Floating lives: Asian diasporas, swingers and homelands

ok, enough about domestic violence and terrorism. and on to something much more interesting!
globalised media! yes, i’m back in the reading-stuff-for-the-thesis mode. and i’m enjoying “Floating Lives: the Media and Asian Diasporas” (ed Stuart Cunningham and John Sinclair) immensely. i know it’s nerdy to admit to loving work books, but i do. i just love this crew. it’s media/cultural studies in MY type of style. most of the people involved had something to do with UQ or the Australian Key Centre for Cultural and Media Policy in Brisbane at some point. it seems UQ (or Brisbane, anyway) is THE place for me to be for my work. excellent. i move to Melbourne – the place to be for swing dancing – and what do i discover?

sheesh.

at any rate, these key centre people rock. i lubbs media policy studies, media studies and light-on cultural studies with a practical bent

but really, i do love this book. it’s just perfect for me: globalised media. diaspora. communities who’re defined not by geographic placement or nationhood, but by their own feelings of ‘belonging’ to a community that crosses countries. and looking at how they use media.

sound much like swingers? yes indeedy. but even better, sound like fans? oh yes.

Cunningham, Sinclair et al do take care to make the point that they’re not discussing being Asian as being somehow an ‘essential’ definer of identity or community in diasporas:

“every diaspora treated in this book is seen as a collocation of class, ethnic, origination, education, work and financial configurations, whose status as a ‘community’ is the product of strategic unities and alliances, sometimes engendered more from without than within, rather than ethnic ‘essences’” (Sinclair and Cunningham 13).

So they see community as being a more complex confluence of different factors, of which ‘being Asian’ is one. Their model (and this comment) is encouraging: I’m jumping off from here, using their methods for analysing media use by members of Asian diasporic communities in Australia. The key point, here, is that community membership is not designated by geographic location or by national boarders. I like to use this approach for discussing swing dancers.

Here, swingers around the world are part of a global community, membership of which is defined by interest and cultural practice. As well as media use. Though various swing communities in different countries are quite unique – localised – they are still part of a more global community, in that they share interests, customs – class, education, work, financial configurations – and their global community is shaped by strategic unities and alliances.
Swingers are, particularly, made a diaspora through their community’s being structured around shared cultural practices and ideology, ritual, tradition and ideology, despite geographic distance. They are diasporic in that they are also somehow outside, and looking ‘back’ to a specific ‘homeland’ from another ‘place’.

Sinclair and Cunningham discuss the ways in which diasporas are marked – to varying degrees – by their “fetishisation of the homeland” (Sinclair and Cunningham 20). Swingers are quite definitely involved in fetishisation of a ‘homeland’ in their attention to 1930s New York – Harlem. And then, perhaps, Australian swingers are also looking to a ‘homeland’ in their attention to contemporary Sweden or America (and their local swing dance communities).
Sinclair and Cunningham are referring to a ‘homeland’ – as a country – from which groups and families and individuals journeyed out to other countries to settle or work or escape. In swing culture, we can read Harlem as the ‘homeland’ from which all swing dance culture moved out into the rest of the world. It is also the homeland to which contemporary swingers journey in pilgrimage, to see historic sites (the Savoy Ballrooms former location), to learn from swing dance ‘gurus’.

Just as Sinclair and Cunningham frame ‘homelands’ as being as much an ideological construct or idealised ‘memory’, swingers construct a Harlem of a specific time and place, with attendant social and cultural milieu. The Harlem to which swing dancers journey, or harken to as homeland, is the Harlem of the 1930s, birthplace of lindy hop, swinging jazz and ‘swing culture’.

The ‘homeland’ – as an ideological construct – is also a site for various ideological contestations and discursive practices. Definitions of ‘homeland’ are marked by ideological disputes, or/and by markers of power and discursive influence.

So that’s what i’m reading for work at the moment. it raaaawks. so much so that i’m working on the weekend as well as mid-week. which breaks my cardinal rule.

Sinclair, John and Stuart Cunningham. “Diasporas and the Media.” Floating Lives: The Media and Asian Diasporas . Ed. Stuart Cunningham and John Sinclair. Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 2000. 1- 34.

if only today was a cleverer day

i’m back working. it’s not so great. it’s not so bad. but it’s not so great.

i am having trouble getting concentrating. thesis? wuh? well, today is better than yesterday. at least today i’m writing things. and i do sort of have a proper thesis hypothesis thing. well, a thing that will lead to a hypothesis.

the research trip to europe was good. it was great. thing is, it was like a holiday. and i was so physically wrecked it was very difficult to do any work while i was away. especially in herrang. oh well.

i do have ideas for a chapter using my experience at camp savoy and herrang. a chapter on camps and exchanges and the importance of travel in swing. oh, and looking at the management of labour in swing. and all of this under the broad (thesis thing) of performing fandom in swing communities.

if only today was a cleverer day.

i am in a flurry

i have just been reading the Horrid wench’s blog. it’s not a good idea. now it doesn’t incense me the way it used to. it just makes me sad. i want to take that sad, pathetic girl and straighten her out. she needs to think less about her weight and what she’s wearing and more about… feminism. yes. feminism. that’ll straighten her out.

i’d have liked to think my trip overseas would have stopped me posting inflamatory posts on discussion boards, but it hasn’t.
soon i will be back in the crazy obsessive land of phd thesis working-at-home people. soon i will return to obsessing about the Gym. i too will write long, complicated posts where i describe exactly what i’m wearing (red fleece, purple trousers, brit hop tshirt, purple and green stripey thermal, house knickers, white and purple striped knee-high socks, hiking boots, fyi). they won’t be very interesting as i wear the same things all the time.

maybe.

meanwhile i’m in flurry about tap dancing (i may Dabble), yoga and lindy hop. yes, lindy hop.

i have a long history as a door bitch

p>tonight i will be overwhelmed by the power of my position and exploit it.
mmmm,maybe not.
tonight i’m doorbitching for a mate who’s DJing at another person’s regular dance ‘club’ while they’re in tasmania at Canberrang.
now, it’s certainly not the first time i’ve door bitched at a dance doo (in fact, i have a long history as a door bitch, but it’s been a little while), but i do suddenly feel very naughty. i could do anything. i mean, i won’t, but i could. i could take revenge for all those irritatingly puritanical swing-nazi comments.
or
i could fuck over all those crappy swing guys who’ve already started shitting me again (and i’ve only seen them one night since i’ve been back). Perhaps i should introduce dance licences…

arrestpic.jpg

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’ll have to withdraw your dance license as well. We can’t have just anybody dancing at this venue, can we?”

that’d teach em for introducing that god-awful ‘popular in america at the moment’ basic into melbourne. sheesh.

the internet was broken yesterday

our internet was broken yesterday. seems there was a big adsl (man,i can never get that acronym right) Issue yesterday. unfortunately yesterday was also The Squeeze’s official Sick Day. he has caught the IT nerd version of the Herrang cold and was Languishing yesterday. that means sleeping, in Squeeze terms. that boy is the best sleeper i’ve ever met. but round about 3pm he woke up a little and wanted to play online (checking work things, mostly, despite my instructions to Rest and Heal). but the internet was broken.

yesterday was a frighteningly productive thesis day.

it’s a sad, sad day when you’re eating instant noodles for breakfast

but it can’t be helped. my first night of proper dancing since i’ve been back (where i dance like a nut all night) and i wake up feeling a little ill. now, i’ve been dealing with herrang cold remnants since i arrived home last thursday, but it seems the IT nerd version of the cold which laid The Squeeze low has decided to take up residence in moi. sick again. so i’m feeling tired and rough and a little disappointed in my immune system. i thought we were a team.
at any rate, despite my attempts to eat only sandwiches since i arrived home, there is no decent bread in the house. the only alternative for sick-girl was obviously instant noodles. and i think the milk has gone off.
sigh.
meanwhile, the handyman (who i quite like) is wacking things in another room, attending to 2 of the 10 or so items on our list of ‘fix it now you bastards’ things. a list we sent to the real estate agent before i left (we’re talking at least 7 weeks ago). only now, since i’ve been home and threatened to kick arse have they done anything about this list. a plumber is promised, but i doubt we’ll see him any time soon.
meanwhile, the lease is up, so we’re living on borrowed time and with little room to apply pressure to our arsehole landlord. we are trying to decide whether or not we should move. unfortuntately, though, areshole landlords dominate our price bracket, and while we pay too much rent here, it’s still cheaper to stay than to pay for all the moving crap.
ah, renting. how wonderful it is.

and while i was away…

i stayed with my mother’s sister and her husband in Chiseldon, a little village outside Swindon in Wiltshire. My mother’s family have long been crazy animal people, and ann has been rescuing abandoned animals since… well, since forever. in our family, you don’t buy animals. you rescue them. so anne has.

they have about 7 cats (most of whom are really really old and really really disgusting: i wouldn’t touch them if i could), 3 dogs (including a grotty mongrel with multiple neuroses, a spoilt and badly behaved beagle and a wonderfully gentle staffordshire terrier who has only one leg. he was rescued from the welsh vallies, where they’d broken his jaw and thrown him to some pit bulls to fire them up for an illegal dog fight. he is really lovely, but was most amusing when he hurt his remaining front paw and developed balance issues), a pony, a pig, a ferret, lots of weirdo chickens (whose eggs are sold to raise money for some save-the-children charity) and stacks of ducks. there used to be a goat, but he died. that goat was nice, too. he once lived at a school, where he served some sort of educational purpose. then they decided he had no proper use, and lived in a teacher’s front garden til he was rescued. but he’s dead now.

here is one of my absolute favourites. colin.


colin is a vietnamese pot-bellied pig, who lived in a pub, fed on crisps and chocolate until he grew too big and was abandoned. so my family rescued him. he has been steadily dieting since he’s lived with anne, and while once hideously overweight, he is now just hideous.
that sounds too harsh. colin is actually a friendly, cheerful pig, who loves company and being patted. this isn’t always the case with pigs – they can be nasty and vicious.

read on for more crazy animal stories….

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