Nicolo at UBC (ASTU)

Dearest readers,

With April in our midst and the emergence of spring on our incredible campus, so dawns the first chapter of my journey here at the University of British Columbia. Looking back, I could not be more grateful to all of the friends I have made, faculty who have challenged us, and staff who played a pivotal role in making my first year experience so memorable. Let’s be clear, it was not a walk in the park: a lot of soul searching, regrets, long nights, doubts, planning for the future, and the whole nine yards. Engaging in the scholarly discourse of academia has been so eye-opening and I can only agree with Albert Einstein’s sentiment in saying, “The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know”. Being surrounded with brilliant minds and passionate global citizens on a daily basis has changed the way in which I see the world; iron truly sharpens iron. Nonetheless, here we are. We made it.

In exploring terms such as “technologies of memory” (Shahzad, 2011; Sturken, 1997), “interpretive communities” (Shahzad, 2011), “trauma transfer” (Butler, 2011), and “us vs. them” (Bush, 2011) to name a few, we have studied literary texts and scholarly articles from all over the world – hence global citizenship! This blog will look to incorporate many of the themes we have come across this year through the unique lens of racial profiling and mass incarceration in the United States; which also happens to be the topic of my sociology research paper. At its highest climax, the controversy and debate circulating around the practice of racial profiling in law enforcement has become a definitive issue in contemporary world politics.

As it pertains to interpretive communities – “the processes of remembering and learning appear to be distributed among the participants as active agents, technologies of memory and a collectivity of significant ‘others’” (Shahzad, 2011) – the ways in which we understand and formulate our stances on the current social phenomena of profiling and incarceration. Whether the community you engage in is directly linked with the Black Lives Matter movement or you are watching these events unfold from Paris, how much media and types of people you are exposed to with determine your various sets of perspectives. Further, technologies of memory – “media, textbooks, documents, the Internet, museums, monuments, or landscapes” (2011) – play a vital role in shaping the biases we hold and informing us of the events that have gone before us.

Another term we have explored in ASTU 100 is this notion of trauma transfer we have learned from Judith Butler (2011) through the lens of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and The Connection of Everyone with Lungs. Looking at narrative framing and the dangers of trauma transfer in our contemporary world is hazardously evident in discourse of #AllLivesMatter. The dangers of engaging in this dialogue play into agency, “slacktivism”, political correctness, and context. Many people do not realize that by saying “all lives matter”, they are engaging in a very long emotional situation that is personal to African-Americans, without any respect or empathy. In an attempt to transfer other peoples’ trauma into our individual agency, we may be harming those around us without even knowing it. Moreover, the rhetoric of us vs. them can be increasingly prominent in decontextualizing ourselves from the past and others.

In a world that is divided by religion, race, and politics, it can be so easy to look at our differences and segregate ourselves from the “others”. The way in which we see our lives as precarious and reliant on each other (Butler, 2009), it quite difficult to look at our world and be proud of what we have all participated in. Where cries of unity, inclusiveness, and solidarity are rising in opposition to fear and hate, there is somewhat of a vulnerability and trust that must acknowledged by us all. Whether this be in terms of racial profiling, mass incarceration, or even turning our attention to the recent attacks on Brussels, life is precious.

As global citizens and in lieu of these events, we all hold the keys to precipitate in change, but must acknowledge the vast contexts that pertain to each phenomena which we engage in.

Sincerely yours,

Nico Jimenez

Hello readers!

What a week this has been! With assignments, essays, and readings coming from left right and center, I have had to buckle-up and face each daunting task head on. However, it was not all doom and gloom. I had the amazing opportunity of participating in UBC’s inaugural Model Parliament over the weekend! Similar to the format of a Model United Nations, it was a chance to learn more about, in this case, the parliamentary system, put my knowledge to the test, and engage in dialogue with passionate and like-minded individuals around UBC. It was a great learning experience and an opportunity to garner connections with people beyond my years. I definitely recommend that you explore this event next year, I will definitely be back!

Now onto the bread and butter. Recently, my ASTU 100 class at the University of British Columbia began to unravel a short excerpt from Phil Klay’s book entitled Redeployment. As we discussed the various symbols and themes that are manifested in our reading, I was caught by the authenticity and realness that came from our protagonist, Sgt. Price. Having read a few articles and documentaries regarding the challenges veterans face coming home, it is no wonder why this is such a pressing issue, especially in the United States – pertaining to the Department of Veteran Affairs (VA), unemployment, suicide, PTSD, and the struggles readjusting back “home”.

The obstacles of engaging in a particular dialogue with a veteran or various gestures of “Thank you for your service” or “Tell me about the war” speaks to what we have learned in our Sociology 100 class. Not too long ago, we had a series of lectures regarding the history of Indigenous people in Canada and how we go about teaching students on these sensitive issues. A coined term that came out of these lectures was “Tokenism”, where we point and turn to a specific person in the room who resembles our topic of choice, using them as someone who is well versed on all of the issues, history, culture, and can speak on behalf of all peoples. By definition, we hold what hey say as the penultimate point of view. Further, the same can be done to veterans. With our best intentions to know more, we can dangerously put that individual on the spot and open up a life dislocated from stay-at-home lens. As we saw first hand from the life of Sgt. Price’s life as he was “redeployed” back home, his new norm and change in scenery was something in which he daily struggled living in.

Further speaking to The Hurt Locker, we have recently read The Hurt Locker by Brian Turner. War is not pretty. At all. It is not as easy as “history is written by the victors”. For some veterans, Turner’s words speak so crystal clear. “Nothing but hurt left here. Nothing but bullets of pain…Believe it or not when…Open the hurt locker”. In terms of the dynamic of dogs and reconciliation in Redeployment, I interpreted this paradigm parallel to Lady Macbeth, who tried her best to wash her hands and clear her conscious after her completed plots of killing. Washing her hands and putting out the stains that marred her life going forward. Similarly, Sgt. Price’s conscious was marred by the insurgent “dog” floating in waste. By way of reconciliation, I saw Vicar as a window to clear his conscious and lift a heavy burden from his shoulders. Moreover, I interpreted this moment as his breakthrough in which he would make a fine line to consider home with Cheryl or with his brotherhood. “I hated the past seven months and the only thing that kept me going was the Marines I served with and the thought of coming home, I started feeling like I wanted to go back. Because f*** all this” (Kley 11). Further, I am curious as to how you interpreted these narratives in Sgt. Price’s life? Did you associate Vicar and “dogs” with guilt, reconciliation, shame, or a positive act moving forward?

Cheers,

Nico

Hello readers! Err, perhaps more for fittingly, “beloveds” or “yous”.

This week, my ASTU 100 class at the University of British Columbia embarked on another journey: poetry! We moved from engaging in the powerful notion of 9/11 Exceptionalism portrayed in Foer’s Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close to an equal heavyweight in its own right, Juliana Spahr’s book of poems entitled This Connection of Everyone with Lungs. As we read and discussed this book in class there were several key themes that caught my attention and what I wish to expand on in this blog. These motifs include: lungs, skins, and beds.

Right from the get-go, we begin to feel a sense of togetherness, but also vulnerability. As each new line begins, another premise is added to what is already kept in tact. This collectiveness, “as everyone with lungs breathes the space between the hands and the space around the hands and the space of the room…in and out” (Spahr 8) and, “How connected we are with everyone” (9) reminds me of our good friend Judith Butler. By referring to the precariousness of life and our bodies as a social construct, whereby vulnerable to the interpretation of others (Butler 33), we see this echoed in Spahr’s writing. Because of our interdependence on one another, we are therefore vulnerable to the toxicity of others. As everyone with lungs breaths the spaces, we also susceptible to bacteria, negativity, sulfuric acid, and silicon particles. “How lovely and how doomed this connection of everyone with lungs” (Spahr 9-10).

Further, we see the popular theme of skins rise to the forefront pages later. Ultimately, I interpreted skins quite contrastingly. Personally, skin is what separates us from other bodies, but also unites us through touch. With the skin being the largest organ in the body, it not only keeps all of our organs inside of us, protects from outside substances, but also grants us special privileges. Fittingly, in our Sociology 100 class we have been discussing race, ethnic and ancestry. More recently, racism being linked to four key elements: racialization, prejudice, discrimination, and power. By analyzing “The Construction of Whiteness” and “The Privilege of Whiteness” in class, it opened new doors to interpretation. This topic is becoming ever more important with the heightened “New Jim Crow Laws” revolving the mass incarceration of African Americans and the problematic dangers of saying #AllLivesMatter. “I speak of the separations that define this world and the separations that define us…” (Spahr 19). However, as the next line in the poem writes, skin also intimately connects us together, “…even as we like to press our skins against one another in the night” (19). These intimate connections are what makes the skin such a gateway for creation and destruction.

Lastly, I want to look at beds, but more specifically, agency. Spahr’s lines on page 24, “As it happens every night, beloveds, while we turned in the night sleeping uneasily the world went on without us” and “beloveds, we do not know how to live our lives with any agency outside our bed” (26) are the lines that really stuck out to me. The notion of local-global is something we have touched on both in our Geography 122 and ASTU 100 classes. In particular, as Spahr speaks of all of the events and tragedies that occurred all over the world in a different time zone, she does so from Hawaii in her bed and with a laptop at hand – “while we turned sleeping…” (24). – this is one perspective of local-global. Interestingly, this is in contrast with Joe Sacco in Safe Area Gorazde, who fought to report the real truth. A widely contested debate has spurred between the effectiveness of real first-person journalism vs. the power of internet activism. This fight for real truth is what separates good reporters from great ones. On the other hand, however, I can see another argument placed for internet activism in that it raises awareness by the numbers. I want to turn it to “yous”, the reader. Do you see internet activism as an effective method to raise awareness, or does it harmfully dislocate our perspective from the real upfront truth?

Cheers,

Nico Jimenez

 

Upon completing my first midterm of 2016 on Tuesday this week, I was almost caught off guard by how quickly January has come to an end. There is no room to take your foot off the pedal and little margin for error now. It is time to buckle-up for a new term filled with challenges, but also plenty cheers.

This week, our ASTU 100 class has begun analyzing a short excerpt in a book entitled Frames of War: When is a Life Grievable? written by philosopher and literary theorist Judith Butler. As we started to unpack this heavyweight together, central themes and arguments Butler poses throughout her first chapter were brought to light. Various topics that were raised consisted of the frames in which we value mortality, “cosmopolitan memory,” “trauma transfer,” and the role of a global citizen. However, what really stood out to me as something that incorporates all of the those mentioned above and what I wish to expand on, is this perceived notion that, “the body is a social phenomenon: it is exposed to others, vulnerable by definition” (33).

Frames in which we interpret the value of life are fluidly changing and the vast array of opinions held are subjective to factors such as time, place, context, and the popular media. We need to understand that our stance is not formulated on our own, – interpretation is not found in a vacuum –  but is consequently reliant on others around us to form a social construct (34). What fascinates me is in the greater question of what makes a life vulnerable? For example, who is like me and who am I responsible for (36)? Are we revisiting the popular the rhetoric of “us” against “them” or “you are either with us or with the terrorists” from 2001?

Referring back to exceptionalism and the precariousness of life, there seems to be a large inconsistency in the lives we choose to mourn for. At times, we have almost become unaware of tragedies occurring halfway across the globe, but also in our backyard! Just one horrific example of the millions of tragedies that have occurred in our world: Where was the news coverage for the massacre that left 2,000 civilians dead in Baga, Nigeria during the Charlie Hebdo terror attacks? How many of us actually knew about this event on the news? I surely did not. It seems as if the world did not even bat an eye. What about the innocent civilians being caught in the increased bombings on ISIS occupied cities? You do not refer to the Mumbai attacks mentioned in Priya’s blog as 26/11. On a continental level, have we become numb and accepting to the mass shootings that occur in the United States in particular, every single day. Who chooses what events get air time on the media? Do we speak of the inevitability when we read news articles entitled “Two shootings in Abotsford overnight”? The title When is a life Grievable speaks for itself.

I certainly do not have all the answers and I know it would be nearly impossible for every event to be acknowledged or receive equal air time, but while writing this blog, it certainly made me think critically on what exactly we can do moving forward. As a society, we must be careful not dislocate our perspective from the context of tragedies in general. We must value life.

This is how we move forward as a society.

Cheers,

Nico Jimenez

Hello ASTU 100!

Long time no see! I hope you all had a great Christmas break filled with some much needed quality time around family and friends, plenty of sleep, moments to reflect on our first term of university, and set new goals for the upcoming year.

However, as we took a pause from the hustle and bustle here at UBC, news from all over the world did not cease to appear on our media news feeds. Events such as the ongoing refugee crisis, terror attacks across the globe, Middle East relations, elections, and foreign policy decisions have stayed atop the sphere of popular media. With the notions of fear, trauma, security, xenophobia, and Islamophobia at its peak, I could not think of a better way to start off our second term in ASTU by reading Jonathan Safran Foer’s novel entitled Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

With the ideas of 9/11 and American Exceptionalism brought to light in Foer’s novel, many bloggers challenged the exclusive narratives of trauma in 9/11, as well as the popular rhetoric which followed “the worst day ever”.

Questioning the uniqueness of the attacks on 9/11, Mariana is met with skepticism as she writes, “are the attacks of 9/11 actually exceptional? Terrorist attacks were happening and continue to happen now. People experience trauma all over the world.” Instead, she argues that, “events like these are not supposed to set borders between people…they can unite people and make them understand each other more.” What makes trauma a widely debated topic is in part due to its universality; everyone has been affected either directly or indirectly in some way, shape or form by a particular event. This segways us into Imaan’s blog. Here, she writes about her cousin Salima who was en route to the World Trade Center subway stop when the attacks occurred. “With the numerous painful memories that were caused from this day, everyone has their own story to tell…She told me it [was] the most chaotic and stressful situation she had ever been in. Moreover, the novel does an upright evaluation on the true emotions that are conveyed [on] 9/11.” Having my mom fly to New York on a very frequent basis, I have experienced and been told first-hand the direct changes in airport security, but also on the streets of Manhattan with new terror protocol, cameras on every block, and an increased police presence.

As we have discussed extensively in class, the role of ownership and agency of trauma through various contexts is a widely conversed topic. This brings me to Priya’s blog, as she brings her another unique story of trauma to the table. “[This novel] took me back to the national trauma that I encountered as a citizen of India during the 26/11 Mumbai attacks…something that I witnessed not only on the television screen but from [a] few of my acquaintances who actually lost their loved ones in the attacks.”

Reverting back to 9/11 Exceptionalism, in my opinion the mere reason we have coined the attacks on the World Trade Centre that occurred on September 11, 2001 as “9/11” hints us towards a unique event in time, but also a new post-9/11 era, if you will. You never hear the attacks in Mumbai referred to as “26/11” or the recent Paris attacks as XY and Z. How are events in the novel such as the fire bombings in Dresden, Hiroshima, and the Holocaust set apart from “the worst day ever”? These questions I will hope to delve further in on a another blog post. This post-9/11 era we live in comes with rash emotions, stereotypes, phobias, and irrational fear that are still embodied to this day.

In Foer’s use of Oskar as a metaphor for America post-9/11, Tzur furthers this claim in saying, “For Oskar the attack marks the worst day ever, his entire life is turned upside down and after the attacks Oskar exhibits some very odd feelings…[he] is scared of Muslims and people in turbens, suddenly elevators become places of fear.” Kaveel too expresses similar feelings during his youth where he admits, “I also recall experiencing anxiety when I saw a traditional Arab costume because being the young oblivious child I was, I associated it with terrorism.” A similar dialogue is expressed as Sania writes about a Yik Yak post she read regarding Islamophobia, in which the author wrote, “Canada was founded by Europeans and it should primarily belong to Europeans. Backwards desert religions have no place here.” This type of dialogue has seen a great resurgence as of late in both the private and public sectors. Even Republicans and Democrats are struggling to draw a finite line between freedom, security, racist, and extremist views.

As Oskar famously put it, “There was a lot of stuff that made me panicky, like…Arab people on the subway (even though I’m not racist)” (36).

The need for contextualization is pursued in Jacqueline’s blog where she expresses that, “on the other hand, stories of tragedy like terrorist attacks carry inherently political implications that must be contextualized in order to make broader policy decisions…when American’s were most fragile they were fed lies about how Arabs hate freedom and all things American like hot dogs and Fords.” Whether Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close promotes 9/11 Exceptionalism, I too, am torn between personal trauma and 9/11, moreover, perhaps they are not mutual exclusive? Further, Jacqueline concludes, “9/11 exceptionalism is dangerous in that it creates a culture that ignores the causes of attacks and creates a culture that is incapable of mourning without hatred and ignorance. When people are able to empathize with loss while gaining insight into the larger context in which the tragedy exists then they’re better equipped to exist in a post 9/11 or post trauma world.”

Just as I was about to submit this post the the class blog, the recent incident regarding speculations of the 3 Middle Eastern looking men who were conducting “suspicious activity” inside Pacific Centre Mall on the 14th of January. Personally, I feel as if this is a direct ripple effect of living in a post-9/11 world, especially as tensions begin to rise by the day. It seems as if more people nowadays carry their own “terrorist checklist” stored in their brain. When it comes to race, skin colour, sex, and religion, we are so quick to pull out our “checklist”, slab stereotypes and racist generalizations that divide us, rather than come together in reconciliation. Although I can completely understand police rationale behind VPD precautions, would we even be having this conversation if those 3 men were Caucasian? Perhaps, we will never know…

My dearest apologies for the duration of this blog, but this post and topic truly spoke to me on a personal level, all the more having my mom travel to New York on a frequent monthly basis and seeing a 9/11 world unravel in front of our eyes. Once again, I had such a blast reading all of your blogs and do regret not being able to mention many of them. However, do keep an eye out in the “comment sections”  where I will further continue this dialogue!

Kind regards,

Nico Jimenez

Here are a couple links to news articles regarding the incident at Pacific Centre Mall:  http://www.vancitybuzz.com/2016/01/vancouver-police-search-middle-eastern-men-pacific-centre-mall/ and http://bc.ctvnews.ca/suspicious-men-at-vancouver-mall-completely-innocent-vpd-1.2738807

Hello readers!

I hope you are all well and enjoying the final moments of November. With December slowly creeping up on us, we must embrace the closing of term one in our first year at The University of British Columbia; this means more of the usual: final exams and papers!

Further, our ASTU class has been busy reading a heavyweight novel in Obasan by Joy Kogawa. Last week, we took a trip to Irving K. Barber Learning Center, where we visited the Rare Books and Special Collections to look at the Kogawa Fond. What made this field trip so unique was the mere fact that she donated a great amount of Obasan solely to UBC: drafts, rejection letters, reviews, letters from readers, newspaper articles, and so much more. During my time there, I was able to analyze and examine multiple letters, drafts, scribbles, newspapers, and reviews, some of which I have attached. In extending the scholarly conversation, this blog post will revolve around the impact Kogawa’s book as a technology of memory has had both on a personal and national level.

Since first published in 1981, Obasan has captured the hearts of people far and wide. As “the first novel in North America to tackle the subject of Japanese-Canadian internment directly” (Toten ix), this novel has been a prominent pioneer in exposing Canada’s darkest moments, but also a central figure in healing broken bridges.

As a major player in Canadian history, the political significance reaches insofar as catching the eyes of the press, Mulroney’s promise of reparation in 1984, to playing a role in the 1988 Redress Settlement Agreement. As a sharp voice in contrast to the silence expressed in the novel – “there is a silence that cannot speak. There is a silence that will not speak” (ix) – Obasan has been recognized and won great prestigious awards such as: 1981 Books in Canada First Novel Award, the Canadian Author’s Association 1982 Book of the Year Award, and reprinted in paperback by Penguin Books in 1983. From newspaper headlines entitled “A Japanese-Canadian’s emotional, haunting novel of life in a detention camp” and “Wartime persecution recalled in poignant novel”, these speak great volumes the furthering narrative of Obasan as a technology of memory; although this novel was published in 1981, it continues to impact people to present day.

On a personal level and having the honor of growing up in British Columbia, I am in accord with Teresa Toten, who has the role of introducing Obasan, says:

Not in Canada. No way. It could not have happened here.

Who would have guessed. Through the negation of memory and forgetting from the perspective of Obasan and the Japanese internment, a multicultural Canada has definitely done a job in suppressing the truths behind its dark side. A part of me understands the process of holding a particular image to the world, but I think there should be a certain extend of remembering. As seen in this organized, strategic forgetting, novels like Obasan provide striking questions as to why our government chooses to shy away from the Japanese internment, but highlight the Chinese head tax and Residential Schools. Personally, if it was not for reading Kogawa’s book, many Canadian’s including myself would not have been provided insight into an event that happened right in my backyard! I believe it is absolutely vital that transparency is a central figure, but to what extent must we forgive and forget is another question. On a national and personal level, we need to take time to remember all of the hardships and pains people living in Canada have gone through to end up so multicultural; we definitely did not get to the point we are now without the cries of thousands of Canadians and learning from our mistakes.

Why has the school education system shied away from a particular moment in their history? Does the government holding certain parts of its history benefit the greater good or is it important to be transparent of all?

This discussion is Obasan working as a dynamic technology of memory.

Cheers,

Nico Jimenez

Hello readers!

My apologies for the absence! Midterm season has slowly come to a halt and oh, we have been busy with multiple papers and exams. In our ASTU class here at the University of British Columbia, we have been chipping away at literature reviews, furthering our knowledge of scholarly style, reading Safe Area Gorazde by Joe Sacco, and Obasan by Joy Kogawa!

However, today I will be analyzing the roles of religion and counterculture as progressive narratives in the life of Marji, the protagonist in the graphic memoir Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi. I will also be drawing points from my fellow classmate Kristen Lew’s blog post entitled “Persepolis and Cultural Imperialism”.

Persepolis is set in the middle of growing tensions in Iran, a devastating war, and Islamic Revolution. We see these events through the lens of an innocent child, Marji, who tries to make sense of the world around her.

What fascinates me most about this graphic memoir is the shift in roles religion plays in the life of Marji, where she adopts an almost westernized countercultural taste towards the latter half of the book after the Revolution. This “cultural imperialism” – the imposition of one dominant culture on other cultures (Guppy and Ritzer 136) – is in part yielded by the phenomenon of globalization.

Right from the get-go, we see religion imposed on Marji, who in part sees the veil as something she must embrace having been “born with religion” (Satrapi 9). This notion of being born with religion is what fuels young Marji to think she is in fact the last prophet; having her private conversations with god, speaking out for the weary and injustice, even going so far in having her own holy book (9). All of this, however, changes as the Islamic Revolution heightens.

Where once our protagonist walked so close with god, as Marji grows up, religious tradition becomes more of a grudging duty and is questioned all the more as blood is shed in the name of religion. As religion heightens in the world around Marji, she in turn does a full 180, reverting to and adopting westernized culture. The chapter entitled “The Cigarette” seems to be the biggest turning point in the narrative in my opinion, where she becomes fed-up of being coerced by the religious regime, “with this first cigarette, I kissed my childhood goodbye” (117).

Kristen Lew writes in her blog:

The dominance of Western culture over Marji’s native Iranian culture is clear in her choice of idols  as she enters her pre-teen years: Kim Wilde, Michael Jackson and Iron Maiden top the lists. She rebels by showcasing Nike shoes and a jean jacket — elements of Western material culture. She rejects many material aspects of the Iranian culture —wearing the veil and following [Islamic] practices.

Through the seems of a strict Islamic culture set up by the regime, Marji is still able to adopt this counterculture notion, embracing westernized ideals.

The story of Persepolis and the author, Marjane Satrapi speaks volumes to the power religion plays in the lives of people every day, but also this ethnocentric view that the western culture is superior above the rest – that if you do not dress a certain way, talk in a certain manner, posses a certain trend, you are not living the “right way”.

A personal anecdote in my life where I saw and experienced this “cultural imperialism” first-hand was in the Spring of 2013, when I went to the Philippines on a missions trip with 18 other young adults from my Church for two weeks. As we walked through the streets of Manila, what struck me the most was the amount of western culture was present half way across the world. From the advertisements and huge billboards, the way people dressed, and the amount of attention we gathered (not necessarily me because I am Asian ha ha, but my Caucasian peers) in which we felt like superstars from this ‘grandiose land of dreams’ called Canada.

This sparks questions which still trouble me to this day: who decides the dominant culture? Why is western culture what people often strive to obtain? What are the troubles of adopting various cultures from around the world and implementing them to your every day life? What if the so-called ideal western culture is not suited for where you live, in fact hurting others around you?

Cheers,

Nico Jimenez

 

Hello ASTU 100!

With the first two and a half months of university under our belts, I can’t help but push pause and wonder where all the time has gone! At just around this same time last year, I remember the long and grueling process of browsing through several universities here in Canada and the United States, completing application form after application form, writing thought-provoking thesis statements, and on top of that, engaging in graduation festivities. It is safe to say that our dreams have come true, we’ve made it – and this is only the beginning. I would like to begin this class blog by saying that it has been such an honor getting to know many of you and look forward to what is to come.

Now, enough with the warm and fuzzies. On a more serious note, this week’s blogs were extremely intriguing and definitely required a lot of critical thinking. It was great to read about what you had to say on various perspectives and themes encompassed throughout our ASTU class!

With our class discussions in previous weeks analyzing Marjane Satrapi’s clever use of style and representation of trauma in her graphic narrative and with Hilary Chute’s article to add an extra perspective, it seemed apt that it was a popular topic amongst blogs. With Diego building upon Scott Cloud’s coined “amplification through simplification,” he argues that there is this beautiful simplicity in the monochrome minimalist technique, especially in relation to emphasizing trauma. To go even further into Diego’s argument, Mariana adds another brilliant quote to the table, this time from John Maeda who says: “Simplicity is about subtracting the obvious and adding the meaningful”. When looking at Persepolis, Mariana brings a great thought and truth we have never really discussed by pointing out, “Persepolis is a unique and authentic piece of art. As the majority of people tend to judge a book by its cover, it is essential to tell that the cover of Persepolis [:] The Story of a Childhood is the most colorful part of the book. The bright red background attracts a reader and scares them at the same time. The aggressiveness it holds serves as a pre-introductory to the story. The events described in the book are serious and traumatic.” When looking at trauma from an up close and personal point of view, we must refer to Peijia’sblog, in which she recounts and draws from past experiences a time in her life where she was able to witness deaths of several animals at a young age. “I remember thinking that [the] whole thing was very disgusting, and how said it must have been for the animal to die…Looking back now, if I were to draw what I saw as a 6/7 year old, my visual representation would not be more than a scraggly shape of a chicken with X-crossed eyes and a spew of spiky blood coming from its neck…it was hard for me to even imagine drawing realistically because it was an act you do not particularly want to remember”. This childish innocence combined with naiveness through the stylistic representation of monochromatic trauma is what makes Persepolis so unique itself. From what we know and have analyzed so far, we know that Satrapi’s graphic narrative does a great amount of justice through her abstract illustrations of trauma, but this also raises the question: Does the power of written text hold the same water?

Through the process of studying and linking works from various outlets of art, including literature, Kihan finds parallels to Persepolis via comparison and contrast to Canadian author Anne Michels’ 1996 award-winning novel Fugitive Pieces around the recurring theme of unspeakableness of past trauma! Kihan stresses that, “despite the fact that the highly visual, graphic narrative form of Persepolis and the highly dense poetic/prose form of Fugitive Pieces are on opposite ends of the form spectrum, the works remain comparable in many ways…while Satrapi reclaims abstract illustration to represent trauma, Michaels reclaims the power of the written word to do so…through the structure, syntax and diction of Fugitive Pieces itself…Michaels’ use of language in Fugitive Pieces serves to invert the legitimacy of the popular sentiment that ‘there are no words’ to describe the absurdity and horror of the Holocaust”. To answer and address the previous question posed above, I would concur in saying that the depiction of trauma through specific mediums can be justly accepted through visual and verbal representations. It is up to the author to manipulate and take it upon themselves to portray trauma, but most take into account the power in which trauma can alter the audience’s perspective. This style in which Satrapi in particular chooses to connect with his/her audience in terms of Persepolis is one that has a big play in part to relatability of a childhood.

Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood is a graphic narrative about the daily life of growing up and finding yourself in a world full of contradictions. “We all had a childhood,” Kristen writes. What makes Persepolis so relatable, regardless of culture, race, location, or gender is childhood. Because “childhood” and all that encompasses these broad years may look completely different from person to person, it makes our story all the more authentic and unique! Our story is what sets us apart and makes us stand out, yet, it can strikingly bring communities together. Though no childhood is completely identical, we can still draw multiple parallels in culture in society that overlap our own. Kristen further reasons, “While we all have different experiences and cultures, we all had a childhood, we all grew up and navigating the complexities of life. More specifically, the commonness between all children, every childhood, gives Persepolis to act as a memoir, a tender reflection of childhood and allow each and every reader to connect to Marji in a very personal way.” With the notion of a “dominant culture” of that pertaining to western society, it seems as if this Americanization of western ideologies have unconsciously seeped through the walls of a very traditional Iranian culture through the advancement of globalization and cultural imperialism (Guppy and Ritzer 136), and have entered Marji’s own little world! I can very much relate to what Kristen suggests in her blog post and it makes me all the more aware of the similarities Marji and I have in common: the ongoing pursuit of finding yourself in the ever-changing cultural and societal norms that change in the blink of an eye.

Once again, I had such a blast reading all of your blogs and do regret not being able to mention many of them – please excuse the long post as it is. However, do keep an eye out in the “comment sections” of your blogs where I will further continue this dialogue!

Have a great week and see you all in the hours to come!

Nico Jimenez

Hello readers!

In the first few weeks of my ASTU 100A class taught by Dr. Luger at The University of British Columbia, we have been examining an article written by an educational scholar by the name of Farhat Shahzad. Her paper, entitled, “The Role of Interpretative Communities in Remembering and Learning”, stresses the importance of recognizing her coined term, “Interpretative Communities”, and, “[how] these communities play an influential role in the consumption and negotiation of knowledge inside and outside the classrooms” (301). Through her own conducted research, Shahzad associates interpretative communities and technologies of memory with our parents, relatives, teachers, peers, newspapers, and the media.

As we formulated a discussion in class around various technologies of memory and forms of interpretative communities outside of the article, what really resonated with me was the example of Instagram as the technology or medium in which we use to connect with our interpretative communities! In truth, it never appeared to me that Instagram was so much more than merely a space where we choose to post and view events that occur in our daily lives. There is something greater happening than meets the eye.

With more than “200 million strong… 20 billion photos shared on Instagram to date… documenting a passion for jazz to the protests in Kiev”, according to http://blog.instagram.com/post/80721172292/200m, it seems to me that there is no question as to why people are so drawn to this idea of photographs and videos. Art encompasses a wide array of facets and are incredibly easy to relate to, which include: paintings, drawings, design, performance art, videography, and photography.

“Use a picture. It’s worth a thousand words” – Arthur Brisbane 1911. I am convinced that photographs have the power to change lives like no other platform can. The images from this article published by The Telegraph are absolutely breathtaking and truly stand the test of time. What makes this passion so unique are that pictures speak for themselves, yet can be interpreted hundreds of different ways. The ability to freeze time and hold the moments. Today, we are able to capture, edit, and share our own personal visuals of life, all at the palm of your hand.

Personally, Instagram has become a vital interpretative community in my life where I can connect with creatives all over the world. These communities (below are a few links where I tend to affiliate myself with) are where am able to inspire and be inspired, collaborate with people, organize get-togethers, and critique one another. Platforms such as Instagram uncover hidden talents and passions one would have never thought correlated with them. In my case, themes such as adventure, street, minimalist, and fashion photography only began to emerge from the Instagram community. The fact that we are literally one swipe away from communicating and engaging in dialogue with someone from the palm of our hands possess power, yet an enormous responsibility in where we choose to wield it. With our iPhones becoming “man’s best friend”, there is no question as to why some people label us as the Swipe Generation or Generation i according to an open forum from the Pew Research Center in 2014. This brings us to the incredible phenomena of globalization and how this is linked to interpretative communities.

According to our sociology textbook, globalization is, “defined by increasingly fluid global flows and the structures that expedite and impede those flows” (Guppy and Ritzer 2014). By this definition, it is safe to say that that Shahzad’s term, “interpretative communities” and “globalization” work hand in hand, for better or worse. We are now more linked and have access to information, ideas, and people like never before, and as our definition of globalization changes along with the world, so will the impact of interpretative communities in shaping who we are!

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog and I hope to see you again next week!

Cheers,

Nico Jimenez https://instagram.com/nicolojimenez

Examples of interpretative communities where I often reach out are: https://instagram.com/socality, https://instagram.com/thatpnwlife/, https://instagram.com/the_moon_walkers/, and https://instagram.com/humansofny.

Hello readers!

Today, I will be examining the Syrian Refugee Crisis and in doing so, use our knowledge from various fields of academia in applying them to every day phenomena.

Imagine having to run away from all you have ever known. Fleeing from the very country you call “home”. Striding into the fog of war with only the clothes on your back to your name, glancing back at the horizon with the uncertainty of ever returning again.

Although this depiction of imagery may seem as if it came straight from a Hollywood Blockbuster Film, the sad truth is that thousands upon thousands of Syrian Refugees go through this nightmare every single day. As you find yourself reading this blog and more about the Syrian Refugee Crisis, you may respond in various different forms. First, you may be feeling unmoved or even helpless, on the other hand, begin the process of critical thinking, or take it a step further, in which I felt compelled as a Global Citizen participate in change one way or another.

In truth, the problem may be bigger than at first glance and evermore so daunting when statistics begin to pile together. In an excerpt from mercycorps.org, they describe the current civil war as, “the worst humanitarian disaster of our time. The number of innocent civilians suffering — more than 11 million people are displaced, thus far — and the increasingly dire impact on neighboring countries can seem too overwhelming to understand.”

What I love so much about about the Coordinated Arts Program, and in particular the Global Citizens stream offered at The University of British Columbia, is that all of our courses are so relevant and work hand in hand with each other. We can spur ideas and ask critical questions from various perspectives such as an English and cultural studies viewpoint, a sociological imagination, or even from what Dr. Erickson described the political science aspect as, “the car crash moment of sociology, literature and cultural studies, history, and economics”.

During our political science discussion earlier today, a student named Kendall chose to talk about the Syrian Refugee Crisis as her current events topic. The questions raised and discussion she formulated really got my gears turning. With our first week of university behind our belts, I quickly began to draw various perspectives and viewpoints I had learned from our ASTU 100, Sociology 100, and Psychology 102 classes! The line that really struck out to me from Kendal’s brilliant discussion is as follows: Well, whose responsibility is it to take in these refugees?

From learning the Bystander Effect (Latanè and Darley 1964) and how it was in correlation with the murder of Kitty Genovese from the previous week in Psychology 102, I was able to apply the same principles to the question posed. These questions quickly began to arise in my head: when calamities strike on an enormous scale and we feel as if our grip on the world is slowly drifting away, it is our first instinct to look at the United States of America for help? Whereas in reality, is it really their responsibility to be the first to dive-in headfirst?

The essence of the Bystander Effect is when there is a situation that involves a victim, and several people are there to witness the tragedy, responsibility is automatically distributed among civilians, resulting in the victim receiving no aid. In the same way, when the victim happens to be Syria, nations like Hungary or Qatar look to the United States to be the first to aid. We automatically assume that someone will fix the problem for us, when we know very well that that “someone” is ourselves!

In the attached video and article from CNN posted on September 10, 2015, they highlight the statistical figures in which countries are willing to accept new refugees. The figures that stood out the most to me were the statistics that included some of the rather wealthy Gulf countries such as Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain, and Saudi Arabia! These 4 countries combined have a whopping refugee tally of 0.

Personally, I truly believe that to a certain extent, countries who are more economically and politically stable should rise up behind the rallying cry of thousands of refugees every day. In truth, the refugees themselves want to end up in a country that will be able to support them as much as possible and to the best degree such as Germany or France. If hindsight were 20/20, it does make sense that if you are a country in which we gave the example of Romania in our political science discussion, and asked why they are not taking in more refugees, there are a lot of ways we can approach this scenario. For one and arguably one of the most obvious, refugees do not want to end up in Romania. Because of Romania’s current situation politically for instance, it would make sense why it does not appeal to many refugees in comparison to Germany.

I do not think it is appropriate at all for one country to be spearheading the Syrian Refugee Crisis or for countries who are more stable financially and politically to stand back and remain lukewarm! I take it my responsibility to advocate for more countries to rally as a whole and tackle this phenomenon in unity because we are stronger together. We cannot afford to have another “Kitty Genovese” tragedy in which civilians or nations cry out for help and no one comes to her aid when she needed it the most.

This is truly the beauty of academic learning in which we not only read about concepts, but are also able to apply them to ever day circumstances!

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog and I hope to see you again next week!

Cheers,

Nico Jimenez