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A New Era for Ethnic Studies

September/October 2010

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A New Era for Ethnic Studies

Glenn Matsumura

Innovation today tends to have an automatic association with computers, electronics and 21st-century engineering. But at Stanford, the impetus to rethink and reimagine stretches well beyond the mechanical.

There's no more ardent hotbed of transformation, for instance, than the Center for Comparative Studies in Race and Ethnicity. To grapple academically with some of the most contentious issues in American society, the center has been assembling a youthful teaching and research corps of national notice.

Six key scholars hired in the last three years have been faculty of color. That's a visible asset to the University's diversity objectives, but also fits into the goal of freshening all the center's work. The push has been on to add faculty members who can shake up their fields or break new ground, and at least one prominent outsider whom Stanford tried unsuccessfully to recruit cites a cluster of strengths in the center's strategy.

Among the significant accomplishments, says Harvard professor David Carrasco, a Mexican-American historian of religions, is "a very smart series of steps in a different direction" from the black-white experience that "still dominates" race and ethnicity programs. The center's comparative vision—looking at multiple populations in relation to each other instead of separately—contributes to a "deeper focus . . . than any other similar center" in the United States, Carrasco wrote in an email.

Carrasco also notes that the center's approach is "seriously empirical," insistent on describing "the actual experiences of race and ethnicity in local, national and borderland situations." It's gratifying praise, and from the perspective of history professor Al Camarillo, hard earned. As special assistant for Stanford's faculty development initiative, Camarillo has committed himself to a task that requires a dogged talent scout who's not afraid to pass the academic torch.

"Stanford already has an established presence in higher education in the study of race and ethnicity," says Camarillo, noting that the center dates to 1996. "But we want to go further. We want to make Stanford the best university in the world doing this work.

"How do we do it? We bring in the best faculty with creative minds, young faculty as well as more established scholars. But we're really looking at younger faculty, who have the possibility of linking with current faculty and taking ethnic studies to the next level of development. Breaking paradigms, changing interpretations, bringing new empirical research. My generation laid the ground, we established the beachhead, and now we're looking for scholars that are pushing and advancing this to the next realm of research and understanding."

In late 2007, Stanford launched its multimillion-dollar faculty development initiative to hire "rising stars in the humanities and social sciences" while incrementally filling 10 faculty positions affiliated with the center. Success was anything but preordained; not every offer of employment has been accepted. But three years into a five-year process, the roll call represents an assortment of disciplines and interests.

The first to come on board were Gary Segura, professor of political science and chair of Chicano and Chicana studies for the center, and Tomás Jiménez, assistant professor of sociology. Next came associate professor of education H. Samy Alim, MA '02, PhD '04, and José David Saldívar, professor of comparative literature. The latest hires, with backgrounds in African-American topics, are assistant professor of sociology Corey Fields and assistant professor of English Vaughn Rasberry. All their school and departmental appointments are based on contributing a specific share of time and courses to the center.

Jiménez's work, to cite one example of what Camarillo calls next-generation research, focuses on how ongoing Mexican immigration helps shape the assimilation of later-generation Mexican-Americans. Camarillo believes there are broad implications for larger society.

"I think that one of the things that sets us apart more than other similar kinds of programs," says Jiménez, a former assistant professor at UC-San Diego, "is we are not principally focused on the racial or ethnic identity of a particular group, but we're interested in the lives of people with multiple skin colors, multiple ancestries, multiple nationalities and multiple backgrounds. There's no silo here—no Asian-American silo or Chicano silo or silo of any kind."

Alim, an expert on street language and hip-hop culture, is a former associate professor of anthropology at UCLA. Stanford offered him a "dream scenario."

"Something that I've always wanted," he explains, "was to be able to do interdisciplinary work across three areas, which were education, linguistics and an explicit focus on race and ethnicity. . . . I'm going to the [center's] faculty seminar series and showing up with this community of scholars from all over the University, who are coming at the issues from their particular perspectives, with their particular insights, which is enhancing my work and my thinking."

"One of the real successes of the faculty development initiative," says the center's executive director Elizabeth Wahl, PhD '96, "is that it has provided a model for what you can do to attract the best and brightest universitywide. And by making the center the focus of that, it offers an intellectual home on race and ethnicity issues regardless of someone's department."

Studying ‘A Real Thing’

Two new professors at the Center for Comparative Studies in Race and Ethnicity offer perspectives on diversity.

Tomás Jiménez, assistant professor of sociology, has been studying Mexican immigration in his work on assimilation, social mobility and ethnic identity. In an interview with STANFORD, he talked about the richness of local communities.

[Regional diversity] is one of the things that attracted me to Stanford. In addition to the University, it's also where it's situated. Santa Clara County in percentage terms is a bigger immigrant gateway than Los Angeles County; it's as big an immigrant [destination] as New York City. About 38 percent of the people who live in Santa Clara County are foreign born. Well over half of the people who live in Santa Clara County are either immigrants or the children of immigrants. [In] L.A. County, about 36 percent of the population is foreign born; New York City, it's about 38 percent. . . .

Silicon Valley is a fascinating place to study these things, because we really do have the spectrum of a contemporary immigration wave. We have a very highly skilled, fairly wealthy immigrant population, and we also have lots of people who are unauthorized, mostly from Latin America, who are very poor with a lack of formal education. We have large refugee populations on the east side of San Jose from Vietnam, and now we have Somali refugees. Diversity here is not something that people kind of talk about, it's not something you just see on brochures—it's a real thing.

H. Samy Alim, associate professor of education, studies the social impact of language, race and ethnicity. He spoke with STANFORD about education, street language and hip-hop culture.

'Check that at the door' is the common teacher lingo [to prohibit street language in the classroom]. And so the work that I've done has been trying to push against these dominant ideologies of language and to help people understand that we all use languages in a variety of ways in our social worlds. And there are particular languages that are constructed as dominant, those that happen to be modeled very closely after white middle class heterosexist norms, and there are other varieties of language that get marginalized across race, across ethnicity, across class, across sexuality, all these things. And so [my work is] sort of resocializing teachers, and society more broadly—at least that's the hope—into an understanding of linguistic diversity that doesn't put people in a situation to then drop out of school in incredible numbers and end up behind bars instead of behind desks. Really, the goal of the research is to re-envision and reimagine the place and the possibilities of language in our world. . . .

[Because of] the very youths who are causing us to rethink what it means to be a part of a speech community—causing us to rethink concepts like language socialization (and) the relation between language and identity—we're having this huge academic conversation about it. But their practices that are leading to this kind of intellectual rethinking are still obviously not allowed to enter the educational system.

There was this great example: The school that I was working at invited this local Shakespearian troupe to come to the school. . . . Well, the performance was based on Shakespeare waking up today and basically meeting a bunch of black youth who couldn't understand Shakespeare. And so, boom, rap was the way to understand Shakespeare and Shakespeare came back from the dead and started rapping like it was nothing. Ironically, by trying to be culturally relevant and using hip-hop to teach Shakespeare, [the players] were actually read [by students] as racist [for] looking at the incredible amount of cultural linguistic production that goes into producing hip-hop as something very easily picked up by Shakespeare—which black American youth could not possibly handle or comprehend. And so that tension was actually picked up by my students. . . . So there is this notion of being incredibly misunderstood and devalued . . . even though the school was trying to do something good. . . .

People talk about [rappers] Foxy Brown and Lil' Kim as scantily clad, hypersexualized, teaching bad values and morals etc. All of that can be critiqued; that is the easy thing to do. Where we need to go with this is to have conversations about the representations of black women by hip-hop culture and media that our students watch every day, and have those conversations within mainstream education, not as something to shy away from. In fact, that's what [Shakespeare's] works were about, tensions of everyday life. And these [hip-hop texts] are what our students are living in now. So we bring these texts in, and what I found was there were different relationships to these texts that could never have been imagined by the assumptions of popular discourses about hip-hop.

I had two young women students, 17 years old. One of them described to me that, in fact, her reading of these texts was within a feminist framework. . . . Feminist in that, through their demonstration of verbal skill, [female rappers] could out-rhyme, out-battle, the men they were competing with. And on another level, they were not just materialistic in the sense of talking about Gucci bags and all this other stuff, but moving black bodies into a space that they had been denied.

Another student read the work of Foxy Brown as being one of the few places that she can actually engage discussions and conversations about sexual abuse and rape. We don't even consider—in terms of wanting to sort of hide hip-hop culture—that this may be one of the few places that young girls can go to and talk among their friends about it. If a hip-hop artist was raped or had sexual abuse and is talking about it on record and all you hear is sex and violence, you're missing the connection that youth are possibly making within their own personal lives. So this is a space that school doesn't want to engage, it's a space that churches try to silence, [so] where else do they go to talk about these very difficult issues that they're going through. . . .

The N word becomes a particular problem in schools that I've worked with. This is not allowed in school, for obvious reasons. [But] teachers run into problems with that kind of policy, because students say it anyway. And the more you try to restrict its use, the more some students use it in your class and in your presence. Now you have racial tension, so you don't avoid the problem. . . . And so one of the things that I actually tried to do in my class when I was teaching in East Palo Alto was to look at the N word the way we scholars would do it here . . . from an ethnographic, anthropological, linguistic perspective. To teach students the field methods of anthropology and of linguistics analysis: to actually teach those methods that we learn in graduate school. And then have them recording examples, talking to friends, interviewing people about it and discovering that it is obviously very problematic, controversial [and] historically hurtful—[but] perhaps liberating when it becomes inverted semantically. . . . [The exercise] is difficult and it is controversial and it is filled with tensions. But it's far better than [practicing] zero-tolerance of the language and culture that youth are actually relating to and bringing to school, and just [hoping] it goes away.

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