Extra credit response

Those Two Lectures I Attended for Extra Credit

Amiti Colson

Leanna Giancarlo’s lecture “They Called Me Crazy” discussed the mad scientist trope and pushing the boundaries of knowledge. In her lecture she went through the stereotypical mad scientist characters that we have seen time and time again in the media. Amongst characters like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, she talked about one scientist that our class is very familiar with, Victor Frankenstein. She questioned his madness, his sanity, if he was truly wicked for his creation or if he was simply a scientist who was willing to go that extra mile for discovery. Giancarlo showed us a clip from one of the older movies about Frankenstein that portrayed Victor as this manic man who wanted to play God, not to live out his scientific duties, but to instead grasp power with a tight fist.

Later in the lecture she talked about recent news of a Dr. He Jiankui of China who has made gene editing discoveries in relation to an immunity against HIV. He genetically modified the embryos of two twin girls in the womb of their mother so that they would be immune to getting the virus that their father tested positive for. The question then comes into play, what right does Dr. He have to perform genetic modifications, even if it is with the intent of good such as this. Does this lead into bigger things, genetically modifying preborn children to look a certain way, to be blessed with certain talents? This is the argument currently being made against Dr. He. Yet, if it is for the health of the person, is it so crazy for a scientist to dive further into gene modification?

The other lecture I attended was Craig Vasey’s lecture on an existential approach to madness. Now I will say that this lecture blew my mind and was the topic of conversation for most of the dinner I had with my boyfriend following the lecture. It really lingered in my mind for a long time after it was over. Vasey discussed the movement in treating people with mental health problems as human beings who deserve help and rights as people in our society. He discussed Freud’s discoveries in mental health saying that, “Freud was the first to recognize the powerful effect that our parents, in fact all our relationships, have on us and how our capacity to love is also the source of the most profound suffering.”He discussed the mind and soul, and how the answer prior to scientific discoveries had always been God. He asked, if theories come about that religion is false, then what is the meaning of human existence?

It turns out that anxiety is apart of existentialism. It is the heightened awareness of our existence, it’s the awareness that our human existence maybe meaningless. We are beings that care about the fact that we exist, we care about what/who we are, we need meaning to our life because we know we are going to die. We are all fully aware of our impending deaths. We are therefore born with this ontological insecurity. It is inherently in us, we can’t get over it. No wonder we have breaks in our mentality at times, or for the rest of our lives.

I pledge. -Amiti Colson

Bekah’s Response to Take Back the Night (4/16/19)

Take Back the Night was a beautiful display of forging ahead with trauma; the open discussion of the ways in which healing is not linear and individuals are more than what happens to them was something I had largely never experienced outside of one-on-one discussion. Acknowledging the ways in which we can help each other absolutely alleviated some pain, though having to face the fact that I hardly know anyone without trauma from abuse presented more, even if it was of a different sort. I can say that events like this, that present the positives of therapy, work deeply in conjunction in my mind with all of the work toward reclamation and self-diagnosis. Disability envisioned as an identity rather than a deficit, and therapy offered as support rather than a cure; individuals with trauma as survivors rather than victims, and medical practitioners as individuals that validate you rather than subject you to more trauma through incessant evaluations. It is the side of psychology I like to see; the side that encourages individual voice, agency, and identity.

Natalie Illum’s poetry really ate at me; it kept entirely with the theme of my earlier points about the widespread (and often cyclical) nature of trauma. The story of the open mic in particular made me simultaneously full of feeling and hollow of thought. There is something about the communication of trauma by and for survivors that moves so differently. She made a comment between pieces about the compacting of physical and emotional abuse and the emergence of language such as gaslighting to help individuals communicate their experiences, that furthered my feelings on that. The reality that language as it stood could not match the implications of toxic actions hits really hard, but knowing that survivors have formed and popularized their interpretations of the acts they will likely never get closure on hits much harder. When she asked us to consider the prompts of what abuse taught and what surviving taught, I was terribly perplexed, but when she read the piece she described as her response to the prompt, I felt more at ease. So often trauma and disability narratives are asked to veer into that realm of adversity as enlightening, but this was not that; this was about finding your own feelings after being denied access to them for so long, rather than finding ways to make your scars pretty for the world. This is the first time in a really long time that I have witnessed wounds being reopened and rediscovered for reasons outside of inspiration porn/trauma porn/poverty porn and it hurt but it also sat really well with me.

Side note: read/listen to/support Tanaya Winder’s poetry! Her expression of healing is incredibly moving, and she is terribly supportive and sweet!

WC: 459
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

Bekah’s Response to Leanna Giancarlo’s “They Called Me Crazy”: The Mad Scientist Trope and Pushing the Boundaries of Knowledge (4/16/19)

This lecture dove straight into the history of animosity between science and religion with discussion of scientists as individuals either without a mind or without a soul. Dr. Giancarlo ran through as many major cinematic depictions of the mad scientist trope as possible, from the original in Metropolis (1927) to any number of Frankenstein films (1910, 1931, etc.) in order to juxtapose the common characteristics and motivations with depictions of science from the viewpoint of the church. This involved heavy analysis of science’s driving goal or motivation—while many would argue it is a scientist’s desire to play god, others would suggest it is to better mankind. Dr. Giancarlo explained this as the crux of the madness or soullessness debate, given that such clear guidelines for what is god and what is man establishes what is normative behavior and aspirations for man. Therefore, madness is created as a label for any individual with intent to deviate from the norm.
While this presentation of facts followed a decent logic, I feel that certain aspects of the lecture did not sit well with me. Disability studies is nothing if not interdisciplinary—my academic experience and research desires are nothing if not interdisciplinary. I cannot help but feel that a trope such as the mad scientist, which Dr. Giancarlo admitted rose largely in response to the use of science for warfare, should be addressed as a response to the inherent divorce of science from humanities. When a case is presented, as it was in this lecture, of a real live scientist such as Fritz Haber, known for his work in the fixation of nitrogen to fertilize the land and feed the nation, whose labor was co-opted by the government for violence (specifically, gas chambers), it not only presents science as something that is inherently good, only corrupted out of happenstance, but as something that is doing its best as is. I, like many other disabled activists, cannot stress enough that science could do better and is obligated to do so. Yes, scientists can have good intentions and they can make wonderful creations—countless accessibility devices and therapies have been created, often times by disabled scientists—but this does not mean that intentions outweigh impact. The field as a whole must take a reasonable level of accountability and enforce a standard of curriculum that rounds out their understanding of their impact. I study psychology! I know how little even the social sciences care to educate us on our torturous past and present, and how much what we learn is actually rooted in eugenicist ideals. We have a crisis in the field of only reporting the results we favor; we have institutional problems of favoring the privileged and therefore endorsing wildly biased ideals! Pretending that ethics boards are enough to topple power dynamics, or that learning the “objective facts” of science is enough to ensure scientists are doing the best they can is unacceptable. As a scientist, I feel obligated to accept the criticism the mad scientist trope provides. I may not be responsible for all of the violence done through scientific means, but I am obligated to know my history and to prevent any further damage. Just as my position as a white, able bodied woman, I feel obligated to accept criticism, to know my history, and to challenge the systems that inherently benefit me as they stand. Recognizing these privileges does not posit us as god-like nor as soulless, it merely presents us with an opportunity to do better.

WC: 586
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

Bekah’s Response to Elizabeth Donaldson’s Psychographics: Graphic Memoirs and Psychiatric Disability (4/9/19)

This lecture, starting with disability rights’ iconic “nothing about us without us,” and leaping into discussion of the deep need for disabled voices in representation of mental illness, forced me to reevaluate some of my own thoughts and feelings on tropes I had normalized growing up.
I have always been inherently bothered by tropes of disturbed, mad, or mentally ill villains for the obvious perpetuation of neurodivergence as criminal, so when she made reference to the romanticization of the Joker character, I was entirely on-board. That stereotyping has real live consequences—just look at how many laws there are that ask the state to identify mentally ill individuals by their danger level first, humanity second! When she made reference to the demonization of asylums via Arkham Asylum, though, I was entirely unsure of my own feelings. I am by no means anti-psychiatry or against any other accessible, nontoxic form of healthcare, for that matter; obviously so much of disability rights activism has been centered around the right to access these institutions. I suppose the most annoyance I ever truly got out of demonizing institutions in fiction is that it has allowed unaffected individuals—namely, neurotypicals—to distance themselves, finding the medical tortures and abuse to be a thing of the past, if real at all. Maybe it even deepens that fear neurotypicals have of disability because they feel that such maltreatment is the only option? I truly do not know; I cannot identify the tropes as the cause of the disconnect between myself and others when I would describe the horrendous things doctors had gotten away with right before my own eyes—that surely has more to do with an inability to empathize with a lived experienced outside their own, one that their privilege kept them from seeing—but it definitely helped widen the gap. However, in dissecting popularized depictions of medical institutions and mentally ill characters, I feel more understanding of the ways in which creating such tropes can demonize institutions for those that need it and interfere with their right to treatment.
In the past couple days, I seem to be coming back to the thought that these portrayals, while potentially based in some reality, cannot be the only representation available. It has linked in my mind as similar to the way deinstitutionalization activists had to fight for the right to treatment and the right to refuse treatment. Many felt that fighting for the “negative” right detracted from the “positive” right and vice versa; positive representation of healthcare may seem unrealistic, even if in an effort to destigmatize the experience for some (or even if simply in an effort to imagine a world where healthcare is not so taxing) it may be seen as taking away from the negative experiences portrayed, and the negative portrayals may be stigmatizing or depressing the individuals needing some positive representation. In the same way that disabled creators should be allowed to express their experiences of maltreatment and abuse through fiction without bearing the weight of having to imagine better institutions, disabled creators should also be allowed to express their positive (imagined or otherwise) experiences with institutions through fiction without feeling responsible for the general ignorance of neurotypicals. I suppose this is simply another situation in which polarizing depictions can only be resolved by more diverse, authentic representation.

WC: 573
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

Bekah’s Response to August Gorman’s Descartes and the Madness Argument (3/26/19)

From what I understood of this lecture—and I cannot pretend that was much, in the grand scheme of things—there is perplexity to the way in which Descartes mentioned and then quickly abandoned the conception of madness as a challenge to proving the existence of an entity. Dr. Gorman led this discussion by first exploring the ways in which philosophy and mental illness have been known to interact through the case of Phineas Gage. Gage, the man we have to learn about in every psychology course to have ever existed, sustained a traumatic brain injury (specifically injuring the frontal lobe) and supposedly had a large change in personality and behavior. This obviously really impacted the ways in which we view humanity (mind, body, soul ‘n’ whatnot), but that is not exactly where this talk went with it. According to Dr. Shelley Tremain, this purported change in personality came about in response to differential treatment and ableism post-trauma; this ableism, baked into the sciences, raises a lot of questions for philosophers interested in discovering ethical approaches to disability. With that in mind, there was a circle back to Descartes’ argument. I still have no real idea where I stand on that; I imagine there is validity to the idea that he ditched it in order to avoid being stigmatized. What got me interested in the lecture, though, was the whole explanation of the principle of charity (not assuming the worst argument possible is intentional) and the principle of humanity (actions as close to your imagined own) as correlated and potentially undermining of neurodivergence. It reminded me of Dr. Alisha Gaines’ talk about a year ago on the ways in which many white ‘allies’ have responded to racism; the gist of that being that so much ‘allyship’ has historically centered the privileged self and based itself on the contention that if an experience is ‘unempathizable’ (for lack of a better word) to the masses then it is not worth considering and/or dignifying. In the same way that a dreaming state has often been likened with madness, perhaps as a ‘more accessible’ form of mental illness, white ‘allies’ have a deep history of parading around in blackface in order to witness (witness, not experience) racial discrimination ‘first hand.’ It all ties together in my head with assumed experiences over lived experiences; Gage’s condition medically being assumed over his condition socially, etc. (I am truly hoping at least 2% of this response made sense).

WC: 410
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

Bekah’s Response to Julia DeLancey’s “The Flag of Imagination”: Surrealists and Artists on the Schizophrenia Spectrum (2/19/19)

This lecture began with an overview of disability models, psychoanalytic perspectives of psychology, and surrealist principles, leading up to discussion of Hans Prinzhorn’s Artistry of the Mentally Ill (1922). Dr. DeLancey described Prinzhorn as having had a history of education in art and psychology, and she used his work to open up conversation on the fetishization and othering of the neurodivergent in multiple ways. Psychology at this time was all about Freud; everyone had an unconscious mind and symptomatic behaviors were merely indicative of latent thought needing to become manifest. Surrealism, an artistic movement of the time intending to challenge societal conventions by opening up the aforementioned unconscious mind, fixated on the minds of children, “primitive” (non-Western) cultures and societies, and the mentally ill. I contend that this fixation is not only fetishizing and mystifying, but a practice of cultural voyeurism. It is not the easiest argument to make, given that culture typically implies group identity, and mental illness had no clear-cut definition, but I am stickin’ with my gut on this one. The medical model aimed to eliminate disability, though medical institutions held more than just disabled individuals (insert long history of institutionalizing individuals over sexuality, gender, politics, etc.); institutionalized identity is broader than that which the surrealists aimed to objectify and appropriate. They wanted the edginess of all those that had been othered, but they specifically wanted the psychiatrically disabled; they wanted a lived experience they could never have, even if they tried (which they did, of course, with drugs). More bluntly, surrealist interest in the art of the mentally ill did little to encourage the creators or grant them autonomy or freedom; even Prinzhorn’s work pushed no boundaries. At best, it co-opted trauma narrative and commodified their creative endeavors (which, even with payout and consent, definitely played into saneism and infantilization for the way it was carried out).

WC: 311
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

Rebecca Young’s Response to “An Existential Approach to Madness”

Dr. Vasey’s lecture this afternoon, which approached madness from an existential standpoint, was an interesting and insightful finale to this semester’s lecture series on madness. Within his presentation, he addressed a number of topics we we’ve addressed ourselves in Dis/Lit this semester. Most notably, in my opinion, was his discussion of the medical view of disability (and mental illness, in particular).

In his lecture, Dr. Vasey repeatedly addressed the supposed “myth of mental illness.” In discussing this, he clearly made the argument that the linguistic term “illness” is a metaphor in this phrase, and that madness of any kind is not a literal disease or sickness. His primary point when discussing this was the concept of a potential cure, or lack thereof, for these “illnesses.” In his opinion, mental illnesses or disturbances (what he considered “madness”) are an inherent part of the individual, and cannot simply “go away.” This distinction was, according to him, the reason madness cannot be considered an illness. According to his definitions, an illness is something which can be treated and cured, and which will then leave the afflicted individual. Contrastingly, mental illness is a permanent part of an individual’s identity and existence. While symptoms of a mental illness can be treated and sometimes cured to potentially alleviate someone’s suffering, he argued this afternoon that the supposed madness itself is an inherent part of the individual.

I found this critical discussion of prescriptive, pathological approaches to madness to be very similar to some of the points we’ve made in class discussions ourselves. The controversial nature of such medical approaches to mental illness are applicable to all kinds of disability. As we’ve discussed, approaching disability with the intention of “curing” disabled individuals is a potentially problematic stance to take on this issue. While the suffering related to some individuals’ disabilities should not be invalidated, an oversimplified approach to “curing” disability perpetuates notions that it is inherently a weakness, problem, or burden. In this way, Dr. Vasey’s argument resonated with me, and I felt it connected strongly to our class discussions.

Overall, this lecture was a very unique presentation of madness, and I felt that it was an excellent piece to conclude this semester’s series with. By discussing incredibly broad, philosophical notions of disability and mental illness, Dr. Vasey made us critically examine our very understandings of what madness is. Additionally, however, he made connections to historical and contemporary applications of these ideas. This thought-provoking lecture was also an excellent bridge between the discussions of madness and our class discussions of disability, making it an enlightening experience all around.

Rebecca Young’s Response to Take Back the Night

This evening, I had the absolute pleasure and honor of attending the Take Back the Night event at Lee Hall. Not only were Ben’s musical talents an excellent way to begin the night, but each survivor’s reading was moving and empowering. The event undoubtedly met their goal of breaking the silence surrounding sexual and domestic violence, as an incredible number of people chose to share their personal stories and speak out, clearly emphasizing that perpetrators of violence do not hold power over survivors by keeping them silent. Instead, the survivors speak on their own behalf and on their own terms; witnessing this tonight was awe-inspiring and empowering.

Natalie Illum’s presentation was especially moving tonight, in addition to being the most intersectional presentation of the evening. The poems she read for us focused on her experiences with sexual and domestic violence in both first and secondhand ways, and were written and performed with a kind of personal magic. The audience was enraptured by her naturally poetic performance, but the power behind her words was even more impactful. Additionally, the intersectionality in her presentation and discussion added even more importance and relevance to her readings. Illum discussed her own disability, and how she was at a personal disadvantage in already disadvantaged situations; additionally, issues such as class and gender were dispersed throughout her works and her personal commentary as well. Her works allowed us to see a number of perspectives on the issues at hand, as well as experiencing the events as she did herself. Ultimately, Illum’s presentation was an irreplaceable conclusion to the night’s speakers.

This event was incredibly empowering and enlightening, and it truly felt like all those who attended it were united in the movement’s purpose tonight. With speakers like Natalie Illum and our own classmates and friends, the silence and stigma typically surrounding sexual and domestic violence were clearly broken and left behind. It was an incredibly memorable experience for me, and I am honored to have been a part of such an event.

Kenzie Ward’s response to Tessa Fontaine’s extra credit book reading

Last Friday, I attended Tessa Fontaine’s book reading in the Mansion. As she read from her prologue, I was mesmerized by her ability to suck me in with her words. The way she nonchalantly talked about lying to get into the carnival sideshow, which led her to eat fire, swallow swords, and charm snakes. This led her into talking about her Mom’s strokes, her time in the hospital, and how it changed her both physically and mentally. She compared the fire she let dance on her arms to her own Mother’s paralyzed one. I thought that the juxtaposition between her adventures in the carnival and the stories about her Mom was very interesting. She then went on to say, “Life extends in all directions outside of that”. I thought that this was an interesting point because even though her Mom’s illness was a very difficult part of Fontaine’s life, she still wanted to make it clear that she still remembered the times when she wasn’t sick or paralyzed in the hospital. She wanted to look beyond her disability but at the same time acknowledge it.

She then went to talk about her experiences with learning how to eat fire and swallow swords, which amazingly she was able to do. She talked about how in order to do these things you need to “untrain your instincts” and “unlearn your self-preservation”. This ability to just let go and do the unexpected allowed her to go on this amazing journey where she learned about herself and the extent of her limits. When asked why she did what she did, Fontaine could only say that there’s no exact reason why we do the things we do. She was interested in it for a long time, but the reason why she went out and actually did it is something she’s still trying to figure out for herself. Her Mother’s bravery and adventurous nature might have pushed her in that direction but choosing the path she did was for a multitude of reasons still unknown to this day.

Rebecca Young’s Response to Tessa Fontaine’s Extra Credit Talk

Yesterday evening, I attended Tessa Fontaine’s presentation in the Creative Writing Mansion, where she read from and discussed her book The Electric Woman. While she did not spend much of her talk explicitly focusing on disability, I felt that her story was applicable to our class discussions regardless. One of the most common conundrums I’ve seen in disability’s representation in literature is what qualifies as a positive or negative representation of the disabled community. This is something I believe many of our theory pieces this semester have been grappling with as well. As this is clearly not an easily answered question, I do not believe we can come to a satisfactory conclusion about it in many cases; Fontaine’s book, however, acts as a good example of this dilemma in real literature.

The most direct mention of disability in her book and her discussion with us was when Fontaine addressed her mother’s debilitating strokes. After having severe strokes late in life, her mother was paralyzed on half her body, and faced incredible barriers in communication and mobility. Despite being rendered disabled, her mother apparently maintained an incredible sense of adventure and continued to travel the world with her husband. This story is interesting, because it represents disability in a way our society typically deems impossible or exceptional–while she was considered disabled, Fontaine’s mother still continued to live her life without the barriers placed on most disabled people. This story then has the potential to leave a positive impact on the disabled community, by showing that individuals are still capable of fully experiencing life while living with a disability.

On the flip side of this argument, however, remains the potential for this to negatively impact the disabled community. This comes from Fontaine’s mother being presented as an exceptionality, rather than the norm. This is further emphasized by Fontaine’s reaction to this disability–she felt that her mother showed remarkable bravery by living a full life despite being disabled. Fontaine, then, joined a traveling side show, which she directly associated with exceptional fearlessness, as her personal method of coping with her mother’s disability. This then circles back to the fine line we have seen and discussed already throughout Dis/Lit, regarding the various ways in which disability can be presented. When living a full life regardless of a disability is seen as normal, the pain and suffering often associated with debilitating illnesses or injuries is diminished; when it is seen as exceptional, however, negative stereotypes are perpetuated, showing disabled individuals as completely incapable of independence or satisfaction.

In Fontaine’s discussion and book reading last night, her mother’s disability played a relatively minor role; instead, it was simply the inspiration for Fontaine’s decision to join the traveling side show. I still believe, however, that this point might contain the most critical connection to our course. As I mentioned earlier, and as we’ve discussed numerous times throughout this course, it is incredibly difficult to pin down exactly what kind of positive or negative representation disability has in certain situations. In this literary example, disability does not even play a direct role in the story itself; nevertheless, The Electric Woman presents an interesting dilemma regarding disability representation.