attentat

Well, add one more thing to the list of teaching strategies I will have to abandon when I stop teaching debate camp:

One of my favorite ways to get kids to start paying attention if they are zoned out is to make them all stand up and curse at the top of their lungs, with points awarded for creativity and volume. It gets them giggling, it gets them engaged, and it will get me fired if I ever teach high school.

This one's short, thank god.

I firmly believe that not one of these kids has actually met anyone with clinical/major depression, as they continually and constantly refer to it as an example of a disease that is "not life threatening," "doesn't affect large amounts of people," and "is not a public health concern."

I am very close to flipping my shit about this. Clueless, clueless baby debaters.

But I think that's okay. This is largely a space I use to post something when I feel I need to write, don't exactly know why, and want to put it somewhere where people could read it, even though they won't.

A good friend of mine recently gave me a link to to a post on racialicious, which made me start to read a shitton of the RaceFail09 stuff, which made me read some more general stuff about privilege, which got me to this essay. And that got me thinking.

I'm not sure how much the people who are my friendslist on this blog know about me, but I am deeply embedded in the high school debate community. I was in the activity for my entire high school and it was pretty much the single thing that made me into the person I am today. Debate gave me so much; it was what I defined myself through, it taught me to think and to write, it gave me a lot of my closest friends. It gave me my current career goals. That being said, most of the times I feel like something of an outsider. I'm female. I'm female, and I debate, and I am motherfucking good at it* and that's kinda weird.

The gender issues in debate are really fucking strange. Most people involved are familiar with most of the third wave feminist literature and consider themselves anti-sexist people; Judith Butler, for instance, is incredibly popular as an author. Yet, the activity is also deeply macho. I'm not sure if you can imagine what debate is like from simply the popular conceptions of it, but is probably different than you suppose. It is a competitive intellectual sport that pits really smart, really well-read people against each other in such a way that it feels like the person who wins is smarter. It involves preparation, research, good argumentation, and so much strategy that it would shock you. It isn't about the better argument; it is about who is the better debater. Good arguments come into it, but it's not really that at all.

Debaters get competitive, they get mean, they get (as I said before) macho. At the very highest level (which I was on -- see the first asterisk), we've basically devoted our lives to this wacky, insular activity, and we take it very seriously. And in this highest echelon, most of the really successful people are male. A lot of theories as to why this is are batted around the community, but there are no conclusions and I have no answers. But it's true -- I was unusually successful for a girl, and that's the way it was always framed. There is a particular all girls school which is consistently successful, and that's the way that is always framed.

There was an all girls round-robin (a small, prestigious, and invite-only sort of competition) for a few years which I was consistently invited to. As anyone familiar with spaces that try to make room for marginalized groups "at the expense of" the more dominant group, this raised all sorts of brouhaha. I always liked it, but consistently (with a few exceptions) every time I went, I was the best. I was the most innovative and daring and such. This is not to slight the very talented young women I competed against, it was just that the only year I wasn't in the finals, it was something of a surprise. The first year I went, someone said to the woman running it (a woman who I deeply admire and am forever thankful to), "It's great you are inviting Becca; she'll show the girls how the boys debate."

I debated fast, I debated techy, I debated with absurdity. My very last round, finals of the most important tournament of the year, I ran a case that said the US should nuke itself. I did it because I wanted to go out with a bang. When I started, this was not something female debaters did. It shifted a little over the four years, but I was always the girl who debated like a guy. Girls were supposed to be more persuasive and more stock (a term we use to indicate the more straightforward and true positions in a particular topic literature), and I was never that. I was so fast that I made a judge quit the activity and there was a series of four tournaments where every one, a judge walked out on my round before giving a reason for decision when they were the one who voted against me after a panel of three. I was never safe.

There was this particular asshole who I debated against several times, who once told a friend of mine that he had never been beaten by a girl. When she pointed out (correctly) that I had beaten him like three or four times at this point (a fact I still take deep, unfeminine pleasure in), he said "Oh, Becca's not a girl." And in a way, he was right. I don't really code as a girl. Despite my love for really colorful skirts and stupid shoes, I'm not physically attractive and I will be the first to admit that I am a mean motherfucker in rounds. It's a running joke among my friends that I was a total bitch when I wanted to be; my fellow teacher at the debate camp I'm teaching at laughed out loud today when I told a student to be aggressive, but not mean.

This really bothered me, more than I think I let on. I never stopped being super aggressive in round -- I like winning too much for that -- but I would mentally obsess over a lot of people's perceptions. It really bothered me (even as I was slightly flattered), when people told me I was terrifying to debate. I started making subtle shifts in my behavior to reinforce the fact that I was, in fact, female. I hung out a lot with the all girls school. I made a point to call out sexist bullshit when I saw it. Even though convention in debate (one that most of the girls stuck religiously to) was to wear plain black suits, I wore colorful skirts and at one memorable tournament a sparkly dress so low cut that I wore my tie-dyed sweatshirt when a round was being videotaped because I didn't want to flash people in perpetuity. I had the cred to get away with it, but I lost points on several occasions due to my lack of high heels.

But all of those stories are well-worn to me; I already know that I was a different sort of debater, and that I never fit properly in the boys club. What's different, now, is how I see gender issues from the perspective of a debate coach. I spend a good portion of my summers nowadays teaching at various debate camps, and it is always surprising to see the debaters who remain in the activity and who become teachers. Pretty much all of the teachers who are universally respected in the activity, with one exception I can think of (the aforementioned awesome lady who ran the round robin), are male. It is much more rare for female debaters to stay and coach afterward. I am something of an exception again. Even the other rare fantastic female debaters of my year are missing; they don't coach on the national level, if at all.

At my current debate camp, there are only three girls that are on staff for my type of debate. One of them is acknowledged by all other staff to be totally out of her league. I agree, really -- she's smart and nice, but doesn't really know anything about debate. The other one is a woman I didn't really know until a few days ago, but who had a reputation for winning more rounds on her rockin' bod than her brains. Unfortunately for stereotypes, from interacting with her, she's not actually all the bright. My friends, the debate coaches who mentored me and who now interact with me as an equal, are all guys. They stay in the same couple of rooms on the college campus where we are working; I am staying with the girls, mostly speech coaches, who I don't know and who don't have the skills I have.

This nightly separation is troublesome to me. We have our final cigarettes (hidden from the kids, obviously), split up around midnight, and go to do our respective work. They all sit around together; I sit alone in my room. That's what I should be doing now, but I'm doing this instead.

I don't know why girls don't stay on, but I think it's a real problem. The ones who do aren't always the best. People don't generally respect women as judges, and I admit, I didn't really either -- it's because they tended to be not as good. There were exceptions, of course there were, and there are plenty of good female debaters who could stay on and contribute awesome things, but there aren't enough. The disparaging term for "lay" judges (judges who aren't familiar with the conventions of the activity, judges where you have to go slow or run less interesting arguments in front of) is "mommy judges."

I feel alienated. And a large part of this alienation is that I don't know who I could talk to about this. Most of my male friends are awesome people; they are some of the most truly feminist individuals I've ever met, but I'm not sure they could understand. I think they might be hurt. I think that I would make myself look like a whiner. They don't exclude me; I just feel excluded.

I had a real problem with a kid at camp last summer who was SO NOT A FAN of learning debate from a girl who was only a year or two older than him. The only way I could get him to realize there was a reason why I was good at this, was forcing him to make the same argument over and over, knocking holes in it every time, before he realized that I was more hot shit than he was. I hate having to do those dominance things. The best coach I ever had was universally respected and he never had to do that shit. I do. Repeatedly.

But the problem is, not everyone's that overt. Not everyone's part of the problem! But even those people I trust and respect, I don't know how to say to them what I'm feeling, I don't know if I should, and I don't have any conclusions for this post or my feelings. I feel a little lost about this all.

The only thing I can think of to do is to keep on doing what I'm doing. Continue taking shit from no one, continue encouraging everyone to be aggressive and to do stupid things (I am firmly in favor of girls having every bit of a right to run wacky, stupid shit as guys -- another digression, but I have a friend who was told that it was a shame she ran "that type of argument" because she should show girls they are better than that). I'm also going to keep my eye out for girls who have the desire to be really fucking good at this activity and to try and teach them how to kick ass and take names. I'll do that for the boys, too -- I love to teach -- but seriously. I want another girl who debates like a boy (and kicks their asses, too.)


*Something I noticed in my debate career is that most of the male debaters had no compunctions about calling themselves good debaters -- frequently, when it was not at all true. The female debaters, on the other hand, would always waffle and claim they were embarrassed and the like. One of the first gender-conscious things I did in the activity was vow to myself, about halfway through my junior year, was to never deny the fact that I was one of the best debaters in the country. I am motherfucking good. As I've said a couple of times to my less experienced college debate teammates, people pay me to teach this shit. If I wasn't good, that'd be embarrassing.

A) OMG, Yuletide! Mine was delightful, and I had a lot of fun writing the one for my recipient. The fic I got was a Doc Horrible fic (!!! I KNOW, RIGHT?) which gave Doc Horrible origin story. I adore origin story, both in fic and in real comics, so, this is awesome. It's called The Origins of Hate and it is by Imrihamun! Thank you so much!

The story I wrote (now that I can tell!) is regem angelorum imitari (five years of latin... good for fic!) and it is a Richard II Shakespeare fic. This is a fandom I never dreamed I would write in... but that's what yuletide is for, isn't it? By the way, hi new friend angevin2!

B) The only good thing about the literal yuletide (IE, Christmas) was the Twin Peaks DVD set I got. I'm watching it now, in one of the myriad ways I'm trying to avoid my family. But, that is enough about that, let's not be maudlin.

C) I'm driving back to college in a few days! Now, this sounds reasonable and normal... unless you know that the drive is going to be over 2500 miles. I'm really, really excited about this, actually, it was my present to myself (think of all that gas) and I'm glad I can take my car with me to school, now. I adore driving and I'm really looking forward to a chance to relax and to see the country. I'll probably post pictures and things as I go along, so tell me if that sounds unbelievably boring.

ON THURSDAY THE FIFTH CIRCUIT LEGALIZED SEX TOYS.

TEXANS CAN NOW HAVE LEGAL SEX TOYS.

That is all.

My ipod is not working and it fucking sucks. I don't want to have to buy a new one right now, but if it is fucked up for good, I'm totally going to. I am ATTACHED to that thing, like, so hardcore. I fall asleep to music, wake up to music, listen to it on the way to class.

My soul will weep tears of blood if I have to buy a new iPod, but c'est la vie.

Pee Ess: I know this post both sucks and is uninteresting; I am okay with that. I have resolved to post more than once in a billion years, for the purpose of getting me to WRITE. ANYTHING. I have dissolved into a puddle of stupor and it is not good.

UNITED NATION (UN)
DEBT RECONCILIATION DEPARTMENT.
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Dear Sir/Madam,


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Be informed that we have verified your payment agreement file as directed to us; your name appeared in the next on the list of our outstanding beneficiary to received payment at the second quarter of the year. SO contact: REV. DR. PETER JEFFERSON on his contact Direct email: cont.peterjeferrsonn@hotmail.com for immediate release of your contract/inheritance/Award Winning claim Be informed that you are not allowed to correspond with any person or office anymore, You are required to send bellow Information for your transfer:

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Best regards

SIR GEORGE GRAHAM.
DEBT RECONCILIATION DEPARTMENT.
UNITED NATION AND USA GOVERNMENT.

What a fucking game.

Go Pens.

This mix is sort of a series of bad jokes, starting with the title.* Pedagogy of The Oppressed is a book by Paulo Friere -- it is one of my absolute favorites. It's written to talk about justice and inequity within education and the role of the colonizer/colonized. It's written to, well, explain the pedagogy of the oppressed.

The reason why I called the mix that is two-fold: first, I'm feeling very emo lately, and it is a way to make fun of myself. Oh, boo hoo the rich white girl doesn't have any friends. We should treat her like the poor Brazillian farm-workers learning how to read. Second, the mix isn't entirely about me -- especially toward the end. There are several really good and highly recommended hip-hop songs about the state of the American public school system

The way the mix starts is also a way to jolt me out of my emo-- rockabilly, baby. I adore it. Not only does it always make me smile, it is also very difficult to be emo in a convincing way when listening to rockabilly or Alice Cooper covers.

From then on, admittedly, it gets a little emo. Not in style of music, just in mood.

But that's enough babble -- mix and tracklist after the cut.

*not to say the songs aren't good, I just have to explain the crazy.

( pedagogy of the oppressed: a graduation mix )

After emo-ing all over this pristine journal, me and my dad went and watched a few hours of metal videos on Headbanger's Ball. I don't even like metal.

I feel better.

I'm not really sure how to make this entry -- and my cheery Toad icon seems a little inappropriate, but I don't have any other ones yet, so.

Anyway.

Today was my senior graduation dinner. Because I go to a swank private school (this is not bragging, just a statement of fact) and have only a class of 130 students, "graduation week" is filled with all sorts of sentimental events, mostly aimed at convincing the parents that there exorbitant tuition was well-spent. The senior dinner was all of us with our families, dressed up nice, and we eat bad banquet food and listen to speeches and watch a slide show of pictures. It's all very weepy.

Normally not for me, though. I don't cry at shit like this, usually. Most of the times, I simply don't care about the rest of the class enough. I have a deadly combination of arrogance, shyness, and nerdiness that is pretty much devastating in a high school social context.

This time, I cried. During the slide show, actually -- which was longer than I expected. See, I had the naive thought that it was only going to be as long as one song, so when that one song ended and I hadn't seen my picture, I started to cry. It wouldn't surprise me if they had forgotten me. I thought I was not going to be in it -- and I realized, not for the first time, really, that I was totally inconsequential to my class.

Not for the school -- I'm sure teachers will remember me if only for my contrariness and my papers hilarious tendency to always be about sex -- but definitely, definitely for the class. There were only two pictures of me in the twenty minute slide show. One was alone and the other was in the debate room.

I was not in any of the pictures from prom. I didn't go. Instead, I went to a punk rock concert and slam-danced until I ripped my new jeans and got a black eye. There was nothing from field day either (don't ask) -- I was sleeping. I didn't go to Cabo for spring break (to get drunk); I went to visit my Aunt in England for my 18th (to get drunk -- legally). So there was no pictures of me in a swimsuit.

This is not really their fault -- sure, I hated most of them because they are vapid bitches, but I did fuck all for my part. I'm not even alienated in a socially acceptable way! I can't play guitar and I don't wear enough black or know enough people to be scene. I just sort of... exist. Exist far outside my high school's radar and it is my fault. There's a high school experience that I've read about, written about, witness -- that I didn't have. Will never have, because I'm graduating and it's over.

Other people were crying because they were going to miss everyone so much; I was crying because I hate these people and wish I didn't.

This is emo and incoherent, but fuck. If livejournal isn't the place for that, then where is?

I am so much in love with my layout.

I took that picture on a beach in Deal. The dog is named Archie. ♥

I don't usually listen to all that much electronic music. Normally I find it quite boring -- drum machine drum machine drum machine HIGH FEMALE VOICE drum machine drum machine drum machine. Even good electronic musics tends to bore me --

This, however, doesn't.

I've always liked Cabaret Voltaire, but normally I am more into their later, post-punk stuff. This is the first time I've really had a chance to have a good listen of their early, experimental stuff. And early it fucking is! I remember reading that electronica started in the 1990s... this, ladies and gents, was from 1978-1982! These guys were real innovators.

Yeah, but so was the early silent film and who watches that shit nowadays (besides me)? Why should you listen to this?

Because it is awesome. This is some of the most evocative music I've listened to in a long time -- it is bleak, verging on oppressive at points, with some of the stylings I associate with punk music. Guitar squeals, loud vocals, simple waves of sound. One of the highlights of the compilation for me is track four, Nag Nag Nag, which is in awesome song that combines experimental electronica goodness with post-punk.

Really, this music really reminds me of a truly fantastic film soundtrack. The songs are varied, moody, and emotional. They are songs with stories.

Recommended.

download

Made a mix!

energy + melody

1. Funk, by the Mighty Boosh.
2. None Shall Pass, by Aesop Rock
3. Rebel Girl, by Bikini Kill
4. Mass Destruction, by Faithless
5. Hang Me Up To Dry, by Cold War Kids
6. My Little Brother, Art Brut
7. Ever Fallen in Love?, by the Buzzcocks
8. Heat Dies Down, by the Kaiser Chiefs
9. Do Fries go with that Shake?, by George Clinton
10. The Family and the Fishing Net, by Primus
11. Narcissist, by the Libertines
12. G.I.N.A.S.F.S., by Fall Out Boy
13. Hey Mama, by Kanye West
14. Irresponsible Woman, by Mary Prankster
15. A Bit of Arson Never Hurt Anyone, by Matson Jones
16. I Want You To Stay, by Maximo Park
17. You Talk, by Babyshambles
18. Dollar Day (Surpise, Surpise), by Mos Def
19. Common People, by Pulp
20. Store Bought Bones, by the Raconteurs
21. St. Peter's Day Festival, by Ra Ra Riot
22. Have Mercy On Me, by the Black Keys

I went to see the Breeders last night and it was totally awesome.

I love the feel of concerts -- I like music too loud, and people too close, and the disgusting smell of people getting too hot too close to each other. This concert wasn't as much fun as others I've been too -- the crowd was mixed between indie and old people, so there was no mosh pit and people were a little restrained dancing.

I wasn't restrained.

Everyone else was nodding at the band as if they vaguely approved what was going on.I was shouting and dancing and throwing my hair around and having more fun than you can possibly imagine. I like dancing like a goofball -- it allows me to avoid any semblance of self-reflection. It's difficult to overthink when you can't hear yourself think and are banging your head around to the beat. There really isn't anything better than making a fool out of yourself in public, seriously -- I have so much fun being absurd. On a school night, even! It's more fun to be absurd in public on a school night. And there is a 2x multiplier on the fun when you have an AP that morning as well.

I was a bit wiped for the test this morning, but if I can't get a good grade on english lit half-dead I'm going to kill the other half.

I'm in Kentucky and my last debate tournament ever is due to start in a few days.

I'm freaking out.

That is all.