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Posts Tagged ‘pop culture’

Fairy Tales

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved fairy tales. Her skin was freckled and unevenly tanned. Her legs always had bruises because she was easily distracted and clumsy. Her hair was not golden like the sun, but that shade of blonde-almost-brown that the adults around her described as dirty or dishwater blonde. When she started squinting at things far in the distance, she had to get glasses. She was a reader with her nose perpetually stuck in a book. She was a daydreamer who imagined different possible worlds than the one she inhabited. Worlds, in which parents didn’t divorce, fathers loved their children unconditionally, people were kinder, she was a princess, and anything was possible with magic.

She imagined a world of enchantment and predictable narratives. She called on these worlds when life around her became too much. If she was being unflinchingly honest with herself, she would have to admit that she was more comfortable inside her head than out. Her imaginings followed certain storylines, the characters were reliable and trustworthy, and evil never triumphed over good. The real world made little sense. People, adults and other children, were mercurial and unpredictable. There were no clear storylines to follow, no patterns that made engaging with others easy or manageable. Kindness quickly transformed into cruelty with little warning. Some days, reality was too much to decipher, so instead of playing with her friends on the playground, she would turn inward to the safe confines of her imagination and create her own fairy tales. Princes rescued princesses. Evil witches were defeated. And often, the heroine would figure out how to save herself. All while, she swung higher and higher on the swing. Her body tethered by reality and gravity, but her mind was gloriously free.

Moreover, fantasy offered up endless happy endings. Real life, on the other hand, had few happy endings. And when the endings were happy, the happiness was conditional and fleeting. Happiness never tried to linger. She often wondered why.

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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.

 

I Look Like A Professor

I don’t look like a professor, or so I’ve been told in my almost 13 years in, or adjacent to, academia. Usually, that message is sent indirectly: a casual comment in the hall, a smirk, or a nicer-than-nice question regarding my hair, clothes, or tattoos. Other times, the message is direct and clear.

At conferences, for example, faculty members and graduate students express equal amounts of disbelief and surprise that someone who looks like me managed to write the book they just read. Senior scholars, and on occasion deans, ask me what I’m studying — even though I finished my Ph.D. in 2008. With confused looks on their faces, my students double-check to make sure that I am the professor, not the teaching assistant. More disturbingly, I’ve seen members of search committees look openly puzzled that I — the body seated in front of them — could possibly be the qualified applicant that they selected for an interview.

In my previous department, when I arrived to interview for a lecturer gig, the secretary assumed I was a student and told me pointedly that the chair was too busy to see me without an appointment. I smiled and tried to explain that I was there for an interview. It took a few minutes to convince her that I was actually a job candidate. As I left the interview, I overheard her telling a faculty member that I didn’t look old enough to have a Ph.D.

Read more.

Ghost

I’ve been listening to Ella Henderson’s “Ghost” on repeat.

I keep going to the river to pray
‘Cause I need something that can wash all the pain
And at most I’m sleeping all these demons away
But your ghost, the ghost of you
It keeps me awake

Throughout the day for at least two weeks, I find myself singing about going to the river to pray. The line is oddly evocative and nostalgic.  I understand that need for prayer. I get that desire for all the pain to disappear into the current of the river never to trouble you again. (I was almost baptized in a river, but that’s a story for a different day.)

There’s a desperation in the song claws at me, but I feel compelled to listen. And listen and listen. Give up the ghost, she croons, give up the ghost. She pleads, Stop the haunting, baby.  Her words feel too truthful. They resonate too much. She’s haunted, and damn, so are the rest of us. At least, I am.

I’ve thought a lot about haunting. I’ve tackled haunting from a theoretical perspective as a scholar interested in monsters and, tangentially, ghosts, their ephemeral partners. I adore the work of Avery Gordon and return often because of her careful attention to how absences seethe and harm. How the absence of ghosts makes them present. How ghosts become the signifiers of  loss, trauma, and erasure. I read about ghosts with detached observation. Yet, the more I analyzed theories of ghosts and haunting, the more the question became personal and unavoidable. We all live with ghosts. We don’t always confront them. What began as scholarly questions about haunting transformed into an essay about a particular ghost of my younger life. I couldn’t theorize ghosts with confronting one of my own.  (more…)

#Day2014

This week, I had the pleasure of giving the second annual Day Lecture at the University of Alabama. The Department of Religious Studies hosts a lecture on religion and popular culture in memory of Zachary Daniel Day, a former student who died unexpectedly at the young age of 26.  His father, Charles Day, and stepmother, Nancy Campbell, established the fund that supports the Day Lecture. I met Charles, Nancy, and Zach’s sister, Ashley.  I learned that Zach was a fan of zombies.  I’m not a fan, but I hope my analysis of zombies would have interested him.

My lecture was on zombies in American pop culture, particularly Night of the Living DeadThe Walking DeadWarm Bodies, and The Reapers are the Angels, as a way to think about ethics, violence, and the construction of humanity. Any chance to talk zombies is a chance I take. Mike Altman (and others ) live tweeted the lecture under #Day2014, and he created a really cool Storify if you want to see what I had to say about these monsters and their discontents. The University of Alabama’s student paper, The Crimson White, covered the event. There’s even an action shot documenting how I always talk with my hands. All in all, I thought the talk went well. Students raised good questions, and I managed to not run into a podium or trip over my own feet (sometimes it is about the small victories).

The lecture, however, was only part of my trip.  I visited classes to discuss topics ranging from blogging and online writing to gender and horror, met with majors over lunch to talk about apocalypticism, conspiracy theory, and campus events, and chatted with faculty formally and informally about my transition from academic to freelance writer, contingent labor, and the academic job market. There was much to say about zombies (there always is), but there was also much to say about my transition and how I understand my writing.

When Russell McCutcheon, the chair of the department,  first approached me about the lecture, I wasn’t entirely sure  that a former academic was the best choice. This was my unvoiced concern and my impoverished definition of academic. Yes, I was working on a book on zombies. Yes, I think and write about religion and popular culture. Yet, I wasn’t sure that I was still an academic, and I felt squeamish about participating in anything reminiscent of my former life.This is rather silly when you stop to think about it.

I’m still a scholar; I’m just not in academia. The context has changed, but I haven’t. Why should I let myself be bogged down by limiting cultural expectations? I shouldn’t, but sometimes I do.

And now, I am so glad that I didn’t.

My lecture was FUN. Preparing for it revived (pun!) my interest in my zombie manuscript and helped me think about what is really at stake in this type of project. Talking about zombies with the faculty clarified what I want to do, what I need to do, and what I haven’t done yet. Moreover, explaining how I view my academic writing versus my online writing gave me much to think and write about.

This Department of Religious Studies is one of the best I’ve ever encountered. The faculty are engaged with students, with their research, and with each other. They are encouraging and gracious, and they are so very smart. I learned something in each conversation, and I hope they can say the same. This department made me wish for something I thought I might never want again, an academic job. If I had ever interviewed at a department like this, I would have taken a job in a heartbeat.  Importantly, I would have had a very different impression of the job market and Religious Studies departments more generally.

If you are ever invited to visit with this department, you have to say yes. Thank you Merinda Simmons, Sarah Rollens, Eleanor Finnegan, Mike Altman, Russell McCutcheon, Steve Ramey, and Ted Trost for the conversations, coffee, meals, and time well spent.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!