In
his book Gravyland, Stephen Parks
makes some compelling arguments concerning the urgency of community based
writing projects, encouraging us to reconsider the value and role of local
communities in our classrooms. In Parks
discussion of the Glassville Memoires, a
project in which students worked with community members to develop a “community
history” of a racially integrated neighborhood, he suggests that ideally a
community project focuses on “intercultural rhetoric and dialogue” with a
primary focus on local communities.
Parks admits that however desirable and politically efficacious such
collaborations might be, intercultural engagements always run a risk of
devaluing non-academic modes of writing or expression and even putting the
“community” in a disempowered relation to its own histories. This exigency strikes me as an important one:
how are we to conceive of the “community” in these engagement projects? How do we teach our students to understand
“community” itself as a multi-valenced confluence of different voices with
different discursive practices?
Parks encourages
us to reimagine the work of a writing classroom as “coming into contact with
voices from the edge that are trying
to reshape public debate through writing.”
I think this is perhaps a better place to start. The question becomes, who is on this “edge,” what public debate is being
reshaped, and, most significantly, what kinds of “writing” are effecting this
change?
In a 2005
article from JAC (Vol. 25 N. 1) entitled “The Heidelberg Art Project as a Site
of Literacy Activities and Urban Renewal Efforts: Implications for Composition
Studies,” Valerie Kinloch examines the ways in which this Detroit based
community project used materials such as trash, broken toys, and condemned
buildings to create “urban art.” Kinloch
situates this project in relation to the political rhetoric of “decay” and
“dilapidation,” arguing that the community actively participates in commenting
on and transforming this political language.
The materials that would seem to legitimate the marginalizing language
of politicians become the very modes through which this discourse is challenged
and made to reconceptualize the meaning of “urban renewal.” While Kinloch
focuses primarily on the value of Heidelberg as a model for challenging
politically dominate discourse on urban spaces, I think her article also speaks
to the problem of defining “communities” and, more particularly, the “edge” that Parks situates as the site
that “reshapes public debate.”
Kinloch
demonstrates the ways in which discursive practices, whether on the edge or in
the academy, frequently produce and challenge “public debate” by imagining
writing practices differently. In an
article entitled “Metaphysical Graffiti: Getting Up as Affective Writing Model”
from the same issue of JAC, Jennifer Edbauer takes as her point of departure a
consideration of “existing literacies,” namely the form and function of
graffiti as public writing. While
Edbauer goes on to contextualize graffiti within a consideration of writing as
an affective relation, her sudden realization that “graffiti is writing” and a
form that communicates and produces effects and affects, speaks to the issue of
“existing literacy” and modes of writerly production that have political
effects in reshaping not only public debate, but also public spaces.
Both of these
articles take urban spaces as their model for “community,” complicating the
manner in which we might try to think “literacy” as a simple literary or
critical mode. Indeed, both articles
point toward the ways in which, in order to generate meaningful, politically
engaged “contact zones” for our students, we should begin by thinking through
the multiple means through which people produce writing and what precisely the
affective and political stakes might be for this writing.
For the purposes
of my 101 class, “The Rhetoric of Drugs,” there is not necessarily an easy way
of “remixing” an oral history project such as the Glassville Memoires. Rather,
given the relative sensitivities to and personal investments in a topic like
drugs, I would make a “community engagement project” a project about thinking
through the multifarious ways in which different communities conceptualize “the
drug.” At least part of the course’s
goal is to engage critically the cultural figure of “the drug” and, it seems to
me, this necessarily begins by locating the different rhetorical modes in which
it is produced. Which communities are
saying what? How are they saying
it? What kinds of writing are being
used?
I would ask my
students to locate three different “rhetorical communities” that take drugs up
as an issue. The goals of this
assignment would be 1) to recognize the different cultural meanings and
affective values of the “drug” in three different communities; 2) to identify
the kind of writing that each of these communities employs (medical? Political?
Personal? Art? Graffiti? Music?); and 3) discuss the manner in which the kind
of writing used by a given community either challenges or recapitulates the
terms of “public debate” or cultural scripts.
Ideally,
students would make contact with these rhetorical communities through three
different modes, such as the digital, the textual, and the local, grassroots organization. Identifying the different rhetorical and literacy
practices of “communities” is an important first step toward understanding the
value of writing and public debate.
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