If public scholarship brings together one’s subjectivity, academic work, and participation in overall intellectual life, I see no other route to enter this conversation than through the perspective of my intellectual biography. I find it necessary, in other words, to link aspects of my life, research, and involvement in the world of ideas beyond the college campus. To introduce my position succinctly: I owe a turning point in my biography to Modern Greek Studies in the U.S., the institution that has enabled my work. My entry into this institution and its professional life signals my transformation from a working class immigrant with a degree in civil engineering to a humanities and social sciences academic. It represents my reinvention. In retrospect, as a scholar who also writes about American ethnicities, I am inclined to frame this transition as a quintessentially Greek/American moment: a place of Greek learning in the United States—supported in some cases by Greek American monies, let me add—puts in motion the foundational narrative of America as a place of new beginnings. If an educational rebirth redirects one’s life project, it is safe to say that my connection with Modern Greek Studies is experienced viscerally. And as an intellectual, affective, but also material affiliation that crystallizes into an organic relationship, my professional being renders the separation of scholarship, personal conviction, and public engagement alien to me. . . .
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Public Scholarship and Greek America: Personal Reflections, Intellectual Vocations
Journal of Modern Greek Studies (forthcoming, Spring 2015)
If public scholarship brings together one’s subjectivity, academic work, and participation in overall intellectual life, I see no other route to enter this conversation than through the perspective of my intellectual biography. I find it necessary, in other words, to link aspects of my life, research, and involvement in the world of ideas beyond the college campus. To introduce my position succinctly: I owe a turning point in my biography to Modern Greek Studies in the U.S., the institution that has enabled my work. My entry into this institution and its professional life signals my transformation from a working class immigrant with a degree in civil engineering to a humanities and social sciences academic. It represents my reinvention. In retrospect, as a scholar who also writes about American ethnicities, I am inclined to frame this transition as a quintessentially Greek/American moment: a place of Greek learning in the United States—supported in some cases by Greek American monies, let me add—puts in motion the foundational narrative of America as a place of new beginnings. If an educational rebirth redirects one’s life project, it is safe to say that my connection with Modern Greek Studies is experienced viscerally. And as an intellectual, affective, but also material affiliation that crystallizes into an organic relationship, my professional being renders the separation of scholarship, personal conviction, and public engagement alien to me. . . .
If public scholarship brings together one’s subjectivity, academic work, and participation in overall intellectual life, I see no other route to enter this conversation than through the perspective of my intellectual biography. I find it necessary, in other words, to link aspects of my life, research, and involvement in the world of ideas beyond the college campus. To introduce my position succinctly: I owe a turning point in my biography to Modern Greek Studies in the U.S., the institution that has enabled my work. My entry into this institution and its professional life signals my transformation from a working class immigrant with a degree in civil engineering to a humanities and social sciences academic. It represents my reinvention. In retrospect, as a scholar who also writes about American ethnicities, I am inclined to frame this transition as a quintessentially Greek/American moment: a place of Greek learning in the United States—supported in some cases by Greek American monies, let me add—puts in motion the foundational narrative of America as a place of new beginnings. If an educational rebirth redirects one’s life project, it is safe to say that my connection with Modern Greek Studies is experienced viscerally. And as an intellectual, affective, but also material affiliation that crystallizes into an organic relationship, my professional being renders the separation of scholarship, personal conviction, and public engagement alien to me. . . .
Monday, January 19, 2015
Modern Greek Studies and Public Scholarship: Intersections and Prospects
Journal of Modern Greek Studies (forthcoming, Spring 2015)
Public involvement in U.S. Modern Greek Studies represents both a visible
and an invisible practice. Although an obvious presence among non-academic publics,
it is largely absent as an object of critical reflection. The ethos of civic responsibility—of
giving back to the community—has defined Modern Greek, being also consistent
with the founding principle of American higher education, namely to “serve the
interests of the larger community” (Boyer 1990, 21-22). But this public participation
rarely merits analytical attention. It is as though a wall obscures the connection
between academic work and its scholarly rendering for various non-academic
publics both within and beyond university campuses. Activities that are fundamentally
interconnected are artificially severed. If scholars of Modern Greek have honed
the skills necessary for sophisticated analyses of various boundaries, this particular
boundary still awaits serious consideration. . . .
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Re/collecting Greek America: Reflections on Ethnic Struggle, Success, and Survival
Journal of Modern Hellenism, Vol. 31 (Forthcoming, Winter 2015)
Two
interrelated ideas guide this essay: the notion of history as re/collection,
and history as cultural practice. A concept with a twofold meaning,
re/collection captures both remembering and revisiting an archive to remember anew.
Re/collection animates rediscovery and recovery. It brings into focus what
earlier collecting has intentionally or unintentionally overlooked or
marginalized. In this dual capacity, re/collection forestalls forgetting and
expands the range and scope of remembering. It enables knowing differently.
Historical
re/collection illuminates history as cultural practice. Historians recognize that
the making of history is not a disinterested enterprise divorced from cultural assumptions
and ideas. This is the reason why at any one time, society may privilege the
telling of some pasts and the sidelining of others. Because certain voices are
excluded, remembering is punctuated by absences. Thus critical historiography
asks, who produces history? How and for what purpose? What pasts does a society
remember and why? This approach explains the silences in the historical record,
and reflects on the consequences of forgetting. In turn, reflexivity probes
re/collection to produce new pasts. Re/collection is an integral component of
history as cultural practice.1
To
bring the idea of history as cultural practice to bear in relation to ethnic
historiography: The American/immigrant narrative of success defines achievement
in terms of money, status, career, entrepreneurship, and assimilation; not in
terms of an immigrant’s worth as a person, ability to build intercultural
bridges, creative negotiations with bicultural belonging, or selective ethnic
reproduction. In the case of Greek America, for instance, history notes the
divergent cultural positioning of male and female immigrants to point out that
success as socioeconomic achievement refers to men, and success as civic and
cultural achievement refers to women.2
In response, one could raise two questions: why does this narrative privilege
socioeconomic status? And why does it present it as ethnic when the narrative
essentially speaks to a gender-specific (male) experience? Critical scholarship
endeavors to examine, as I pointed out, the implications of this social
construction. Immigrant success as socioeconomic status legitimizes the
American Dream. The mobility of newcomers asserts the inclusiveness of the nation.
Demonstrating the gender inflection in this story of success would identify
this story’s displacements. The framing of male history as ethnic renders
invisible women’s alternative struggles and successes, and thus masks different
visions of becoming an American ethnic. The practice of reflexivity in history
illuminates presences and absences in a collection of evidence, and helps us
think about their respective ramifications.
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