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About Ramblings of a Hopeless Khowaga

Welcome to my Web site. My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host. I\'m an opinionated, snarky, gay academic with a predilection for the history, the Arab world, languages, photography, food, and music. I live in Austin, Texas. You can read more about me, learn 100 random things about me, and if you’re wondering what the heck a khowaga is, click here. Feel free to browse, read, and leave comments!

Tag: ‘power’



Summer Prep

Thursday, May 7th, 2009

I’ve been in denial for the past couple of weeks about the fact that we’re entering the hot season (we really only have two seasons here: hot and Hell).  Last weekend, however, I had to break down and ask Ray if we could turn on the air conditioning.  It’s really not that hot, but it’s been really rainy and the humidity is horrific.

I’m working on a presentation that I have to give next month, and, thanks to the advent of the InterWebz I can download PDF versions of articles from academic journals without leaving my office.  However, it became clear that there was a really useful book that lives only on the shelves of the HT section on the fourth floor of the Perry-Castañeda Library (how antiquated!).

And so, I had to revisit my summer preparation for crossing campus without acquiring massive sweat stains on my clothes.  It goes something like this:

1. Take the elevator down to the 1st floor and leave my building via the service entrance door in the back.

2. Depending on the level of heat and/or humidity, I can either cross the street and enter the rear of Parlin Hall or I can walk up the hill.  The stairs are on the outside of Parlin, so there’s not a huge advantage except that there’s air conditioning at the top of the incline.

3. Cross the South Mall and enter Batts Hall.  Batts Hall connects to Mezes Hall which connects to Benedict Hall.  There are internal stairs, but the air conditioning is extremely powerful.  BONUS POINTS if students are making out, sleeping, or crying in the stairwells.  EXTRA BONUS POINTS if the students making out are of the same sex, two or more students are spooning as they nap, or if it’s possible to determine without breaking stride why the student is crying.

4. Exit Benedict Hall through the rear door and take the footbridge across 21st Street to the Massive Concrete Monolith that is the UTC building.  Take escalator to ground level.  The escalator is external, but it’s an escalator and requires no physical effort on my part.

5. Walk the last few dozen meters to the entrance of the PCL.  Determine that books with call numbers prefixed HT are housed on the 4th floor and take elevator up.  Find desired book and spend some time investigating books filed next to it.  Find a couple others that might be useful.  One is in Arabic — most of it is in technical language that’s over my head, but the maps will be useful.

6.  Return to check-out area, transact with underpaid work-study student who identifies the language of my non-English book as “Islamic,” then attempts to scold me when I inform her that the book is “backwards” (checkout slips go in the front cover — on a book written in a right-to-left language the slip would, to the casual observer, appear at first glance to inside the back cover) by saying, “Well, maybe that’s the front to them.”  I consider pointing out that if I didn’t know that, I would have no reason to check the book out in the first place, but think better of it and leave.

7. Follow steps outlined above in reverse.  Return to office and discover that all books I checked out are completely useless.

So far, I’ve come up with similar plans for just about everywhere on campus I need to go.  It’s amazing the amount of air conditioning you can duck through ‘twixt here and there.

And, yeah … it’s Thursday :)

Readin’, Ritin’ and Revivin’

Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

There are some times that I am less OK living in Texas than others.  The passage of the state’s second Defense of Marriage Act was one of them.  I fear we’re coming up on another, and I feel like I should be able to do something about it, but I don’t know what.

It’s come to the attention of just about everyone that the State Board of Education has been taken over by a bunch of radical loonies.  These are the sorts of conservatives who make conservatives uncomfortable, and somehow they managed to take over the body that’s charged with revising and implementing educational standards at the K-12 level.  (Thank Bob it’s only K-12.)

This would be the same board chaired by a dentist (!) from College Station who came under fire shortly before the board’s final vote on revised science standards for endorsing a book that referred to supporters of evolution as “monsters,” “atheists,” and “morons.” I want to make it clear that the board currently leans in the direction that believes that if you ain’t their kind of Christian, you’re not a Christian at all.  (The fact that this is exactly the kind of logic that Osama bin Laden and his ilk use is the kind of irony that isn’t lost on me, but would be shot down as “totally different” were it brought to their attention.)

Earlier this year, a call went out for people to review the social studies standards.  As an historian who works with K-12 educators a lot in my line of work, I put my name in.  I didn’t get selected, and it didn’t take long enough to realize why.  I didn’t know that the SBOE member who represents my district had sent out an e-mail claiming that Obama was a terrorist sympathizer, and that an attack by said terrorists would take place in the first six months of his administration, followed by the implementation of martial law.  (Perhaps we should secede just in case?)

Clearly my passioned e-mail describing my committment to global competencies was a bad idea.

I know several people who did get appointed to the committees (two of them went with me to Egypt in 2005).  One of them, a University professor at a rival institution, was appointed to the economics review committee and managed to cause a horrific furor when he had the audacity to suggest that the term “free enterprise system” be replaced with “capitalism” in the standards.  “Capitalism,” after all, is what it’s called in every college textbook, and he thought that it would be appropriate for K-12 students to use the same terminology that they would use in college.  Why call the same thing two different names?

To say that this was received very badly would be an understatement.  As I was told later, when one of the SBOE members saw this proposed change, she stood up and screamed, “What kind of anti-American sonofabitch did this?  You should be ashamed!  I swear, whoever you are, if you were one of my appointments, you can consider yourself fired!”  (note: committee members are unpaid – it’s all volunteer work.)

My other friend wrote me to say that, while her committee was congenial, others were concerned that “too much attention” was being paid to the rest of the world at the expense of “our” history. Another friend told of how someone was appointed to her review committee–which was to oversee one of the years of world studies–whose sole purpose was to state over and over that he had moral objections to students studying other cultures.

For the record, Texas schoolchildren have two years of American history (grades 8 and 11), one year of government (grade 12), one full year of Texas history (grade 7), world cultures (6), world history (10), and world geography (9).  More than one board member has stated the desire to replace either the 9th or 10th grade course with a third year of American history, apparently being unaware that the 12th grade government course is entirely American history content.

It gets better.

After the first round of review committee meetings, the board cancelled the second round, apparently afraid that further anti-Americanism might ensue, so they’ve decided to appont an “expert panel” to guide the revision process.

First up?  David Barton and the Reverend Peter Marshall.

In his books and teachings, [David Barton] argues that separation of church and state is a myth and that America’s laws should be based solely on Biblical scriptures. His numerous claims include that the Bible forbids income and capitol gains Taxes. Barton’s views are so far right that even such groups as the Texas Baptists Committee and the Baptist Joint Committee have been vocal critics of his interpretations of history and the U.S. Constitution.

Even better: “Marshall has previously suggested that the California wildfires and Hurricane Katrina were divine punishments on society for the tolerance of homosexuality.”

TODAY comes the news that they’re considering LYNNE CHENEY for the expert panel.

Cheney is well-known for crusading against national history and social studies standards in the 1990s, calling the standards–which the National Endowment for the Humanities helped fund while Cheney was its chair–”grim and gloomy.” Cheney also denounced the standards as a monument to political correctness, claimed they gave insufficient attention to Confederate General Robert E. Lee and the Wright brothers and focusing far too much on figures like Harriet Tubman, and worried that they concentrated too much on embarrassing episodes in the nation’s history, such as the Ku Klux Klan and McCarthyism.

Outraged?  You should be.  The science standards revision made us uncomfortable by flirting with intelligent design–this will make us look like fools.  The next revision won’t happen for another decade, by which point our students will be the laughingstock of the country.

I still can’t tell what can be done about this twisted version of Evangelicals Gone Wild!  I’ve got half a dozen pleas in my inbox to help find real experts to testify before the SBOE, but it’s obvious they don’t care what people like us think.  If you live in Texas, write your state legislator–seriously.  The Lege is already moving to restrict the power of the SBOE after the science and English debacles.

I know that there’s probably very little that I can do about this … but I’ll feel better when it’s all over knowing I did what I could.

Weekend

Sunday, April 26th, 2009

It’s been a busy weekend here in the khowaga household.

Let’s see.  On Saturday, Ray and I went to San Antonio, to the King William Fair.  Ray’s co-worker’s parents live on King William Street, which is the old-money/rich gay district, and every year they have this big street festival where they have a parade (first thing in the morning – we never make it) performances and food booths and arts and crafts and whatnot.  So, we chugged on down there.

It was supposed to be overcast.  It wasn’t.

So, here’s an old truck all festooned out …

… and a cute little house with a banana tree in front of it …

… and, oh, my God, these were some terrible bellydancers.  They were in front of the house where the party was, and I had to stop and stare and … OK, I know you’re probably thinking that I’m an expert on bellydancing or something because of what I do, and so I’m holding them to a really high standard of authenticity, but you’d be wrong.  I do, however, know what it’s supposed to look like, and it’s not middle aged white ladies in costumes swaying to 70s pop music.

The proper term for bellydancing is raqs sharqi, or “eastern dance.”  This is more like raqs shitty.

We got there just in time for the mariachis to start playing.  The guy in the white shirt and ballcap in the lower right is Charles Butt, owner of the HEB grocery chain (it’s huge in Texas).  He lives next door …

… in this little shack with the Texas Historical Landmark plaque in front.

So, Ray and I went walking round the fair, which was crowded despite the heat (it was 86 / 35) …

… stumbled across a house that we would very much like the owners to leave us in their will …

… funnel cake!  How’d that get there?

… and joined the lengthy line of gay men taking photos with the world’s largest bougainvillea:

Then we drove back to Austin, where I had to turn around almost immediately and go into campus for a special evening event: a private concert with Lebanese musician May Nasr.

She played an acoustic set – woman with guitar on her own, but she has a powerful voice and it was an incredible hour and a half of just sitting and watching her spin her tale.

I bought her CD (and she autographed it – yes, you may touch me), but I found it a little overproduced.  Her voice is still powerful, but it gets kind of buried in there.  I liked her better on her own…

Anyway.  So, that was my weekend.  Hope yours was awesome!

Tales of the Big Blue Dong

Monday, March 9th, 2009

Ray and I went to see Watchmen on Sunday. Apparently I’ve been living under a rock, because I wasn’t quite prepared to see Dr. Manhattan’s Big Blue Dong on the screen. I didn’t realize until afterward that the full frontal nudity has been burning up the InterWebz.

All I’m going to say is this: the thing that struck me about it wasn’t the fact that he was naked. It’s that, well, as impressive as the CGI-generated phallus is … they don’t actually hang that way in real life. I kept thinking he looked like the animated guy they put on the Voyager Spacecraft.

If you’ve seen it … I’ll bet you know exactly what I’m talking about. Gravity ain’t that powerful.

All Over for Another Year

Monday, March 9th, 2009

Another Explore UT has come and gone.

I have written extensively, year after year, about not liking this event.  This year, I fear was no different. The basic problem, I realize, is that I now have so much emotional baggage associated with it that there’s probably no way that I could ever actually enjoy the day (not that there’s much enjoyment to be had with 50,000 people invading campus).

Once upon a time, many years ago when I didn’t know better, my colleagues and I were dragged into a meeting with one of the staff people in the College of Liberal Arts.  The Dean at the time (or so we were told) had decided that he wanted to have a special area of the university’s annual open house event just for children.  And this staff person, knowing that we all do “outreach,” decided in her infinite and unquestionable — let me put that in Capitals to give them the appropriate weight — in her Infinite and Unquestionable Wisdom that “outreach” means “knows how to entertain small children.”  And so we were given the Royal Decree: do this, and make your Dean happy.

For the record, “outreach” does not mean “knows how to entertain small children.”  In our cases it means different things, but that’s really not one of them.  So, we had to search for little activities to do that might have some educational value.  Since we didn’t really want to be involved, we didn’t think too hard about it.

The year was something of a success.  So much so that, barely a few months later, we were pulled into another meeting with the same staff person.  “They really like the children’s fair,” she said.  “So, we need you all to stay all day.”
“Um,” we asked, “Can you provide us with the manpower to make that happen?”
“No.”
“How about some money to hire people?”
“No.”

All righty then.

And so we went forth.  We scrounged, threatened, pleaded, and, in some cases, bribed students to come and help us with the event, and thus did we entertain small children all day long.

A few months later, we were pulled into another meeting.  “This year, we need you to add a second event.  They want the fair bigger.”
“Um,” we said, “Can you provide us with some volunteers?  We had trouble getting enough people to staff the activities we did this year.”
“No,” she said.  “We don’t have any volunteers to spare for you.  Also, we want you to arrange performances.”
“Can we give you their names and have you deal with the performers?”
“No,” she said.  “You do it.”

And so … we went out for drinks, bitched a lot, and then went forth and somehow, by the skins of our teeth, managed to pull it off.  Barely.  Natalie nearly had a nervous breakdown in the middle of the day, and I recall a lot of swearing coming out of my mouth (we’ll pretend that this is different from the norm somehow).  I don’t even recall how the others fared because I never saw them during the course of the six hours that we were there.

So, when we were pulled into the meeting a few months later, we went in prepared to say, “We can’t do this much again on our own.  If you’re going to want a bigger children’s fair, you either need to promise us enough volunteers to make it happen, or you need to involve other units.  We’re tapped out.  And you need to hand off the performance coordination to a single person in the College because this ‘everyone coordinates their own’ thing is a bunch of crap.”

However, barely had the conversation begun when Her face darkened, the brow furrowed, and her voice turned gravely and belied the presence of possibly several demons from Hell in her inner soul.  “We … are … not … doing … LESS,” she hissed.

Dejected, we left, vowing some sort of awful revenge.  We had been told of other departments not being invited back.  What, we wondered collectively, would we have to do to not be invited back?

That year was probably the worst.  We didn’t want to be there, we didn’t want to be doing as much as we were, and it was incredibly hot.

The next year, both the Dean and the staff person were gone, and we were able to restructure everything to our wants: a single event for each of us, one co-coordinated table with name writing in different languages, and the College runs the performances. For all the complaining and dread, the past couple of years have gone relatively well.

None of this is to say, however, that I’m any happier about doing it.  For all that it’s gone relatively well, at some point during the annual push to do whatever we can do to increase attendance, just about all of the educational value has been lost. We spend the rest of our year designing high-impact programming that’s raved about.  We’ve gotten a standing ovation at a national conference of our peers.  People high in education around the state like us and what we do.  But what we do the first Saturday in March reflects none of that.

In short, I’m not particularly proud of what we do year after year.  And there seems to be no will to let us change it.

Last year, I finally had the bright idea to print out a little text box for the kids to glue to the back of their craft, explaining what it is and what it’s supposed to represent.  This year, most of the kids actually took the time to glue one on (last year, there was a lot of, “Wow, that looks boring”).  Do I think that, this morning, even half of them even remotely remember what they did or why?  No, not really.

And there’s the rub.

Oh, well.  Another year gone.  I can focus on other things … right up until this time next year, when I get to do it all over again.

 

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