Blog 4 — 21 Feb 2020

Last week’s readings were particularly engaging, yet I found myself laughing at MacKinnon’s sassy reflection on the history of sexuality. Although I was thoroughly entertained by her presentation of ideas, I was also struck by the simple truths she highlighted. She points out clear flaws in the previous direction of the history of sexuality, primarily by acknowledging silenced voices. Although she makes a strong argument for the silenced voices of sexually abused women and children throughout history, I felt that argument fell short as a criticism of the subject, since a similar argument could be applied to all sorts of history. Those who were socially inferior did not have their history documented. They were not deemed important enough to be represented in narratives of those in power, and they were unable to document their history themselves, since many were illiterate. Since Western society values well-documented anecdotes and evidence through tangible scripts and artifacts, the stories of those unable to own possessions for themselves and incapable of personally documenting their stories in a “credible” way are lost. In one of my other classes, we discussed the impact of this in African history, as a result of the slave trade. We have few documents that express the experience of the slave from the slave’s perspective, and our history textbooks are left to guess their personal experiences from the documentation of the slave owners. However, African people came from a culture that valued oral history, and their experiences are passed on through the form of Sorrow Songs (as W.E.B. Du Bois coined the term), songs generated on plantations reflecting the slaves’ inconceivable and unbearable suffering, and stories shared by word of mouth passed from generation to generation. We can agree and understand that these oral histories may not be specifically accurate to any historical event, but instead, the evolution that occurs through the myriad of additions added by each singer or storyteller ends up encapsulating an entire generation of colored peoples experiences, potentially more accurately than any singular narrative ever could. As a result, the “I” of the songs and characters of the stories become symbols that accurately and emotionally translate the experience of the slave. Although this may not appear in the history books, when we hear these songs and stories we are moved with a power that is beyond a “credible,” evidenced textbook history. If we look closely, we find that the silenced people throughout history have found ways to speak, yet in the Western World, we still choose to ignore their voices. Since their history does not model the form of our own, we refuse to acknowledge its validity.

We intentionally disregard the slave narratives since they are not in any way objective or tied to a specific historical event. They are too subjective. We view history as an objective truth, despite all the evidence indicating otherwise. This brings me to the second topic I wanted to explore. Subjectivity. A large portion of our discussion revolved around subjectivity and objectivity in different forms of writing, and its strengths and weaknesses. Personally, I think each have their place. While subjectivity is valuable for many reasons, it both benefits from and is hindered by its call to emotion. By speaking in the first person, the audience is required to face that it is a person communicating, and it may incite (warranted) doubt at the information presented, as well as encourage a potentially less-welcome emotional response. As a result, sometimes it can be clearer to attempt to explain something as objectively as possible. However, I do not believe that any text should be purely objective, since the “god-trick” then encourages those to forget the biases of the person that come behind the message and, similar to theatrics, suspend our disbelief for the extent of the paper (and then later forget the disbelief completely). This trend of academia to present ideas objectively despite the obvious biases of the researcher behind the document encourages me to look to my own history. Growing up in Virginia, I always find idiosyncrasies that contrast with the mindset of the west coast. Mostly they’re amusing, but sometimes they can be quite alarming. For example, we were taught that Robert E. Lee, the general of the South during the civil war, was good, since he did not actually believe in slavery. He just fought for the South since his family was from Virginia. That is really fucked up. There is no excuse to justify that decision. Thinking about that now as an adult, it is honestly scary to consider the subliminal messages passed on to me through the perspectives presented to me as a child. What am I insensitive towards? What beliefs have I not yet been forced to question but I carry with me despite their insensitivity? In what ways am I problematic? Being raised by my father as very masculine and being taught by primarily white men in high school, do I carry sexist notions? Do I present them unintentionally through minute thoughts and actions? Honestly? Probably. And that’s terrifying. But what would be worse would be to present my biased, problematic point of view as fact. And that is why I value subjectivity so highly. Confronting the context in which ideas occur is key to understanding their value and limitations. In high school we had to analyze historical documents for their origin, purpose, value, and limitations, and I think that if I carry that analysis with me forward, in both how I present my own ideas and interpret others, I will be better for it. Hopefully as we move forward, academia will move away from the “god-trick” presentation, and instead encourage insightful introspection through subjective writing. I also hope academia encourages students to look for these existing biases, even in subjects like the sciences that claim objective fact.