"It's Everybody's Music" (D-PAN)

D-PAN: Deaf Professional Artists Network.  

The Research Labyrinth

This past weekend I was a part of a group of graduate students invited to talk about the research process with a group of sociology honors students.  Blake Sisk, Ebony Duncan, and I rolled up to Garland Hall at 7pm on a Sunday ready to share our triumphs and pitfalls in research... and even more ready to eat the free meal we were promised for our participation.  I have come to relish in any opportunity to talk about my work (and to be rewarded with a free meal).  As scary as it is to present a half baked research idea for the first time, I've done it so many times now that it has actually become one of my favorite parts of research.  I'm used to talking about my research with faculty and graduate students both in sociology and interdisciplinary settings (each is a totally different experience).  I will also soon have the opportunity to present in front of a community of Deaf scholars and those conducting social research on the d/Deaf community at the upcoming Deaf World/Hearing World conference in Berlin.  But this weekend was the first time I was able to talk about my research on music and Deaf Culture with a group of undergraduates.  It's an entirely different game.  And to be fair, this was really more a discussion of research process. Regardless, I found it to be incredibly informative and rewarding.  I left with a few new ideas, theories, and concepts to investigate which directly relate to the research I'm conducting.  But I also left with, hands-down, the best metaphor to describe the research process ever stated. 

In a discussion connected to finding the best literature to ground your research while also being creatively open to theories and research in other fields,  Ebony shared an eye-opening and reaffirming metaphor about the research process.  (Paraphrasing here...) "Research is like a labyrinth.  Sometimes you feel like you are walking away from the center, but you must walk away in order to come back around to it." Genius.  Research is messy.  Sometimes you find yourself asking, "Why I am reading this study of the experience of coming out as gay?"  But it is in those moments that you are walking away from the core of your project that you discover Crip Theory--a fusion of queer theory and disability theory, which gives you a creative new hold on your research question. Research is a labyrinth. 

This is a reminder to myself, and other scholars out there in the blog world, for those moments when you feel like you are walking away from the core, remember that this is just part of the journey. 

And, as a reminder for times like today where I feel like I'm headed in the right direction...there will be another turn ahead.

Image taken from: http://www.samweller.net/wordpress/?p=191

(a podcast using the metaphor of a labyrinth to describe the writing process can be found here too.)

 

Re-centering Normal

I thought today's anthem was going to be The Carpenter's "Rainy Days and Mondays."  It started, like every Monday starts: "talking to myself and feeling old." No wait, that's the song lyrics...

But I did wake up with a sense of melancholy.  I wasn't fully prepared to teach my 12:00 lecture when the morning alarm went off...or when the second alarm went off.  I struggled to find the energy to finish my lecture on the sociology of the body for the 101 class I was teaching today.  While teaching about re-centering normal and the social consequences of stigma is an interesting topic for me,  I couldn't gather the energy required to transmit my passion in a 101 lecture.  This lackluster response to the task at hand was somewhat expected because, in general, I've been feeling incredibly bogged down in the minutia of my graduate student responsibilities.  I've found it difficult to focus on what I love about graduate school while peering through stacks of what's on my to do list as "everything that's not fun about grad school."

But, I did my best to push Negative Nancy aside and finished practicing my lecture just in time to head to class.  When I arrived it was clear the 50 undergraduates in my classroom all, like me, had cases of the Mondays.  As the lecture proceeded at least 2 students fell asleep. (And just to spoil the ending of this story, I don't end up as the hero this time.)  I had planned the last 15 minutes of my lecture to be a discussion about an article " From 'hearing loss to Deaf Gain?" which I had assigned. (Great article, find it here.)  The article is incredibly controversial, yet still accessible for undergrads...or so I thought.  When I assigned I knew it would be a ringer; students would have so much to say!  Debate would spark!  It would be amazing! But, like every teacher comes quickly to learn, students toss wrenches into even the best planned lectures.  After launching my first discussion question out to the class their silence made it crystal clear that nobody had done the reading.  So instead of the last 15 minutes of class being a provocative discussion, it was dullsville.  I left feeling defeated and ashamed of myself for not having been prepared for their lack of engagement.  

I threw myself a little pity party as I walked home from school (caveat: the professor I was teaching for observed me and assured me I did fine...but we're all our own worst critics, right?) After grabbing a quick bite to eat I headed to the after school program for d/Deaf and hard-of-hearing students which I've been volunteering at for the past two weeks now.  What's the first thing that happens?  I get into a van with a d/Deaf colleague of mine and as soon as he turns the van on the radio BLASTS a local country radio station.  My body jerks at the unexpected intensity of the sound coming from the speakers while the driver appears not to notice.  I smiled to myself at that moment, for the first time today, and we backed out of the garage on our way to pick up the kids from school.

Those kids with their smiles, laugher, and excited screams totally brightened my day... and hurt my ears a bit.  As I get to know them all better and better as the weeks pass I'm curious to know how my perceptions of the students and my fellow volunteers will change.

Here's all the text I was able to generate after my first experience with the kids last week:

"Today was my first day of volunteering at a local after-school program for d/Deaf and hard-of-hearing students here in Nashville.  I'm still finding it difficult to put into words my responses and reactions to my first day.  The experience left me with a flood of emotions, both positive and negative, ranging from pride for the community, to sadness and despair over the lack of encouragement and mediocre expectations these students are held to outside of the program in their academics, language acquisition, and behavior all because of their perceived deficit.

There is a tension I feel volunteering for a population/community that I do not see as vicitims, yet, they are often treated as victims and respond accordingly.  How do you volunteer for a community like this? Race and class inequalities intersect with the "disability" these children have in ways that are hard for me to manage conceptually, and emotionally.  How do I encourage pride in Deafness when these students are faced with some many disadvantages?"

Today as I was leaving the youth center I recounted my own 101 lecture, and re-centered normal in my analysis of the afternoon's events.  One student whose language acquisition I was so worried about last week showed me today that not only does he have strong language skills (with very beautiful sign formation), but I was also able to see his incredible wit and humor!  Another student who I suspected was struggling with academics explained parallel electrical circuits to me!  I realized that I have been so stuck in my own conceptions of the d/Deaf community, and Deaf education, and Deaf pride that I'd failed to see what was happening in front of me.

The kids, staff, and volunteers all reminded me today to not bring the gloom of my rainy days into the after school program (or my research sites more broadly speaking).  To leave my conceptions about normalcy behind, and to begin to see the community for what it truly is.  I've decided to stop wondering about the kid's academic programs, their access to speech therapy, their medical diagnoses, their relationships with audiologists, etc., and instead let them teach me a few things...even about parallel electrical circuits.

So today's anthem turned out not to be The Carpenter's "Rainy Days and Mondays", instead I'm humming "Top of the World," it's still a Carpenter's kind of day.

A reflection on the last 77 days

Now that I'm home and school has started I'm finding myself being asked the question: "How was DC?" from faculty and students all of whom look at me eagerly making me feel like the only appropriate response is to launch into a long list of my many accomplishments.  My standard hallway answer: "It was great!  I'm so excited to go back!"  The answer I say in my head: "I failed in DC."  The truth: I did nothing I expected to do, but work did happen, progress was made.  So for the sake of my own sanity, and to organize my thoughts for the second week of school I figured I'd launch into a long list of what I learned about myself and my work process while I was away...for better for for worse..

1. I am not now, nor will I likely ever be a "morning person," and that's okay
2. I do my best work in the company of strangers at Starbucks 
3. I think most creatively when I'm listening to music (the type of music varies day-by-day)
4. My sign skills are strong around new & intermediate signers
5. I am nearly lost among native & fluent users
6. I am a good lipreader and I rely on lipreading when communicating in sign
7. I need a fair amount of alone time to ward off depressive symptoms
8. I need checklists
9. I need deadlines
10. I drink coffee as a distraction (hmm #2???)
11. Sometimes saying goodbye to difficult people is the easiest thing to do
12. I am not an imaginative cook
13. I let my fears of being rejected stop me from introducing myself to new people/interviewees
14. Pitching my research to non-sociologists is harder than I imagined
15. Validation and/or criticism from others affects me a lot more than I thought
16. Despite criticisms, I now know that I picked the right dissertation topic...I love this

In the months ahead I will read for and write my second area exam on Embodiment and Disability, draft my dissertation proposal, and prepare for my first conference presentation on Deaf culture.  I'm making 3 new (school) year's resolutions that I hope will get me through the months ahead:

1. Blog more regularly
2. Read more across subfields in sociology to identify an avenue for the "So what?"
3. Be my own best cheerleader

Now that all these lists have been made, I'll make my way back to my To Do list...

Life is what happens to you when you are making other plans.

I feel like I just stretched my legs for the first time after the 10 hour drive from Nashville to DC.  I still haven't unloaded all the books I brought with me, the car still needs to be washed, and I have yet to conduct an official interview, surely I am not over half way done with my stay...

I sent my first update to my faculty advisers this afternoon.  I should have used this quote as the email subject line: "Life is what happens when you are making other plans."  This post is dedicated to all the life that's happened in between emails, classes, and pages of journal articles.

First things first: happy hours, day trips, and incessant laughter among friends.  I am so happy to be  doing my dissertation in a city with friends (both new and old).  After spending the day staring at computer screens in a cold library, or weeks on end wrapped in a blanket coughing on the couch (as has been my life for the last 3 weeks), seeing the smiling faces of these people brings me back to life again.  Sarah, Ashley, and I have all enjoyed a few libations and giggles at local pubs about town.  Here's a shot from my first reunion with the delightful Miss Sarah Glynn.

Adventures with these women have taken me around the District to a handful of happy hours, shopping trips, sweaty metro rides, a concert filled with shenanigans, and most recently to Old Town Alexandria in Virginia--perhaps the strangest outing yet.  (Let's just say that an elderly frog disguised as a belching woman on our trolley was the highlight of our journey into Alexandria.)    

Sometime between my first happy hour with the girls, and my most recent round of antibiotics for the cold that just won't go away, my aunt Pam, uncle Bruce, and cousin Rachel stopped through DC for a few days before Rachel headed back out on her world travels.  (Remind me to be Rachel in my next life: she's on her way back to Turkey to work for a few weeks before starting her next semester abroad in France.)  While they were in town we gorged ourself with food, danced along with the Wii video game, and extended our 4th of July celebrations with some sparklers.  

That same week Serena performed in her much anticipated Musical Theatre Camp's final production.  Lauri and I had spent the prior 2 weeks watching Serena's at-home rehearsals, with both of us spontaneously bursting out with "Let Me Entertain You" at the dinner table.  Needless to say, everyone was excited to see the full performance.  Serena's entourage included Lauri, Pam and myself (Bruce and Rachel were off to the airport by this point.)  The three of us stood in the back of the small performance space in Rockville, Maryland with 7 pieces of audio/visual equipment pridefully recording the budding Broadway star.

As a surprise, the kids signed the last verse of the final song: "Happiness" from the musical, You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. Even though Lauri, Pam, and myself all knew this surprise was coming, the three of us sat in the back of the room with tears in our eyes as we watched Serena stand front and center leading her fellow campers in sign.  As the only Deaf child in her camp, she is so clearly proud

of who she is and of her language, it couldn't be any more beautiful.  

Below is a shot of Serena signing "HAPPY."  (The sequence of photographs I took during this final verse could easily be edited into a video in and of itself... I love the continuous capture setting on my camera.)

After coming back home and reviewing the video and still photographs from the day, Serena continued to make us all laugh with her constant song, dance, and gymnastic performances.  It's never dull when that girl is around...

 Sometimes I am asked to spot her.  Here's a rare shot of me helping without tickling her in the process. I told Serena that because she is an only child it is my responsibility to show her what it is like to have an annoying older sibling.  I've had enough first experience to know just the best ways to best annoy her...tickling.

It's amazing how a drink with friends, a shopping trip gone awry, fireworks with family, or a child's Broadway musical performance can make some of the recent criticism of my work easier to take.  I guess Serena's right: "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down."  

Inspiration comes from the most unexpected places, and from people who have no idea that they are inspiring you.  Like this message my dad sent me recently....

And speaking of him...aren't my parents cute?  They've been enjoying their summer on a footloose and fancy free vacation up and down the California coast this summer.  

Amidst all of this life, I actually have made some progress on the dissertation.  Although at this point its hard to see just how much closer I've come to a specific research question, a dissertation proposal, or even a completed reading list, I do know that its been a good summer.  I'm enjoying letting life happen instead of focusing so much on the planning right now.

iPod Shuffle Commercial

I just read about this commercial which aired sometime prior to 2009.  No formulated thoughts just yet, but it's inspired me as my research has been getting shot down a lot lately. 

Deaf poetry and other interesting tid bits

Following the lead of a fellow graduate student, I have decided to collect poetry, photographs, films, and any other kind of art that I can get my hands on produced by people in the Deaf community.  Recently I purchased an anthology of Deaf American Poetry (2009) edited by John Lee Clark.  I was surprised and excited to see just how much of the included poems, quotes, and discussions are about music.  Here's a teaser.

"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter." --John Keats (1795-1821)

Thoughts on Music

Mary Toles Peet (1836-1901)

They tell me oft of the witching song
     That thrills the listener's heart,
And of the soft melody
     Breathed forth with music's art:
They tell me, too, of the joyous strain,
    Which bursts with magic power,
From the heart where love and hope have laid
     Their brightly woven dower.

And then they tell of the sounds which come
     Afar from the sea's deep caves,
Of the voice of the wind which sighs among
     Old Ocean's towering waves;
And the wild, deep music, which comes up
     From the breakers' dashing roar
And the storm cloud's voice, when, as in wrath,
     His torrents madly pour.

And they tell me, too, of the wild bird's song
     Afar in the green woods dim,
And of the lark's glad trill, which seems
    Of praise and heartfelt hymn,
And that the feathered sprites at which
    I sit and gaze each day,
Send forth to the still heavens, as well,
     Their soft, melodious lay.

And then they tell of the sounds which come
    From the battlefield afar,
Of the thrilling peal of the "trump and drum,"
     And the martial strains of war;
Then turn from these to tell sweet tales,
     Of the evening zephyr's notes,
And all the varied melody
     Which round them ever floats.

Then I gaze into their faces, and see
     The smile no longer there,
And they grieve that never unto me
     May float, on the stilly air,
One sounds of this glorious minstrelsy,
     One echo of the voice
Which swells through Nature's thousand tones,
     Making all earth rejoice.

Yet deem not, since I am debarred
     From all the melodies of sound,
Earth has no music for my heart,
     Nor that my soul is bound
By the dull seal which has been place
     Upon my outer sense,
For the music of my inward ear
    Brings joy far more intense.

"Its not just music" and other emotions

So many changes, so many events, so much to catch up on.   In American Sign Language (ASL) facial expressions are extremely important.  The meaning of a sentence can change drastically depending on what you do with your eyes, eyebrows, mouth, checks, chin, etc. For example, using the same signs in the same order I can say "You are really old!" or "What's your age?"  The intended meanings are conveyed using facial  expressions (eyebrows up for the question, eyebrows down and mouth open in "O" shape for the former).  These facial expressions are also invaluable when describing the magnitude of an event.  I wish I could use ASL here, because I would say: "A lot has changed ('CHA')!" I can't really explain what all the  'CHA' expression means in English, but just know that the words "a lot" don't even come close to explaining the proper magnitude.  So here's my recent journey from careless and depressed to inspired and active, described as best I can for you using the limits of the written English language.

My first several days in the DC are were in spent the dark, cool basement of my aunt Lauri's townhouse in Silver Spring, Maryland.  It was 100+ degrees outside and I was exhausted from all the traveling I'd done in the weeks prior to the move.  I'd been in California, Nashville, Atlanta, back to Nashville, and then onto DC  all in a matter of 8 days.  My aunt and cousin (Serena) have been kind and generous hosts, but it was inevitable that I was going to feel a little uncomfortable in a new house, in a new city, around extended family members that I don't know all that well, after living alone for the last 6 years of my life.  (I won't even add to that what it was like to make the transition from living alone to to living with a 9 year old Deaf child who has more energy than anyone I've ever met... you can imagine that for yourself.) After a brief battle with the flu, some paralyzing anxiety about my upcoming ASL classes, a handful of nightmares, and Serena's critiques of my signing ability, I finally made a tearful phone call to my mother.  I was emotionally exhausted, and had lost all motivation and confidence to do this research.  (Tip: Never be too old to call  your mommy during a crisis.)  I told my mom that in my dream life I'm a trophy wife, and since that doesn't require a PhD I would just rather drop out of grad school, not do this research, never improve my sign skills, and move back to Nashville where I'd surely find some (likely old) rich country singer/doctor/lawyer/whatever to marry me and give me all his money. After I finished with my jokes, the real anxiety, sadness, and listlessness spewed out of me.  Mom patiently listened, and while she agreed that the trophy wife deal is probably the best idea I've had, she suggested that most researchers probably feel overwhelmed and lose confidence when they arrive in the field.  After crying out my frustrations, she helped me decide that I should just give it time and continue with my plans (keeping my eyes open for the right Mr. Rich while I'm at it).

In the next few days I made phone calls and had dinner dates with dissertating Vanderbilt grad students who confirmed my mom's suspicions that many people lose confidence and desire to conduct their research after arriving in the field, but that given time, confidence returns.  As per usual, I learned a lot from those conversations with my incredible friends.  I learned that whatever I'm feeling there's a movie or a song that explains the emotion perfectly.  I learned that laughter can always dry my tears.  And I was also reminded that a dissertation is nothing more than one component of a job application.  I decided to laugh away my fears and keep a broad view on what matters most in research, and in life.

With a new mindset (there is a sign for this concept that is so beautiful and descriptive its making me think that I should do a VLOG--video blog--instead of this blog) I signed up for the Gallaudet campus tour and bought my books for ASL class.   That evening after my tour Lauri and I were chatting on the couch when Serena walked over to her karaoke machine and plugged in her iTouch (around the whole house I see lots of evidence of music: the karaoke machine, large speakers, a toy keyboard,a  recorder, and CD's of music from Serena's favorite Broadway shows are all within eyeshot of the living room).  Serena pressed play on her iTouch and Katy Perry’s “Firework” began to blast loudly from the tall speakers in the living room. Then, without any prompting, she began to sign the lyrics.  I quickly picked up my iPhone and frantically searched for the video function.  I was able to record most of the song.  (Video below.)  It seemed pretty clear to me that Serena had done this ASL version of Katy Perry’s song before (perhaps for a school performance).  She remembered most of the signs, and only got lost a few times.

The beauty of the performance, its impromptu nature, the significance of the lyrics, and the fact that I had been feeling guilty for not working earlier in the day all came together for me and brought tears to my eyes.   Serena was beautiful.  The signs were beautiful.  The song's message:  be yourself, love yourself, and burst into the world with full force.  I'm sure Serena’s innoncence as a child would have been enough to bring me to tears, but the everything together was even more special for me.  I was reminded then and there why I want to do this project on music and Deaf culture.  Music is an incredibly powerful commodity for individuals, and I am certain its power is not limited to the ears of hearing individuals.  

It seems like fate that Serena was there to remind me of why I feel so passionate about this research and why I should continue it even through the valleys of lost confidence and depression.  After all, she is the one that started me on this path with her statement: "When I'm with Deaf people, I'm Deaf.  When I'm with hearing people, I'm hard of hearing.  When I listen to music, I'm hearing."

************

So, that was a lovely fairytale story with the a setting, characters, climax, and a tightly wrapped ending.  But we all know that reality isn't as neatly organized.  I've been thinking a lot about Serena's performance. My first reaction to its beauty is probably the typical hearing person's reaction: "Oh what a cute little deaf girl signing along with Katy Perry."  I know that culturally Deaf people's reactions to interpreting music would not exactly be favorable.  In fact, this kind of music appreciation has been looked down upon by many Deaf people as labeled "derogatory" to Deaf culture.  Serena's performance can be understood as a standard "hearing" way to consume music because its nothing more than a lose English translation.  Its been suggested that music does have a role in Deaf culture that is not just translation, and I see many examples of that around me (e.g., Signmark--video below).  But what is that role?  How does music function in the Deaf community?  What are the differences and similarities for deaf/hearing consumers of music?  Curious?  So am I.  I'll write a dissertation on that and keep you posted.  ;-)

A Big Girl Sociologist

When I wrote the Vanderbilt College of Arts and Science's summer research grant application I thought that there would be no way I would be selected as one of the award recipients.  I took less than 2 weeks to write the grant, had only a loose plan of action, and gave my letter writers short notice.  (Hmmm, should I be revealing this information???)  I thought that the grant would be an exercise in organizing my thoughts for a dissertation proposal that is soon to come.  I thought that this application would be something of a test of my research design abilities.

As the weeks wore on after I submitted the grant, I started to get my hopes up.  It wasn't until those weeks that followed the submission that I really start to want, to desperately want, to start the data collection in DC for this project on Deaf culture and identity.  Allowing myself to want this was hard to do.  Making this decision meant turning my back on the last 3 years of my graduate preparation.  It meant putting the SNAAP project and team that I grown to admire and appreciate dearly on the back burner. In the chair of my department's words: SNAAP would become "my side hustle." Choosing the route to study Deaf culture in DC meant not following the career path I had laid for myself starting in my first semester at Vanderbilt. It meant learning an entirely new body of literature and finding new/additional faculty support.  It meant having to come out from behind my computer screen and study real people, not lines of survey responses.  It meant putting faith in my sign abilities (or lack thereof).  It meant moving from my home in Nashville, from my friends, from my comfort zone, to a city I have only visited a handful of times.  It meant being a big girl sociologist, and it was scary.

My fears became all the more encompassing when I got the email on Friday, April 13th (yeah, that wasn't lost on me either): "It is my pleasure to inform you that the College of Arts and Science has selected you as one of the 2012 Summer Research Award recipients."  I remember screaming, shaking, and tearing up.  Moments later an overwhelming sense of doubt in myself and in my abilities as a researcher came over me:  "Am I ready to do this?  Aren't I still a baby sociologist?  Dissertation data collection?!?!?!  No! No! No!  I just got to grad school, I'm not prepared for this."  In true Carly fashion, I buried my head in the sand and all but ignored the news as I worked to wrap up the end of the semester final papers and complete my first comprehensive exam.

After the papers and exam were complete I lifted my head out of the sand and did the only thing that I know how to do: schedule meetings.   I had fantasized that in these meetings faculty would help me plan my entree into the field and develop strategies for hiding behind my sociological monocle: they would give me instructions on how to best carry stacks of  fieldnotes and analyze every action I encountered.  Surely, these mentors would help me write a interview guide that I could enact "FBI style": questioning participants who would find their ways through a dark hallway into a room lit with one hanging greenish light that would swing above my head as I asked them: "where were you the night of the DPN protest?" Oddly enough, that's not what happened in these meetings.  Thankfully, my mentors and friends (whose talents, generosity, and support will be the subject of an upcoming blog) reminded me that I am not carrying a badge. As an ethnographer entering the field for the first time they assured me I can "sit anywhere on the bus"--I can make friends and contacts with all different groups within the Deaf community without fear.  I was reminded that "everything is data" and that I can take this summer to live in the community, attend events, and have fun exploring the many avenues for research, and that would be enough.  After these meetings I decided to put my metaphorical FBI badge away and go to DC with the plan to meet Gallaudet faculty,  take two ASL refresher courses, attend Deaf festivals, plays, and other cultural events, and take photographs of everything I can fit in the frame of my camera lens.

Being in closer proximity to my beloved Sarah Jane Glynn and Ashley Archer (two departed Vanderbilt grad students and some of the best women I know),  my Aunt Lauri, and cousin Serena are just a few added benefits of the adventures in DC that I will surely encounter this summer.  I'm ready.  Bring it, DC!

Today marks 19 days until I load the Cobalt and hit the road for DC.  Today, I am excited.  Today, I am confident.  Today, I am ready to put my big girl sociologist pants on and start the biggest research adventure of my life.  Today, I am impatiently waiting for the next 19 days to pass.