DESE. (2011, Nov. 14).  Foreign language, world history classes are on the rise. 45 (103). Retrieved on November 29, 2011, from http://dese.mo.gov/news/2011/int-ed-week.htm

Lessow-Hurley, J. (2009).  The Foundations of Dual Language Instruction, 5th ed. New York: Pearson.

Zehr, M. S. (2007, August 1).  "Students get taste of 'national security languages.'" Education Week, p. 5, 12.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Letter to an Advisor that somewhat sums up the past two weeks....


Honestly?  Getting this (fellowship grant) would put me back on track at least mentally.  I'm not sure I'm behind on the timeline at all.  I got my second rejection on a job that I had been encouraged to apply for (and through a newsletter for the college, not even a 'thanks for your interest' letter), and now the Thailand trip may be postponed for a year.  I'm just having trouble transcribing my most recent interview (motivation-wise solely, as the technical pieces are working just fine) because I'm feeling discouraged to push for any sort of 'deadline' for the final product.  With no job possibilities on the horizon, it's hard to feel the urgency to finish. 



On a more positive note, I'm making progress with the newspaper articles and CDA portions.  I think I can finally "prove" some of those claims I tried to make last spring in the paper for our immigrants course.  My plan is to re-work that paper some before the end of the semester.  


Also, after re-reading some of the Narrative Inquiry materials, I think fewer subjects and more interviews/conversations is more authentic to the approach.  We can talk more about that later, but I do know that I now need to read Dewey's "Education and Experience"--who knew that he countered his earlier positions (in TCH ED 2211, we talk about Dewey's approach in "Democracy in Education" and the importance of preparing them to think and interact, focusing on respecting each other and looking at social problems, but that he didn't seem to focus on ways in which student's lives at home and experiences outside of the class matter in the class itself), saying that experience and understanding others' experiences IS the essence of education, and that the good educational research projects need to focus on experience. 


Therefore, their experiences and our interactions/experiences together need more attention and less categorization, I think.  While I definitely see a number of similarities that we can talk about in the discussion and even between the chapters, it's the individual stories that need some attention.  Each, at this point, are women from different countries and have different experiences--but ALL FOUR OF THEM have been involved in teaching at some point or another (and that's not how I met them or all of my sources met them), and that in itself seems very interesting when we get into the discussion and how this experience, identity, and education "puzzle" fits together :D

Anyway, that's where I'm at in a nutshell.  How are classes going for you this semester?  I'm looking forward to the December party/meeting and catching up with others again.


 --Emily

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

What Mona Simpson has to do with this

It's fairly safe to say that most people in the US were impacted by Steve Jobs.  Yes, I sit here typing on my ibook while my iphone charges and we have a few ipods lying around here too.  Technology is great and I'm thankful for the inventors of the world who bring these things to fruition.  However, as the eulogy for Jobs was released yesterday, it was his sister, Mona Simpson, who impacted me even more than the story of Jobs himself.  As she was talking about his last days, somewhere in the middle of her eulogy, she stated:
"We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories."(http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/30/opinion/mona-simpsons-eulogy-for-steve-jobs.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all)
You see, this journey began as a search for "the truth" and bringing injustices to light, and then shifted abruptly.  Words, even just a few of them, can do that.  I had gone to Dar al-Islam in New Mexico for a teacher's institute, not really knowing what I'd find other than some more knowledge about Islam and a few allies perhaps in my efforts to combat misinformation.  What I found was both friendship with my colleagues and a new and deeper appreciation for stories.  They stood out to me then and continue to stand out now as important markers along the journey.


“We have stories.  We all have Stories. Now I can give you stories.  Let me now ask your permission to travel with me on my mental highway about Islam in America.”—Dr. Suleyman Nyang,  Howard University Professor  and Dar Al-Islam  instructor"

It was here that I learned a bit about Tariq and Rehana who helped their father run the institute.  I learned about Tariq's adorable little boy at home who was about the same age as mine--and we'd talk to each other about them when feeling a little homesick.  I learned about Ali and his conversion experience, coming to the camp at 21 on a trip with his college class, and about his life in Morocco afterwards as he sought to learn more about his new faith and the language of the scriptures.  And then I heard Dr. Nyang talk about history as telling stories, and it was through his use of story that I was most struck; it was story that I remembered most when I left the institute and stories that still cling to my memory.  
I struggled for so long to make this a "legitimate" study with statistics and discourse methods and, yes, a lot of that is still present, but it's the STORIES for me that make this so important.  It's one of the oldest ways of transferring knowledge and providing education that we know of.  Scriptures tell the stories of faith and their impact--their "legitimacy" is in more than just who passed them down and how long they've been around--it's in their being there, weaving through other stories together that we begin to understand history, life, and ourselves.  

To Mona Simpson I must say that her words ring so true in my ears today--we all die in the midst of stories, in the midst of many stories.  The stories carry on and carry weight and carry importance.  Just a day after all saints day, I continue to sit and think about stories that have ended, but that yet continue because they threaded their way through my own story, and I couldn't help but pick up that story and weave it into my own life and approach to other people.  There are things each of us leave unfinished when we die (how can we not?  We never know when that might happen), but the story continues on.  

I like to think of scripture as not just a chronicle of time, but a love story between God and humans (yes, we're the inconsistent partner, but sometimes we really do try!) and it's a story of life, of learning and most of all a story of forgiveness and love.  I see the same threads running through the Torah, the Bible and the Qu'ran.  It's all a story of God and his love and our lives and faith--and it's a story in medias res, still being written, though many have lived and died in its midst.  It's a powerful story, often best shared by examining lives today, seeing how the scripture "threads" have crept into their lives, their living, and the ways in which they share their identities.  Thank you, Mona Simpson, for reminding me and others that we die in the midst of stories and the stories we all share matter. greatly. 

Rose

A week ago today, I had the opportunity to interview yet another core participant to my study.  She immediately began by asking me questions and we got to the subject of age.  I admitted that I'd be turning 30 in February and she said "Oh! You're only a month older than me then!"  As she's the first participant who's exactly my age or younger (all others have been a year or two older), it was a fun interview when it came to talking about significant events.  Her favorite TV shows as a kid were Muppet Babies and "that one on PBS where the mannequin comes to life?" "Today's Special!" I announced happily.  It was so interesting and nice to hear someone start by saying "I had a really happy childhood, where my parents let us eat junkfood and watch Saturday morning cartoons."

Other events that coincided for us both weren't as happy.  As she'd spent the first 12 or so years of her life "On the other side of the river" as we say here in MO, there was a significant event for BOTH of us.  She'd lived for two years in Saudi Arabia in late elementary school before returning to the same house, whereas I moved to IL for the first time.  I told her about how we'd taken an African-American friend to a movie theater and seen the ugly face of racism for the first time I could remember in my life.  She nodded, saying that that was right after the "First Iraq war" and that people started acting fearful of her and cases of racism really rose.

She married young--younger than I did, actually, in a sort of arranged marriage and then ended up going to Berkley for part of her undergrad degree (which, of course, made me a bit jealous).  She was actually there when 9/11 happened, and said laughing that people she met were kind and, if anything "would stop and ask me 'are YOU okay?'" because they knew about the hate crimes happening against Arabs and Muslims. She was already somewhat active in the community, but became more so, trying to dispell myths about Islam and Arabic speakers, reaching out into the community and joining many of the political protests at Berkley.

As she took a semester abroad in Syria and with previous experiences, she spoke Arabic fluently and after graduating with a BS, she ended up working for the "Mosaics" news from the middle east television program.  She translated stories from different countries (especially those within the "Middle East") and the program tried to represent multiple points of view on one or two events  every broadcast. Unfortunately, it was at this point that her marriage completely fell apart.  Her husband had asked for a separation before this, and she was hoping that it would help, along with some counseling.

When her parents found out, they insisted that she move back home, and her mom even came out to California to forcibly move her back.  She doesn't and didn't begrudge this at all, as she knew that the happiness at this point was only a facade. She moved home, and started trying to figure out  what to do with her life.  She volunteered with the local chapter of CAIR (Counsel on American-Islamic Relations) and with the Muslim Student Association.  She had an undergraduate degree in pre-med and her parents kept encouraging her to go to Med school. She fell in love with architecture and tried going to school for awhile for a masters in architecture, but found that she loved the design and beauty more than the laws, restrictions and long isolated hours that went along with it.  She ended up going back to school awhile later in public health, combining her love of being with people, translation skills, and medical background.  During her internship with the city public health office, she was the only Muslim woman working there and the only one who had worked there (or who wore hijab and was open about her beliefs).  She said one of her co-workers commented on how she was nervous around her at first, but all she had to do was watch her and see from Rose's demeanor and example that she had nothing to fear.  In fact, she was recently invited to speak at her supervisor's church during the education hour.

The part that struck me most about Rose is her natural speaking ability, poise, and ability to put others at ease.  Meeting under other circumstances, I think we could become fast friends.  Who knows?  Maybe we will.  I talked with her quite a bit about how this project is, in a way, a journey of faith for me as well and a search for a way to re-inliven a generation of Christians that's become completely quiet, fallen away because of hurt caused by the church, or joined the loudest voices that do not represent Christ's call to love their neighbors and care for the poor, widow and orphan.  I am embarrassed to say that I'd just thrown on some nicer looking clothes before leaving (sweats have become my 'uniform' as a mama lately), and the top ended up looking lower cut than I thought.  I hated that here we were talking about modesty and I looked a bit racy-er than is my norm ( I hope I didn't make her uncomfortable!)

Her item to help tell her story?  Her computer, saying that most of her pictures, her writings, journals, papers and her "life" was on that computer.  I know exactly how that feels as I sit here typing away, thinking about this project, and hoping that we get a chance to continue our conversation soon.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Coded talk and noticing

I'd never met her before, but we hit it off right away...I think.  I find it harder to tell with others who interview for a living like I do, as it's so hard not to be somewhat guarded and careful.  I arrived ten minutes early, ordered my spiced chai tea, set out my things and waited.  A blonde with medium length hair  in a ponytail came in and looked like she was waiting for someone, and sort of fit the description she'd given via email, but there was another tall blonde at the counter, wearing a black scarf (like she'd said in the email she might be if her kids didn't get it dirty before she came) and ordering tea.  The baristas asked the girl with the ponytail if she'd like something, and she said she was waiting for someone.  "K?"  I asked "That's me," said the woman with the chai tea and black scarf.  "Guess I'm waiting for someone else," said the girl with the ponytail as she smiled.   "I'm Emily.  It's nice to meet you," I told K and then pointed to her cup, "great minds think alike," I said.  She asked me a few questions and then apologized, "I'm sorry if I'm asking too many questions.  I'm just so used to it," she said.  "It's okay.  That's your job," I replied.

We ended up going outside where the coffee grinder wasn't so loud.  Like most of my interviewees, she was comfortable enough answering the questions and telling me about her experiences, but some of her thoughts and words stood out as those that hadn't been said before, but things that I'd thought.  When I asked her about the area, she said "some of the best things about St. Louis are also some of the worst things.  Most of the people I've talked to here have lived here their whole lives.  That tells me that it's a good community to raise a family and make a life...but it also makes it really hard for people who aren't from here."  She also talked about how "fragmented" and divided the area is, in terms of people groups settling into one area, not really moving much and perpetuating stereotypes about different areas.  She talked about how you'll hear people say things like "oh you live in North County?  Isn't that a dangerous area?  Why do you live there?"  And how, though it takes time, you start to realize that there's this "code," and St. Louisans are really good at speaking it, and often what they mean by how "dangerous" or "poor" North county is  relates to the racial makeup (most people seem to think that North County is almost all Black).  As both outsiders (she grew up in the state, but not this city), we joked about how nice it is to say that we DIDN'T go to high school here, as that removes us from some of the judgements and expectations about our socioeconomic status or prejudices.  

Coded talk is everywhere, and she said that media isn't really doing its job in unpacking terms and stereotypes (not just here, but on a national level) and that, in some ways, is why she says "Being Muslim is like the new black.  Replace that term with any other racial group--or even a sexual orientation--and people would be like, 'nuh huh.  You can't say that.  That's just wrong.'" 

I've been saying that for awhile, I think.  It's like 9/11 made everyone feel like it was acceptable to single out "Arabs" (ironically sometimes targeting folks who were Indian, Pakistani or even Latino because of assumptions about the way they looked)  and Muslims.  I've even heard that justified in some of these interviews because "we now have a reason to fear them." No matter how you code it, or how you justify it, IT'S NOT RIGHT.  Some say that they just have to "wait it out until the next group that poses a threat comes into focus."  What I really don't understand is why we have to 'code' anything or single out any group.  

The other aspect that stood out was when she was talking about her son.  Her husband is from South America, and so "my son is brown," she tells me, "and he notices. He asked me the other day if he was Indian, and I told him, 'well, you're father is half Indian, and you get half of you from me and half of you from your dad, so you're a quarter Indian.  I think he was really confused, but he wants answers."  I remarked that I thought the other kids probably talked about it (he has a very diverse preschool class that she'd been telling me about), and she said, "no, you know, I think he just notices."  He's FOUR and he notices that he's brown?  That he doesn't look like some of the other kids?  Again, my white privilege at work here, but I know I didn't 'notice' that I was different from other kids until later--probably middle of elementary school, and that's because we were talking about religion and someone mentioned talked about how Hinduism was a lot more prevalent in India where he was from.  I may be way off base here, but I can't help but think that noticing comes about when our attention is drawn to it by outside factors, whether they are "overt" or "covert."  K said the same thing--about overt and covert factors existing--in terms of racism experienced by Arabs post-9/11 and religious discrimination of Muslims post-9/11.  

Covert and coded best describes so much of what I've seen and still can't really put my finger on, though I'm getting closer (thanks to those who experience the discrimination and have spoken the truth about power and have spoken power to the truth!)  Will I be able to tell you in the end of this project something you didn't know before that changes how you see the world?  I don't know.  I do know, however, that I hope the stories will touch you--or that at least one will.  I hope to break down some of this coding and help others to notice ways in which they have avoided noticing or have made other individuals feel othered. 

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Nerves, nerves--and odd realizations

I've been using the Panera Bread up the street from my son's preschool as an "office" for the past month or so.  Every time I'm here, one particular group of retirees seems to be here, and today I got up the nerve to ask them to participate in my study. They said yes--and then only one said he'd do it today while the others listened.  Yes, it was pretty nerve-wrecking.  I read it wrong--every time I thought he was done with an answer and would pause, I'd start the next question only to find he'd had something else he'd start to say and then stop. The interview only lasted five minutes and I'd heard him talk a LOT in the past.

At the end, he seemed REALLY nervous and asked if I was going to report him or something.  He'd said very little, if anything at all, that was even close to someone perceiving as 'offensive' (I'm hard to offend).  I said, "no, of course not."  He said that he believed that when it came down to it, everyone was "out for their race."  When I looked puzzled, he clarified "I mean, when it comes down to it, everyone will choose someone of their own race, their own religion, over others.  That's just the way of human nature."  He then said "I'd choose jewish people over Muslims, because at least Jews believe the same God."  I spoke up "Muslims believe in the same God."  "What about Mohammed?"  "He was a prophet. They believe he was the last prophet."  "Allah?"  "Yeah, God--Allah is just the Arabic word for God."  He was taken aback.  "You mean they believe in Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?"  Not wanting to really split hairs, I nodded (yes, I know Ishmael and not Isaac is considered the heir) "'cause that's the same God I believe in," he said.  "Are you Muslim?"  he asks.  I shake my head no.  "Are you Arab?" he asks and laughs.  I say "actually, you'd be surprised. some of the Palestinian women are much lighter skinned than me."  Of course, I accidentally opened a whole new can of worms with that. Unfortunately, I think I offended.  I wonder how he'd react if he knew I was a Christian.  I did try to interject that a bit when we talked earlier--about my son's preschool and my ESL work.

And for all of this?  The recorder was already turned off.  The formal interview was over anyway--and I can also tell that I don't think he or his friends might ever talk to me again.  Except one.  When I explained that this study started with my ESL students whose neighbors were afraid of them, one of his friends piped up.  "funny you mention neighbors.  Now that I think about it, there's a Nigerian couple that lives across the street that's Muslim.  We just say our hellos sometimes, but they mainly keep to themselves."  "How do you know they're Muslim?" I pressed a bit.  "My wife invited them over for dinner once, and they mentioned that they don't eat pork and a couple of other little signs."

It was nice to meet someone over 60 who seemed to connect with what I was saying.

Overall, though, the experience reminds me why in the past I've begin with saying that I'm a Christian woman just trying to talk about commonalities and not convert anyone.  It's funny to me, now, that it seems more important to start with this disclaimer when interviewing other Christians, and not when talking with Muslims.  How is it that my work seems more distrusted by people like me, than by those who have the most to fear about my intentions and writings?   This feels so odd.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Comfortable enough to laugh at the absurdity

Today's interview was really interesting--and painful--on many levels.  Hannah, a friend of student of a committee member of mine (catch that?)  had graciously agreed to meet with me knowing only a little about my study, and I only knew that she was a friend of someone who hadn't quite fit my study and had told her about me.

It's interesting to me that we not only live in the same city but, as it turns out, lives less than a minute from me--and she immediately commented on how this area, more than the other areas of the US and abroad she'd lived in, neighbors didn't really talk to each other.  I feel this way too, but do wonder if the lack of interaction with neighbors is even more acute when a hijab is seen.

The thing that struck me most this time, is how often and how specifically Hannah talked about becoming comfortable with being Arab-American Muslim and how these things were things she couldn't change about herself and she might as well accept--and have some fun with. She said that her schoolmates (at a local university) have nicknamed her 'terrorist'--and she likes the joke.  In high school, she and some friends had made little signs that said "I didn't choose to be Arab--I just got lucky!"  It was their confidence, their pride and their story.  She even had a banner that said this in her car window, and it was there since 1995 or 1996.  Most people just kind of smiled and told her it was cool--until 2001.  She said that after 9/11, she'd come back to her car and find that someone had thrown eggs at it, and even beer bottles at one point.  She took it out of the car, just to be safe.  She also quit her job at a preschool after that year, too, because of the looks from some of her co-workers and the comments from parents (one even threatened to beat her up)--and yet, she just sort of said that you can't argue with people that ignorant.

For instance, she had someone in her math class last year ask her if she was a Muslim, and she said "yes."  Puzzled, the other woman asked how she could be Muslim and American, and Hannah replied, "well, my religion is Islam and I am an American citizen."  "Oh," said the woman in math class, "I thought Islam was a country. I thought I saw it on a map once."  "Islam?  Islamabad?" asks Hannah.  "YES," said the woman.  "Islamabad is a city in Pakistan, and has nothing to do with Islam."  As she said before, you can't continue a conversation with someone who doesn't understand.

As she told me, sometimes you just have to laugh at the craziness of it all.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

For Palestine

This is one of those topics, again, that I have a hard time voicing these days.  In 2008, I became very vocal about the treatment of Palestinians, both about what I had seen here in North St. Louis and the ways in which the violence in Israel was worded and addressed.

What shocked me most was who attacked my words and how vehemently (and, honestly, the amount of anger and lack of reason/facts behind it) they did so.  Even now, I find myself choosing words very carefully. I did so in an interview last night, and it struck me later how the interviewee perceived my words as perhaps two faced--or perhaps that's just my own frustrations with myself.

The data doesn't lie and while my advisor and others caution me against value coding, it must be said:  There was strong anti-"Arab" sentiment pre-9/11, especially in editorials and the adjectives and adverbs chosen in some news stories by some news correspondents (these can be located through use of LexisNexis Academic and a search of the Post Dispatch).  The overwhelming sense in all of these cases is that the writers are Pro-Israel, no matter what the situation.  Often, I refer to these persons--whether they are Christian or Jewish (as most fall into one of these categories)--as Zionist (believing that Israel rightfully belongs to Jewish persons because God gave it to them in the Torah/Old testament scriptures). Conversely, most of the editorials that reject this positionality are written by those within the Muslim community (and here in St. Louis, it was often someone representing CAIR--the Counsel on American-Islamic Relations).

Even in my lifetime, Israel has expanded its borders (http://www.annainthemiddleeast.com/photos/maps_media/2242/) most often without authorization from the UN, but has often been supported no matter what by the U.S.  In a very interesting speaking engagement earlier this year, Obama actually said that there had been too much loss on both sides, and pushed Israel to allow for a Palestinian state, and for borders to be returned to the 1967 agreement (http://www.annainthemiddleeast.com/photos/maps_media/2242/) He was met with immediate opposition, not only from Israel, but also from many in the US--and many are upset enough to not want to re-elect him, almost solely based on this policy or so it would seem (http://blogs.wsj.com/washwire/2011/09/13/is-israel-policy-an-election-problem-for-obama/)

Though the news on this is hard to find, my feeling is that it's not visible because those in power don't want it seen.  Much of the policy in the last decade has been justified by 9/11, but seems fueled by Zionism and Anti-Islamic sentiment coming from a particular portion of the population.  However, while there are solid social justice and basic human rights reasons to be Pro-Palestine, it's not a safe political stance to take often, and you can be painted as Anti-Semetic (there is a difference between disliking a country's actions and disliking an entire ethnic group, but blanket statements are often made surrounding the case of Israel) and even Anti-American.  I'll come out here and say it though--for many Palestinian Muslims who have been driven from their property and come to America, they're facing persecution in their home country and here--singling them out for religion reasons has been a way to justify their persecution under other motives.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Ten Years...

I had no idea how to approach this.  The statuses of friends sickened me, as they preached nationalism, the othering of others and violence in many cases.  Anger may have subsided some, but most talked about watching all the footage on TV again or re-listening to interviews on the radio.  Bin Laden is dead--finally caught this past May--but most folks never mentioned this in their reflections on 9/11.

One of the most interesting things to come out of 9/11, for me, is how many end up spending that day now.  Most of the Muslim community here in St. Louis is involved in a day of  community service.  While I sincerely wish that this was better noticed by the community at large, I can't help but feel that it's as if it's purposefully ignored. Politicians stand around the hole in the ground in NYC, excluding firefighters and other emergency workers who were there that day so that other talking heads can show up and pontificate.

The president says something about not bowing to fear, and for the first time in this whole process, I roll my eyes.  Nine years I put up with this, but no more.  Enough with the talk of fear, enough with revisiting the footage.  Enough of toying with emotions in people's lives.  I fully believe that grief is still there for many, that wounds run deep, but that re-airing that footage does more harm than good.  We have dwelt on the anger, fear and violence too long as a nation.

On the other hand, the origins of this dissertation project really began with 9/11.  I'd just come back from teaching ESL and music ministry in Japan the month prior.  I'd seen Hiroshima and been amazed at the attitude of the Japanese--the focus on recovery and rebuilding and reformation rather than on the violence itself.  I spent 9/12 talking with classmates who insisted that we needed to "bomb the hell out of whoever is responsible."  I wore the T-shirt I'd bought in Japan--black, with the white silhouette of the one building still standing close to the Hiroshima epicenter: the domed building.  Underneath, it states in red letters: August 8, 1945.  NO MORE HIROSHIMAS.  Their response to the violence was to try to prevent it from ever happening again.

Our response over 10 years?  To get involved in 3 major wars.  My own response?  To the words of hatred for Muslims and fear of terrorists?  I started learning more about Islam.  I had to read part of the Qu'ran for my masterpieces of world lit that year anyway, so I started investigating.  Often things attributed to Qu'ran in the papers--on violence and the infidel--came from Haddith, not Qu'ran.  That's like saying the bible tells Christians not to smoke or drink or play cards when it's coming out of pamphlets written by denominational tracts decades/centuries later.  The Haddiths about violence and infidels are sort of like the books of the bible that no one prints--they were rejected as scripture. But no one within the American community seemed to understand or listen to this information. Every  time I talked with someone about faith in the years following, the most articulate and thoughtful and informative and peaceful persons I talked with were Muslim or Buddhist--the Christians I knew (the American Christians especially) were more concerned with things they DIDN'T agree with or believe were right than what they believed in or knew they should do.

This project continues, but while I use 9/11 as an important event, I focus on the POST part--to me, 2001 is over.  What lingers is the pain revisited every year in the ways in which we 'remember,' and in our ignoring of the ways in which the Muslim community attempts to connect with mainstream American of that day.  I'm not asking us to forgive and forget--but I AM praying that we start paying attention to the ways in which most Muslims articulate their faith and spend 9/11.  This could be about unity and healing and standing together to reject violence and hatred, but it hasn't been--not yet.

I had the most wonderful interview on Saturday night with the director of CAIR-St. Louis.  As I was already familiar with the organization in general, I'd just called up and mentioned my project asking to interview the director as a community leader, if possible.  It turned out that he was YOUNG--just out of college, and I wasn't sure what I'd find.  Of course, I was pleasantly surprised by his articulateness and ability to relax into the conversation.  Though we didn't know each other well,  we chatted comfortably and he talked about some of their work and the youtube videos he's making on upcoming events for the organization.  He talked about John Esposito (a very well known scholar and writer on Islam) coming to help with a fundraiser this winter--and he talked about his experience as the only Muslim family in their suburb of St. Louis growing up and for him.

He would have been a young teenager in 2001--he said that for him and for his friends, 9/11 changed their lives in that they had to revisit family heritages--what did it mean to be from Pakistan?  Was he then an Arab-American, and what WAS an Arab-American?  (Hint: Arab usually refers to someone who speaks Arabic as a first language), and what IS Islam?  What do you believe and what was this Hezbollah group?  Tough questions for a teen--but what a heck of a way to learn about heritage, belief and to affirm an identity--or to reject pieces of identity assumed or forced upon him! After all, if you were asked what it means to be American and German/Italian/Irish/Dutch?  What IS Christianity REALLY about, and do you really believe that...? How would your faith and identity be challenged and/or strengthened if you had to answer these questions in high school or college?

What does the 10 year anniversary mean to me?  Missed opportunities--for dialogue, for unity, for a chance to say that we're not a people who define ourselves around an act of violence and hatred.  We should learn from Hiroshima and the act of restoration.  We should learn that the act of violence could inspire us to a day of community service and dialogue--and for those of us especially who did not lose loved ones, we should think about those who did and ways in which we might serve them, rather than serving our own anger and violence. It also means that this paper needs to be written and all I can do is pray that others will read and understand that this, too, is a possible reaction to 9/11--reflection on who each of us is as an individual and a call to redefine Christianity not by what we reject and those we disagree with, but by what we DO believe, the stereotypes we reject, and the life of sharing our love and service we are called to.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Discipline of Being Present

I've conducted two interviews in the last two days, and they were VASTLY different in some ways, and similar in others.  While one interviewee, when asked about his contact with Arab-American Muslims, gave names, jobs, stories and conveyed such a sense of love that I couldn't help but be moved.  The other?  He was able to give a location where two he thought might be Arab American worked and he'd had contact with them there, but couldn't name any in his area nor any contact he'd had with them personally.  He said, in fact, "they might go to my church, and I had just assumed they were Indian.  I think they're Indian." Another person in the room was quick to remind him that if they're Muslim, they're probably not going to his church (though I did give the example of one Muslim friend who'd been raised going to church activities for the social interaction in a small town).

 The thing that struck me most though was their answers to my question, "Do you know of any Arab-American Muslims in your community?"  The first said "I knew of Arab-American Muslims in the 1950s when I was first in this community"--and then told me a story about his first interactions with a young Muslim man when he was a college student.  He told me about learning Arabic in the 1970s and of taking college students to the Mosques and staying overnight in Muslim homes and the profound impact that had on their understanding of Islam and the culture.  He said he didn't know of any Muslims since 9/11  in the university community where he taught, and he said "if they were here, and anyone knew about it, I would know that they are here and seek them out."  The other interviewee said something like "I don't know of any Arab-American Muslims being mistreated in our community.  I've heard of it in places like Maryland, but I don't know of any cases in (our suburb) or really in the St. Louis area for that matter.  Now, you'll probably go find a newspaper article to prove me wrong."  I clearly stated afterward that I wasn't there to trip him up--just to get a better sense of sentiments and ways in which we talk about 9/11 now.  When I asked him if he knew personally of any Arab-American Muslims in his district, he said, "You know, I never really notice.  They may be there, but I don't know anyone personally for sure.  I don't look at them about go "Muslim" or "Arab"--if they live and work in our community, I just assume they're one of us."

This struck me oddly--was I really asking folks to point out Arab-American Muslims in order to 'other' them?  That wasn't my goal, but might be part of the outcome depending on how they understood the question. Why did he seem to think that noticing should only be done if harm was coming to someone or being done by someone? How did I justify asking about this?  Well, I started thinking about my goal in this project--it wasn't just rhetoric, but how welcoming and accepting a community was--and then I remembered the Good Samaritan story.  It's not the robbers that Jesus focuses on--and the 'bad guys' of the story?  Are people who walk right by (or, in veggietales, they sing "we're busy! busy!  dreadfully busy!  You've no idea what I have to do! Much much too busy for you!") See the story below :D
Luke 10:25- 35
The Parable of the Good Samaritan
 25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
   26 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
 27 He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’[a]; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b]
   28 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
 29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
 30 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii[c] and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’




When I was first asked about my interest in this project, one of my standard answers was to bring attention to the treatment of Arab-American Muslims post-9/11.  Bayoumi ("How's it feel to be a problem?," 2008) and Tehranian ("Whitewashed, " 2009) have done a great job of this, for anyone willing to read and to listen.  It may have gone beyond this goal (now I see it more as a story of resilience and faith in the face of persecution), but as I've seen in recent interviews, the skill of being present and paying attention to what's going on with your neighbors (in a genuinely caring sense) is part of what we're called to as Christians--and something that we often forget or neglect. 

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Interviewing

I promised myself that I'd write an entry on the comprehensive exam experience and the dissertation proposal preparation and defense...but as I'm in the thick of setting up and conducting interviews right now,  I thought it should really start here, in the emotions, thoughts and concerns of the moment.  In short?  TERRIBLE week.  I'd spent time the week before calling people I had as contacts to end up leaving a recorded messages and no one responding--except one.  Our interview was supposed to take place on Wednesday, but when I called to confirm on Monday, she asked that we move it back two weeks.  Not only had this woman gone on and on when I called her the first time until my husband begged me to hang up on her (I did get off the phone gracefully by asking her to email me with 2 possible locations for our meeting, since this is what she was having trouble deciding on and her inner monologue had become her outer monologue as well), but now she cancelled and then felt it necessary to tell me about how busy she was, taking up another 30 minutes of my time even while I told her that my toddler needed me and I needed to go.

On Wednesday, I tried calling another set of possible interviewees.  All of them called back except one.  This time, I was able to schedule one interview for the next day--and he seemed genuinely interested and excited about my program--with his leadership role, he was a great connection too.  I should have called him the next morning to remind him, but once I thought of it, he was already gone from work for the day (and all I had was his work number).  I went...and waited. and waited. and waited.  I waited 40 minutes and he never showed.  I left him an email, saying "oh this is probably my confusion, sorry for a misunderstanding--can we reschedule?"  and no reply.  Not even now, four days later. I'll call him again on Tuesday and see if we can reschedule--his connection to the community is too important to just call it quits and not interview him.

So that's the BAD news of the week--a cancellation (that took awhile to cancel) and one evening of being "stood up."  The rest of the news actually is great--I have 4 confirmed interviews in the next 2 weeks~!  Oh and did I mention that I conducted an "ambush" interview? I decided that since the organization I couldn't reach and wanted to was a Christian organization that our pastor is somewhat involved with, that I would interview her!


I found out that with economic problems, the organization's staff and hours have been reduced to almost nothing (which, in fact, may end up being something interesting for the dissertation, but we'll see...) She recommended someone else in our congregation that she described as an "encyclopedia of knowledge" on the history of our area.  I might try and see, as the organization looks less and less like a possibility and a historical perspective on the area might be helpful for the discourse. 

Upcoming interviews:
1) Dr. M.Z.  is on Tuesday.  He is a professor of Christian-Islamic Studies, and someone I knew through previous affiliations with another institution.  I know of few other institutions right now that have people looking at this interfaith discussion.  There are a number of Jewish-Christian studies positions--and in fact this is primarily the focus of interfaith).
2) Rep. R.S.  on Wednesday evening. He's in a west county area and I wasn't originally planning to work with him, but when one of my committee members with political connections told me that the representative seat for the florissant/hazelwood area is currently open because that rep is now state accountant, I tried to find other areas/districts with a Muslim population.  As CAIR (Counsel for American-Islamic Relations) is housed in that area and I know that others I'm interviewing who identify as Muslim live in that area , I decided to contact him.  Full disclosure--he's currently seeking re-election and a friend of mine with a PhD in Pol-sci was recently hired as his campaign manager, so I had an easier time getting a hold of him than others representatives.
3) Dr. K.H.  An doctor in St. Louis, but also a social justice blogger on issues related to Islam here in St. Louis.  He's the keynote speaker for interfaith's  big day of workshops and faith discussions being held on 9/11. While interfaith didn't respond to my calls and emails, I was surprised that when I sent him a short message on his blog he was quick to reply and more than willing to be interviewed :D Full of energy and a delight to speak with, he contacted ME over the weekend to apologize for not realizing Monday was Labor Day and wanted to reschedule.  In the past, I've just had folks not show up or call at the last minute to reschedule--VERY considerate and I look forward to talking with him in person. 

The last was the biggest surprise of the week! 
4) H--a friend of a student of one of my committee members.  The student didn't 'fit' the requisites, but told me about her friend, H, and gave me her phone number.  After I'd called H a week and a half ago, got generic voicemail and never heard back, I didn't think she'd call back and wasn't sure of English proficiency.  She called me out of the blue on Friday, apologizing profusely as she'd forgotten her voicemail password until that day and not recognizing the number didn't call back until she heard the message.  She's a full time student at Flo Valley, identifies as Arab and Muslim, immigrated at the age of 12, was 23 at the time of 9/11 and actually lives in st. ann (where I live) with her two kids and husband--how wild is that???  I'm really excited to meet her and talk because as students with kids and in the same area, I'll think we'll have plenty in common :D  She understands 100% about what I'm asking for in the life history interview, and thought she might have 3 or so artifacts for me to photograph :D  That interview is set for the 17th and I told her I'd call and remind her several times.  I'm really excited about this one!

So that's my story--a very frustrating week and ended with a number of scheduled interviews :D Feast or Famine, as my advisor says!  Let's just hope that most of these actually happen at the times we've now scheduled! 

Friday, September 2, 2011

Seeking out hope on this journey of faiths


But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect,
--1 Peter 3:15

This verse has constantly been running through my head the last few days as I mull over what this project means to me and for me.

One of the most inspiring things about my interactions with Muslims my age is that they have answers when questioned.  They are articulate and passionate about their faith.  I was too--ten years ago, and even still five years ago to a great extent.  Now?  I still have hope, but feel so incredibly tired.  Tired of fighting the fear mongering and anti-intellectualism present in right-wing Christianity, which is getting so much media time and space--and the volume is deafening.  Almost nearly as deafening is the following silence--that which seems to block out other dissenting voices from within Christianity and seems to indicate that the rest of the country just accepts this as the lone voice of Christianity.  I'm also tired of trying to explain to friends that I went to a Christian college with why I still believe and why I'm still apart of the church.  So, so many have left, unable to believe that a loving, wonderful God would allow such a church to represent him--a church that focuses more on the "Thou shall not" than the "shall," and a church more concerned with political life than with simply loving others.

It weighs heavy on me at times, too, but I also know that God's reach extends beyond the walls and the voices within the church itself.  I know how many times I've felt buoyed up on strength beyond my own, how many times I've found comfort in others saying that they're praying for me--and how many times I've seen answers to prayer.  I know that the God I believe in--the Jesus of Scriptures and the God that guided the prophets and others through the Old and New Testaments--all the books of the bible--is first and foremost a loving God who challenges us to love and serve others.

...and yet, I still find my answer not as articulate, not as passionate and loving as those I hear from women I speak with, and so this continues as a journey of faiths--a journey to hear and learn from their faith, and a journey to strengthen my own and to better prepare an answer for the hope (and love) that I have.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

"What's REALLY your motivation here?"

This isn't something I've been asked, but often wish some people would.  I don't know if this means others assume my motives to be less honorable than they are (which might explain why I've had such a hard time getting interviewees in the first place), or if they think this is normal and acceptable.

If I've learned anything from my study of critical race theory, it's that white researchers often feel the need to study peoples of color and attach their own lens and understanding to the "findings."  It IS disturbing, and I do not approach this lightly.  There are very good reasons for me no longer using CRT in my study--and one is this: I feel ill equipped to tell where my white privilege and lens ends and the truth of another's experience begins.  Another reason is that story--or narrative--is one of the most ancient (and in recent times, sadly devalued) forms of education and it speaks to us in ways most methods of educational research do not.  This is the reason I settled on conducting my dissertation research and writing as Narrative Inquiry (See Clandinin & Connelly, 2004 "Narrative Inquiry", for more details).  Narrative Inquiry acknowledges--or at least can acknowledge--that the researcher's perspective can alter the narrative's natural flow, not to mention its interpretation.  Narrative Inquiry requires of the participants and the researcher to journey together, to seek out truths together and to piece together a multi-layered, multi-dimensional picture of context and people at particular places and times.

But I imagine you still want to know why a white Christian woman in her late 20s is studying women of another faith from halfway around the world.  I want to reassure you first that I am NOT seeking to "convert" anyone to faith, or convince them that I am "right."  This has been done far too often in the name of 'good Christian action,' and I honestly find it disrespectful, doing more to deteriorate possible friendships and interfaith discussion than any sort of good. The truth is that the faith of my Muslim brothers and sisters has inspired me, especially in the wake of 9/11.

I began teaching Adult ESL in North County St. Louis in 2006.  Half of my students were Hispanic (primarily from Mexico, but several were from Cuba and Guatemala), and the other half were Palestinian, Irani and Iraqi women, most of whom were practicing Muslims and wore hijab.  It was in the midst of our discussion of small talk that I learned just how hard many were trying to connect with their neighbors, and how they were rejected, spit on, yelled at, and had doors slammed in their faces.  And yet they still kept trying to make connections. I was even invited to one of their homes for a baby shower. They knew I was a Christian and often asked questions, sharing their own similarities and differences in faith with me.  It wasn't long before I realized that I had better conversations about what we believed in that setting than I had with my students at a nearby christian college--or with members of my church, for that matter.

As I began my studies at UMSL in 2008 (planning to focus on second language acquisition technique differences between my hispanic and Arabic-speaking students), I decided to write a short paper on how 9/11 and the media coverage thereafter had had a negative impact on Arab-Americans and Muslims in the US.  The young woman I interviewed left a profound impact on how I viewed things--in fact, I was no longer able to write a paper about the negative impact of 9/11 on Arab American Muslims but rather saw a faith intensified and a greater articulation about her beliefs in general.  Here she was, only 2 years older than I was, and much better prepared to explain what she believed and why than any Christian my age.

In the intervening years, as I've gone from my mid-20s and early marriage into my late 20s and mother of a toddler, I've watched as more friends have left the church or stayed with very little reason other than "this has always been my church."  I've watched as young families have come and gone, and for the most part have shared little about what they believed, and joined in few activities outside of some Sunday morning services.  The church has gone from being full of young families with children to drawing less than 30% of the population through it's doors (and the majority of this number is of an older generation).  As I was no longer seeing women like me and their children in the church, talking about what they believed in, I sought to find others who did share faith with their children--teaching them to pray, to read from scripture/bible stories, share songs about faith and tell the story of their faith and their family's faith.  I found what I was looking for in those facing religious persecution here in the US, namely my Arab-American Muslim friends.

So in writing this dissertation, I seek to tell the story of refining fire, as we might call it in Christianity--the power of persecution to embolden individuals in their faith, and the power of positive words between friends and colleagues to fight against misinformation and strengthen the religious identity of individuals and communities as well.

I hope, in my narrative inquiry, to show the impact of faith on not only their lives but mine as well, and how even though we come from different faiths that talking together often strengthens our beliefs and interfaith friendship.

New Beginnings

I'd considered just keeping this is a separate word document on my computer, but decided that this needed to be as open to questions and scrutiny as possible.

You see, I'm starting the official dissertation journey and need a place for field notes and thoughts on the way--hence the new blog.  However, I'm in territory a bit outside my own and need to be questioned and challenged along the way as I, a woman of Christian faith and background, interact with Arab-American Muslims (mostly women) and as we dialogue about identity development, the impact of faith on our lives and how we present ourselves.

More about this soon--but my toddler is calling!