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Diffracting - finding my voice and my passion
This class was a journey in many ways for me. This is my first Anne Dalke class, and so I have never experienced this type of class structure before. I certainly have mixed feelings, and my learning process in this class has been shaky and informative at the same time. As discussed ad nauseum in mine and others’ final web events, the class was structured in such a way that there were vast gaps in understanding and education between many of my peers. I was unfortunately at the “lower” end of what felt like a hierarchy of education, and so was often uncomfortable expressing my ideas for fear of being looked down upon as less understanding and uneducated. As an intro course I question how useful it is to have people with extensive knowledge in the class – they were often bored and frustrated with the others (myself) in the class who were still learning. Having people in the class with higher levels of understanding can be incredibly useful in that it can engender conversation that would not be possible with a group of people new to the topic, and often times the conversation was very interesting because of the levels of understanding some people had. However, occasionally that left others out of the conversation, because it would go over their (our) heads. But again, simply listening to other people have these conversations was useful, because I for one learn a lot from listening to other people.

Reflections
When I reflect on the semester and my role in conversation and levels of participation, I have a lot of mixed feelings. I am very regretful of my lack of presence on the course forum-- that was an entire aspect of conversation for the class that I really think I missed out on a great deal. I did engage, but only as a lurker and passive reader, which is certainly a shame because I think one of the lessons of this course was to value your own voice as well as the others around you (something that many conversations in class over the semester would lead me to believe is a feminist project). I think that while I managed to really enjoy the ability to see the thoughts of my peers develop on the forum, I did not really trust in the value of my own words.
In class, however, I definitely feel like I was a pretty active and useful member of discussion. I was always very interested in the voices around me, and, unlike my reaction to serendip, was able to trust in the worthiness of my own thoughts enough to share them. I really hope, and think it is not out of line to say that I think it’s true, that I was a good community member in that I contributed as much as I was taking. Or perhaps, a less possessive and more appropriate phrasing, I engaged fully in the shared experience of conversation and therefore did my best to enrich and be enriched.

Queering Weakness: The Refusal of Strong Female Characters
Kate Beaton, creator of the webcomic “Hark! A Vagrant”, in collaboration with two other cartoonists, Meredith Gran and Carly Monardo, created a small series of comics called “Strong Female Characters”. In the author’s notes on her site, Beaton comments:
“We are professionals in the entertainment industry and we think we know what we are talking about when we say that there needs to be more strong female characters out there and we know just what to do about it. Finally, some women to look up to!”


Remembering and Wishing
I was a tourist. And so I stated as I reflected on one month of participation on Serendip and the course. I had been fascinated by the interactive work on the online platform and the subdiscipline of the digital humanities. On my first day, I assumed many things about the course and myself. I guess that’s why we should never assume things. I had eventually evolved out of the generalizations I had made. I finally adopted the open classroom and the interesting discussions that branched out from title analyses or word definitions and were ongoing on Serendip. But there I was again, an observer, failing to pull my camera down to see what lay ahead of me with my own eyes.
I have tended to remain silent many times, but not out of shyness or indifference. I grew to listen to what my classmates had to say, as I found the conversations to be intricately fascinating and chose to sit back and take in. I can be a silent participant, but I did speak up every once in a while when I thought my contributions could be useful to the comments of others. Even if the board activities were imposing, I like how they sometimes forced me to be more outwardly vocal. I sometimes feel too self-conscious about my opinions that I do not speak up. The board activities challenged me to get up and share something, whatever it may be, finally stating what I kept to myself out of hesitation.

On Passion
An Introduction to Feeling
I am a Scorpio. Generally, my zodiac sign is entirely irrelevant to an academic paper, but in this case it has some bearing. As a child, I was deeply uncomfortable with being a Scorpio, due to what I read was the inherent nature of Scorpios: passionate. I felt squeamish of the term, which to me had very sexual connotations. As such, I resented being told that I must be a “passionate” person. I was not passionate, my childhood self would have told you adamantly. In fact, I might have said so passionately.
Several weeks ago, when our class began reading The Orchid Thief: A True Story of Beauty and Obsession by Susan Orlean, the subject of passion came to the forefront of our group conversation. I found myself thinking again of my childhood zodiac qualms as we debated the nature of passion. This time, it was not the sexuality of passion that was being questioned, but its ability to last. Is passion, by definition, a passing feeling, or is passion something that can endure? Additionally, we wondered if passion is something that only some people have, or if it is more universal than that.