I’m headed to Atlanta tomorrow for the annual meeting of the AAR/SBL (#aarsbl15). I’ll be on three panels, so here’s a sneak peek of each my talks. I’m discussing the 1920s Klan, labor, and academic freedom, which is a lot of ground to cover in one weekend.

Please feel free to say “hello,” especially all of you religious studies tweeps. It is always nice to meet folks in real time.

A21-102 Birth of A Nation A Century Later (Saturday, 9:00-11:00 am)

From “Birth of the Klan’s Nation”: The cross burned on top of Stone Mountain marked the beginning of a new Klan fighting to save a white Protestant nation….The robes and the fiery cross, the most recognizable artifacts of the Klan, materialized the order’s commitment to Protestantism and 100% Americanism. The Klan’s material culture tells the story of both their popularity and decline 100 years later. Their shared vision of white Protestant nation defended by Knights in robes no longer appeals as it once did, but it lingers still.

A21-201 How the University Works: A Roundtable on Labor in Religious Studies (Saturday, 1:00-3:30 pm)

From “Academic Waste”: Yet, after I finished the first chapter of How the University Works, I realized how wrong, and arrogant,  I was. What I accepted as facts about how higher ed functions prove to only be assumptions. Bousquet demonstrates that the job market is not actually a proper market but an illusion of one, which relies upon the casualization of labor for universities and colleges to run.

A22-105 Academic Freedom in Peril–And What to Do About It (Sunday, 9:00-11:30 am)

From “Silence and Speech”:  As I considered my response to this panel on academic freedom at the AAR, those two sentences from Lorde repeated in my head. I worked on other papers. I meet my deadlines. I built Lego castles with my kids, but her words wouldn’t dissipate. They captured my attention in the quiet. Were her words revelation, warning, or a strange mishmash of both? That silence doesn’t afford us any protection became the necessary beginning for my remarks on academic freedom in an age of contingency and precarity. Silence and the freedom to speak. Speech and the attempts to curtail it.



I’m confronting a strange sense of déjà vu. This week, I’ve alternated between studying for the GRE, writing a personal statement, wrangling both kids by myself (Chris is on travel for work), and relying on coffee to keep me mostly alert.

I feel that I have done this process of applying for graduate school before because I have. In 2001, I applied for my MA in Religion. Now 14 years later, I’m applying yet again, but this time for an MFA in Creative Writing with a focus on creative nonfiction. The process feels simultaneously familiar and strange. I know what’s expected of my application. I can prepare. I can still get hives from worrying about a test. Yet, I never expected to consider graduate training again in the middle of my 30s. I imagined a different life than the one I have.

My life changed significantly in 14 years. I’m married with two children. Our 14th anniversary is in December. The cat remains mean, but she’s less playful. The first dog is older, grayer, and deaf. There’s a younger dog, but she’s already middle-aged by canine standards. My sister got married, so did my brother. I now have a niece and nephews. My grandmother died. I haven’t spoken to my biological father since 2007. I earned a PhD and never found that career I trained for. I started freelance writing.


Fly Away

Last week, I was in Pennsylvania lecturing about doomsday scenarios: Tim LaHaye’s end-times theology and, of course, zombies. Today, after three flights, I’m finally in Minnesota, where it is currently 39 degrees. I only had to run through the airport in Charlotte, but that’s a fairly normal occurrence at that particular airport (at least this time I wasn’t pregnant and nauseous, which is a story for another day.)

I’m cold and possibly shivering, but pretty happy to be visiting Concordia College. I even get to meet my Twitter buddy, David Creech, in person. I’m presenting the Religion enrichment lecture to a couple hundred undergrads, and I’m talking about ethics and (in)humanity in zombie apocalypses: Zombieland, Warm Bodies, The Walking Dead, and more. Here’s a not-so-secret secret: I love talking zombies to anyone who will listen. This is fun yet serious lecture, and I even get to visit classes and interact with students. I’m pretty much nerding out for a full day on zombies. How lucky am I?

October tends to be a busy month because I am a scholar of zombies and darker registers of American religions. So far, I’ve written about zombies, apocalypticism, academic waste, Hell Houses, the Klan, and more zombies. Killing the Buddha published an excerpt of The Zombies Are Coming! today on zombies and guns.

The blog has been quiet because my deadlines piled up with public lectures, regular assignments, and travel. With Halloween in striking distance, my work appears relevant and pressing. I’m trying to learn to capitalize on the season. Yay? (Maybe.)

I’m not complaining. It is good to be busy, and I’m grateful that folks want to hear me speak about topics near and dear.

I’m just tired of airplanes.



The Religion Bulletin is running a series of responses to Russell McCutcheon’s Theses on Professionalization (2007) by early career scholars. Matt Sheedy, the editor of the blog, asked me to contribute, so I did. I tackled thesis 15 about turning your dissertation into a manuscript. Here’s an excerpt of what I wrote.

Before I graduated, I had a book contract and advance. My committee was convinced that I would have no problem getting a tenure track job. Any department, they assured, would be lucky to have me. I chose to believe them. I had four campus visits that year. Following my advisor’s advice about published seemed to work.

However, no amount of advice mattered after the market crash in 2008. The job market for tenure-track positions in the humanities, which already wasn’t good, became worse. The common lament was “there are no jobs,” but this wasn’t true. There were still jobs, but they were not tenure track. Contingent positions, those part-time and full-time jobs re-upped every semester or year, were readily available. I had no problem securing temporary lecturer gigs. My book contract might have helped. Yet, I’m not sure it mattered much when departments just need bodies in front of classrooms to teach students. I finished my book while teaching part-time and applying for tenure track jobs. I got a contract for another book after getting a full-time lecturer job.

I imagined that if I just worked hard enough and published more that I could cajole search committees into hiring me. I didn’t get a tenure track job.

So, while I agree that your manuscript does you no good in your desk drawer, I’m not entirely convinced that it does you any good out of the drawer either.

Read more.


This review first appeared at the Bulletin for the Study of Religion blog in December of 2012. Since Twilight turned 10 this week, I thought it might be time to direct you all to Tanya Erzen’s excellent ethnography of Twilight fans.

In 2008, I picked up the Twilight series because my youngest sister, then a teenager, happened to be reading them. I had just sent my dissertation to my advisor for final edits, and I wanted to read something that was not related to the Klan, hate groups, or American religions more generally. I wanted to read fluff. A series of novels about an ordinary human girl, a vegetarian vampire “mainstreaming,” and a handsome teen werewolf embroiled in a tortured love triangle seemed to fit the bill. Thus, I turned to Stephenie Meyer’s increasingly popular Twilight novels for casual reading. After finishing Twilight, I rushed to (now defunct) Borders to buy Eclipse.

Much like other women, teenagers or adults, I consumed these books, and so did both of my sisters and my mother. We read them, we talked about them, we criticized them, and we reread them. Despite the bad prose and melodramatic storyline, something about the books managed to appeal to all of us. What was it about the series that drew us in? What kept us reading? Why did we all hate Breaking Dawn? What vision of the world did we consume by embracing this fantasy? What did fandom suggest about us and the series? (more…)