December 16, 2015 - 23:05
When I learned from Bionic that I had been placed in this class, I was admittedly very unsure of what I had just chosen for myself. I had put two other ESEM courses as my first and second choices, and I was only vaguely interested in the course description for the one I ended up in. I was surprised that I was placed in my third (my last) choice for ESEM, and with only this limited knowledge of my academic schedule for my freshman year, I was feeling very anxious for September to swing around. None of my fears were assuaged by the first day of class, either. That didn’t come until a few weeks into the semester. But as we all know, I ended up growing deeply affectionate for EMLY 001-026, and I feel lucky to have missed the chance to be in another Emily Balch Seminar.
My six week project gave me a completely new lens to see art with. I have only tapped the very surface of the exploitation and erasure that occurs at the intersection of artistic and intellectual worlds. It hasn’t affected the interest I have in museums and the work of curators, which has fascinated me to the point where I have considered it as a possible career path in the past. I’ll be quite critical of every exhibit I see in the future because of the things I uncovered in this project, and I think I’ll be forever conscious of the contact zones that are so inescapable in everyday life.
Speaking of the contact zone, Mary Louise Pratt’s paper on the subject was one of my favorite reading pieces from this course. Other pieces that were especially thought-provoking and even fun to read were Bruno Latour’s “Agency at the Time of the Anthropocene,” Ursula Le Guin’s “Vaster than Empires, and More Slow,” Elizabeth Kolbert’s “The Sixth Extinction,” Naomi Oreskes and Erik M. Conway’s “The Collapse of Western Civilization,” and June Jordan’s “Report from the Bahamas.” All made me think very hard and tended to raise as many questions as they provided answers. Fortunately, we were given ample time and space in class to work towards the cusp of a breakthrough, and I usually walked away from it still ruminating over a text. In comparison, I would be mentally checked out of my French class 5 minutes before it ended. But I think this class lead me to many questions that had consequences for myself as a student, as a human being, and as a citizen of the planet, among other things.
I’ve also grown as a writer, which, of course, was the goal. I have learned to take more risks as a writer, and to approach a paper from unexpected angles. The biggest change for my writing that happened because of this class was that I felt empowered to speak in the first person in my writing. Being given the authority of my own experiences enabled me to take my writing to a different level, and supplied it with a new dimension. That was refreshing to me. I think I participated enough in class discussions. I think I got out what I wanted to say. I loved to listen to the experiences of others, and to Anne. I was grateful for a space where emotions could be accessed, even in an intellectual setting. At times, it felt like therapy to be able to dissect the intense burdens we all bear by virtue of existing in this day and age.
I think one of the most significant changes that Bryn Mawr has already made in my life is that it has made me reevaluate the identity of intelligence in my life. Half a year ago, if I was asked to conjure up the image of “intelligence,” I would have thought of older white men with British accents reclining on leather armchairs in a dusty library with mahogany-paneled walls. If you asked me to do the same today, I would envision, instead, a woman who carries her books in a backpack, not a briefcase, sitting cross-legged on the ground. For the first time, my idea of “intelligence” has begun to overlap with my idea of “femininity,” and I hope it lasts as long as I live. Intelligence isn’t always white, or straight, or even human anymore. Sometimes intelligence has roots. Sometimes English isn’t its first language. Sometimes it has a Southern accent. What impressed me the most in our class was that everyone had incredible things to say, even if they had to be coaxed out by Anne at times. I have made some wonderful friends because of this class. I have gone running with Maryam and played the recorder with Beatrice, and now I know of a dozen other people to smile at in the library and to grab lunch with.
Everyone who knows me well here knows that I dole out compliments freely and often, but what I want the reader of this to know is that when I am talking highly about this class, it is not just out of appreciation, but of deep respect and veneration. There were moments in this class that I knew I was trash for not finishing the reading before 11:25, but there were also moments that I felt like I was made out of the same sacred stardust as I believe my friends consist of.