and on a phenomenon I've noticed

I'm on a number of listservs for my research. It gives me a window into people's thoughts about certain topics, and it helps me think about the sorts of concerns that my subjects might have about the relevant topics.

I've noticed that people are signing their posts "blessings". It makes me realize how far removed I am from most of American life in my own daily life. I'm sure it's meant to be a respectful way of signing off, but I find it very confrontational. Clearly I have issues with public announcement of religious faith, or even public forms of spirituality. I'm not sure why. I guess I am generally distrustful of the need to proclaim one's beliefs so visibly. Though...I did buy my last set of checks with "Pro-Choice" emblazoned on the background (which I do regret, now 2 or so years later), so I'm not sure why I'm trying to pretend that I'm any different from anyone else. My publicly declared beliefs aren't religious, but I take them seriously, and I want people to know my position. Hmmmm....why do I interpret religious faith as distinct from political faith or moral beliefs?

One of the more remarkable moments in the last few months of fieldwork was having a physician say, after I'd turned off the recorder, "I'm talking about faith." I was a bit jolted by the claim, and he smiled and said, "Faith in science." He was playing with me, by starting out proclaiming that one had to have faith, after we'd been talking about the scientific reality (according to him) of the vaccine, and then announcing that there was a faith component. But of course, science is a faith, even if its empiricism feels more compelling to me than religions' forms of faith. This seems to be a central struggle that my subjects who are opposed to vaccination are dealing with -- whom should they believe? The CDC? Jenny McCarthy? Why is one source of information more credible than another?

Over dinner last night, my Ride-Arc posse and I were talking about wikipedia and students' fondness for citing it in their papers. I feel strongly that students shouldn't be using wikipedia. Perhaps more than anything, it's that they fail to use multiple sources, and they depend far too much on wikipedia's accuracy. Though a number of other people have tried to argue with me that its public forum monitors its accuracy and is self-correcting, I still maintain that one cannot depend on a single source, no matter how publicly monitored, for one's information. The problem of how one identifies legitimate information actually ties back to my research, as informants have angrily described stories of harm caused by vaccines, or a group I've been working with claimed that Detroit had passed an incredibly racist law, which I later found out was actually a satire published on a blog (noted on the site as a satire). Yet for both these groups, the information they discovered was sufficient to confirm their fears. There was little critical interpretation to the information they'd acquired. [This has been a debate in my personal life, as well, with a friend who is determined to show me Hillary's evil ways, but only presents part of the story, or misrepresents the information because it suits him to do so. I tend to be much more of a realist, hardly believing either Obama or Clinton is immune from human fallibility...but, this is a bit of a tangent.]

I guess, faith to me seems narrow-sighted, or at least potentially dangerous. (Really what this points to is my inability to believe in much of anything. I would even say my only belief is in skepticism, though this gets incredibly exhausting. I fear I am becoming a contrarian on principle, a fault of my liberal arts' education? The dangers of relativism and postmodernism as taught in the late 90s? Or just me, being difficult?) Still, as I find with my informants who believe strongly in their position (whether they are pro, anti, or moderately against vaccines), it's hard to really weight information equally. Information that discredits one's belief tends to get shunted aside. I know that I do this all the time. I think I've been guilty of it during the democratic presidential candidate process -- among other things. So I would be naive in expecting others to be any better at parsing information. In other words, what I find most compelling is to understand what drives people's interests in certain kinds of knowledge rather than assessing whether their knowledge is in fact correct. How do we aggregate and collect information and negotiate between the media onslaught that modern technologies permit?

Unrelated news: I still want a dog. Falcx, the feline, would not approve. Also, I don't think I can return to the world of renting with both a cat and a dog. However, if anyone has a low-cost rent-a-dog, I might be in the market.

Me...on my bike

As every first Friday of the month is, last night was the Ride-Arc ride, which is one of the things that makes me love L.A. I am perpetually ambivalent about this city, but things like RideArc and M+A make me excited and happy to be here. The attempts to create community in a city that feels so community-less give me hope.

One of the bikers has been taking photos, and there are a couple of them here. Because I am mildly vain, in this photo you can see me in my red sweatshirt and grey down vest.

I keep promising myself that I am going to get into the habit of journaling, and being a good fieldnote-taker. So far, I have not met that resolution. I have also failed to realize a number of my 30 things by 30 that I also thought would kick my ass in gear. I am the biggest faineant. Also insanely pretentious.

" 'tism: the musical"**

Last night, my neighborly friend and I watched "Autism: the Musical" on her tivo'd TV. She was eager to see it for her own reasons and willingly complied with my request for a viewing. (I was surprised, yet thrilled that I could rope her into a viewing...I ought not to give her so much shit for slow-running. A variant, perhaps, on slow-talking? She's the only person who's ever gotten me to run for more than an hour consecutively, and for that she deserves an award.)

The most fascinating dynamic was the mother who seems to suffer from a form of Munchausen-by-proxy syndrome. The excising of her son's piece from the dress rehearsal of the "Miracle Project" led her to throw a huge fit. While his autism diagnosis was surely legit, this mother turned the son's issues into a scene...about her. And yet, as I follow these vaccine listservs, I start to feel that it's a fine line. How do parents adequately defend and protect their children without making their fight about some sort of retribution for their (sometimes perceived as) unfair lot? Is this diagnosis, is this crusade about the child, or does it turn into something else? To be fair to many of the parents portrayed, there were a lot of parents who were clearly invested in their children, but seeing this mother (whose husband had denigrated her behavior earlier in the documentary, at which both running-partner/neighbor friend and I were horrified for his sexism, yet subsequently sympathetic because this mamma was a bit out of control over her son's well-being) made clear that the child's condition was surely not helped by his mother's melodrama.

Jenny McCarthy has been all over the media discussing her books about her son's autism (and purported recovery). I may be judging her too harshly, but the frequency of her media appearances [Larry King, Oprah, some E! tv show that I watched a clip of...etc...] makes me leery of her intentions. A popularly cited (among internet discussions) statement, "My science is named Evan," merits closer attention. The emphasis is on "her science," a somewhat unreliable scientific source, instead of information a bit more tested. The immediacy and relevance of her own empiricism and witnessing of her son's changes and transformations count far more than any other pieces of evidence. (Perhaps you ought to watch the YouTube clip (uurrggh, can't find full clip with this statement but here's this and here)). I can't quite understand why America is persuaded by an actress. [Wait, what? Yes. Ok, yes, I am clear. Or rather, unsurprised, but not clear.] I have not actually seen Jenny McCarthy in any movies or TV shows, though I do remember her stint as a Candie's shoes' girl (sometime in the 90s) -- she sat on the toilet surrounded by shoes, in magazines -- print stint. I'm sure she's a lovely woman, but what exactly persuades the public that this woman's knowledge, as compelling as it may be, is more reliable or authentic than any other forms?

It's not so much that I want to discredit her, but rather am trying to understand why people are persuaded by her. Highlights of the clip include: after Jenny explains that she learned about autism from Google, Oprah says, "Thank god for Google! Thank god for Google" Yeah...thanks, Oprah. Oh, and McCarthy announces she got her "degree" from Google. The wonders of internet research.

I am not a syncophant of science. I think science is highly fallible, as with many other things in the world (of human interpretation) --- but why? Why? Jenny announces she "knows what's going on in his [Evan's] body" because she's analyzed it all. The proof for her is embodied in her child, whose behaviors have changed and shifted as she has monitored and altered his diet. It seems that there might be other interpretations of the changes she's witnessed. But her ownership of his body and his disorder (disease?) give her authority. Oprah reminds us that Jenny "wrote the book," but acknowledges it's what "she believes" and it doesn't mean "it will work for all children". It is clear, in spite of the brief caveat, that Oprah is persuaded by Jenny's passion and dedication. What I can't understand is why Oprah's "word"/world is more convincing to people than other media forms. Why are Americans eager to consume the negative and dismiss the positive? What is so reassuring about the public proclamations from the individual testimony? Why do people want so badly to believe her over anybody else? Why is there arbitrary belief in science, when it's convenient (oh, fluoridation, antibiotics, hand sanitizer, etc...why are these people not rallying against all modern conveniences/advances)? Oprah and Jenny even acknoweldged with chemotherapy, it might not work for everyone, but that they'll "give it a try". That form of science is persuasive and worth trying.

Jenny McCarthy's meta-referencing of Hollywood films as driving her hospital fight, "I turned into Shirley MacLaine," confirms my theory that LA lives in a meta world. It is self-referencing in an egomaniacal way. I criticize SF for its homogeneity and idyllic bubble -- but LA and its sense of self-worth sometimes drives me insane. It produces an artificial world that the rest of the world strives to emulate, while striving to emulate its own creation simultaneously. It's kind of exhausting.

** the contraction of the original title: "Autism: the Musical" is my neighbor's charming contraction. I wouldn't want to misappropriate her mordant sense of humor.

Religion frightens me [note some amendations]

When I left Morocco a few years ago, I was certain I did not want to do fieldwork around the issue of religion. Of course, fieldwork and anthropology are rarely "about" one thing -- that's what I love about the discipline and the methods, it would be incredibly dull if any human social behaviors were ever "just" about one thing. (Actually, that's why I left public health as a discipline, its methods felt so reductionist.)

In Morocco, I had situated myself in a religious community. This was how I selected the project. The central question depended on the fact that it was a religious community, a minority religious community that was rapidly dwindling. I felt suffocated, though, by, what I felt were, fundamentalist interpretations of Judaism. It hampered my work, and I knew I could not sustain research for a year or more. But now, a couple of years later, I'm realizing that even a topic that I had focused on for its association with sexual health and political debates, of course, includes religious/moral threads.

I have been keeping an eye on a New York Times "Well" blog, where readers can post a comment. The blog follows up on articles that the Times has published, allowing a public forum for reactions to these articles. As I study a vaccine that is more or less about sex...or cancer...or sex....or...moral rectitude, articles and discussions about the vaccine tend to elicit grand proclamations about social behaviors, teaching children what is right, and who would need the vaccine. The invocation of religious and moral doctrines are kind of freaking me out. I remain agnostic about vaccines. I want to be sympathetic to the antis, if only because big pharma seems not so different than a religous dogma. But I find the vitriol and the emotional imprecations too much to bear. It feels hysterical to the point of extremism.

[I realized I should amend the title and the post to say: there are a lot of people I love and respect who are religious. So perhaps the concern is not so much with personal belief or an investment in a religious or spiritual set of values, but really any sort of collective following raises my suspicion. I feel uncomfortable at protests, as much as I often do in religious sites. As I'm trying to articulate or at least come to terms with, it's not religion per se or even devotion to ideas or beliefs. I am wary of following idols and leaders. Or the idea that some people are more authorities on any thing than any one else. I know this position is contradictory, obviously I must have some beliefs or philosophical positions. I guess I am realizing that in my visceral reactions there's something else that I might need to figure out so that I can do my work more effectively. This reaction is totally unproductive and contrary. If I can respect those who are close to me for holding beliefs different than mine, I ought to be able to extend this beyond my personal circle.]

Knowing the city by bike

One of the commitments I've made since moving to this city-of-cars is to bike as much as possible. It seems to baffle most people I've met here, since this is truly a place run by, dependent on, and celebrating of cars. (Somehow that last sentence sounds weird and wrong, but how else to describe cars' pervasiveness?) I grew up on bikes as a kid in New York. (For which I am ever grateful to my father, though there was a point where I hated him for making me ride.) NY always seemed like the ideal bike city, though people have found it odd (and scary) that I would bike there. Manhattan's traffic is pretty well-regimented. Relatively few streets have stop signs, cars are used to maniacal pedestrians, and pedestrians are used to maniacal drivers. There's a choreography that happens on the street, and the bikes are just another part of it.

San Francisco was an ok bike city, as long as I plotted the route so that there weren't too many killer hills. Though once the bike got stolen (one of many many bike thefts in my life), I didn't bother to replace it. LA has surprised me. I find biking remarkably pleasant, and I love seeing the city at a bike pace. Driving everywhere was making me miserable. And so much driving takes place on freeways, that the city seems impenetrable. In addition, the architecture is pretty monotonous and strip malls often house surprisingly interesting restaurants or stores, but how is one to know what's worth visiting and what's not? All these fortress-like facades made LA feel inhuman to me. I learned the freeways pretty quickly, and I learned not to try to take shortcuts on non-major roads (my favorite is the roads that either start north-south and mysteriously start taking you east-west, or even better the ones that loop back altogether, such as one road in Westwood). But on a bike you can fix your error pretty quickly. In traffic here, making a mistake can add a half an hour, but on the bike, it's usually a small detour.

Besides the logistical aspect, that one can flout others' traffic miseries, it also allows me to see the city on a different scale. In Casablanca I walked everywhere. Within a month, I had a really good sense of a large part of the city. So much so that when I returned from a weekend trip with a big group of the Jewish community, I couldn't understand why our bus driver was taking us down a particular street. When I commented on it to one of the women, why is he taking us this way? He should go that way. She seemed amazed that I even knew the streets at all. In her mid-40s, she said she had no idea where we were, even though we were only 10 blocks away from the community center. But unlike Casablanca or NY or San Francisco, LA is not walkable in the same way.

On my bike, I get to see the city at night, the hordes of predominantly Latino workers waiting for buses that seem to never come. I can observe the anger and road rage of drivers as they jostle to beat each other to the stoplight or the freeway entrance, without having to join in, entirely. And the city can be really beautiful -- and its natural surroundings are amazing. In spite of the fumes and dirt, and an upsetting accident yesterday, I love getting to know LA on two wheels.

Yesterday I decided to bike down to a health clinic in South (eastern) LA. I'd been down there three times already, and I figured it was safe enough to bike. One of the concerns people here have voiced to me is that the neighborhoods themselves might not be safe. But I actually think being on a bike makes people more welcoming of you into their community. Driving down a street with the windows rolled up, an anxious-looking white girl with out-of-state plates --- somehow that seems more ripe for harassment to me than being vulnerable and visible on the bike. And it was a great ride. About 7.5 miles southeast of where I live, I got to see some of the residential parts of town. I rode through downtown LA, which is one of my favorite parts of the city, because it feels like a real city. It has...gasp...history. And there are industries clumped together, in ways that remind me of the east coast. I miss that out here on the west coast. San Francisco felt relatively devoid of history, after having grown up in NY. I love biking through the streets of cheap stores that have sprung up in old buildings, I love the flower district and the "fashion" district, with all its fabric stores and hawkers. I'm sure with the internet and online-life, many of these tangible real-world spaces are disappearing. After biking through those more vibrant areas, the city became a bit of a wasteland.

It made me realize that Baltimore, which always seemed to me to be the city that has been abandoned, is not unique. I think other American cities have all grappled with shifts in economies, such that downtown areas became blighted and ghosts of their past. (Philly definitely used to be like that in the 80s and 90s, though you'd hardly realize it now.) But Baltimore has always felt like a much more extensively abandoned city. I suspect part of that is because it's relatively small, geographically, so it's more obvious, perhaps, that entire blocks are boarded up and left to decay. LA seems to operate on some sort of eternal expansionist theory. The luxury of the west, I suppose, there's a sense that there's always more vast spaces. (These theories are relatively half-baked, since I've yet to read anything about this...more they are my own reflections on the space.) As I crossed the city, I felt a bit like an urban archaeologist. Concrete on-ramps, desolate factory buildings, and then suddenly residential areas.

Blogging in lieu of fieldnotes?

I realized recently that I was writing to one friend a bit compulsively. In some ways, it was nice to get back in touch, and to have him to stay in contact with, but also, I realized, he was filling a void. I haven't been sending fieldwork updates to my friends, the way I did when I was in N. Africa for 2 months one summer. Partly because fieldwork is now in the States, and it's easy to have a phone call or feel no real break from life before and after. But it also means that I won't have a written (casual) record of time here. In Morocco, I was also writing to my boyfriend at least once a day if not more often, making my life as humorous as possible, crafting the story a little bit. It's a great record to look back on every now and then. So, I decided it was time to re-visit the blogging experience. The last time I kept a blog was in college -- and I kind of cringe at the thought of it. It was in the early days of webpaging, and it was awfully confessional. I finally got my college to remove it a year or two ago, much to my relief.


Fieldwork at home is weird. I'm not sure where it begins or ends, and while some might say fieldwork rarely has convenient packaging like that, there is something particular about working in your own country. Being able to fly home for holidays or drive north to visit friends in San Francisco. At the same time, I love this about my chosen career. I like that things are rarely seamed, that I can return easily, should I wish, to do more work. Of course, the downside is that much like being a student (where there is rarely a moment that work isn't somewhere rattling around as a possibility), it's hard to not feel hyper-vigilant all the time. I can't read the NY Times online without one part of my brain scanning for research tidbits. U.S. goings-on tend to relate back to my research somehow. This is true for anyone who does research, I know this, but somehow it feels all-pervasive, with no discrete fieldsite.