Products of our "Culture"

Some thoughts from today:

1). You can learn a lot from your relationships with people.

We often hear things like, "You can't be in a relationship with another unless you can first be in a relationship with yourself," and "You need to learn to be single (and okay with it) before you can be a good partner for someone else"... While those may be really good things to do--to learn how to fulfill your own needs, to know that you don't need to be in a relationship with a significant other to be happy, to spend time getting to know yourself, your needs, your wants--I have learned that there are also some things that you can only learn from being with others. Maybe "others" in general, but I am particularly thinking about being in a romantic, emotional, personal, deep relationship with someone who knows you intimately, perhaps better than you know yourself.

Over the past year, I really have learned a great deal about myself, but the majority of my learning was about things that I could not have shown to myself, no matter how hard I may have tried. Perhaps there were things that I knew I wanted to work on, in theory, but I couldn't have put them into practice alone. Despite however self-aware I was and am, there are some challenges that I could not present for myself. Like what it means to really trust someone. To really respect someone enough to really, genuinely listen to them. To acknowledge when I don't know something, and not just because I haven't ever thought about it before, but because I truly do not know. And perhaps I couldn't because our experiences are so different.

And I learned that there are possible ways to address these differences that don't include reaching an agreement, determining which way is best, or forcing an opinion for the sake of taking a stand. I learned what it means to accept another person. To step up to seriously uncomfortable, counter-intuitive situations without saying anything or doing what has over my lifetime become a habit, a "knowledge" in my body that moves me. To accept that there are lots of things that are different from how I might handle things, how I might engage with others, how I might hold myself and act in the world, and that this is okay.

2). Cultural Differences are REAL

Much of my learning has arisen out my bi-cultural relationship. Over the past year, I have come to a deeper appreciation of just how "Western" I am and how very different an Asian culture in, let's say, Taiwan directs people's lives. Maybe you could get this "cultural sensitivity" from traveling or spending lengths of time abroad, but let me tell you, a way to feel like you've hit a brick wall with your face is to confront these differences in a relationship with a significant other. The most well-intentioned things, which always come from a place of love, can come off as very rude, insensitive, inappropriate, or extremely frustrating. One can come off as too dumb, too strong, too arrogant, too timid, too shy, too polite, too week, too impatient, or too patient....almost too anything. And that is very hard to deal with if you haven't been able to actually realize exactly what it is that you do that comes off that way.

I don't want to use "cultural differences" as a cop-out, but it is often a very frequent source of our misunderstandings, which can often lead to conflict. And what I have realized is that some of my most personal values and convictions are not really my own simply because I am a strong, reflective, confident woman. Much of what I do comes from my culture. Even though I read and talk a lot about social constructivism and cultures influence on our subjectivity, quite often all of this remains pretty abstract. Importantly, then, I think I have started to realize that I didn't/don't really know what is meant by "American culture."

If asked to provide a cursory list, I probably would have identified western, American culture with mostly very bad views that have supported very bad things in history. Slavery, colonialism, racism, exploitation, elitism, mass consumerism and so many other evils were products of an emphasis on strict liberal individualism, capitalism, "picking oneself up by one's boot-straps" without acknowledging who made your boots, assumed "rights" to the pursuit of one's happiness (even at the cost of other beings and the environment), etc. But that's because I'm sooooooooooo radical.

What I didn't fully appreciate about myself is that the way I communicate, which I often think reflects my personal emphasis on authenticity, my genuine desire to be always honest with others, my commitment to personal integrity and continued development, and my deep hope for real, meaningful human connection with others are also "cultural" things. Maybe not all Americans talk the way I talk, are not as blunt, direct, and transparent as me, and maybe not all Americans value these things so much that they live each day by always striving to approach their students and friends and family members with the same level of respect and honesty (by presenting my most authentic self). But all of this assumes to reflect a certain kind of "respect," a particular sort of "honesty," and is rooted in a non-universalizable conception of "self."

Oh, I could go on and on about the many bumps and hiccups that I have encountered this year and the many hours of tangled conversation I have participated in to try to find a common ground or mutual understanding or satisfactory approach about what to do next, and I could list out the things that I find irritating, irrational, unhealthy, counter-productive about "other ways to do things"...but I won't.

Because what I have tried to do is think about my situation and these issues more gracefully.

In philosophy, and especially feminist philosophy or social philosophy or any liberatory philosophy that takes social equality and justice as an end, this problem is captured by a question that often comes up, "How are we to work together to reach a satisfactory state of affairs if we are trying to addressing the varied, multiple, and diverse needs of very different kinds of people if their/our experiences are so disparate that we can't understand one another or our respective situations?" One response, which is my favorite so far, has been offered most eloquently by one of my favorite philosophers, Ladelle McWhorter. She explains that “if we discipline ourselves to the pleasures and powers of connections that occur alongside of but differ from the pleasures of knowledgeableness, of identities and stalwart commitments, if we stray far enough afield of our carefully classified selves, something unforeseeable, something new—something that might be called free—may very well occur” ("The Revenge of the Gay Nihilist", 2001, 125).

3). By not knowing everything, I learn a lot.

I have realized that my only recourse (thus far..) is to create a space for our differences without trying to mitigate them. And in doing so, I actually give myself more space to also grow beyond what I have been constituted as by my culture.

Instead of apple pie, our patriotic favorite, I think American's need to eat more Humble Pie. And put ourselves in situations where we can better learn WHY.


P.S. Thanks go out to Del for being my go-to rock star, favorite contemporary philosopher. Thanks, too, to my friends for their conversations today. And many thanks to my girlfriend. None of the seemingly mundane things in life would be as painfully complicated and frustrating, I mean, would be nearly as growthful of learning opportunities without your sagely wisdom. And patience... ;)

What is this Body? What is Philosophy?

As I was reading for my comprehensive exams this week, I came across this passage just after writing my last post about my bodily askesis and goals:

"Philosophy is not, in spite of its self-representation, a rational, intellectual system of inquiry and knowledge acquisition, based purely on truth considerations and the requirements of conceptual coherence. It is practice...a practice that does things, legitimizing and challenging other practices, enabling things to happen or preventing them from occurring...Far from contemplative reflection, philosophy is a consequence of the drive to live, to conquer, a will to power that is primarily corporeal."

"The will to power animates, moves, energizes and strives to proliferate. This may explain why Nietzsche insisted on a new type of philosophy or knowledge, one which, instead of remaining sedentary, ponderous, stolid, was allied with the arts of movement: theater, dance, and music. Philosophy itself was to be written walking--or, preferably, dancing. This is because philosophy is a bodily activity and is...capable of dynamizing and enhancing life. Philosophy and truth are capable of affirming active power when they, in their turn, return power and force to the body from which they derive."

-Elizabeth Grosz, 'Volatile Bodies' (1994), pp.126-128

P.S. Thanks to my family for being wonderful and amazing.

New Year Askesis and Bodily Goals

New years come as if they are the moons themselves that renew each January. Each one has a face if you look closely, and shadows from the past mark the features of the year to come. What is and has been for whole revelations are revealed through a light that reflects back from a source that I know all too well. It's illumination remains, and my hopes and dreams are illustrated on future night skies. Again.

Last January was welcomed with an opening up my living space and the sound of two voices with a single guitar resonating off of bathroom walls singing about birds and sanctuaries. The yellow bathroom light brought about the first rise of the sun. And then the song was left unfinished, unpolished. A tone of disappointment for a hope of deep love echoes still.  Did this set the rhythm of connection and loss? What changes these moments make.

As some friends and lovers departed to places far away (across the country, out of state, out of touch), my deepest bonds returned. Brought back from the west coast to the east, my most faithful mirror visited twice after a year of thousands of miles between us. I saw her again as the year came to a close, and I am grateful for the ways that her voice has been a hug to my ear during so many of these difficult months. The same is true of another good friend. Its wonderful to think about how far we have come and the lengths that we will take to eat a good meal together. Of course, another wonderful homecoming occurred when my first baby came into my life (that's my cat, and I have grown a new kind of non-human love for him).

It has been a year rich with family as well. Our maturity this year might bring me closer to my brothers in years to come. Many unusual circumstances led to seeing my family multiple times in various places across the country. Idaho, California, Florida, New York, Pennsylvania, and Texas. As I connected with my extended family back in the state of my birth, this meant for me a reconnection to my roots and gave way to a most unspeakably personal moment with my great-grandmother before she passed away in June. Her life has held a family, a lineage, and a great portion of my identity together. Being with her after 11 years since our last visit and just a day before her death was one of the most important things that I did this year. Her last look may have been directed to me. That, along with the weak squeeze of her hand and her faint smile at the good news in my life are now the most tangible memories that ground my connection to her. After nearly 108 years of her life, I am so glad to have shared that one moment of that one summer night with her.


This year has been marked by great growth, incredible challenges, and a stretching of myself in new directions that I could not have anticipated. With the start of the spring semester, which always begins in the coldest of winter, I met my first students. They cultivate poignant struggles. And after a semester of learning myself, of reading through key passages to my own realization in front of their watchful eyes and open ears, their experiences gave me reason to stay on the course of my goals. The first semester of teaching balanced out the two years I spent trying to figure out if I really needed or wanted to be doing academic philosophy.  Now, after those first two classes, then my summer group, and this last class in the fall, I'm so grateful for the teaching and learning that has occurred with my students. They have motivated me to remain a humble learner myself.

The newness of the year was incredible. I didn't decide to live in a new place. I didn't change my career plans. But I did dedicate myself to the challenge of loving and trusting someone more than I have ever been able to do before. Through this experience I have gained a new understanding of my self, my limits, my fears, my gifts. My weaknesses were emphasized as places for careful attention and growth, not spots for perpetual failure and pain. My limits were frustrated. Rather than closing in, I made them stay. Open. I felt the difference that stillness, patience, trust, and not-knowing brings. And the things that I have learned about myself and her have even exceeded the many wonderful memories that came out of our adventures. We went to Pittsburgh, New York a handful of times, DC twice. I've gained new tastes, taken loads of pictures, met new friends, and gained new flexibility with all the little things that have previously been able to drive me crazy. I felt a new way of connecting with someone, of being understood, of seeing someone through their layers. If nothing else, at least we know now that it is possible to have the sort of relationship that we hope for. At least in some ways.

And the most amazing thing has been my connection with others. This year contained the anniversary of my cousin's passing, a beautiful person with whom I had a connection that was unique and hard to explain. But she, like my great-grandmother, is one who has shown me a real possibility for connections and relationships. I am left wondering how we mark our connections with others. What is real? What is true? What is valuable? What makes sense? Some of the most important and lasting connections this year will reside in my memory as those that were left incomplete, unspoken, and hardly reasonable for most people. From the outside looking in, one might think that those connections were insignificant, or simply nostalgic at best. But I am not so sure. Dreams have kept some people closer to me than emails. Distant memories and unrealized future holidays have reserved a space for possible relationships.  And I don't know what to make of those in relation to some of my everyday, face-to-face encounters.

If there is one word that captures the year it is "movement." Literally, in addition to all of the places already listed, I also found myself in Boston and crossing the border into Canada for conferences. And with that, I felt the highs and lows that come out of following your passion and encountering human disappointments. It happens. Everything above are memories that have and will continue to shape me. The image of all this traveling leads to a picture of expanding, pulling, drifting, straying. This year, I have moved out, beyond my locale, taken myself to new places. And when I returned each time, I came back changed. This is not just a cheesy way of talking about a year's worth of experiences. It is a way to embody a lived askesis. The movement has often been geographical and quite literal--taking me to new places, putting me in new situations, placing me within new relationships and interactions with others. But the effect has been ontological. And perhaps ethical. I am changed, transformed, and becoming more open to the process and its effects. I am not discovering myself in this process, I am becoming myself each day.

My goal for the new year is to experience this movement in my body itself. Through cars and planes and trains I have covered this entire country multiple times in just 365 days. Now, I want to experience the same openness to change by directing that askesis into my bodily experiences. I am not sure how to go about it just yet. But I have some ideas. They have to do with limits. With challenges. With experiments. And I imagine that rhythm will be present. Other people, too. And probably even some fear. But joy, pleasure, excitement, play, and fun are also part of touching the uncertainty of one's bodily limits. Practicing new and multiple practices will be my focus.

Good things come out of awkward situations

It's been a crazy month! I wrote my papers. I ended my classes. I finished my own coursework. And in terms of professionalism, I did another good thing. I made my professional philosophical debut! I drove into the Boston blizzard and attended the Eastern APA conference (that's short for the American Philosophical Association).

This conference is kind of a big deal--candidates on the job market have interviews, people try to be as impressive as possible, hundreds of people attend to outshine one another, and, of course, philosophers present their latest work. I was able to present by a fluke. Accidents and naive self-nomination granted me the opportunity to comment on two papers (one paper by one of my besties, Jim Martell, and another by John Corvino, a philosopher whose work I read with Jim in an independent study which opened onto our friendship in 2006). I also presented my own paper on Irigaray. And amazingly, both sessions went really well.

It was encouraging to partake in panels where the conversations were lively and collaborative, where the audience was engaged and provided really helpful suggestions, and mostly, where the spirit of philosophy (as I think of it) was cultivated. I was so pleased to get great support and encouragement from people who attended my sessions and to get positive feedback from my panel members.  I am grateful that my friends were there to offer their enthusiastic eyes and patient ears. And I am really excited about the people who I met throughout the three days there.

I didn't anticipate such a positive experience, but that's because all I ever hear about the Eastern APA is how intense and intimidating it is. For instance, the "smokers" are receptions with a bad reputation. When people used to smoke indoors, a thick cloud of smoke would hang in a ballroom while job candidates hover around tables where their interviews sit. Though the smoke is gone these days, all of the awkward, insecurity, and nerves remain while candidates linger until the perfect opportunity presents itself to elbow in and get another chance to talk to the people at the tables who greatly dictate their futures. Despite the tense tummies of almost everyone else in the room, I was having a great time floating around, meeting new people, talking with previous acquaintances, and feeding off the energy in the room. Maybe it was the awkwardness of it all that actually worked in my favor. Rather than feeling weird about approaching people and just introducing yourself, I had an excuse to talk to whomever. It also probably helped that I am not looking for jobs right now.

Anyway, I just had to report that my experience at the APA was really, really a positive one. I didn't know what to expect, but I was very pleased with the overall sense of encouragement and support that I got from everyone. I left feeling even more enthusiastic, motivated, and, yep, a bit more confident. That's a great thing.

And that is really the best part about this past month, and this past semester. If I could describe a very important change in me, my attitude, and my work, it is that I am feeling more comfortable with myself, with my voice, and with my goals in philosophy. Confidence is hard to come by in fields like this without coming off as an ego-maniac or a jerk, but I have hoped that sheer passion, honesty, integrity, and a real love for philosophy will come through with the confidence more than anything else. Or, perhaps more likely it is my commitment to all of those things- the real stuff that grounds me in my work and keeps me excited about it- that actually lends towards a greater sense of confidence.

Believe me, I am happy and relieved to feel more confident with my work, and I am also happy to sense that this confidence is realized by being honest, humble, open, and straight-forward with my thinking. It gives me hope for my future with philosophy. And it makes everything a hell of a lot easier and way more enjoyable to just let what comes most naturally guide me.

So, here's to the new year!

life plans are open to change

When I was in middle school I wanted to grow up and live in New York City. I wanted to be an actress or a model. I wanted to dance, to sing, to be in front of a camera, or on a stage. I even had the hotmail email address to prove it: nycbaby624@yes,iamthirteenandemailjustgotcool.

But now, after my fourth or fifth visit to the city, I am sitting on the bus going back to middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania and feeling very excited to be out of the crowds, in my own place, with my kitties, feeling settled, cozy, and like I have time to read. What I realized on this trip is that so much time is wasted in the city. What did we do while we were there? We ate a lot of good meals, walked around some, but mostly, we waited for trains in the cold, and then sat on the train for the hour commute from Flushing to anywhere in Manhattan. All of that waiting started to really make me appreciate how nice it is to live in a manageable town or city. I’m a big fan of efficiency, and that was not an efficient way to get around.  I always had it in my mind that anything you could dream of is available in the city. That may be, but it could take all day to get it. And then you have to carry it all the way back on the train.

So, maybe I don’t want to live in New York after all. I’ve thought about going back to the west coast a lot. Seattle. Portland. San Francisco. They are at the top of my list.

But so is Colorado. Over the past couple of months I have been missing Colorado more and remembering how much I love it there. I miss the Colorado clouds, the sky, the ever-present sun, the mountains, the sunsets. I miss the rivers and the trees. I miss Fort Collins. I miss the culture of Old Town, the breweries even though I can’t drink much beer, the small restaurants, the many local coffee shops, the hippies and the hipsters, the locals, and the music. I miss my friends who are still there. I miss the houses on Mountain Ave. I miss the bike lanes. At times, I even miss the fucking freight trains that blow through the center of town.

The not-so-secret plan that I have had ever since graduating from Colorado State was to go back and be a professor in the philosophy department there if they need to bring in a young, feisty feminist. I doubt this is the path that will make me an actress, but I am okay with that. In the four years that I spent in Colorado, but more importantly during my last year there before graduating, I really experienced what it feels like to be at home. I settled into a community.  I identify with Colorado. I love Fort Collins. A piece of my heart is still there.

I may not be a Doctor, but...

Some people get really pissed at universities that use and abuse their graduate students and force them to teach all the mundane low-level classes to undergrads who, often with a strong sense of entitlement, don't care about class, don't try, and certainly don't appreciate you or the fact that you have your own work to be doing as you go through the motions before they get their easy "A."

As a graduate student in the third year of my program, I have already taught about 150 students of my own in four classes (not to mention the 60 or so others I TAed for in a class that even I struggled to really appreciate). But for me, I view teaching as an opportunity and I am so happy to have had experiences in the classroom that have helped my learning, thinking, and growing more than almost any class I have had as a graduate student. That I get to teach is one of the only reasons why I have made it this far in my program (and by constantly reminding myself that my life was literally changed after taking one philosophy class from one of the best professors, so I know that it is at least possible to make a difference, even if my students don't become "philosophers" themselves).

Fortunately, I have had the opportunity to put together my own syllabi for classes that I have been genuinely interested in teaching. In "Basic Problems of Philosophy" I focused the course on four questions: What is philosophy? What is the purpose of philosophy? Who is the philosopher? What is the philosopher's task? I loved the 6-week intensity of teaching "Philosophy, Love, and Sex" this summer. Seeing my students every day was very conducive to the continuity in conversations that I think is essential to deep thinking. And finally, I have just concluded my course "Philosophy, Race, and Diversity." We started with one of my favorite essays by George Yancy on philosophers as "trouble makers" and read some excellent books--Charles Mills' 'The Racial Contract,' Linda Alcoff's 'Visible Identities,' and Ladelle McWhorter's 'Racism and Sexual Oppression in Anglo-America" (go here for a recent interview about the book). This class was by far the most challenging of them all. At times, I was fearful that the class would end up a complete failure, worst of all, because my students were so often reflecting RACIST views, not anti-racist views (obviously, the latter are my preferred perspectives).

My goal in teaching is always to help my students cultivate the skills that will allow them to be more critical thinkers, not just about society and problems around them, but to understand themselves better, too. Just like any other kind of interaction, if students put their defenses up or are unwilling to be honest with themselves and others, we don't get very far (sometimes, as I have just learned, it takes a whole semester for people to put their guard down...like life, I suppose, some people don't ever get there in your time with them). Listening to others is crucial, being able to write and speak in ways that express your views is important, and the ability to be self-reflexive is completely necessary. And I don't teach material just so they will know what so-and-so said about "x." My methodology and selected content are intended to provide students with insights, perspectives, and questions that will enable them to be better students, better citizens, and better people (I am hugely influenced by hooks here). Pardon the redundancy, but I don't want to just open them up to philosophical lesson. Ideally, I hope that by being more philosophical, my students will also uncover some life lessons that will help them as they move through the world (it's philifesophy). Clearly, I have high hopes for my students and high expectations of myself!

Given the challenges of teaching, the highs and lows, the adrenaline rushes and great disappointments, the moments of insight and spells of insecurity, and the open-endedness of it all, which can often be devalued as just the cover of ineffectuality, I have to keep some record of the rewards. I don't want to let myself get carried away in worries that this is worthless work or catch a spell of the contagious skepticism that is always circulating among philosophers (and academics) about what we do.

At the end of each semester, it's always a bit scary to wait and see if any of the students "got it" (and not just if they adequately comprehended the arguments. I mean the point of this whole learning thing in general). Fortunately, after this go around, my students papers demonstrated that many of them did end up "getting it"--which is HUGE given that we had to bust through some seriously thick commitments to epistemologies of ignorance (Mills, 18). I am re-energized by the notes and emails that my students give me. Because this semester was especially challenging, I write some of the final reflections from students below:

"...I discovered a feeling that I had not had at the conclusion of other books. It's not that I had it all figured out, but I did finally see the big picture. Instead of just trying to fix racial differences overnight, McWhorter stressed that we keep challenging what is normal and abnormal, as my classmate Ray pointed out. She wants us to keep "doing likewise"...While she--and I--knows that it is not a guaranteed that we can get [to a world without racism], for now this is all that we can do. At the beginning of our class, I was one of those people that thought philosophy really was about old white men and their ridiculous ideas. Now, I am one of those "trouble makers" myself, and I am damn proud of it."

In a later email, this student also wrote,

"Cori-

I just wanted to thank you for this semester. I truly enjoyed every class that we had, and always looked forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays because of our discussions. This is a class much different than my others, not only because it was an elective, but also because I will be able to take so much from what we've talked about all semester. I really enjoyed our conversations, which led me to discover a few things about myself. I wish that all of my classes were like this one and hopefully we can meet up again in the future."
____________________________________________________________

"The semester before I had just taken Sociology 119 which had dealt with race, so I thought the course would be easy and that I would already know everything. I was very wrong. One can never know too much about racism, there's always something to talk about and learn about. This is one of the things I have recently learned. I learned many things about racism including what the word actually means, how identities are formed and interpreted, and how many people think of racism itself. Along with what I have learned about the subjects taught to me the past semester, I have learned about myself.

...

I spoke in a way that reflected my confidence of me not being racist, and that I knew everything about racism. Outside of class I talked in a way that I was not racist and in a way that I knew all about the subject matter. Whenever I had a conversation about someone being racist I put them under the bus and defended my actions. This is much like 20th Century American and what they did to Hitler. After reading Mill's (sic) book I had still not realized all the things I did and the way that I am still racist. Ironically I was a perfect example of Mill's main point; I was part of the epistemology of ignorance. It is a term that I had never heard of before reading his book, but it is a term that I will use many times after. It 's a very ingenious term which describes the 'White' person's ignorance to racism. I think the reason why at first I did not realize that I fell into his theory is because I had defined racism in a narrow way. I defined racism in a way that made me not racist.

...

I have enjoyed this class and am happy that it has allowed me to look in a mirror. It has allowed me to think in a different way, in a way that will make me a better person. Earlier I used the phrase that I was wrong with my thoughts, but I think that was a little inaccurate. (The sensitivity he demonstrates here blows me away!!-CW)I did not use those phrases to say that I am right now. That would allow me to quickly slip back into the epistemology of ignorance. I will never be right, there will always be something to learn or to adjust in my thought process. From this course forward, I will continue to learn, and I will do my best to make myself a better person especially when it comes to my ideas on racism."
____________________________________________________________________

"After learning the genealogical account of our history along with ideas fostered by you, Cori, I feel today compared to the first day of class, that there is now something that I can do to help get rid of racism and racism against the abnormal.

Overall, this class really did broaden my horizons on things that actually happened in history to what the common beliefs are about such events...I did not realize it until the end, but I thought McWhorter's book did a great joby to get us see that some of our values are flawed and that being more critical is necessary. Well, there you have it, these were many of the things I learned and that changed how I think and view society now. I was glad to have participated in a class that generated this much thinking, and really do feel my horizons have expanded from taking this class. Thanks, Cori, and hope to still see you around campus."
____________________________________________________________________

Though shout-outs of appreciation warm my heart, the truly rewarding moments are when I see my students becoming better writers and better thinkers, and especially when they start making connections on their own!

I am immensely grateful for the work of those thinkers who write amazing books who give my students and me lots to chew on. I am also grateful for what I learn from my students and what I learn from undergoing the process of thinking through big questions and important issues with them. They help me grow, and they also motivate me to keep doing what I am doing because they prove to me that teachers DO important work, regardless of whether or not this happens in a classroom.

Teaching is a skill and an art form that I hope to continue cultivating in myself. It's been my dream, my goal, and what I have wanted to do for a very long time. And I must admit, that I am quite pleased that at the ripe old age of 24, I have already had been able to do what I want to do, how I want to do it. Whatever happens after I actually get my degrees, I will be satisfied with what I have been able to accomplish as a graduate student. And I will, like some of my students, always try to keep in mind the lessons that I have learned and use them to help me be a better teacher, a better student, a better philosopher, and a better person.

What I Learned and Why It Was Worth It.

I have three days to write a term paper on Plato. For some reason, as I sit in my room trying to write, I find myself hitting a pretty firm wall. I can't bring myself to write it. I have a good idea of what I WANT to write, but getting the words out and stringing together sentences just doesn't seem appropriate. Isn't that just writing!? This is only a hunch, but I think the strange kind of hesitation that I feel is related to what I want to write. Since the paper itself isn't happening, but I know that I need to be writing to process the ideas, I have decided to write here about my process of writing this paper.

This paper is a big one for me and not just because it's worth the entirety of my grade. Actually, I have come to care much less about my grades. Probably because this is also the last paper that I will ever have to write for a course. That's right! I am three days away from no longer being a student who has to sit in classes for requirements, do readings according to a set schedule, etc. etc. And I get why people are so excited for this moment. I am nearing the stage when I get to read and write all of my own stuff. This will be a true transition in my career, a new phase, a new experience, and a new way to do philosophy. I am starting to feel very grown up (or something) in this field.

It's also a big paper for me because it will represent the end of a very difficult semester. I've struggled through each semester of graduate school for various reasons, and this semester was ripe with stress. Taking three classes, two extra seminars, teaching one class of my own, doing an internship, taking on an assistant ship, and becoming a mentor was quite the load. Not to mention that I spent the past four months working harder then ever before to stay in my relationship, to challenge myself to approach my latent fears differently, and to grow. I always grow. So, even though I have work and meetings already planned for Tuesday and beyond, turning this paper in on Monday will feel like the end point of a big, semester-long journey.

Despite all of that "stuff," this has been a very rich semester for me. I learned a lot from teaching my class this semester on race and diversity. I learned a lot about my girlfriend and what she can help me learn about myself. And there are MANY, MANY other things that I learned that I can't quite place. In all of that learning, there were as many upsetting, disturbing, unsettling, and troublesome moments as there were inspirational, impassioned, encouraging, and "right" ones. I can't say it enough. This was quite the semester!

I know that I have grown and changed dramatically since the summer. The way I feel is different. The way I think is different. The way I speak is different. The way I listen is different. I read, I engage, I teach, and I write differently. Even my signature has changed. Over and over again. Each week it's new (isn't that significant for something?!? Dad? Don't you know something about this?).

One thing that I felt changing for me this semester was my presence in the classroom as a peer and student. I wasn't especially excited about any of my classes this semester. One in particular I absolutely abhorred. But in each class that I went to, I spoke up. I asked questions. Most of the sessions were so boring and dry anyway that I figured there was nothing to lose, only something to be gained, if I could muster the attention span to formulate a question that I was actually interested in posing to the group. And I asked a lot of questions. A LOT. And when the question that I asked started a lively conversation, I was always pretty pleased with my effort. I was also really pleased to learn something from what came out of it. I wasn't asking from a place of already knowing the answer or having my own opinion (and I decided to abandon awhile ago any idea that I know better than anyone else)-I found myself asking genuine questions because I really wanted to think about them. And I found that I really gained from hearing other people's views. Sometimes their comments were illuminating, other times confusing, and most of the time, they helped me think again. Sometimes it wasn't even what they said, but how they said it, or how they approached my question, that was the most interesting part of it.

My experience of asking real questions in all of my classes was rewarding. I was proud of myself for starting conversations. For initiating a group reflection and sustaining my own. I started to realize that I might actually have a knack for asking questions and getting others to think with me. I felt something that, in this dimension of my life, used to only happen on very rare occasions. I felt a sense of confidence.

Once I identified that this was what I was doing in my classes, I realized that my ability to ask questions has also been one of my greatest strengths in teaching. Like many people I suffer from the "imposter complex": "I'm only a grad student! I don't know enough to be influencing young minds! What if mess it up? Or get it wrong? What if they see right through my facade?!?!" So to counter this, I dropped the facade. And I started to "teach" by asking questions.

I know that I don't know what I am teaching- I am not an expert, I don't have the answers, and I don't want for my students to think that I am expecting them to regurgitate what I say. But I do know that I can present a problem to the class as it is raised in a text or lived in the "real world" and I can ask them questions that get them to think about them. My favorite days in the classroom are those when we have group presentations because I don't come with a prepared lecture or even knowing what the students will present, and I know that it is my task to identify themes, isolate problems, highlight key ideas, pause to create space for discussion, and facilitate a process that develops organically. The whole process is very unexpected and spontaneous. On those days, when connections are made through responding to what others bring to the table, I sometimes feel magical. Seriously. It's what others call "flow." I'm in it, things are moving, and stuff is happening. And I am the one directing it while my students are the ones propelling it.

This has all started to generate some new thoughts about how to proceed. New strategies are in order. Those that are different from the old ways of saying, "I'm right, now just listen to me." As I prepare myself for my first major conference presentation and talk to experts about things that I don't know anything about (law and Irigaray, for example), and as I hold on to my desire to keep making videos on youtube, I am trying to pay attention to the great value of keeping things open. Instead of reading from papers to make sure that I get all of the points right to show what a strong argument I am making, I think I will do better (whatever that means) to present the issues, offer my thoughts and the connections I have made, and raise more questions.

And what does this have to do with Plato again?

Despite my general disinterest (to put it lightly) in the things that are most frequently associated with Plato- especially all of his talk about the Forms and our souls--I have had a hunch over the years that I would need to go back to the Greeks. I mean, all of my homeboys have. Nietzsche did it. Foucault did it. Husserl said that we must do it. And at the beginning of the semester I was not thrilled to be reading Plato. I just don't get it. I don't like talking about souls as if they really exist.

As it turns out though, I really didn't get HIM.

Plato, the philosopher, the writer, the author (maybe) of so many famous dialogues between Socrates and his interlocutors, is amazing for what he did, not just for what he said (and Socrates--but their true identities are complicated). Plato/Socrates wanted to compel people to make the philosophical turn, to turn toward philosophy, to live the examined life, to critically reflect on their lives and themselves. The dialogues are often contradictory, they leave questions unresolved, and the arguments within are often quite poor in terms of logic and viability. But to focus on those things is to miss the point. Plato/Socrates engage people to think. They engage us to think. They don't leave us with answers, but rather move us in the direction of a philosophical way of life. Plato/Socrates were after the same thing that I am after.

It's what I call, philifesophy.

Who knew that Plato and Socrates would also become my homeboy(s)? And how the hell am I supposed to write a paper with an argument about Plato now without somehow attempting to ENGENDER a contradiction in action?!

Now more than ever I have an openness to not-knowing my position (and I have a deeper appreciation for what that means). I have a great sense of humility because there are so many things that I know I do not know. And I have more respect for those who help me learn how to put myself into question. My peers, my students, my philosopher-friends.

So, it seems to me, that the real reason why this semester has been so big and significant and incredible and challenging is because it has been a semester of integration. My philosophy has been informed by my life. My life has been shaped and influenced by my philosophy. It feels good. I feel open. I feel content with the groundlessness of it all and excited about the possibilities that this brings.

Now, as I turn back to my books and attempt to write this Plato paper and turn it in a for a grade in just a few days, I realize that there is a sense of gravity around bringing this semester to a close. With it's submission I will officially be moving into a new phase of my program, a new phase of my career, and I will have time to appreciate that I am in a new place in my relationship.

I am deeply grateful for this semester--It has changed me. I feel like I am a different person now. And, more than that, I think I am a better person.