Research that matters

Thomas’ ethnography about the formation and perceptions of citizenship in transnational Jamaica is fascinating. The structure of this ethnography differs from the other works we’ve read in this class because it examines black bodies and citizenship from a structural perspective. Thomas discusses the historical contexts that lead to people perceiving transnational Jamaica as a violent country. She also grounds her discussion of the consequences of this perception in history. 

I also found it interesting that she started off her book by saying that she has tried not to write about violence. My question when I read the introduction was if she didn’t want to write about violence because she was afraid of stigmatizing the Black community by associating all Black people with violent crime. Chapter 2 backs up my interpretation of Thomas’ hesitance to talk about violence in her analysis of news coverage of a Jamaican posses’ crime activity. I think Thomas did an effective job of adding nuance to her writing about violence and crime in Jamaica so that the reader understands violence and crime is a structural problem. To interpret it as solely a cultural trait positions Jamaican Black people as culturally deviant, which further otherizes them and contributes to scientific racism. 

I saw parallels in Thomas’ discussion of perceiving violence as a cultural trait to the rise in anti-Asian hate during COVID-19. People associating Asian people with the COVID-19 virus motivated them to overt violence and hatred. The perpetrators of anti-Asian hate see COVID as a cultural trait because of origin in China. By doing this, they reduce the Asian and Asian American community to a monolith and ignore the structural factors that lead to a community’s greater susceptibility to COVID. The racialization of violence is a rampant problem across minority groups.

My question is how does Thomas achieve a balance between ethnography and an analysis of structural problems? Because ethnography usually samples a small portion of a population, how can she ensure that her findings are applicable to a structural analysis of social embodied citizenship in Jamaica?

I first am prompted in a manner similarly to what I believe Shange is to mention the death of Keenan. As she says, he “haunts the ethnographic text”. I believe her footnote about his death and the complexities surrounding it frame the very points she wishes to make in this chapter. The demands of abolition are a result of the deaths and dismissal of countless bodies deemed disposable. They are rooted in the way people feel haunted by the failures of these systems. As an ethnographer, in many ways Shange becomes integrated in the community she works with in this text. It is why the manner in which she addresses these deaths, stating plainly and without delicacy that he and the child she mentions later “is dead” is almost jarring. It is factual in nature and almost feels void of emotion. This is done with the intention I believe of aligning their deaths with the data presented in the book. Keeenan’s misbehavior and Bryan’s enrollment into college did nothing to protect them from the violence that resulted in their deaths, and Shange makes this alarmingly clear. Shange claims that Robeson, the school both these boys attended, failed to meet abolition’s demands for the end of captivity. She also claims that in their attempts to disrupt the school to prison pipeline, “young people of color are rendered as raw materials like water or oil to be shuttled to a putatively prosocial destination” (55). To infringe upon the autonomy of these Black students is to hold them captive. To move them towards higher education rather than prisons, while considered a good, comes with its own consequences. It does not begin to address the other things that impact students of color. A high school diploma is not a saving grace from the oppression and violence faced by Black children. That is what Shange asks us to grapple with. We must hold the truth of confinement, whether it is deemed beneficial or oppressive, as what it is. Sitting in the discomfort of this truth I feel the haunting just the same. I am haunted by my friends who have been forced to leave college to take care of children while they are still one themselves. I am haunted by the deaths of “educated” Black girls like Breonna Taylor, who was not saved by her status as a registered nurse. When we dismantle pipelines to build pathways, we must remember that reworking a system of oppression does not fully disrupt the effects of the oppression.

In Chapter Three of “Progressive Dystopia,” Savannah Shange details her ethnographic research on the schooling experiences of Black students in San Francisco. Through in-depth interviews and participant observation, she reveals the ways in which the supposedly “progressive” policies and practices in the city’s schools serve to reinforce and perpetuate antiblackness, including the criminalization of Black students and the perpetuation of the school-to-prison pipeline.

Throughout the chapter, Shange advocates for abolitionist policy as a means to address the systemic antiblackness in the city’s schools. She argues that abolition is about transforming systems and institutions beyond just closing down prisons, but also about fundamentally reimagining and restructuring the ways in which we approach education, punishment, and control. Shange’s stance on abolitionist policy highlights the importance of completely dismantling harmful systems and replacing them with ones based on principles of justice, equality, and liberation. By taking an abolitionist approach to schooling, she argues that real transformation can occur and the experiences of Black students in San Francisco can be improved.

We read this piece in an anthropology class I took last semester about race in the americas. Our discussion in that class resonated with me because I went to a very progressive high school that prided itself on its anti-racism. The school seemed to value its image more than its actual practice and seldom followed its anti-racist rhetoric with abolitionist policies.

I enjoyed Shange’s writing style. I liked the way that she weaved her observations in and out of her analyses and discussions. This “storytelling” aspect of her work made the reading very engaging and proved valuable for supporting the larger claims. I also think that another one of her strengths is how connected she was with her subjects and with education and education reform overall. 

I think Shange creates an important discussion around social justice reforms that everyone should be aware of. Although reforms are critical for bringing about positive change, their impacts can sometimes lack in ways that we need to recognize. I read a book for my sociology class last semester that reminded me of this discussion. Paul Butler, in Chokehold: Policing Black Men, discusses the ways in which some liberal reform movements are created or influenced by members of powerful groups so that positive change is brought about by their own standards. And thus, structural violence via social control can simply be transformed into more discrete forms. This is not to say that Robeson is trying to perpetuate inequalities at all… just that it is important that we are reflective of our reforms in order to evaluate the way they impact people and what they represent. I think she does a good job of presenting this concept in her discussion of the “education not incarceration” concept, and in the ways that the curriculum is still lacking at Robeson. I do like the way that she acknowledges Robeson, through its successes and shortcomings, as both a strategy for opposition and as a site of struggle.  This definitely speaks to the ever dynamic and ongoing nature of creating positive change, and how ethnographies can help us reveal where progress needs to be made. 

In Shange’s “Progressive Dystopia”, we learn Shange’s ethnographic approach to a much larger issue that many don’t comprehend until further observation has taken place. In Shange’s observation, we learn her relationship between her casual classroom observations to her closer interviews that she committed to through her lens. What makes this reading most interesting to me is the small comments and observations she makes throughout her close analysis. In a world that is looking for solutions that take the least time commitment, Shange learns the deep roots behind African education, and is able to thoroughly explain the observations she made on african education, like the observed communities not receiving the proper funding and support, compared to other school districts that receive the necessary support to keep up with student wellness. Shange comes to a realization that these students should be receiving a much more applied education that strengthens these children, which must occur as early as possible in order to keep students adept and on par with other races that may possibly be providing results demonstrating a higher education ceiling. Shange’s continuous understanding of the clear marginalization taking place between culture groups is something that I very much understand and relate to, especially when understanding the fact that communities and their deeper culture is something we see dwindle away with marginalized groups, and really should be looked at appropriately. In a world where communities must stay together and support each other as much as possible, I do find Shange’s text eye-opening and much worth discussion when comprehending her deep analysis of the politics occurring between racial groups within the education system, and how the bare minimum should not be acceptable when it comes to topics of such high sensitivity. 

It is interesting that attention to detail in ethnographies begins with the very literature used. When describing her nomenclature system, Shange carefully explains the purpose and reasoning behind her choice. It especially stood out that she asked the students what they would like to be called but was unsatisfied, which lead to the use of the “fake” Spanish names being used. It brings up a thought I had that ethnography gives the individual researcher much power in dictating the methodology as long as it is within the argument that (or framed to look like) it is closest to the real thing.

I also think it is interesting that Shange chose a setting where she was already closely related to the students. She details her relationships with their families and points out that this was a large reason why she chose to shadow this class. Shange also defines her intention with these students as one that is “eager to build a closer research relationship” with. I find this interesting because to include the word “research” implies a terminology that is more professional. I wonder if she decided to describe the relationship in this way in order to draw the line in terms of credibility but also am curious on if this is possible. As she is already connected and familiar with these students, is it truly possible to have a research relationship with them?

I am fascinated by Shange’s theorization of the metaphor that is used to encapsulate how students of color are put into a disadvantageous spot due to cultural and sociopolitical factors. Various kinds of inequities weave together to challenge Black and Latinx students’ access to resources affording their success. Shange challenges several popular metaphors: school-to-prison pipeline (STPP), school-to-prison neux, and enclosure (55), arguing that these heuristics fail to accurately address the relationship between the educational system and incarceration that, under the context of Robeson Justice Academy, is complicated by its “interrelationships with the non-profit sphere, private philanthropy, and leftist social movements” (55). Even though I cannot fully capture her abstraction without reading the entire ethnography, I feel like her choice of the pathway as the infrastructural metaphor indicates that the complexity of inequity cannot be reduced to a general metaphor because it is situation-specific. Therefore, we need to be cautious of directly plastering classic metaphor that describes a situation-specific environment onto a new one with unique cultural and political specificities.

Moreover, in Shange’s analysis, she mentions culturally sustaining pedagogy, which is similar to the culturally responsive pedagogy I am learning right now. I think it would be helpful to provide one kind of its description. Ladson-Billings (1995) proposed three dimensions of culturally relevant pedagogy: holding high academic expectations and offering appropriate support such as scaffolding; acting on cultural competence by reshaping curriculum, building on students’ funds of knowledge, and establishing relationships with students and their homes; and cultivating students’ critical consciousness regarding power relations (quote from the article: Confronting the Marginalization of Culturally Responsive Pedagogy).

Shange draws a contrast between Sofia’s “anti-antiblack practice” and Abuelita’s Black practice”. What is the difference, then? The most noticeable feature that the chapter focuses on is the repeated question of “why can’t we learn African?” Asked by African American student in the US, the question reveals the compromises the African American population has made.

The setting where African American students do not have access to African languages in school also reminds me of a quote by Jasmine Cho that says “Privilege is when your culture is taught as a core curriculum, and mine is taught as an elective.” The parallel stands here as African American students are required to take “foreign language” courses, that counterintuitively and ironically do not include what is called the “African” language. This phenomenon showcases still the implied inferiority of an African American presence/culture.

Shange uses multiple methods to conduct her ethnography, but the one she seems to rely the most on is classroom observations and observing conversations between students and between Sofia, the teacher, and her students. Shange still participates because she is in the same physical space as her co-researchers. However, based on her writing, it seems that she takes on more of the observer role in the participant-observer relationship.

I found her writing structure interesting and would like to discuss it further in class. She switches between narrative descriptions and her analyses of the the societal contexts that laid the foundation for these events to occur. This makes her writing more readable than other research studies I read, which can include large text blocks of data analysis that I can get easily lost in. The example that stuck out to me is Shange’s writing about Abuelita’s, a student, asking the question, “Why can’t we learn African?” This question illuminates the relationship between ethnography and race, specifically how to apply anti-racist principles to your work as an ethnographer. I interpret the question of, “Why can’t we learn African?” to be a product of the U.S.’s white-centered education system. Most K-12 schools depict Africa as a monolith, which conceals the thousands of different languages and cultures in the continent. Years of education that overlooks this cultural diversity could have led Abuelita to ask this question. 

Another portion of the text I found interesting is Shange’s discussion of choosing names to protect co-researchers’ anonymity. I used to think choosing names to protect my participants’ privacy was as simple as using a random name generator. However, Shange discusses how name choices can conceal or minimize culture and race, such as if she chose a white name for a Black student. Since my interest in ethnography focuses on ethnic studies, I will be considering this discussion when I analyze and present my findings.

After reading the chapters from Shange’s work, one theme that stood out to me was her argument for abolition over other strategies of achieving social change. Specifically, Shange focused on Black education, and how modern structures need to be abolished and started anew rather than remedied or modified. Shange draws interesting contrasts between words that, in casual language, are seen as synonyms to emphasize her choice of “abolition” as a defining word for her proposition. Shange argues that “revolution” aims to win control of existing structures and resources, whereas abolition needs new structures altogether. Similarly, “reconstruction” aims to apply the “rhetoric of citizenship” equitably across racial and socioeconomic lines, whereas abolition sees that “the universalizing rhetoric of the liberal state is itself the problem.” Reflecting on these contrasts, the title of the ethnography strikes me as quite fitting to Shange’s argument. Progressive Dystopia refers to a radical reconstruction of modern ideas and structures to a more forward-thinking approach. As Shange asserts, abolition starts when the structures of the modern world begin to fall apart. In order to achieve a future of equity in her explored field of minority education, the modern education system needs to be flipped on its head, revamped, and started anew, an idea which Shange explores through her study of Robeson.

I really enjoyed this ethnography both in terms of methodology as well as the content. As someone who is interested in systemic violence as it pertains to Indigeneity, I found her insight and perspective on change valuable. In Chapter 3, I believe that the use of Sofía’s classroom as a struggle between progressiveness and abolition was particularly interesting. Abuelita and her blurts about slavery and the need for African language courses force Robeson, which is a “social-justice, progressive” high school, to think about the violence it is perpetuating. Moreover, Shange considers the perception of Abuelita, which was largely negative, by the administrators. This duality is fascinating as we see it play out at Vanderbilt. For example, Dores Divest, which is a student organization that brings awareness to Vanderbilt’s relations with the oil through protest and activism, is viewed as radical and a nuisance to administrators. However, she raises valuable points about the violence that the oil industry perpetrates. On the other hand, SPEAR, which challenges Vanderbilt through the bureaucracy, does not have a negative reputation. This phenomenon is something that I still ponder and debate within my own advocacy work.
In regards to methodology, I was impressed with how she utilizes Sofía’s classroom as a means to illustrate the uniqueness of Roberson’s education while simultaneously highlighting the conformity of this type of education. She placed the classroom in a larger struggle of education inequality and colonialism while also highlighting the prescribed path to social justice is education/higher education. Utilizing an anecdote and a tangible situation to describe these trends/patterns allows the reader to better comprehend the issues and successes of this education system. I also loved how Shange refused to code-switch or italicize words. I believe that this provided some authenticity and turned their ethnographic work into a piece of advocacy/protest.
After reading this ethnography, I am left with questions about the efficacy of this school model. At first glance, it seems like a great positive change. However, as Shange further explores the history and implications of the school, I am increasingly hesitant. Is the school just a means of masking/ conforming to settler colonialism and making the best rather than challenging its current situation? Is the school performative, or are they truly creating an inclusive environment? Is this “progressive education” further segregating and imposing almost a color-blind (representation for all) approach to school rather than recognizing the unique identities and experiences of individuals of color?

I found the author’s exploration of how political elements pervade and define classroom interactions fascinating. The relationship between race, academic success, economic mobility, and rates of mass incarceration per certain demographics is shocking and something Shange traces back to “enrollment into an educational system designed to depoliticize Black rage and criminalize Black joy” (55). I found striking the author’s discussion of Sophia’s work on the “’progressive” side of the paradox of carceral progressivism. Her consistent, successful, efforts to dislodge anti-blackness in the provision of Spanish-language curriculum mark her practice as a win for antiracist reform” (47). By focusing on examples of “Black-Latin coalition, unmediated by the whiteness of standard american english” as seen in a classroom, she proposes a unique and focused research topic designed to comment on what Damian Sojoyner argues is the “‘first strike” against Black children;” something not during arrest, but in the seemingly innocent school system (55).

The author also described her process of selecting pseudonyms so as to respect Black naming traditions while maintaining some anonymity for the people she observes. Through her analysis of tracing name genres and adjusting the number of syllables, she notes her own “convoluted relationship with Black autonomy” because she, in fact, decided not to use the participants’ chosen pseudonyms and instead decided that many were “too obvious (John wanted Johnnie), too fantastic (Keenan wanted Escobar), or playfully racially recoded in ways that exceeded by ability to reconcile them (Chaniqua wanted Becky)” (49). She ultimately decided to use the Spanish names chosen by the informants as a means of avoiding the “violence” associated with “replac[ing] these tiny, accented sincerities” (50).

The more I reflect on the prologue of this book, the more I realize the masterpiece of web created by matsutake rather than the fungi itself. Although the mushroom takes place with the most emphasis on the cover as the main character, there is much more to learn from this organism than its scientific makeup.

Just in the beginning parts of the book, Tsing outlines the intertwining complexity of the matsutake. In every aspect of the world, whether it be capitalism or ecological relationships, this mushroom leads to emotion, curiosity, and a challenge of human place and role. This especially reminded me of the essence of ethnography in trying to understand the social world in relation to culture. In examining every characteristic of matsutake, from history to present, we can gain valuable insight on phenomena and relations from a refreshing and new perspective. Beginning at the very base level of the ecosystem, I am curious to see what observations and conclusions Tsing will explore.

Question

– It is interesting how Tsing challenges the very essence of precarity belongs in our longing for systematicity. Although it may be true, I wonder if man can ever be completely satisfied with unpredictability or if precarity will always be something we associate negative means with.

Something that stood out to me from Chapter 3 of the Murchinson book was what comes before the formal research design that I would assume many of us are familiar with from research, science, and statistics classes. Exploratory research, specifically, is something highly relevant to life, even outside of specific research contexts. I think that I’ve used some form of exploratory research for every school project and professional task I’ve ever done. Exploratory research is fundamental to not only forming a research question but forming an opinion about what you are passionate about as well. Another part of this chapter that stood out to me was the strategies for ethnographic research. In class, we’ve talked thus far about interviews and participant observations, but maps and charts are another research method I’ve not used nor heard about as much. We discussed the kinship chart and class, and as I was reflecting on this section I also realized that I have consumed a lot of maps and charts from ethnographic research before. Specifically, the news media includes a lot of ethnographic maps and charts when we think about things like voting behavior or the location of things in relation to each other. Even though I am less familiar with charts and maps as a part of ethnographic research, I think they are a highly effective way to understand and visualize certain things.

Aside from Chapter 3, one question that I was left with from this reading was from Chapter 2. Something from Chapter 2 that stood out to me was the discussion of the importance of the “non-obvious.” However, I think sometimes that the non-obvious can be the answer to our ethnographic research questions, and should therefore not be discounted. How can you avoid bias towards the obvious while also recognizing what might very well be a possible answer to a research question?

I really gravitated toward the discussion of “thinking about the nonobvious as discoverable” when determining a research topic (26). This idea is relevant not only in terms of being creative when questioning the world around us, but also in terms of noticing the seemingly irrelevant details in the minutiae of life around us. Good ethnographers closely observe the interactions they are participating in and in proximity to, staying aware of the scope of their work. I also enjoyed Murchison’s section about ethical responsibilities, as it is difficult to set rigorous standards of procedures like one can in hard science research situations; in this way, an ethnographer must evaluate as many possible permutations as possible before entering a target community. In this way, ethical treatment must remain at the forefront even as tempting hot-topics arise during conversation. Furthermore, these constraints should exist in the initial research design so that interviews can remain focused while potentially offensive ideas outside of the realm of inquiry can be avoided. Such constraints can also allow the ethnographer to take specific notes and record as many ideas as possible, whereas open-ended questions without a particular goal may be distracting. As I move forward in this course – and as a professional – I will be sure to keep in mind how to identify what’s important without losing sight of valuable leads or relevant asides.

In the introduction of “The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruin,” author Anna Tsing presents the concept of “ruin capitalism” and how it relates to the cultivation of matsutake mushrooms in the Pacific Northwest. Tsing argues that the matsutake economy, which is dependent on clearcutting and the destruction of old-growth forests, is a microcosm of a larger capitalist system that profits from ecological ruin.

In chapter 1, Tsing delves further into the specific details of the matsutake economy and how it is impacted by global market forces. She also introduces the various actors involved in the industry, including pickers, buyers, and scientists, and how their perspectives and actions shape the economy. Tsing’s writing is descriptive and detailed, painting a vivid picture of the complex interplay between capitalism, ecology, and culture in the matsutake industry. The author shows how the matsutake mushrooms are dependent on old-growth forests and how the deforestation caused by capitalist forces is harming the population of the mushrooms. Tsing also illustrates how similar effects of capitalism are also harming the people who rely on the matsutake economy for their livelihoods, highlighting the negative consequences of the capitalist systems on both the environment and the people.