@womeningerman: A Digital Feminist German Studies Archive on Twitter

By Didem Uca

“Twitter as archive/twitter as sketchbook/as feedback loop/as void/as filesharing network/as an instrument of collaboration/as a megaphone/as therapy.” (Zarina Muhammad, https://www.artrabbit.com/events/live-broadcast-chat-show-with-zarina-muhammad)

Twitter, like other mainstream social media outlets, is an outlet for the virulent and often anonymous expression of misogyny, racism, and other violent forms of discrimination­­––even by the current U.S. President. Yet it is also where social justice issues are discussed in real time and where users can garner support for movements that have consequences beyond the web; to name just a few examples, the hashtags #BlackLivesMatter and #SayHerName have long brought attention to police brutality and other forms of violence towards Black Americans, while the Me Too movement, founded by civil rights activist Tarana Burke in 2006 and popularized through the spread of #MeToo on Twitter over a decade later, has helped to expose the pervasiveness of sexual harassment and assault for women.Twitter also serves as a means to combat the rampant misinformation of Trump’s administration and deal, sometimes through memes and GIFs, but often through careful collaborative analysis, with the trauma surrounding his tenure. But in what sense might we consider Twitter as not just an ephemeral, if ubiquitous, mode of communication and organizing, but, indeed, as feminist archive?

In An Archive of Feelings: Trauma, Sexuality, and Lesbian Public Cultures (2003), Ann Cvetkovich writes about trauma from her perspective as a feminist, lesbian, and sexual assault survivor, positing that her intervention is less about understanding these forms of trauma through a main stream lens and more about considering “a sense of trauma as connected to the textures of everyday experience” (3–4). Perhaps the act of voicing our individual traumas on Twitter and finding others who share it might function like trauma theory did for Cvetkovich, which became a site that allowed her to “ask about the connection between girls like me feeling bad and world historical events” (3). During my five years managing the Coalition of Women in German’s Twitter account, @womeningerman, I have grown to see it as a form of feminist archival practice, sequencing an alternate “timeline” (to mix social media metaphors) in a time of widespread racism, misogyny, xenophobia, anti-LGBTQ sentiment, Islamophobic and antisemitic sentiments, and ableism.

The Coalition of Women in German is a feminist German Studies organization founded in 1974 by professors and graduate students who sought a venue for their scholarship, intellectual community, and mentorship in the male-dominated field of North American German Studies. WiG has been at the forefront of feminist scholar-activism for over forty years and continues to develop in increasingly intersectional and interdisciplinary directions. At a conference in Shawnee, Pennsylvania five years ago, members expressed interest in broadening the organization’s reach. At that time, it had nothing in terms of a public-facing social media profile that could share our activities and communicate our commitments. Therefore I volunteered to found and manage @womeningerman.

As interest in the account grew, it became clear that its reach would far exceed the organization’s membership of about 300. Currently, the account has over 1660 followers, which is a high number for an academic organization of a fairly specific scope. Our average number of impressions is about 30,000 per month, with some months far exceeding this (e.g. the conference month of October 2019 has made over 131,000 impressions and counting), while certain tweets, such as one announcing the latest volume of our journal, Feminist German Studies, has made over 61,000 impressions. The initial primary purpose of the account was to highlight the scholarship, teaching, and activism our members are doing on their campuses and in the profession through initiatives like #WiGgiesInAction. These additional clicks on articles and book projects can lead to greater reception and opportunities for collaboration, while featuring stories of members’ successes in the classroom create positive hits for Google search algorithms.  Social media mentions raise scholars’ Altmetric scores, which may even serve to increase likelihood of tenure and promotion.

However, beyond the important goal of gaining a broader audience for our members’ work, the account itself serves as a platform for members to engage in conversations on social justice within the German-speaking and U.S. American contexts, both within and beyond academia. In this way, Twitter can become a vital force for scholar-activism. The account shares resources that center the experiences of people of color, queer folx, and women in German-speaking countries, retweets co-conspirators such as @Blackgermans and the newcomer @DDGCTweets, and initiates conversations through creating hashtags such as #GermanStudiesSoWhite. Promoting campaigns and events such as the #FeminismToMe Instagram-based exhibit at the Goethe-Institut in D.C., to which many of our members contributed, employs online resources to further feminist causes within more traditional cultural organizations, even impacting their physical spaces.The account also amplifies open letters written by colleagues to address the problematic actions of our professional organizations and attacks on the humanities and language learning. These online activities in turn shape our conferences and organizational commitments; for example, the strong response of our membership to the online Open Letter to the AATG: A Ten-Point Program of the Diversity, Decolonization, and the German Curriculum (DDGC) Collective, which several of our members helped draft and many more signed after it was shared to social media and email listservs, became our 2019 conference’s Thursday night coalitional feminism in action session, organized by Dr. Alexandra M. Hill and facilitated by Ph.D. candidates Tiarra Cooper, Karolina Hicke, and Brandy E. Wilcox. By then live-tweeting the discussion online, @womeningerman creates and archives a hybrid mode of virtual/visceral scholar-activism that is accessible and accountable to multiple audiences simultaneously.Indeed, live-tweeting the annual conference has made it possible for people unable to attend to nevertheless join the conversation. As Dr. Evan Torner recently tweeted from his public account @guyinblackhat, “I have never been able to attend a @womeningerman conference but am a dues-paying member, so the social media presence always connects me with the larger WiG community each October. People are indeed grateful for these accounts in their feeds.” These sentiments are echoed by other non-attending members and supporters.Furthermore, our social media presence has allowed us to engage with the work of leading feminist artists of color in the German-speaking world both on- and offline. Our 2018 guest of honor, Reyhan Şahin aka Dr. Bitch Ray, continues to engage with us on Twitter (@LadyBitchRay1), while the first Twitter-based correspondence with Sharon Dodua Otoo (@SharonDoduaOtoo) happened after realizing that she follows the account and then asking her to consider attending as our guest of honor in the future––a hope that will come to fruition in 2021.The routine exclusion of marginalized cultural producers from traditional archives is both due to and reinforces their exclusion from our canons, literary and cultural histories, and curricula. Through projects like @womeningerman, our activism in the archives can extend into the virtual sphere and back outward. The very existence of an active Twitter presence that highlights issues of marginalization and exclusion in German Studies can serve to promote inclusion. One follower, an Assistant Professor who asked to remain anonymous, recently direct messaged the account to share that it is “definitely something that makes German Studies relatable and inclusive. I honestly have never thought of myself as a Germanist until the past few years, because of how those in the academy viewed my research. It’s really been ONLY through Twitter and a couple presentations at ACTFL that I’ve felt welcomed into German Studies.” By cultivating our own audience and intervening in the whitewashing, mansplaining, and exclusionary tendencies of our field, @womeningerman indicates that social media can function not only as a conversation starter and way to stay tuned into the Zeitgeist, but also as an archive of our scholarship, our activism, and, yes, our #BadFeelings, which can thus transform into meaningful coalitional action.

Disability and Decolonizing Time/Knowledge on the Tenure Clock

by Danika Medak-Saltzman (Syracuse University), Deepti Misri (University of Colorado Boulder), and Beverly Weber (University of Colorado Boulder)

In this post, the three of us draw on our shared experience at a predominantly white public university in order to share some initial responses to the following question: How are the neoliberal academy’s modes of organizing labor and valuing knowledge steeped in spatiotemporal logics that are both settler colonial and ableist in nature? Our motivation in tracing these logics stems directly from having observed “faculty with disabilities” at our university “running against the tenure clock” under expectations that are as ableist as the metaphor, as well as seemingly abled women faculty, faculty of color, and contingent faculty, who have strained against the academic clock and ended up debilitated in the process. 

Our discussion here engages primarily with the peculiar temporalities produced by the tenure clock. While we focus primarily on our own observations as tenured and tenure-track faculty, the tenure clock inevitably also impacts adjunct faculty who work in proximity to the clock, often absorbing onto their bodies and lives the effects of the (limited) “protections” offered to tenure-track faculty, receiving low priority in matters ranging from teaching times to course preferences, deprioritized for research and conference funding, all while often dealing with ever-increasing numbers of students. Accordingly, we acknowledge that the tenure clock already positions some within the academy (including us) in a space of relative privilege, and that the project of addressing the adjunctification of the university and its embeddedness in settler time (Rifkin) and the neoliberal academy is equally urgent. Below we outline how ableist time and settler time intersect in the neoliberal academy’s production of the tenure process as an endurance test where only the fittest survive. In our conclusion we will suggest some ways of unsettling time in the settler academy (Morgensen).

We take inspiration from a mounting body of feminist and decolonial scholarship that has detailed how the neoliberal university is underpinned by masculinist, imperial, plantation and settler colonial histories, methodologies and imperatives (Chatterjee and Maira; Mountz et al.; Tuitt et al.). For example, Scott Morgensen describes how the “settler academy” is consolidated by alternately marginalizing and assimilating Indigenous scholarship (Morgensen). These twin strategies of marginalization and management rely heavily upon the very imagination of “good”—i.e tenurable—scholarship as “new”, “exciting” and “cutting-edge.” In The Slow Professor, Maggie Berg and Barbara Seeber observe how “The corporate university’s language of new findings, technology transfer, knowledge economy, grant generation, frontier research, efficiency, and accountability dominates how academic scholarship is now framed both within the institution and outside it” (Berg and Seeber 63). The image of “frontier research”says it all: the solo author “breaks new ground” and plants a flag bearing their name on the terrain they have discovered. Implicit in this notion are familiar colonial tropes of spatial discovery, Indigenous dispossession and their attendant temporalities: the forward movement of time through the “discovery” (and occupation) of space.  The “shift from content to counting” observed by Mountz et. al. is another example of the settler academy at work (12). 

At times of evaluation, the settler academy requires that colleagues take on positions reminiscent of a border regime—armed, as they are, with the ability to bestow or deny full and tenured academic citizenship. These structures, like so much else in the academy, are based on a set of standards, or academic laws, if you will, often imagined and presented as unbiased or fair, when they actually disproportionately benefit those for whom they were originally created. For such systems to continue to work, they must maintain the illusion that the academy functions, at least in part, as a meritocracy. The violence of the settler academy and attendant systems of employment and evaluation are also enacted through the control of income levels tied to merit reviews or access to healthcare. 

The border patrol imperatives of frontier research are also implicitly ableist. Jina B Kim warns about “intensified levels of scholarly productivity that mark us as fit or unfit for academic citizenship, as well as the systemic exhaustion of women of color (WoC) intellectuals, who typically assume greater service/mentoring duties while receiving less mentorship and support.” In this way, the neoliberal border patrol functions to protect the settler academy’s political economy of belonging/citizenship by eliminating any potential threats to, or potential drains on the status quo of the established system (in terms of the rising cost of healthcare, the need for accommodations, and “unproductive” uses of time for reasons of health and disability).

How, then, might we seek to decolonize the organization of time and knowledge in the academy, and in particular (for our purposes in this piece) the tenure clock? We would have to begin, we suggest, by clearing space for alternative habitations of time that may be at odds with the fixity and linearity of the tenure clock. Disability Studies scholars such as Alison Kafer and Ellen Samuels have written eloquently about the process of doing academic work on “crip time.” In Alison Kafer’s words, crip time “bends the clock to meet disabled bodies and minds” rather than bend disabled bodies and minds to meet the clock (27). Often the response to experiences of illness, disability, and debility is a clock stoppage or time extension. Yet, clock stoppage itself is flawed, in that it locates faculty bodies in a singular settler time-space. 

The rhythms of what many in Native North American communities call “NDN time” offer other ways of bending the clock. It is frequently assumed that NDN time means arriving or beginning later than a prescribed start time. While this might be the consequence of NDN time, particularly with regard to its use as a resistance tactic, it is more accurate to think of NDN time as the time it takes to do things in a good way. While this might seem an amorphous definition, the charge of “doing things in a good way” is more important than the fixed amount of time it takes to do something (Chisholm Hatfield et al.; Marino and Lazrus). For this reason, it might be easier for those unfamiliar with NDN time to conceive of it as an understanding of, and approach to, the world we live in—particularly as it relates to the cyclical nature of seasons, moon phases, life phases and ceremonial calendars. Built into NDN time is the flexibility required to uphold and honor one’s personal and communal responsibilities, for maintaining right relationships with all beings and with the land itself. Settler logics and strategies of erasure have included overwriting Indigenous understandings of time that are rooted in deep knowledge of specific territories (further see Rifkin 3). By design, NDN time, like POC time, account for the potential, the provisional, and the realities of precarity that settler rule, settler time and the settler academy do not, and cannot yet, account for. “POC time” is not simply a means of “foot dragging” that slows down the economic and temporal efficiency of white or settler systems—although this use has also been deployed strategically. Rather, and importantly, these more flexible understandings of time refuse the impositions of settler logics, settler time, and the settler academy because they allow both space and time to respond to the expected and unexpected flux and challenges that are a part of human experience. Such an understanding of time must play an important role in any ethics of care. 

A consideration of “bending time” means that those of us inevitably involved in petitioning our universities to “accommodate” faculty members with disabilities, must avoid exclusive reliance on an accommodationist model that only addresses itself to those who are already (legally or institutionally) recognized as disabled, and merely elongates the clock through clock stoppage or extension. Such strategies often leave those who are most precarious subject to reduced salaries that must be made up through later teaching. They further presume a straightforward return to an “able-bodied” state, or consider “adding time” as adequate support.

We believe that the following are steps to a more just conception of time, and call on our tenured colleagues to consider adopting some of these paths:

  • Bend the clock: Flexible paths towards tenure, and flexible modes of assessment and promotion that are oriented towards the goals of support and promotion rather than gatekeeping.
  • Develop an ethics of care that emerges from more expansive conceptions which can better account for the same or similar tasks requiring different amounts of time to complete or address. Such an ethics of care will also require that tenured faculty advocate for better working conditions for faculty who are not in tenure line positions.
  • Develop a more holistic approach to valuing the impact of a faculty member on a campus particularly when it comes to evaluating a candidate’s tenure file. We want to be clear here that, at the risk of adding to the categories of assessment that are used to feed the gatekeeping neoliberal border patrol work of the settler academy’s tenure process, we also believe that we must acknowledge the different weight, import and value placed on particular kinds of service work—to the campus, to the ability of POC faculty and students to feel comfortable and thrive at a PWI, to facilitate attracting students and grant funding to individual campuses, and to diversifying curriculum. Furthermore, we should value public scholarship—which may particularly benefit underserved populations. For decades now, various studies have highlighted the fact that women faculty and faculty of color engage in disproportional levels of service work and public scholarship that positively impacts student experience and earns the University “diversity cred,” yet these activities are not counted towards tenure. We must understand that saying “learn to say no” is an inadequate response to the exploitative conditions that the tenure clock creates, particularly given that such a response effectively blames and punishes people for work central to oft-touted University missions and to fostering student satisfaction.
  • Move away from the perpetual investment in the “new,” while foregrounding collaboration, radical contextualization and citation of what has come before. Speaking particularly from a humanities perspective, we also reject the over-emphasis on individual achievement, which manifests in logics that value hyperindividualist productivity (countable single-authored pieces over quality, valuing co-authored scholarship less than single-authored work). This is not to dismiss the possibility of original thought, but rather to observe how an over-investment in “frontier research” has served again and again to efface prior insights of women and BIPOC scholars, much as colonial tropes of discovery erase the material presence of Indigenous populations that were already there. While original thought is possible and valuable, we value collaborative modes of knowledge that emphasize building on and carrying ahead bodies of knowledge rather than “breaking new ground.”
  • Work less, and make arguments for working less. The Marxist feminist Kathi Weeks’s provocative feminist call for a “post-work society” is helpful here. Weeks argues in her book The Problem with Work that a “feminist time movement” should entail shorter working hours for everybody. We believe this may also be a crucial step towards addressing the unacknowledged disability employment gap within academia, where faculty with disabilities are sacrificed on benchmarks of productivity. While we acknowledge the widely—if unevenly—dispersed pressures of the neoliberal university on all within it, we nevertheless wish to ask: how might we initiate conversations within our departments and universities about the need to work and produce less, rather than doing more and meeting ever higher benchmarks? With Weeks, we invest in the political possibilities of a utopian demand for less work.
  • Rely on an ethics of feminist leadership work that can challenge the imperatives of neoliberal settler time. This entails leadership work that challenges the dominance of an assessment and audit culture at the university (further see Mbembe). Here we refer you to Hester Baer’s piece, “Strategies for Feminist Leadership in the Neoliberal University,” available online at the Digital Feminist Collective. 

Works Cited

Baer, Hester. “Strategies for Feminist Leadership in the Neoliberal University.” Feminist Scholar-Activism at the Digital Feminist Collective.https://digitalfeministcollective.net/index.php/2018/06/21/strategies-for-feminist-leadership-in-the-neoliberal-university/.

Berg, Maggie, and Barbara Seeber. The Slow Professor: Challenging the Culture of Speed in the Academy. U of Toronto P, 2016.

Chatterjee, Piya, and Sunaina Maira. Imperial University: Academic Repression and Scholarly Dissent. U of Minnesota P, 2014. ProQuest Ebook Centralhttp://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ucb/detail.action?docID=1693973.

Chisholm Hatfield, Samantha, et al. “Indian Time: Time, Seasonality, and Culture in Traditional Ecological Knowledge of Climate Change.” Ecological Processes, vol. 7, no. 1, July 2018, p. 25. BioMed Central, doi:10.1186/s13717-018-0136-6.

Kafer, Alison. Feminist, Queer, Crip. Indiana UP, 2013.

Kim, Jina B. “Toward a Crip-of-Color Critique: Thinking with Minich’s ‘Enabling Whom?’” Lateral, 15 May 2017,http://csalateral.org/issue/6-1/forum-alt-humanities-critical-disability-studies-crip-of-color-critique-kim/.

Marino, Elizabeth, and Lazrus. “We Are Always Getting Ready”: How Diverse Notions of Time and Flexibility Build Adaptive Capacity in Alaska and Tuvalu.” Contextualizing Disaster, edited by Gregory V. Button and Mark Schuller, Berghahn Books, 2016.

Mbembe, Achille Joseph. “Decolonizing the University: New Directions.” Arts and Humanities in Higher Education, vol. 15, no. 1, Feb. 2016, pp. 29–45. SAGE Journals, doi:10.1177/1474022215618513.

Morgensen, Scott Lauria. “Destabilizing the Settler Academy: The Decolonial Effects of Indigenous Methodologies.” American Quarterly, vol. 64, no. 4, 2012, pp. 805–08, doi: 10.1353/aq.2012.0050.

Mountz, Alison, et al. “For Slow Scholarship: A Feminist Politics of Resistance through Collective Action in the Neoliberal University.” ACME: An International Journal for Critical Geographies, vol. 14, no. 4, Aug. 2015, pp. 1235–59. https://www.acme-journal.org/index.php/acme/article/view/1058

Rifkin, Mark. Beyond Settler Time: Temporal Sovereignty and Indigenous Self-Determination. Duke University Press, 2017, doi:10.1215/9780822373421.

Tuitt, Frank, et al. “Plantation Politics and Neoliberal Racism in Higher Education: A Framework for Reconstructing Anti-Racist Institutions.” Teachers College Record, vol. 120, no. 14, 2018, https://www-tcrecord-org.colorado.idm.oclc.org/library/exec.asp?ContentID=22379.

Weeks, Kathi. The Problem with Work: Feminism, Marxism, Antiwork Politics, and Postwork Imaginaries. Duke UP, 2011.

Counting and Accountability: Collaboration in and Against the Neoliberal University

by Carrie Smith (University of Alberta) and Maria Stehle (University of Tennessee, Knoxville)

In our 2016 book Awkward Politics, we write about what collaboration can or might do within, or to, the academy. We write of its subversive and revolutionary quality, of its ability to push back against assessment mechanisms of the university and against the theoretical canon at the foundation of the humanities. Further, we speak at length about our own collaborative relationship that grew from tentative dates via email to long chats on Skype, tracing its origins in a shared sense of academic and feminist political urgency, but also in a mutual understanding that the tools of our discipline, German Studies, should not onlyuse, but must also dotheory in a broad sense. Doing theory can only have meaning when the resulting thinking reaches well beyond the object or subject analyzed, beyond the pages of the book, the frames of the film, the pixels of the video; when that theory has social and political value. Throughout our collaboration, the personal nature of our relationship was bound up in our intellectual and political commitment to feminisms. As Lauren Berlant and Lee Edelman write in the preface to their conversation in Sex, or the Unbearable: “our own conversation includes and exceeds us at once” (x). While our thoughts in that book are at times utopian, at their very core lies an understanding that for theory to be written, read, and mobilized as social practice (Berlant and Edelman), the work must be collaborative in conception and execution. 

Thus, there is an urgency to collaboration as social process and our responsibilities to and for each other; Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing writes in The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life after Capitalism, “without collaboration, we all die” (28). Collaboration, thus, is also about accountability: to each other and to the worlds around us. In the context of the neoliberal university, it is also about counting: what counts as whose publication? How much does collaboration count?

Our shared collaborative history does not read revolutionary. We have been collaborators on a range of projects, from grant writing (SSHRC Insight Grant from Canada), the co-written book, a co-edited volume on digital feminism, articles, talks, roundtables, workshops, and the Digital Feminist Collective—the website/open-access publication project, which we manage together with others and on which this piece appears; indeed, central to our collaboration are the constellations we form with others, at times joining teams in partnership, at times separating to join others in different collaborations. We are both in tenured positions; while we started to work on the grant together before we had tenure, we both already had a first, single-authored monograph in publication. We had something that, unquestionably, would count for tenure. We also both had very young children at the time we started our collaboration; these children, too, have grown with and within our work. As we cared for others, we also continued to feel accountable to each other for doing the intellectual work we had committed to doing. Sometimes, writing felt like another task on a long list of things to do, but most of the time, our intellectual collaborations sustained us.

Each collaboration has a different cycle and tempo and connects across different time zones; as we write, discuss, and research, we become differently bound to disciplinary and institutional regimes. When we are in the thick of writing, we often chat with each other throughout the day. Carrie might be at the grocery store or swimming lessons, but she is also working through a particularly complicated passage with Maria, who is snatching moments of writing between teaching. Mobile technology offers the height of neoliberal availability, even in a collaboration intended to question neoliberal cooption. In crafting this collaborative articlewith Hester Baer, we recognized this conundrum and inserted screenshots of our three-way chats into the article to show how, at particular times when writing about the video works of Afro-German artist Noah Sow, we might also be having a conversation together about diapers or the weather or our institutional woes. We write about this directly in the piece itself, which we excerpt at length here: 

Our attempt to conserve the process of collaboration is a fib. We selected just a few of the many comment bubbles we generated while writing this essay and inserted them back into the document after we had discussed, addressed, and deleted them. The process of collaboration is a temporal process that can be traced and collected, but not easily captured and certainly not frozen onto a single screen. During our writing process, we had various digital channels of communication to exchange ideas, coordinate writing, complain about distractions, and discuss delays. Our process of writing thus also offers a perspective on speed in the 24/7 regime: while, in many ways, the work of three minds outpaced our individual thinking, the process itself was slower than we anticipated. The rapid changes as three of us write, edit each other’s words, delete paragraphs, and change arguments are disorienting at times and such disorientation is, of course, utterly unproductive in the most specific sense of labor market productivity now central to academic assessment structures. Essentially, we found ourselves producing while also working within an impasse, a feminist bind to which we, too, attempted our own aesthetic reorientation. In the face of neoliberalism and the neoliberal academy, we tried joyfully to embrace these moments of unproductive disorientation and turn them on their heads, shaping them into what counts as something productive for us, as academics: an article. Further, since moments of utter confusion are part of almost any such process of academic writing, we could much more easily confront this confusion because we were in it together; different forms of collaboration and community offer ways to work within the impasse. (21–22)

This honest response is good. It gets at the amorphous quality of the process of collaboration, created of multiple fleeting moments of connection and disconnect and at the confusing way in which we needed the neoliberal problem of impasse in order to work within and beyond it. But what it doesn’t address is that by collaborating in the way that we do, we are also always on, always productive, at least seemingly. If feminism has become increasingly popular over the past two years, fueled by the rise of the fascist right, it has also become coopted and sold for popular consumption. Collaboration, too, has risen in popularity throughout a variety of institutional settings. Must we work against structures of neoliberalism in feminist collaboration? Or is there a way of working with and within such structures productively? Is feminist collaboration itself being coopted as a mode of fulfilling expectations, albeit an alternative one? Is this cooption necessarily a problem? In a lecture on 9 March 2017at the University of Alberta, Sirma Bilge cautioned against utilizing the term cooptionwhen speaking of feminism, for it is predicated on an assumption of an initial purity of feminism. Similarly, Tsing writes in Mushroom at the Endof the World, “everyone carries a history of contamination; purity is not an option” (27). While categorically denouncing neoliberalism and its cooption of “feminism,” white feminism in the academy perpetuates the hegemony of whiteness, for example, by institutionally capitalizing on—and coopting—intersectionality often in ways that do not value race. This concern can be expanded to other cooptions internal to feminist and queer activist struggles that subsume differences into hegemonic structures in popular or political arenas alike. Critically and carefully thinking through mechanisms of such cycles of cooption opens avenues into understanding the possibilities for creative forms of resistance, also in the academy.

Collaboration is a form of assemblage, a way to (re)gain “our ability to notice the divergent, layered, and conjoined projects that make up worlds” (Tsing 22). Our argument is that collaborations in and with the academy must replicate this process of becoming and coming into politics in the same manner. Even if collaboration replicates in many ways the rigid structures of the academy it pushes against, it also necessarily works against linear structures of time and output. In her forthcoming monograph How to Make Art at the End of the World, Natalie Loveless writes about the world-making power of stories (stories thought of as research questions) as a political capacity and argues for new disciplinary paths and collaborative kinships to challenge fields, discourses, and assessment categories; thinking with Loveless, can we consider our collaborative practices one such kinship, itself rewriting discursive fields in order to walk a new path that tells a different political story? Our collaborations are forms of contamination. When thought in this manner, collaboration messes with the structure of things, messing with the “it has always been done that way” adage not merely to offer a new dominant structure, for there is no politics in offering a new status quo, but rather to open up all of our insular practices—the disinfected and hermetically sealed borders of our academic spheres of influence—to chance, to infection, to contamination. As Tsing writes, “we are contaminated by our encounters; they change who we are as we make way for others” (27). Contamination becomes a way of rendering the walls between our silos porous. At the same time, the process is scary, for it suggests the potential of disfigurement, destruction, and possible death of the very disciplines and structures on which our academic identity (or at least our history and training) is founded and which effects how we nurture future generations of thinkers and researchers in undergraduate and graduate student cohorts. If contamination must necessarily lead to such impact, then it also offers a way of thinking about what happens then, after disfigurement, destruction, and death. 

So: “how to think collaborative survival” (Tsing 19) within the neoliberal academy? Survival means that we believe in a future that takes into account the mechanisms that place that very future at risk. Said differently, the danger that feminist collaboration will become a meaningless, neoliberally-driven mode for increasing productive outcomes and neoliberal marketability is always a part of our research practices; collaboration itself is one of the elements of contamination, a contamination that drives possible futures. Collaboration offers a way of reading that emphasizes process, craft, and creation, one that maintains awareness of circularity and contradictions; it is political engagement andcreative work as theory and practice combined. Collaborating, thus, means to always be responsive and in flux, making visible the often-cruel mechanisms of neoliberal capitalism, racism, and sexism not in a corrective manner, but instead by exposing their contradictions and by disrupting, by contaminating them. 

If we think of collaboration as an open process of contamination, against containment and purity, we become hard to assess and evaluate since “without self-contained units, it is impossible to compute costs or benefits, or functionality, to any ‘one’ involved” (Tsing 34). Counting becomes a slippery process. For example, when we collaborate, who claims what or which parts? Our book, since we co-wrote it, “counts twice” and is claimed twice—or does it only count half, 50% dangling in each institutional setting? The answer to these questions is also contextual: the way Carrie’s work counts for the processes of evaluation at her university might not line up with Maria’s at her institution; the different manner in which we count further impacts our ability to engage with the structures beyond our individual institutions. Open access and web publications, for example the website on which we are publishing this piece, multiply, cross-contaminate; or are they deemed worthless contaminants, not counting at all, but continuing to exist, grow, invade, and hold accountable? When we think within the matrix of the neoliberal university and the obsession with quantifiable achievements and data, the contamination offered by collaboration might force us to stop emphasizing countability and instead accountability, and through accountability, amplification. When we collaborate, we can inflate and multiply things as a way to subvert quantifications. The algorithms of collaboration perform amplification as accountability.

Works Cited

Baer, Hester, Carrie Smith-Prei, and Maria Stehle. “Digital Feminisms and the Impasse: Time, Disappearance, and Delay in Neoliberalism,” special issue of Studies in Twentieth and Twenty-First Century Literature24/7: Neoliberalism and the Undoing of Time, ed. by Necia Chronister and Lutz Koepnick, 40.2 (2016). 

Berlant, Lauren and Lee Edelman. Sex, or the Unbearable. Duke UP, 2013.

Bilge, Sirma. 2017. “Neoliberalism, Intersectionality & Feminism: Dissenting Knowledges in Researchand Teaching.” Vimeo, March 9. https://vimeo.com/207840795.

Loveless, Natalie. How to Make Art at the End of the World: A Manifesto for Research-Creation. Duke UP, forthcoming (2019).

Smith-Prei, Carrie and Maria Stehle. Awkward Politics: Technologies of Popfeminist Activism. McGill-Queens UP, 2016.

Tsing, Anna Lowenhaupt. The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life after Capitalism. Princeton UP, 2015.

Ph.D. in German Studies or the Possibility of Becoming an Unhappy Queer

by Simone Pfleger

In the fall and winter of 2017, I spent the majority of my time revising my dissertation, which I then defended successfully in December of that year. Like many of my fellow graduate students, I was working on my dissertation while constantly keeping an eye on the job market. Keeping an eye on things is necessary to know what is happening in the field and to stay informed, but it also means that my attention is directed elsewhere or redirected. Continue reading “Ph.D. in German Studies or the Possibility of Becoming an Unhappy Queer” »

Strategies for Feminist Leadership in the Neoliberal University

With its emphasis on quantification, financialization, and entrepreneurialism, and its attack on the public good, neoliberalism poses a threat to higher education and to feminism by commodifying knowledge, undoing forms of collectivity and solidarity, and privatizing and individualizing forms of resistance. Continue reading “Strategies for Feminist Leadership in the Neoliberal University” »

When Your Faves are Problematic: Interrupting Harmful Narratives as Feminist Practice

by Didem Uca

Social media has held an important place in my development as an intersectional feminist scholar-activist. Running the Coalition of Women in German Twitter page since October 2014 has allowed me to engage a broad audience in a diverse set of issues. And yet I acknowledge that I am often preaching to the choir, with retweets and favorites coming from like-minded individuals. Continue reading “When Your Faves are Problematic: Interrupting Harmful Narratives as Feminist Practice” »

“This is not just a grab-bag candy game.”

I tell my students, ‘When you get these jobs that you have been so brilliantly trained for, just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else. This is not just a grab-bag candy game.’” —Toni Morrison, “The Truest Eye”1

Continue reading ““This is not just a grab-bag candy game.”” »