Student Guest Post: Play Ball, But Stay on Your Own Team!: Language and Gender Differences in Athletics

Editor: This is a guest post by Ash, a student from Dr. Shulist’s Language, Gender, and Sexuality class, on the many ways that the idea of binary gender affects the world of sports. Ash is a science major who was taking this course mainly for fun, and we love this example of how to use anthropological tools to think through topics that surround us literally constantly. 

The gender binary has been, throughout history, rigorously upheld in the field of athletics. Presently, we still have strict divisions between men’s and women’s leagues, and more often there are now recurring issues with transgender athletes being put into either category regardless of their gender under the guise of a fear of unfair advantage (Gleaves & Lehrbach 2016) . In ancient times, women were excluded from participating in large events and athletic activity altogether, but more modern times are where the league division by gender has emerged. The only “co-ed” teams appear in non-serious, recreation-type leagues. Even non-contact sports such as curling have leagues divided by binary gender within the upper ranks. In the latest winter Olympics in PyeongChang, South Korea, the long standing statistic of more male athletes to female athletes persisted, despite female athletes in teams such as the USA obtaining more medals than their male counterparts. Even when discussing gender in athletics and critiquing its use of binary here, it is nearly impossible to avoid separating men’s from women’s athletics.

This brings us to the obvious question of: Why? Why are sports inherently viewed and treated as more male dominated and suited? Likely it is the common association of physical strength with masculinity, whereas we have seen in class what “feminine power” is portrayed as on Google images. This fractal recursivity whereby masculinity is strong and femininity is inherently weak, among other negative traits, contributes to this. There is also related and specific language difference used when describing each group’s athletics and athletes in disappointing trends over the years, and this language surrounding athletics continues to uphold the gender differential within the community. Examples of this include women’s sports as being marked, whereas men’s categories are left unmarked (ex: “hockey” implies men’s hockey but “women’s hockey” must be denoted as such), and occasionally the female leagues are not called “women’s” leagues but rather, unfortunately, “ladies” (ex: Wimbledon Ladies Singles). Men’s leagues and teams, in my experience, are not called “gentlemen’s”. Even the athletes themselves are often marked as female, including at times when it’s not entirely relevant or necessary (ex: woman golfer).

This relates to our class lecture on men and masculinities where we discussed athletics and associated spaces (such as locker rooms and “man caves”) as creating sites of toxic, male-only culture. These hyper-masculine spaces simultaneously prohibit women’s presence yet demand that they exist in the periphery simultaneously for sexual experiences and heterosexual indexing (Kiesling 2005). In the male-only spheres, misogyny is able to flourish as masculinity can reach an un-compromised and un-rivalled peak. An example of this is Donald Trump’s infamous “locker room banter” comment whereby he insinuates that conversations about sexual harassment and misogyny are appropriate in male-only spaces such as gendered locker rooms. This “old boys club” mentality contributes to the underlying parts of rape culture that are pervasive in society but often less detectable and thus more likely to be ignored or dismissed, as, for example, just “locker room banter”. Even when changing clothes in preparation for the sport at hand, the binary precedent is already being set.

More specific examples of language upholding toxic gender binaries can be seen abundantly in the hockey community. Only the men’s leagues (as with most professional sports) are considered popular and profitable. The highest league in the sport, the NHL, is not specifically men-only yet a single female athlete has only ever played one game. Furthermore, within the broader hockey community, it is a culture of high masculinity with that same pushing of all femininity, women included, into the periphery. Specifically, female players and fans alike are required to understand the vast lingo and jargon associated within the hockey community and culture, yet they are not permitted to use or access it themselves. Furthermore, there is a very limited and particular pool from which male players may choose to form romantic relationships, and that group does not overlap with their female hockey playing counterparts. It is also assumed and reinforced that male hockey players are not homosexual, despite movements such as the NHL’s “Hockey is for Everyone” campaign. There are explicitly drawn lines between the two binary genders within hockey culture, and each has very obvious and laid out roles and rules. When sports are so heavily divided by gender, these rigid systems within are able to emerge, and language further enables it to do so.

Language upholding this rigidity also extends to the differences among interviews between male and female athletes. Many female athletes have taken issue with being asked questions that they felt were extremely inappropriate given the contexts. For example, being asked about their “ultimate date”, why they aren’t smiling, which male athletes they “like”, and general comments and questions about their attire. Generally it is reported that male athletes are not asked questions of these unrelated natures. The hashtag #CoverTheAthlete made a point of imploring journalists to ask consistent types of questions regardless of the gender of athlete they were interviewing⁹.  A video in support of the #CoverTheAthlete movement highlighted the baffling inappropriateness in the difference in the line of questioning between athletes genders by having multiple journalists ask some of the most outlandish but actual questions that have been asked of professional female athletes to their male counterparts.

Sexism in sports is nothing new, but I used this opportunity to explore the ways in which language and league divisions within athletics perpetuates it. It is commonly assumed that athletics require division by gender at all due to perceived differences in strength and skill whereby women are understood as the lesser, despite several sports, leagues, and statistics debunking this¹¹. From the initial gender division, we see right away that this causes negative implications for transgender athletes. From there we see how highly segregated leagues can create hyper-masculine spaces resulting in unbalanced sports cultures including justifiable “locker room banter” and exclusionary attitudes and expectations. Lastly, and even more language focused, we examined the differences in interview questions between male and female athletes wherein the women were asked remarkably inappropriate and unrelated questions compared to the men: When the lines of questioning were reversed as seen in the #CoverTheAthlete video, the male athletes were less than impressed. Unfortunately, athletics and surrounding culture embodies many more categories and examples of sexism and gender differences than what was mentioned here, such as outstanding differences in pay. It remains a highly divided area and progress within it is slow. It is hard to say what the next 100 years of professional sports will look like: Will gender divisions between leagues be demolished? Will transgender athletes not be a controversial issue of feigned unfairness? Will the #CoverTheAthlete campaign and similar movements lessen the amount of absurd questions that female athletes receive from journalists? Will sports stop being a site of hyper-masculinity due to gender division causing rampantly created and perpetuated sexism?

The ball is in our court.

 

Bibliography

  1. Gleaves, John, & Lehrbach, Tim. “Beyond Fairness: the Ethics of Inclusion for Transgender and Intersex Athletes”, Journal of the Philosophy of Sport, 43:2, 311-326. 2016.
  2. Kiesling, Scott Fabius. “Homosocial desire in mens talk: Balancing and re-Creating cultural discourses of masculinity.” Language in Society, vol. 34, no. 05, Dec. 2005.
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Student Guest Post: A Peer’s Wry on Netflix’s Queer Eye

Editor’s note: This guest post comes from our student Becky, who has revised it from a piece of work for Dr. Shulist’s ANTH308 class on Language, Gender, and Sexuality. As your usual bloggers are currently digging their way out of the end-of-term grading pile/why-won’t-it-stop-snowing grumpy funk, it’s great to be able to highlight some of the insights our students are bringing. Also, this editor is putting Queer Eye on the Netflix queue for a post-term binge-watch (thanks, students!). 

 

To preface this, I would like to admit that I’m an avid viewer of all things transformative in nature in reality TV set-ups. There’s something so appealing in seeing someone’s life get turned around in 40 minutes or less- especially if you consider yourself a before rather than an after effort.

(Side note: HGTV producers, if you’re out there, call me.)

Netflix’s Queer Eye certainly offers all this and more. The show’s premise is that a group of five gay self-identified men come to renovate a straight self-identified male individual’s life through multiple focuses like food, culture, style, and home renovation; Hence to what the title refers to, in giving a queer eye for the straight guy.

It makes for an entertaining concept, but it became all the more compelling to start this series right we started to discuss the concept of masculinity in one of my anthropology classes.

At it’s most basic, masculinity is the association to what is culturally assumed in being a ‘man’. Masculine ontology would therefore be one’s pursuit to be a man (in establishing particular associations linked within masculinity). But, being a man means different things, which diversifies masculinity in how it relates to the relevant cultural discourses at play that are created through the social practices of those that enact them. There’s a dominant discourse but there are always competing discourses that create these conflicting ways people may express their masculinity.

In Kielsing’s (2005) article, men’s talk is described to respond and recreate four main cultural discourses that surround the dominant discourse of masculinity. While these cultural discourses – gender differences, heterosexism, dominance, male solidarity – are examined through the language community of an American fraternity, let us now turn to Tom, from the first episode of Queer Eye.

In episode one, the ‘Fab 5’ introduce a middle-aged man from Georgia named Tom. What follows is how Tom reacts to the group’s questioning of Tom’s choices, and a push towards a competing discourse that works to challenge what Tom uses, while also making continuous acknowledgment of the dominant discourses. In this respect, this parallels to what Kiesling also describes, that when one engages with a competing discourse, one can still find themselves evaluated in reference to the dominant discourses withstanding. So no matter what you choose sooner or later you’re going to have to acknowledge the bulking frat-boy in the room.

Towards the beginning we get a sense of the schema of what Tom identifies as part of his self through repeated use of words like redneck, ugly, country, old, and fat. Based on what Tom uses to describe himself, there’s a lack of self-confidence is readily apparent. This is where I question Tom’s use of gender difference as Tom often uses his ex-wives as those behind many of his stylistic choices, in that there is some innate separation between caring for one’s appearance (and home) to being separate from masculine. Tom’s lack of confidence and physical masculinity is oddly balanced towards gender difference as having that relation to his masculine identity both negatively and positively impacting his confidence.

Further in the episode, when Bobby mentions to Tom that he’s been married to his partner of 13 years, Tom questions if Bobby is the ‘wife’ or the ‘husband’ of the relationship. In seeing Bobby as masculine, Tom still assumes a degree of heterosexuality despite the fact that Bobby is very direct about the whole husband-husband thing. To rectify Bobby’s masculinity then, Tom assumes a positionality relatable to a hetero-relationship. From previous experience with a similar line of questioning (y’know, the ‘who wears the pants’ debacle) this brings up the subordination of the woman role as being natural by placing an association to the dominating role as masculine.

This also comes to naturalize the heterosexual relationship as the representative of all relationship types. The straight couple is the original, and everything outside of that is just a spin-off series.

Moving back here, Tom also briefly demonstrates the cultural discourse of male solidarity. This is particularly emphasized by his group, the ROMEOS, or the “Retired Old Men Eating Out” … and I’m trying not to think too hard on that one.

This group represents Tom and other retired old men who meet up once a week to eat out at a restaurant, who then go and admire each other’s classic cars. Judging from these activities, there isn’t any necessarily that would suggest a gender divide to being necessary, but the important of male solidarity is emphasized by the men as being important. I mean, it’s in the title!

Besides forming the basis of Tom’s social life (in exclusion to his grandson, and his ex-wife) they’re also a heavy influencer on what social practices therefore become acceptable to establish the types of social practices to engage in. When he is recorded with a group of men, he often uses swears to accentuate his speech patterns and play into his physical masculinity.

These social practices are part of the journey the Fab 5 take on with Tom. By accepting some of the discourse that the ‘Fab 5’ utilizes for themselves, and encourages in Tom, we see a difference between Tom and the fellow ROMEOs at the end of the episode. When he is presented to the men, he is complimented with a degree of emotional restraint to the achievement of his transformation by the men merely pointing out changes (“Look at that beard”) or veiled compliments in the form of insults (“You look vaguely familiar”). Tom instead is openly boisterous and presents himself with a right bit of flair. Tom reflects on these changes when he says goodbye to the ‘Fab 5’, in stating his experiences of being open with them and himself, hoping to continue this into the future.

So, while there isn’t necessarily all four of the dominant cultural discourses present that Kiesling has outlined—there’s certainly some recognizable parallels to be drawn. Tom is definitely one of the more relaxed straight individuals that are introduced on the show, and there certainly isn’t too much push in getting him to accept the group’s mentalities. What I am suggesting still is the balance between how masculinity is practiced and conceived within the narrative of the show, as it dissects how these various men actively construct and promote their identities.

Maybe there’s a little more anthropological footwork at play than the show recognizes, but then again, that’s what nerdy bloggers are for.

 

References

Kiesling, Scott Fabius. (2005) “Homosocial desire in mens talk: Balancing and re-creating cultural discourses of masculinity”. Language in Society 34 (5): 695-726. doi:10.1017/s0047404505050268.

Guest Post: “Action, Collegiality, & Courage: An Open Letter to the Participants of Currents”

Editor’s Note: This guest post was written by Dr. Katherine Sinclair, Anthropology Assistant Professor. She kindly submitted it in response to an open call Drs. Shulist and Biittner made at the Currents conference following their keynote address. Drs. Shulist and Biittner encouraged all of the conference participants and their faculty colleagues to write for AnthropologyAs. We all hope that Dr. Sinclair’s post will be the first of many future contributions to come out of Currents. 

KS2

I’ll admit it: I struggled a little bit to get out of bed last Saturday, March 3.

I threw open my curtains to see a snowstorm. Add to that the fact that it was my birthday, and I thought this was the perfect recipe to stay home with my current book, my favourite sweatshirt, and (unfortunately) a pile of grading. I try to set aside a bit of time each year on my birthday to think about how I want my next year to look, and Saturday morning seemed like a good moment to do that reflection.

However, this year I had a conference to attend! The MacEwan Anthropology, Economics, and Political Science student conference. I had been lucky enough to be invited to be a discussant.

This conference takes place every year and is organized by the effervescent, optimistic, and boundlessly encouraging Dr. Franca Boag. Dr. Boag solicits abstracts from students at MacEwan, but also students from Mount Royal, the University of Calgary, universities in Saskatchewan, and probably more that I’m not aware of. To say that this amount of work is vast, and the success of the conference impressive, would be an understatement.

The title of the conference this year was Currents: A Transdisciplinary Undergraduate Conference about Flows, Movement, and Directions. Like the title promises, the papers were diverse, ranging from discussions about the intersections of humans with the environment, questions of gender and the #metoo movement, meditations on race and racism, concerns about economic equality, and finally to material culture. Despite this diversity, the papers flowed together and moved in similar directions within each panel.

It is, unfortunately, impossible to outline each of the excellent and insightful papers here, so what I would like to do instead is draw out the currents that brought some of these papers together, the insights they offered for anthropology, and how they helped me tether my own day in the context of my upcoming year in unexpected ways. One of the goals of this post is to honour the students who participated. The other goal is to communicate to them, and others, how inspiring I found the conference to be.

The first thing to say is the quality of scholarship of the papers on the panels. I know that many hours of work went into these presentations, and it showed.

The second thing that struck me about these papers was their focus on action. Anthropology has at times been critiqued as inward focused, and neither ready nor willing to contribute ideas to work towards solutions of local and global problems. While this has changed in some realms of anthropology, it remains a trend in some areas. What I saw in the conference convinced me that this current truly is changing. Strong scholarship was tied with suggested courses of action and movement. The focus on social change – both already existing and potential for the future – was striking. Rather than an air of cynicism, the conference sparked with hope and optimism.

As the day went on, the next aspect of the conference that resonated with me was the collegiality of the students, an area that academia broadly can on occasion struggle. Conferences and other public platforms can be used as a moment to critique the work of others in an attempt to bolster one’s own image. Who hasn’t attended that session where someone asks question that is significantly longer than any response could be, and should be bracketed by footnotes referencing their own work along with prestigious academic names? In the Currents conference, questions were asked respectfully, thoughtfully, and answered in the same fashion.

Finally, and perhaps most powerfully, the courage the student participants manifested during the conference was one of aspects of the day I found most inspiring. I saw this courage on many different fronts. First of all, having the courage to submit an abstract. One of my Ph.D. professors once told me that to be an academic means to be able to wallpaper your office with rejection letters, and too often that process starts at the undergraduate level. To reflect, to write, and to apply for a conference can therefore already a moment of overcoming uncertainty.

To then present that very paper – that one has dedicated many hours to researching, writing, subjecting to self-critique, running through with peers, family members, professors, and more – in front of an audience is itself an act of courage. Aside from the fear of public speaking, putting one’s ideas to a group always has an element of uncertainty.

Finally, as someone who tends to be reserved in nature and private arguably to a fault, the act of revealing one’s self to the group was one of the aspects of courage during the day that I found most inspiring. Whether it was talking about research, answering questions, or sharing one’s own personal story, every student who presented that day manifested it.

This conference, then, not only provided me with that very moment of reflection I needed for my next year, but also gifted me with something unexpected: coming away truly inspired. Inspired to be courageous, in my thinking, acting, and relationships with others. Inspired to be a good colleague in the workplace and a good friend socially. And finally, to try to inspire others, as the very students I have the privilege of interacting with everyday inspired me at this conference. Currents for my next year, indeed.

 

 

Nerds (& Their Student) Review Things: Black Panther

Editor: I’ve invited back Dali, MacEwan University undergrad, to co-author a post about the wildly successful, critically and fan acclaimed Black Panther with Dr. Biittner. Both have very personal and different connections to Africa. Warning: some minor spoilers follow so if you haven’t seen the film yet then stop reading this and go see it already.

Dr. Biittner: I have many thoughts about Black Panther: as a fan, as an Africanist archaeologist, as an anthropologist, as a feminist. I want to start by making explicit my connection to this film as an Africanist archaeologist. Since 2006 my research has focused on studying the origins of our species as evidenced in the archaeological Iringa Region, southern Tanzania. I spent four field seasons in Tanzania – this includes three years of archaeological survey and excavations in Iringa Region and one trip to Arusha (northern Tanzania) where I was invited to participate in a conference celebrating the 50th anniversary of the discovery of “Zinj” as well as the biannual meeting of the Society of Africanist Archaeologists (SAfA). In 2010 I attended SAfA in Dakar, Senegal, where I experienced culture shock as I found myself back in Africa but not the Africa I knew and loved. I consider myself an active member of the Africanist archaeology community through regular participation in SAfA meetings and a PANAF congress. My time in Tanzania has cultivated a deep love for the place and its peoples. But I’m not African, even as someone who acknowledges that our shared ancestry as a species can be traced there. In Canada I’m a white settler, in Tanzania I’m mzungu (someone with white skin). Both terms acknowledge the privilege I have and my outsider status.

So when I watched Black Panther I was situated in myself as someone who appreciates and acknowledges the diversity of African cultures. This is captured in such a dynamic visual way in the clothing, hairstyles, jewelry, and other body modifications (including scarification) of the characters, which many others more knowledgeable about design and African textiles have already commented on. National and Panafrican identities reflected on the purple carpet premiere of the film; for example, here’s an excellent thread breaking down the traditional clothing worn by the stars of the film:

These personal identities and connections to Africa were also represented in theatres across North America.

And have also created dialogues outside of the theatre as pride in identity, in knowledge has led to exchanges such as:

 

Now even as mzungu, I can “read” some of the designs, styles, textures, and motifs. I saw inspirations of East Africa broadly and felt joy because it spoke of a place I think of as another home. In the streets of Birnin Zana, the capital city of Wakanda, I saw baskets that reminded me of those from Iringa. The bright red cloth, shaved heads, armbands, and spears of the Dora Milaje, the all female royal bodyguard, reminded me of the Maasai. Importantly these various elements of real-world culture reimagined and writ large on the big screen come together to create a panafrican-ness – a nation that can be owned and shared by all Africans. And this is important because representation matters but also because of the social issues embedded in the film.

Black Panther captures some very important points about the ongoing consequences of colonialism and slavery for people of colour. Most of the critical plot points and character development revolve around the legacies of colonialism and slavery and what is means for Wakanda to be a nation that was never colonized, what it means to have Africans who have never known colonization. Now in this post I clearly don’t have the time to go over these in depth but Black Panther nails it. The explicit and repeated use of the term “Colonizer” was powerful and had echos for the current use of settler here in Canada. The reminder of the shared history of colonialism in Africa also contributes to the creation of a Panafrican identity as does the legitimization of anger. Anger against the Colonizers and those who are complicit in the act of colonization (by, like Wakanda, removing oneself from the discourse, by not helping nor aiding those impacted) is central to the film as it is in the real world. However , the anger of women and people of colour (and now of children as seen in response to the Parkland school shooting) is something that is generally seen as something that not ok; only white males are allowed to be angry and to display it publicly and privately. However in Black Panther, anger and rage is legitimized; it is validated as a necessary response to the intergenerational trauma, poverty, disenfranchisement, criminalization of Black people in the United States and elsewhere. It is framed not just as a result of colonialism, slavery, and racism but also in juxtaposition to masculinity. Toxic masculinity is challenged consistently throughout the film through the relationships the characters have with each other (I can’t go into this so much because massive spoilers). Note: all of this also serves to create the BEST Marvel villain to ever appear in the MCU – Michael B. Jordan’s N’Jadaka/Erik “Killmonger” – whose storyline is probably the MOST important part of the film as well.

 

Dali: Black Panther was first introduced to me in my first year at Macewan (2013), which feels like such a long time ago because of the growth I’ve experienced in becoming a proud African man. The Black Panther movie is a culturally important moment for the movement of Panafricanism and I just want to explain its relevance. My heritage is much deeper than just Zambia, in fact my tribe’s (Ngoni people) history has long roots back to KwaZulu-Natal. As a result of the Zulu Wars my ancestors were dispersed as far north as Tanzania, where you can find the town/gulf Mwanza (my last name). But this knowledge and pride was something I never really had in my earlier 19 years of living. My identity has never been very clear to me since I was born South African, but was never seen as such by my peers. Instead I was seen as a “Qwereqwere” (Derogatory term for foreigner) in South Africa, and somehow Chizungu (white/English speaker) back in Zambia. So I just fell back into the category “Black” for the most part, as it felt safer than constantly feeling like no one wanted me to be apart of their national identity.

How I experienced Black Panther was sort of on two different levels. The first was how I saw myself in both the hero (T’Challa) and Villain ( Erik Killmonger), and secondly the pride of African heritage that the movie offered. In my opinion, Killmonger was not a villain but rather the voice of many black folk that have lost connection to their African heritage. He is seen to be bad, but if you really break his character down he is like most black people who are living outside of the African continent. The feelings of not being wanted by your kinsmen, not having a place to be who you are, and more importantly being created to be a demon by those who colonized and oppressed you. His fight was for all Africans who have been oppressed by colonizers all over the global and called to empowerment of these people, which quite frankly is a ideology of the “Black Panther Movement”. So watching him brought me a bit of stress because his plight was juxtaposed with a somewhat passive approach to dealing with the colonizers (Wakanda’s). Seeing T’Challa and the respect he received and power he held was more than necessary to me. The pride I felt watching an African character played in such a unshakeable light brought tears to the little child inside of me. He represented the need to be responsible for all your people, along with the fact that a black man is nothing without the black women that form and strengthen him. These images and lessons are extremely important things that I’m only now learning at the age of 22, so could you imagine what these lessons will do for young black children today? The pride they will hold in regards to their extravagant clothing and history/tradition that comes along with it. The pride in the sound of Bantu languages on a big screen and the accents we have for too long tried to remove! The understanding that yes in fact, our people have been colonized and all our knowledge and traditions were stripped away as well. These lessons the movie offer are things I struggled with for many years and many others have too, but that’s changed now. The stigma behind Africanness has been removed! Clothing is being shared across oceans (people dressing up in regalia to the movie), African hip hop artists are being featured in big named American artists albums, and the bridge between Africa and removed Africans has been rebuilt. Phew… So yeah, this movie is more than just a film to go see, it has relevance to millions of people. People that felt like they never had a identity to call theirs, people who were ashamed of their skin color and heritage, and people who desired the images of a thriving continent. Wakanda forever a reminder that black is forever. That the so called “black magic” and “deserted land” is beautiful and more advanced than we are told to believe. And as I sat through that film with my father and caught him smiling with pure joy, I knew that the lessons being taught were exactly what our world needed right now.

Editor: I love how this discussion opens up about what this movie meant to you both emotionally and intellectually – and how it shows how your identities and your anthropological perspective on them have influenced your experience of the film. Storytelling as a way of reifying and recognizing our forms of humanity and cultural experience is a big deal, and a big budget, major studio, widely seen superhero film are pretty much our most manifest forms of this. Thanks for the review, nerds (and nerds in training)! Now go see Black Panther. Again.  

A Statement on Structural Racism in Canada

Content Warning: This post includes details about the murder of a young Indigenous man. It is directed at Canadian settlers and other non-Indigenous people who may be unaware or dismissive of the degree of racism and violence present in this country. We recognize that our Indigenous friends are all too aware of these stories, and have no need to repeatedly revisit that trauma. In short, if you are already grieving and pained by this week’s events in Saskatchewan, we are sorry, and you probably don’t need to read this post. 

We are writing this point jointly because we are jointly horrified by the outcome of the trial of Gerald Stanley, a white farmer who shot a 22-year-old Cree man named Colten Boushie in the summer of 2016. Many people, both in Canada and outside of it, remain under the illusion that Canada is “less racist” than our neighbours to the South, or that we are a “nicer” people than many others in the world. This story is one that has revealed, through the actions of the RCMP, the court, the jury, journalists, and the general commenting public, how deeply wrong that narrative is.

From the get-go, this story has been one in which the narrative of what happened hinged on whether Gerald Stanley legitimately had reason to be so fearful, so panicked, and in such distress as a result of the car carrying five Indigenous youths arriving on his property, that he retrieved his gun, and that in the chaos and confusion, one of those young people was shot in the back of the head, dying as a result. He was acquitted based on a defense that the shooting was accidental – a magic gun, some are calling it, based on his description – but as the barrage of post-verdict commentary has revealed, the core of jury sympathy rested on the idea that he was defending his property. This justification was established the day after the murder, when RCMP follow-up to the events at Stanley’s farm described their ongoing work as relating to a ‘theft investigation’, immediately giving credence to the farmer’s version of the story that characterized the young people’s presence on his property as based in their desire to rob him. The witnesses in the car explained they had been seeking help for a flat tire — a story fairly obviously supported by the state of the vehicle.

The perspectives on the story are very much racially rooted. White settler Canadians, even after the verdict, are commenting on social media and on news sites saying that the victim and his friends should not have been drinking, and should not have driven on to the property. The events are ‘tragic’, they say, framing Stanley as a victim of circumstance, a landowner naturally terrified of these rowdy young people being present on his property, whose fear and apparently poor gun safety skills led to a death that could only have been avoided by the victim himself (and, often, his entire culture/race, which is blamed for failing to teach its children not to drink and steal, despite the fact that there was never any evidence that the youth were even trying to steal anything).

We are not writing this with any pretense at neutrality: we believe that Gerald Stanley is guilty of murder. We believe his fear and anxiety about the presence of these young people on his property would be better described as racist anger and hostility, built around a lifetime of stories about how Indigenous people threaten white property. We also believe that the not guilty verdict was produced by the actions of a racist police force, who immediately accepted the Stanley family’s story about ‘theft’, who informed the victim’s family of their loved one’s death callously while searching their home for evidence of that theft, and who later cleared themselves of wrongdoing in those actions – saying, of course, that the officers were perfectly reasonable to prioritize a theft investigation based on the word of a white farmer who had just shot one of the accused thieves in the head. The murder investigation was not only secondary, but apparently a fairly low priority – the same police force failed to treat the vehicle in which the victim died as a proper crime scene, turning it over to a towing company without thorough investigation of important evidence like blood splatter patterns that would corroborate or complicate the testimony of various witnesses.

We believe that while the Canadian news media did report on the racist vitriol that emerged on social media in the wake of the murder, and did talk about the experiences of the victim’s family with the RCMP, they have failed to fully interrogate the racialized nature of this crime, and have allowed aspects of the racist narrative to be perpetuated in the name of some form of ‘neutrality’. We also believe that they have used language that deliberately centres the narrative on the victim, rather than the criminal, rarely using the words “The Gerald Stanley trial”, and instead placing the victim’s name in that role. This focus not only erases the actual criminal, the descriptor makes it appear that the murdered man is the one on trial. The media’s repeated use of the victim’s name also constitutes a violation of the spiritual and cultural values of his family, which is the reason that in this post, we use his name only once.

We believe that the system allowed for the creation of an all-white jury in a situation where the question of guilt hinges entirely on whether or not you believe that this white landowner was truly and reasonably fearful of these youth, and whether or not you find his story of accidental shooting to be credible. The defense was able to remove any visibly Indigenous people from the jury without explanation or justification, as many times as they liked, without question. This is a system that favours the perspective of an unmarked dominant position – it is difficult to imagine a story in which an all-Indigenous jury was allowed to decide the fate of a person like Gerald Stanley, or of any defendant for that matter.

This is a statement we are writing from our perspective as white settler anthropologists, and it is rooted in our analytical understanding – developed primarily by listening to Indigenous voices, as well as to the voices of Black activists and scholars, whose descriptions of how policing as an institution rooted in the protection of white property have helped us to recognize the depth of injustice in a country that proclaims itself (and is internationally seen as) a human rights champion. Our call to settler Canada, and to anthropologists, in response to this specific manifestation of a very deep, very broad injustice, is this:

That we write, post, and talk about the need for an appeal of this verdict, for the possibility of a mistrial, for a re-opening of this case in a way that may allow for a more fair assessment of Stanley’s actions.

That we demand an external investigation of the RCMP’s actions in this case, both in relation to the material outcomes of the trial and in relation to the emotional harms caused to the victim’s family and to all Indigenous Canadians.

That we become much louder, much more aggressive, and much more insistent on the need to counter the racist narratives that Canadians are taught in schools, in the media, and in general conversation, about Indigenous peoples.

That we constantly remind our friends and family that a 22 year old who happens to be drinking does not deserve to be murdered for getting a flat tire, and that life is infinitely more valuable than property.

That we examine the role that anthropology and other forms of scholarship have to play in re-creating the fabric of how we understand this country, and actively work to correct the colonial injustices that our discipline is built on.

That we talk to our white children about this story, and about the fear that it brings to our Indigenous friends, that we do not tell them fairy tales about how the police will always be the good guys in a story, and that we do not allow them to walk through the world unaware of the implications of their whiteness.

That we oppose the narrative of Canadian exceptionalism that says we are different, better, less racist, and more accepting than any other country in the world, that we respond to declarations that this is the best country in the world to live in with disgust and anger rather than pride, and that we demand that the insights presented in report after report about the ongoing systemic violence of colonialism (of which the TRC final report is only the most recent) become more than descriptors on a page.

That we support our Indigenous students, colleagues, and friends. That we do not center discussions around our own anger and tears and instead that we give space in our classrooms, our offices, and our institutions for those who are rightfully grieving but whose voices, emotions, and actions are already being challenged and critiqued.

 

Student Guest Post: Archaeogaming In An Academic Sandbox

Editor’s Note: This is a guest post by Brieal M-T, a student in an Independent Study Course with Dr. Biittner. They are also in Dr. Shulist’s seminar class on Language and Power so they are tapped into the whole “Anthropology As” ethos. This post has been submitted as part of their course requirements; it is a reflexive piece representing the journey traveled so far. Need an archaeogaming primer? Check out #Archaeogaming101! Wanna check out these Tweets as they were discussed “in-class”? Check out #ANTH498!

The first time I ever held a controller I was probably about 3, and my parents were (trying) to teach me how to play Super Mario Bros.

My hand-eye coordination doesn’t work well with platformers (at least I learned young), but it’s perfect for puzzle games so I quickly moved on to games like Tetris/Dr. Mario and Goof Troop. By the time my younger brother caught up with my skills he had frankly already surpassed me, and between about age 5-14 we either played games cooperatively or separately. As someone who requires there to be an element of risk in order to find a game interesting always knowing who’s going to win in a competition isn’t very fun, and whenever my brother and I would play competitively we pretty well knew I’d win at a puzzle game and he’d win at [basically every other game].

Cooperation worked for us, though!

Because I was learning to read when Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time found its way into our N64 I’d work to read the text and make maps/generally keep notes while my little bro adventured his way through Hyrule. This schema of me keeping notes while he played continued well into my own exploration into Games I Could Play Alone (ex. when Dead Space was released he handle the silence, and would have me narrate him through the area while he stared at his controller).

Besides being an opportunity for me to reminisce about one of my favourite parts of my relationship with my brother this story has a point, I promise.

Dr. Biittner and I started this independent study with the intent of following a punk archaeology ethos. I will wholeheartedly admit that when we agreed to use that descriptor I had no real idea of what that would entail, despite having read Punk Archaeology a couple semesters ago. Looking back, though, I’m very comfortable describing the past 3 months (and change) as encompassing a bit of everything: “bits” of stuff (101).

That said: so many of these “bits” have been grinding slowly away at me.

One thing I did expect to encounter at the beginning of the course was archaeological theory, concepts of archaeological ethics, and the practice of specific archaeological tools. As an anthropology major with some previous experience in ethnographic practice, however, I totally turned learning of these Things into a pseudo-autoethnographic analysis.

As an undergraduate proto-/non-academic with little archaeological training I’m definitively classed as “other” in interactions with many (most?) archaeogaming folx on Twitter (the primary site or field by which I have gained introduction and access into archaeogaming).

This is totally understandable, and a position which I’m somewhat appreciative of as it allows me to learn skills which are arguably necessary to archaeogaming with a low-risk factor, and I am incredibly appreciative of the labour so many in the archaeogaming ~community have expended for my education.

The thing that grinds away at me is the disconnect between what archaeogaming (presently) is and what it is presented as.

In my introduction to archaeogaming I initially assumed that it was something which both archaeologists and non-archaeologists could and would take part in.

While I still believe this to be true, the “punk” open-access ethos of archaeogaming seems to have shifted over time into becoming something which is primarily for academic archaeologists who are interested in studying games as part of their practice.

Now at this point I cannot stress enough: I don’t believe this is an intentional shift. Rather, I believe it is an aspect of the practice which is being influenced by the subject positions of the archaeogaming ~inner circle, which just so happens to presently consist of people who are either already academics, or are otherwise proto-/non-academic with previous professional archaeological experience.

While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this type of “‘secret writing and assumed norms”, the fact that archaeogaming can be (and rightfully is) presented as something which can be practiced by non-academics and non-archaeologists does grind away at me, by virtue of the gatekeeping which is thus inherent.

I won’t even pretend to say I have a ~solution or something for what I’m perceiving to be a problem of intent vs. actuality here. What I will say, however, is that I’m very (very) interested in mapping out what I’m perceiving to be a part of the problem. In that spirit my final project planned for ANTH 498 is a mapping of specific terms and concepts as they are described within different communities. My aspirations for my own degree include further archaeogaming studies, and I don’t think that will be possible or useful if I’m only speaking with academics. Thus I see this map I’m planning as personally necessary to translating thoughts and concepts between my communities (gaming and anthropology/archaeology).

If my linguistic anthropology (and, honestly, psychoanalytic theory) schooling has given me nothing else I have been given the ability to respect naming and titles as important to communities. Recognition is important to inter-community respect and cooperation (see? It came up again after all), and without it I don’t see archaeogaming becoming the cooperative field I think everyone (?) wants it to be.

Student Guest Post: An Emotional Mask to Murder

Editor’s Note: This is a guest post by Daliso Mwanza, a student in Dr. Shulist’s seminar class on Language and Power. It was completed as a response to the book Confronting the Death Penalty: How Language Influences Jurors in Capital Cases by Robin Conley, and originally posted on Dali’s own blog.  

The topic and environment of capital sentencing is quite frankly compelling when trying to capture the essence of state level violence. I could list a few theorists such as Michel Foucault, Nancy Scheper-Hughes, Antonio Gramsci, Karrebaek, and Mehan that have all discussed the mechanics of meaning, socialization, power, and the language that perpetuates these three topics.  The entity of “The Law” often referred to as something all knowing or the order to our society, but to gain such formative power, society needs to feed into its legitimacy in all of our interactions. This sort of relationship between people and a system is best described by a fellow classmate of mine and brilliant critical thinker, Ruth Werbiski. How they put it, the entity of law itself creates codified rules and responsibilities that every citizen should follow through consent and coercion, which is understood as order by society. In a way this is a form of omnipresent violence that every citizen understands but some will follow and some will break, but the power is still in the hands of the law. The law feeds from the response of citizens, because it requires society to socialize each other to follow said entity, inherently feeding into it and making it grow bigger and bigger. Other institutions such as family, education, and politics aid in the growth of “Law and Order”, sometimes with the use of discourse of safety and also fear. This is where my colleague aided me in picturing the nature of Law- The Creaturetumblr_mgz91vfI6P1rl52wjo2_400.gif

This ^ is the nature Law-The Creature. 

As Ruth stated, it is comprised of multiple different parts (institutions) in our society that teach us to conform to the system of law, giving it more power. Within this process people gain an identity in relation to Law, and this is where we see the creation of jurors in capital sentencing.

Don’t get me wrong, capital punishment is pretty fucked up for so many reasons and I will get into those reasons, BUT (yes big ol but) the structures surrounding those reasons are extremely interesting and somehow offer us anthropologists a gaze into a striking aspect of human behaviour and socialization. Recall the relationship between the Law and society that was painted oh so eloquently? Yes? Great! Well in the center of that relationship is a driving force that allows the perpetuatuation and efficiency of the death sentence, and that is Objectivity.

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Throughout the book, Objectivity is what allows jurors to perform the judgement of someone’s life. Firstly, objectivity is a socialized trait that is required of each jury member to remain unbiased and most importantly keeping emotion out of their judgments. The way Emotion was tied together with empathy, therefore it was not supposed to be offered  the defendants. How I see it, emotion is something that cannot be turned off whenever a person sees it fit, especially in the highly emotional act of taking someone’s life. Secondly, there is the use of  deitics/distancing when jurors are placed in “face-to-face encounters” with defendants. In my opinion I feel that deitics sole tool that allows the jury, defendant, and state to kill and do so while feeling sure that it was the right thing to do. We see this performance of dehumanizing, distancing, and judgement in colonial violence; war and within our modern society. Distancing allows us to be rid of empathy towards another humans life, and if we are to examine deitics within socialized objectivity in court, we can see that the state has created a language towards criminals that allows the jury to perform the act of killing. Jurors are found saying such things as “Murders are not people and do not deserve the oxygen they breathe”, this is an ideology to crime that is socialized and shared within our education systems that tell us to fear the other along with their behaviour. This made me think about the Sif Karrebaek article “‘Don’t Speak Like That to Her!’: Lingusitic Minority Children’s Socialization into an Ideology of Monolingualism”,  which has a lot of similarities in language socialization within juries (2013). Jurors are constantly told to keep objective from the begining all the way to the end, and as highlighted before it usually shows through dehumanization. Discourse is what allows them to maintain the identity of law abiding, but once placed in near proximity of criminal, the mask they are wearing begins to fall apart. tumblr_inline_o7u9hoKufU1tcrsjf_540.gif

The mask is what I was truly interested in, not only because I’m a Goffman groupie, but rather the reasons why we put it on! At the first layer, we put it on for our own safe. Something we can keep separate from who we really are, and once the act of killing is complete we can walk away without it being apart of us. This is very important because of how emotionally disturbing the act of capitol sentencing can be. Once brought up outside of the event jurors shared feelings of emotional trauma throughout the book, and to me this just means the mask was not really intended for the jurors. If we examine it from the second layer we can see that the mask is in place to benefit the state who must maintain control through “The Law” (DUN DUN)

 

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Yaa, look at it growing and consuming. 

Order is why this whole performance is present. There are constant reminders of following the law throughout capitol punishment, and these reminders are what keep us from going against the law (SUPER FOUCAULT). If you ask me, this is clearly a form of discursive violence that begins to fester within our society. Only thing is, we see this system as our saviour not our oppressor.

But-Thats-None-Of-My-Business