and what a year it’s been…
This week a year ago I started this blog: it was to provide me, more generally, with a real life online presence and, more specifically, with an outlet for a post I’d made on my fannish livejournal that some of the people in my flock had asked me to make public. This particular post (which I soon started to shorthand as the MiT5 post, but which actually had the much more poetic and allusory title “The Women Men Don’t See”) was my personal start of this past year. In it, I made some fairly aggressive accusations of misogyny on all levels of fan studies, suggested some pretty bold connections between the personal, the institutional, and the scholarly situation of women in the field, and got quite loud and angry. Moreover, given that it had been a LiveJournal rant, initially addressed to the few hundred potential readers who actually would have access to it, it was deeply personal and expected to be read within the particular context of my life.
When Henry emailed me and suggested what later came to be the series of blog conversations on gender and fandom, I was amazed and excited and, yes, a bit freaked. After all, I wasn’t anybody–most of my identity for a long time had been invested in my fannish persona and my meta writing over on LiveJournal, and I had just come from a conference, where my lack of institutional affiliation yet again reminded me of all the things I wasn’t. But maybe that was a blessing in disguise: while I wouldn’t want to suggest that people don’t speak up for fear of upsetting more senior colleagues or that I don’t have a personal stake in not upsetting others in my chosen field, I did feel kind of like the court jester who wasn’t situated anywhere in the academic hierarchy.
At the same time, I’m not naive enough to believe that I didn’t have a certain privilege that Henry would care–now, as much as I may critique his ideas here and there and as much as we often like to posit him as “the Man” in our small pond, I know few senior scholars who continually go out of their way to help others and who try to remain careful of their own privilege. At the same time, had I not met him before, had I not already complained to him about gender issues in fandom studies before, he might not have emailed me. But email he did, and however many things the consequent conversations failed to do (and I’m sure anyone who was there could make a list, from the problematic color coding to that damn MIT blog interface, from rounds of gender bingo to moments of sheer personal frustration, from clear limitations in the scholars invited to limitations in the range of topics,…), I’m looking at it a year later and am nothing if not impressed with all of us.
Whereas a year ago I felt like there were two central groupings, so to speak (which were partially gendered and tended to exist in different parts of the Internet), this has changed: not only have those groups mixed but the process has also in effect drawn in more and more scholars. It’s like the blog post series (and is anyone noticing how many terms I’m coming up with to avoid the one I usually shorthand to, namely summer gender fan debate : ) created a critical weight that put people in touch on a one-to-one personal base (and as the person who coordinated the LiveJournal mirror site, I certainly had the privilege to talk to all the people I hadn’t met before) as well as introduced especially younger scholars and their ideas to others, thus allowing each of us to get a sense of the work happening in this field all over the place. It also showed up some serious gaps in fandom studies, but I hope as we continue on, we’ll address them as they come…
Practically, it meant co-writing and panels and workshops, it meant reaching out to those we might not know as well and maybe even reconsidering our own positions. For me, it means co-writing an article with Jonathan Gray, which is a perfect way to merge what I’d consider two different approaches to the field (not least of all characterized by the differences in my and his coedited books : ). It meant creating an SCMS panel with my friend and co-writer Louisa Stein, Jonathan Gray and Jason Mittell, really showing the range of what we consider and define as the object of fan studies (from Jonathan’s authorial paratextual creations to my fan paratexts). It meant witnessing the amazingly smart Console-ing Passions workshop (with Bob Rehak, Suzanne Scott, Louisa Stein, Julie Levin Russo, and Sam Ford) that started out as a response to the conversations but in the end had become so much more, pushing the field in new directions and complicating simple binaries.
Most importantly, it meant questioning my simple binaries, really revisiting the truths as I’d understood them in terms of gender and fandom and reconfirming some and overthrowing others. And it meant the merging of online spaces as more and more of the LJ “fangirls” created blogs but also more of the “fanboys” started hanging out on LJ–with some of them really enjoying the myriad advantages LJ has over most other blogging platforms (such as comment notification, threading, and flocking but, probably most importantly, an ease of communication and intellectual engagement that always struck me as a tad more personal and less performative than blog interactions). In a way, then, I feel like this past year has virtually made the blog obsolete.
And it meant a building block in what has been my biggest project of the last 6 months, namely the creation of Transformative Works and Cultures. I can’t say how our board would look if we hadn’t had these conversations, but I know I wouldn’t have asked many of these scholars, and they might not have seen the need for such a journal, might not have wanted to support such an ultimately feminist project (or seen it as only limiting rather than vital).
Transformative Works and Culture, of course, comes more directly out of a much more important post, a real turning point and watershed moment, namely Astolat’s brilliant An Archive of Our Own post (alluding to yet another famous feminist text) that was the beginning of what is now the Organization for Transformative Works. What our posts share is a deep commitment to the importance of this particular community and its creative energies, both as objects to be preserved and as worthy of study. We share a sense that this is a feminist project in many ways, that gender does affect (though clearly not as simplistically as I often tend to argue) the way we engage with media and the way we choose to appropriate and transform media. That’s why I support OTW and why I can’t wait for TWC to finally showcase what amazing work gets done in this field and why I’m thankful for this last year.
It’s sure been a roller coaster for many of us, see sawing between excitement and panic, depression and elation. And we’re not nearly halfway there yet: this next year will hopefully see many of the fruits of our labor–the archive itself, of course but also the first issue of TWC. And when I read the essays for CP’s fandebate workshop, when I look at the work I’ve seen for TWC and elsewhere, I can’t be but excited that we’re doing great work and are doing it not in isolation any more.