Research that matters

The introduction talks about how the author meets a Tamil woman from the Kirkwall tea estate in Sri Lanka’s Hill Country, who is leaving for Colombo to work as a domestic helper. She talks about how her mom is very worried about this decision as it might be unsafe for her. The overall message seems to be that tea estate life is difficult and comes with many challenges including safety of the people. Also that higher ups (especially political figures) are failing these people as they continue to make false promises. The writing also describes the traditional culture of Tamil people and the expectations set on the women. I am wondering what the gender roles and labor exploitation in Sri Lanka tell us about the broader social justice issues?

Nearly a decade’s worth of ethnographic fieldwork led to production of Tea and Solidarity: Tamil Women and Work in Postwar Sri Lanka by Mythri Jegathesan (2019). Given that this week’s theme is on “Finding and Showing Patterns in your Research”, I find it inspiring how Jegathesan ties together so many years of fieldwork and engagement with Tamil women and domestic-agricultural-economic laborers in Sri Lanka into such a carefully crafted piece of work. I began thinking about some of the themes of engaging in ethnographic fieldwork, such as participant observation and interviews, how in a multilingual, postar, postcolonial context like Sri Lanka one has to not only translate the words and dialogue of everyday conversation but the very multifaceted meanings and histories behind language, discourse, and words such as “durai” and “coolie”, which are both so deeply-rooted in British colonialism and slavery but simultaneously reappropriated and reemployed in sometimes new and sometimes similar contexts. After reading Jegathesan as well as the other ethnographies throughout the semester, particularly in multilingual or non-English contexts, what are some techniques that ethnographers use to translate language and context in their work for a general (or at the very least general academic) audience? How do ethnographers simultaneously reflect their work in a specific locale, such as Sri Lanka, while also drawing larger connections (e.g. “inherited dispossession”) between different geographic and similar historic regions, such as the British-occupied West Indies, Africa, Polynesia, and South Asia?

While reading the introduction and chapter two of this week’s assigned text, I found myself appreciating the balanced perspectives that Jegathesan presents. In chapter two, Jegathesan delves into the topic of language, drawing on historical narratives to reveal the viewpoint that colonizers held and strived to normalize. The discussion extends to the consequences of portraying laborers as inferior and the implications of such a stance. Jegathesan contrasts this by portraying an alternative perspective, particularly through the anecdote of a female laborer dismissed and sent home. This incident is used to illustrate a missed opportunity for the supervisor to ‘understand why she is laughing,’ highlighting how such actions inadvertently fostered a sense of solidarity among the Tamil community (pg 60). In terms of the pure format of the text, I found it to be very helpful to really understand what was happening and where things moved from there. I also found it interesting to think about how these different actions are perpetuating curated narratives at the same time that I also learn about them for the first time.

I found myself also thinking about language and how the language that is used as a tool for oppression is also used to uplift. Specifically in the areas where the language is used incorrectly and how these moments can be both.

I remember really enjoying this reading last year and I think I’ve found an even greater appreciation for it this year since I’ve found myself drinking more teas. Also I found the writing to be much clearer.

I found Jegathesan’s early emphasis on language, from the notes of transliteration to her detailed deconstruction of the term [coolie] in the introduction. While reading about the term in this specific context, I found it helpful to also get a broader understanding of the term, because I thought it was considered a racial slur—and it is, but it has a lot more context than just “racial slur against specific workers from the Asian continent”.

source: [https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2013/11/25/247166284/a-history-of-indentured-labor-gives-coolie-its-sting]

Framing is always a powerful way of shifting the “narrative” and Jegathesan explains that chapter 2 is a look into “how the language of Hill Country Tamils came to shape their labor landscapes” (23). What does it mean then for her to spend the first half of the chapter breaking down historical Tamil guides? Is it not just enough to discuss that the guides were insufficient methods of communication between English speaking plantation supervisors and the Hill Tamil workers?

Hi All! I wasn’t sure what chapters we were supposed to read, so I am writing this post about the introduction of Tea and Solidarity only. Hope that’s alright!

On page 12, Jegathesan poses the idea that the defining element of coolie is movement: “the physical move from homeland to industrial landscape, the capitalist move from person to payment, the calculated move from labor to commodity, and the oppressive move from human to subhuman” (2019, 12). She goes on to argue that coolie falls under what Rupa Vinswanath terms “the trope of gentle slavery” but holds that coolies have the capacity to destabilize their own categorization (seen, in part, in Coolitude), both for themselves and for the durai. One element of this is presented in the introduction; rather than transient, placeless people,  Hill Country Tamils assert that the tea plantations of Sri Lanka, not South India, are home (2019, 22) (Jegathesan argues that this is not true for all coolies, many of whom still maintain vision of South India as their homeland). The opening vignette of  Sadha’s leaving to work in Colombo, which ultimately proved a short-lived endeavor, speaks to the ties of home, both of family and of labor. Prior to leaving, Sadha had arranged to be a part-time worker on the tea plantation so her job remained upon her return. Both her family and their (rented?) home on plantation land, as well as stable, if underpaid and exploited, job as a picker, serve as something to come home to.

How does Sadha’s choice to leave Colombo speak to the agency that Tamil women hold even as they are situated in racialized, exploited positions of service?

What insights can we glean from the temple that never gets repaired, despite the hope that remains linked to it? How can we think about the Hill Country Tamils’ claims of Sri Lanka as home in ways that are connected to, or perhaps representative of, the long-term process of waiting for temple repair?

I really enjoyed reading these two chapters as they differ a lot from what we read so far. In this book, the author talks about how animals are rescued and cared for in sanctuaries. She describes what measures are being taken when animals are experiencing personal struggles like injuries or behavioral issues. The author describes the sanctuary as both a physical place and an ideology (treatment of animals in the United States and human-animal relationship dynamics). But this is also a discussion of the ethics of treatment of animals beyond just the sanctuaries. One thing that stood out to me is when the author said that with the discussion on how treatment of animals is in the United States and their sanctuaries (condition/ environment), we can also talk about other political projects that involve humans and how they are being treated ( for example: immigration practices and policies). I wonder how we can apply ethical considerations of animal treatment to these specific policies.

I really liked the first picture we see in the introduction of the chicken and pig hanging out. Was very heartwarming!

I will confess I am not really an “animal person”—I didn’t grow up around a lot of them and honestly some of them kind of creep me out. Even some domesticated pets like rabbits or reptiles bother me. I did get to meet an opossum the other day through the wildlife club though, and he was very lovely.

Thus, echoing Eden’s statement about positionality, I’ve never really given human-animal relations much thought at all, and I’ve especially never really looked at sanctuaries outside of pro-and-anti-zoo arguments online.

In reading Abrell’s writing, I found myself much more sympathetic to the animals and the animal rescue/sanctuary movement. Like Mandy mentioned in her blog post, “Ultimately, every animal in a sanctuary takes the place of another animal in need under our current agricultural/agribusiness system.” How could I not be more invested in this ‘exploitation’ of animals? Can we really equate exploitation of humans with current agriculture practice towards animals?

In this vein of thought as well, in the introduction, Abrell says there is “sanctuary as a specific bounded place or state of being and sanctuary as an ideological/ethical mode of
being” (4). I hope we spend time on this later because I found it very profound to tie the concept of sanctuary as a mode of being into animal rights, and also because Abrell specifically also refers to the concept of immigration sanctuary when discussing the rerise in popularity of the term. Similarly to JP, I wonder if this comparison is apt, or even really makes sense once we dive deeper?

“Under each of these contexts, sanctuary animals face costs in exchange for the benefits of care, simultaneously creating the conditions of possibility for sanctuaries to operate and limiting the realization of total liberation of animal subjects from their social status as property” (p. 50)

Sanctuaries are not only places of refuge, but intricate systems in which the boundaries between the person who rescues and the person being rescued become indistinct, forming a network of interconnectedness and reciprocal support. In this context, animals, formerly seen as simple commodities or objects of human inclination, are acknowledged as autonomous entities with inherent worth, warranting dignity, reverence, and the liberty to exist without constraint. This change in perspective is significant; it signifies a profound deviation from traditional interactions between humans and animals, suggesting a fresh moral structure based on empathy, compassion, and justice.

The narratives surrounding animals such as Flower and Petunia, serve as illustrations of the profound impact that care and rescue may have. These narratives depict not just stories of surviving, but also stories of thriving, where individuals regain their ability to act and make decisions in environments that respect their intrinsic value. Abrell effectively demonstrates that sanctuaries provide a valuable insight into a realm where people and animals may peacefully cohabit, so defying the long-standing societal conventions that have traditionally marginalized animals in terms of moral evaluation.
However, the pursuit of this goal is riddled with intricacies and moral quandaries. In an additional article I read by Abrell, he specifies that “the only real impediment to such change is a value system that doesn’t see human and animal rights as worth the financial cost.” (What Animal Sanctuaries Can Teach Us About Creating Sanctuary for Each Other) For instance, he gives the example that if municipalities are able to enact local ordinances to establish sanctuaries against xenophobic immigration policies, they can also enact ordinances and allocate resources towards constructing more resilient sanctuary communities that can ensure accessible food, shelter, clean air and water, and medical care for all members, including both humans and animals.

Sanctuaries function under the limitations of few resources, carefully managing the trade-off between delivering personalized care and tackling the wider systemic problems that sustain animal distress. The act of rescue, while commendable, gives rise to significant inquiries about autonomy, agency, and the fundamental concept of freedom within the context of  sanctuary environments. Moreover, the sanctuary movement encourages us to contemplate our own involvement in systems of exploitation and to contemplate how we may contribute to a fairer and more empathetic society. This prompts individuals to reconsider their food preferences, patterns of consumption, and the cultural narratives that influence their engagements with the natural environment.

As we stand on the precipice of change, let us draw inspiration from the sanctuaries that serve as beacons of hope, reminding us of the profound connections that bind us to the more-than-human world and our furry (sometimes scaled or feathered) friends!!!!

Really stoked to chat with you all about this tomorrow 🙂 x

link to cited article: What Animal Sanctuaries Can Teach Us About Creating Sanctuary for Each Other. 7 Feb. 2022, https://sentientmedia.org/what-animal-sanctuaries-can-teach-us-about-creating-sanctuary-for-each-other/.

This reading made be think back to one of my favorite articles from last year, “Caring for an Unsettled Senior Rescue Dog in the Anthropocene.” In this article, Douglas writes about her senior dog’s fears and trust issues as rooted in humans and human modification of the earth (causing more storms, noise, etc.). However, to build connection with her dog, Archie, she is forced to engage with practices that contribute to the anthropocene. She writes,

“My care is laden with invisible yet far-reaching violence to the earth. Archie’s diet is carefully balanced with wet and dry food, made by the same food industry that already contributes toward climate change (Pedrinelli et al. 2022). In tending to Archie’s care, then, I contribute to making this earth unlivable for other creatures—and, in the bigger picture, for our dog, too.” 

In the same vein of thinking, Abrell, in the beginning of her introduction, writes

“As this book’s analysis of the many potential costs and compromises of sanctuary life will show, this one [referring to Bob and Eloise’s spatial separation] is relatively minor, especially compared to animals that are required to give their lives for the well-being of others, such as animals that serve as food for other sanctuary denizens” (3)

This article speaks directly to Abrell’s work, both in the questions of multispecies anthropology/ies as well as the question of sacrifice inherent in rescue and sanctuary. Time, resource, and energy constraints all limit the ability both to provide sanctuary in the physical sense as well as the more metaphysical sanctuary that Abrell talks about. Beyond questions of which animals should be saved, and which should still be eaten, the second chapter talks about Flower and the cost of her medical care, which could have paid for the treatment of multiple other animals (55). Ultimately, every animal in a sanctuary takes the place of another animal in need under our current agricultural/agribusiness system. The same could be said for rescue dogs, leading me to ask: what is the scale of sanctuary, both spatial and metaphysical? How do we prioritize care distribution, and how do we balance ideal care with good-enough practices of care?

In the spirit of addressing my own positionality I will admit that this sphere of exploration is something on the newer side for me. As I have gone through life I have not found myself particularly attuned with the hardships animals in our world face. Because of this, I was very curious of how I would feel about this reading.

After engaging with the introduction and the assigned chapter I can definitely say that it feels as if I have encountered an entirely new world as many of these situations and problems are things I had really never thought of before. I really do appreciate the way that Abrell addresses the fact that activists do not have a ‘homogeneous’ idea of what ‘proper and improper’ care looks like (88). As a person who is relatively new to these conversations, I am curious what the conversations look like between different activists who are both committed to the overall idea of animal welfare but have differing views on what this proper and improper care looks like. I also wonder how these activists find common ground and build momentum, despite potentially divergent end goals.

Admittedly, I’ve straddled the world of animal welfare/rescue in several different ways since high school. I’ve served as a volunteer for two separate dog and cat animal shelters in Miami, interacted with and cared for rats, fish, turtles, geckos, birds, and capuchin monkeys as an animal enrichment volunteer at my undergraduate’s underground vivarium, volunteered with an animal welfare NGO and local wildlife rehabilitation center in Ecuador, worked at a PetSmart for half a year (which, as you can imagine, is the opposite of what I would call animal welfare/rescue except with the occasional local shelter adoption days), and inconsistently experimented with pescetarianism, vegetarianism, and even veganism to different extents for the sake of animals. Yet, I’ve also encountered problems and paradoxes in this realm of animal welfare/rescue and have been both dissatisfied by some of the methods used in such initiatives as well as my own experiences with people and narratives that “care more about the suffering of animals than about humans”, especially towards marginalized communities (Abrell 2021: 9). Thus, in reading Saving Animals: Multispecies Ecologies of Rescue and Care (2021), I could relate to Abrell’s positionality and discourse on sanctuaries. In the Introduction he states: “Exploring how the U.S. animal sanctuary movement functions as a microcosm of human efforts to care for others in the contemporary United States, this book interrogates two separate but inextricably linked meanings of sanctuary: sanctuary as a specific bounded place or state of being and sanctuary as an ideological/ethical mode of being” (Abrell 2021: 5). Throughout the Introduction and Chapter 1 “Coming to Sanctuary”, he explores this idea of sanctuary as well as other such as homo sacer/bestia sacer and ties it to historical and contemporary social issues affecting humans as well, such as the idea of Jews as homo sacer under Nazism and ‘sanctuary cities’ for undocumented immigrants in North America (see pages 41–42). Thus, I ask, what are the social consequences of admitting animals to the “political sphere” (Abrell 2021: 45)? How do we even begin to conceptualize a democratic systems where animals are afforded the same rights as citizens? Are these comparisons between animal welfare issues and human social issues effective and fair?

In her book Saving animals: multispecies ecologies of rescue and care, Elan draws a very empathetic and insightful picture of the conditions of life under which animals in the US live, their current status and the way they are represented. I appreciated the nuanced way in which she presents animals status as being inherently connected to a vast array of cultural and socio-economic practices ranging from the food industry to the entertainment industry to companionship. She problematizes each case around the issue of seeing animals as property and how even the most benevolent pet owners or even the very sanctuaries which seek to reverse that logic and treat animals as right-bearing subjects still follow that logic. On page 18 she writes “It is precisely this property status that makes it possible for sanctuaries to hold them in captivity and care for them in the first place.” By outlining the limits of sanctuaries which are still presented as the most ethical option for animal care, Elan questions the very nature of human relationship to animals and pushes towards a different kind of awareness.

In Lara’s perspective, the pursuit of queer liberation and Black sovereignty entails a departure from direct engagement with the existing arrivant state. Instead, it involves a process of deconstruction and transcendence of the settler colonial futures that perpetuate it. This entails a meticulous analysis of our own roles within these systems and a dedication to revolutionary measures that prioritize Indigenous autonomy and Black emancipation. The implementation of this “ofrenda” necessitates a dedication to the creation of knowledge via physical embodiment and interpersonal connections, as well as a readiness to undertake the challenging task of disengaging from colonial patterns of thinking and behaviour. This necessitates the establishment of environments and methodologies that acknowledge and respect the intricate nature of identities and experiences, while actively opposing the oversimplifications and omissions of colonial narratives. But just exactly how?

Having read this last year, I can (sadly) confidently say that a second year with this reading still continues to leave me confused, but I’ve definitely found I have a greater appreciation for Ana-Maurine Lara’s craft and style this time around. I think it was definitely easier to work with because I more or less had an idea of what I was getting into, though I really still do find her writing to be so dense and wordy (*cries in reader of very little theory*). I really engaged with the usage of an “opening ceremony” for introduction, and the book overall as an ofrenda this time.

I had a lot of questions regarding the introduction, specifically: Lara’s usage of footnotes to center her theory and “anthropological” lineage, as someone (I think JP) mentioned in class before spring break. I don’t know if this is my lack of theoretical basis in anthropological or ethnographic writing, but I was confused as to why the heavy theory introduction mattered so much? How much of this writing is accessible to non-theorists already orbiting/navigating in this space?

In the opening ceremony, the author introduces the idea of decolonization through ceremonies. It talks about veve which is a drawing that stands for offering. Lara emphasizes the importance of this offering as it has deeper meaning and stands for love. Then the author talks about intersection of racial and gender/sexual identities. In specific, she talks about the black identity intertwined with queer identity and how all of this is connected to colonialism (and shows resilience). This is more discussed in the second chapter/ altars-puntos. She also sees Christian ideologies as part of colonialism. I am wondering, how do things such as veve contribute to black/queer individuals reclaiming their autonomy/ sovereignty?

In her book Queer Freedom: Black Sovereignty, Lara articulates a number of meaningfully charged concepts like Blackness, queerness and Black sovereignty in the hope to see emerge the “wholeness” of which “arrivant” populations were deprived under the yoke of what she calls Christian colonization and capitalism.

I was particularly struck by her statement that categories such as race, gender and class, which one uses daily to problematize systems of oppression and power structures are actually not decolonial concepts because created by the very culprit of colonization. She therefore opens up her reader to the rise of utterly new decolonial concepts which she theorized as “woven density”. On page 18 she claims: “This ofrenda is not the master’s house. It will not look like the master’s house. It is not even in the master’s field. This text lives in the locus of difference in which the polarities (body/spirit; heaven/earth) that have sustained Christian coloniality will be challenged and undone in order to render new states of being and knowing as possible.” Only through the challenging of Christian colonial worldview and the embrace of woven density of knowledge will then decolonization truly be possible.