Naomi Schaefer Riley’s decree that Black Studies does not produce anything worthwhile

In which comments on the Internet once again reaffirm my faith in humanity:

I’ve been following the backlash against Naomi Schaefer Riley’s post on her Chronicle for Higher Education blog titled “The Most Persuasive Case for Eliminating Black Studies? Just Read the Dissertations” — and it has truly jump started my Friday morning. In her article, she essentially calls Black Studies a study in victimization, ‘blaming the white man’, and a field of study not worthy of anyone’s time — all while confessing that she hasn’t the time to read any of the intellectual output of those doctoral candidates. Aaron Brady’s response to her  unapologetic response to the backlash on her first post knocked it out of the park:

You attacked the validity of a field to exist — literally argued that it should not exist — on the basis of three dissertations that you had obviously not read. And then the title of your post enjoined us to “Just Read the Dissertations.” You can breezily declare that “there are not enough hours in the day or money in the world to get me to read a dissertation on historical black midwifery,” but this precisely confirms the fundamentally unserious and bad faith way you’re proceeding here. You presume to have authority to speak about a field — and to condemn three young scholars — without actually knowing anything about what you’re talking about. This is a simple and literal description of what you did: you argued that black studies is illegitimate on the basis of someone else’s description of some (unscientifically selected, unrepresentative) dissertations of which you had no serious personal knowledge. Are you surprised that people leap to the conclusion that someting else is going on here? What you did was neither scholarship nor journalism; it was just writing words on a computer that you knew would find a ready audience among people that dislike the idea of “Black Studies.”

Personally, I think those dissertations sound really interesting. But my bottom line point would be, simply, that you not only don’t know what you’re talking about, you take that fundamental ignorance of a field as a license to deny that field’s validity. As an intellectual argument, it’s structurally identical to the Arizona state senators who banned ethnic studies texts while making it clear they had never and never would read them. You can pretend that you are objecting to what is written in those dissertations if you want, but since you obviously have no idea what is in them, good luck convincing anyone but the rightwing choir you’re preaching to. If you are wondering why people think you’re a racist hack, it is this: we have nothing to go on but your own words. And they speak volumes. (via)

Thanks Aaron.

Also worth reading is this post on TressieMC:

Schaefer Riley went after, arguably, the most powerless group of people in all of academe: doctoral students who lack the political cover of tenure, institutional support, or extensive professional networks. She attacked junior scholars who have done nothing but tried to fulfill the requirements of their degree program and who had the audacity to be recognized for doing so in academia’s largest publication. Their crime is not being fucking* invisible.

For that, for daring to be seen and heard Schaefer Riley eviscerates the hard work of  doctoral students.

And she does not even afford them the respect of critiquing their actual scholarship. That is beneath her. She attacks the very veracity of their right to choose what scholarship they will do. In effect, she attacks their right to be agents in their own academic careers.

This entire dialogue serves as an amazing, and often amazingly depressing, re-introduction to the persistant prejudices in the US and academia.

If you think Naomi’s platform on the CHE blog should be relinquished, sign this petition, and hug a Black Studies major.

The thrashing of Valencia – April 30th, 2012

Last night Valencia Street in San Francisco got thrashed. Scott was there, and he never forgets a face:

 So, rather than describe what happened (since 340958345 other blogs and news agencies will do just that), I think it is more important to point out who did this. But as I’m about to explain to you, I don’t know that I can do that. You see, I don’t know who, the people I’ll dub as the ‘ringleaders’ of the march were exactly. Nobody did. Yeah some of the aggro people we always have to deal with were there, but these guys weren’t it. You remember those asshole jock bullies in high school? Well that was who was leading the march tonight. Clean cut, athletic, commanding, gravitas not borne of charisma but of testosterone and intimidation. They were decked out in outfits typically attributed to those in the ‘black bloc’ spectrum of tactics, yet their clothes were too new, and something was just off about them. They were very combative and nearly physically violent with the livestreamers on site, and got ignorant with me, a medic, when I intervened and reminded them that I was there to fix them from police violence, not protester on protester violence.

I am typically really bad with names, but I am great with faces. I love people. I love looking into their eyes, looking at their smiles and their body language and trying to guess at their life and stuff. I probably will forget your name the first few times I’ve met you, but I will not forget your face. Even people I pass on the street, I’ll remember you for weeks. With that said, I didn’t recognize any of these people. Their eyes were too angry, their mouths were too severe. They felt “military” if that makes sense. Something just wasn’t right about them on too many levels. I’m not one of those tin foil hat conspiracy theorists, I don’t subscribe to those theories that Queen Elizabeth’s Reptilian slave driver masters run the Fed. I’ve read up on agent provocateurs and plants and that sort of thing and I have to say that without a doubt, I believe 100% that the people that started tonight’s events in the Mission were exactly that.

Read more on Stott Rossi’s post

Apricot Sprites, aka ‘the anthropomorphic heart wood critters’ my Dad unearthed

A week ago, my dad was pruning one of the many stone fruit trees in his yard in Los Angeles and came upon an eery woodland lady (click for full size):

My dad is coating the slices in acrylic for preservation, and keeping an unperturbed sample under lock and key in preparation for a visit from the SEG (Search for Extraterrestrial Gnomes).

Has anyone seen anything like this in tree cuts? I was pretty freaked. The first lady may resemble my mom if I squint. Perhaps her spirit animal entered the tree during a watering one afternoon. BTW: of course mum has a garden-themed blog avantgarden.org and she helped start the Santa Monica College organic garden.

From a brief search, I found a spotting of Jesus in a cabinet at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Wareham, Massachusetts, but nothing like this. Post your wood creatures in the comments!

A knowledgeable plant dude writes:

The discoloration in the heartwood is caused by a systemic fungal infection called Verticillium wilt. You can read more about it here:

http://www.ipm.ucdavis.edu/PMG/r5101111.html

The “normal” colorization is from the tree’s attempt to compartmentalize the damage and grow healthy tissue within it.

I’ve also heard back from the Internet in the form of a moose posted in the comments:

Pretty spooky.

…Native Elders of any given tribe hold the keys to knowledge…

Recently, I encountered a very interesting interview with a Zulu elder on my Internet travels:

Zulus claim that many, many thousands of years ago there arrived, out of the skies, a race of people who were like lizards, people who could change shape at will.

Now, [in Zulu] the word Chitauli means “the dictators, the ones who tell us the law”. In other words, “they who tell us, secretly, what we are to do”. Now, it is said that these Chitauli did a number of things to us when they came to this planet.

Please forgive me, but I must share this story with you. It is one of the strangest stories that you find everywhere in Africa in shamanic secret societies and other places where the remnant of our ancient knowledge and wisdom are still preserved. It is that, originally, the Earth was covered by a very thick blanket of fog or mist. That people could not actually see the Sun in the sky, except as a nimble of light. And they also saw the Moon at night as a gentle claw of light in the sky, because there was this heavy mist. And the rain was always falling in a steady drizzle. There was no thunder, however. There were no storms.

The world was thickly covered with great forests, great jungles, and people lived in peace on Earth at that time. People were happy and it is said, at that time, we human beings did not have the power of speech. We only made funny sounds like happy monkeys and baboons, but we did not have speech as we now have it. And in those centuries, people spoke to each other through their mind.

A man could call his wife thinking about her, thinking about the shape of her face, the smell of her body, and the feel of hair as a woman. That a hunter would go out into the bush and call out for animals to come, and the animals would select one of their number which was old and tired, and this animal would offer itself to the hunter so that he may kill it quickly and take it as meat to his cave.

There was no violence against animals. There was no violence against Nature by human beings at that time. Man used to ask for food from Nature. He used to come to a tree and think about fruit, and the tree would allow some of its fruit to fall to the ground, and man would take it.

Read more. (PDF)