Blog

From our readings and discussions, it seems as if many people are scholars first and public scholars second. I mean this in terms of career trajectory, not in terms of importance. Many people became scholars and then later become publicly engaged with their scholarship. I have been fortunate enough to have a series of mentors that have instilled in me a value of public scholarship before I became a scholar myself.

Why am I here?
This to me was a very broad question. ‘Here’ could start from a very philosophical point of view of being the world or the universe itself. At this level I am at the level of humanity, we can all ask the same question. The following few interpretations of the word ‘here’ stems from my intersectional identity as an immigrant, dance practitioner who is a PhD candidate in Performance Studies and now a Mellon public scholar.

The prompt for this week’s blog and readings have compelled me to do some reflecting on my trajectory and everything that I have done to get to this point.

I’m from an academic family. I know how to handle academics, talk to them, and understand what they’re saying, most of the time. But I have to admit, since starting to take graduate-level humanities courses, a lot of language has felt needlessly opaque, like an insider’s club of alienating discourses. Especially at a time when programs are under fire, I think this contributes to the harmful notion that the humanities are significant only within the confines of the university. 

Four simple words that form such a difficult and profound question. As I finish my second year of graduate school, the question of why am I here and why I choose to remain here have slowly begun to haunt me. Coursework is finishing and I’ll slowly start entering a more open stage of my graduate career. In applying for fellowships during Fall quarter, I looked over my graduate school application materials.

This week we were asked to write about why we are here–and for me, the answer is simple. I think that knowledge production–scholarship–does not (and should not be thought of) as happening within the confines of the academy. Limiting access to scholarship, and limiting what constitutes scholarship, is harmful, particularly in the United States today. While funding is cut for education, and a dislike for the so-called “educated elite” increases, I believe it is my job–our job–as scholars to make ourselves open and relevant to the public.

Today’s topic asks the question: Why am I here?  The simple (or not so simple) answer to that question is that I am here to try something new.  Over the course of this past year (and a reminder, I am a first year student in Sociology), I’ve found myself in a bit of a quandary.  Foremost in my mind is to figure out what kind of scholar I want to be.  While I do believe that I’ve found a home in my department, it becomes clearer to me every day that “sociology” is exactly as broad as it sounds.

“We define activist scholarship as the production of knowledge and pedagogical practices through the active engagements with the service of progressive social movements”

Because of its “outward-facing” approach, I think that public scholarship makes you a better teacher. Its emphasis on building community and exchanging ideas aligns with the classroom environment I want to build with my students and will help me cultivate a greater awareness of the issues they may be facing outside of it. The prospect of involving work in the community or encouraging my students to take action inspired by the coursework in our class, mentioned in several of our articles, also seems really inspiring.

I came into public scholarship long before my formal education began. I am a member of the Hoopa Valley Tribe in northwestern California and our community based education begins early in life. We sing to each other, dance, and grow up knowing our histories and stories before we step foot inside of a classroom. Growing up, I noticed that the stories I heard day to day in my household, about our culture, people, and contribution to the world around us, were never told accurately or fairly in academic settings: American Indians were relegated to the past.