February 7, 2019

My Modern African Politics class this fall semester had only four students, and I think one of the students was "incentivized" to be there so that the class didn't get canceled. I figured that instead of doing my same old scaffolded research project, we could try something a little different.

The students and I agreed at the beginning of the semester that they would all commit to working hard and no free-riding. In return, they would help design the final group project, and we could do activities together that larger classes couldn’t. After discussion, the class decided to write a blog on the politics of food in Africa, a topic that encompasses many class themes like identity and statehood, colonialism, international debt, foreign investment, agriculture, the environment, migration, hunger, and globalization.

The result: The Politics of Food in Africa

What's even better than that? We took two informal field trips to Washington, DC, to sample Senegalese and Ethiopian cuisines. Yum!

Photo courtesy of Organization of Active Women in Côte dʼIvoire (OFACI)

As part of my research, I attended trainings run by local women’s peacebuilding organizations that had the goal of teaching women about their rights or empowerment opportunities. I watched the trainings shift from the morning’s formality to a relaxed camaraderie in the afternoon. Women told stories about their experiences of vulnerability and used that vulnerability to develop a solidarity on which, the training leaders hoped, they could build peace in their communities going forward. In the words of one participant, “Women need to help women because it is only us who know what each other is experiencing.”

But vulnerability can be used instrumentally by these women’s organizations, as well. These organizations use the language of vulnerability stemming from sexualized violence in the WPS resolutions to ask for increased funding for their work. Vulnerability is a pathway to access funding for some of these organizations, and women allow themselves to be vulnerable to establish their credentials as at-risk and open to the intervention of the international community.

Motherhood as an identity

Another frame produced by international discourses that women in Côte d’Ivoire adapt and work from is motherhood. This identity is often collapsed with ideas of vulnerability because of women’s specific health needs and mother-only caring responsibilities for very young children. African feminists like Catherine Acholonu and Obioma Nnaemeka note that motherhood in many African societies is not just a biological role but also a social one. Even if a woman does not have children, familial roles such as “sister” or “aunt” are liberally given and come with nurturing duties.

Motherhood, then, is not only taken on by those who have birthed and raised children but is claimed by a majority of women in Côte dʼIvoire and is naturalized for all women. As with vulnerability, women are pragmatic about their mothering roles, noting that there are specific ways they can work with their identity as a mother, but also instrumental ways to sell motherhood as necessary to security.

At the core of the activism by the local women’s organizations was a commitment to security, peace, and anti-violence. In particular, it was the attachment to their children through birth and caretaking that provided women power in their communities and compelled them to act publicly. Especially for poor women, who have little formal power or access to resources, motherhood provides them with the capacity to act. The director of one women’s organization passionately claimed, “A woman, child, there is not a more horrible pain than giving birth. Do you think she can give birth to her child and then let her child die like this? Maybe he’s going to die because you can do nothing. If you can do something, you will snatch your child from death.”

Just as with the frame of vulnerability, women used motherhood instrumentally to attract attention and funding to their cause of peace and security. Women’s organizations often premised their programs on women’s roles in their families and their communities. Conflict management programs, in particular, relied on women’s domestic management and intimate knowledge of their families. Local justice officials sometimes depend on women to report if their adolescent sons or husbands are coming and going from the house at odd hours, if there are weapons or large amounts of cash in the house, and if there are new people in the community.

Implications of reclaiming the discourses

My goal is not to reify women in Africa and specifically in Côte d’Ivoire as motherly or “natural” but to note and understand their experiences in their work, as they operate in their own contexts, both as vulnerable and as actors in conflict and post-conflict. Because the WPS resolutions are based on assumptions of women, allowing Ivorian women to the space to push back against these assumptions can help them redefine security for themselves, through their own advocacy. Only by listening to African women can we open up space for their voices and analyze their words and actions vis-à-vis state structures and international discourses.

June 23. 2018

Like last year, I spent a few weeks jumping around a few places in Europe for conferences/workshops and a little bit of holiday. This time, I was in the Netherlands for work, Finland for a holiday with a dear friend, and Switzerland for work. It was an exhausting trip that coincided with midsummer in the Nordic countries, so my final overnight layover in Stockholm meant that most everything was closed.

One of my favorite things about traveling in general is when places are so fully realized versions of what they are. Almost fulfilling their stereotypes, but in a charming way rather than catering to tourists.

Utrecht, Netherlands, was one such place, as were Helsinki and Turku (and the archipelago) in Finland. Partially because the weather was so sunny and warm, which meant that everyone was eating and drinking at outdoor cafes with the late sunsets, but largely because the cities took pride in themselves and in their distinct culture and heritage.

While I also spent a short time in Zurich and Vienna (the visit to Geneva was not my first) and would of course return to explore more, they didn’t charm me as much as Utrecht, Helsinki, and Turku.

June 6, 2018

The end of a semester, a year, a job. At the end of this month, I’ll be done with my visiting position at Pomona College.

As I’ve written before, teaching is fun but tiring – like putting on a performance. I also felt that I had to be an expert of everything, like taking a quiz every day. My intro to IR class this spring was so dynamic and curious, but that meant that I always had to be on. Nuclear physics one day, immigration law the next.

The Claremont Colleges have a great Center for Teaching and Learning, where I took advantage of a book club, a diversity discussion group, and a few other workshops. These were potentially my favorite part of the job – learning from novice and experienced professors from all kinds of disciplines how they deal with some of the classroom challenges that I thought only I had.

I had been worried throughout the fall semester, my first time teaching full-time, that injecting too much of my personality and particularly my motivations behind my political stances and teaching style would be inappropriate. But I realized (with the help of the reading group) that not only do students want to know their instructors’ feelings, my own teaching motivation is much stronger when I am a professional version of myself.

A quick version of this: in intro to IR, we were covering international security and shifts in weapons types and technologies after the end of the Cold War. This is not something I know well, and in fact, I am ethically opposed to the creation and use of weapons for national security purposes. Instead of declaring this to my class, however, I showed footage from the 1992 Gulf War, which was really the first time that video had been a part of the weapons themselves, broadcast immediately, and shown on television. I was in middle school at the time, and I believe that watching missiles, through the eyes of the missile itself, guide itself down a chimney and to other exact targets shocked me so much that it shaped my core beliefs and most likely my career.

I showed a few of these videos to my class and explained about how these weapons changed how modern war is fought, as well as how they have changed how Americans understand our own foreign policy. We also talked about how shocking these videos were at the time and how they still are, now that there are few images from guided missiles shown to the public any longer. Showing the class my own history and identity as it came out of a political event I think was one of the most effective lessons I’ve learned myself this year.

February 4, 2018

Well, that’s a thing. A terrible, terrible thing. Everyone tells you how terrible it is, and you think you know, but you don’t know.

First, the numbers: This was my second year on the political science/international studies job market, and total, I applied to probably 100 positions overall (including postdocs), had eight or ten phone or skype interviews (including the one for my current visiting position at Pomona College), three campus interviews, and one job offer.

Now, I only know what it’s like for me, but when people say fit is important, they are so right, at least for those of us from non-elite institutions. Especially for me, researching a non-mainstream topic with a non-mainstream methodology, even though I applied to general IR positions, I probably didn’t get a second look from most of those hiring committees.

What I did get was a job, doing exactly what I want to do. Starting July 1, I’ll be an assistant professor of political science and international studies at Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland. It’s a liberal arts college with a cool history and is in an area I’m looking forward to moving back to. I even get to teach things I’m really excited about, like African politics, gender and conflict, and even IPE (as long as I can give it a development focus). And I’m certain I got this job on fit. Not only did I fit their requirements and they fit mine, but there’s a general sense of fitting in with the culture of the place and the personalities of the other faculty.

It’s a joy right now to be done with the dissertation and feeling secure that I should have employment for the next few years. I feel extremely fortunate that the right thing came up at the right time for me – it isn’t the case for a lot of people in my position – so I’m trying to honor it by working smart and hard.

December 28, 2017

Because so much stuff has happened in the past year and the only time I’ve had to reflect on it all is during my 2-plus-hour-a-day commute or just before I’m falling asleep, I’ve decided to write and backdate some posts that I didn’t get a chance to write before. So here’s the first: a contemplation of my first semester of full-time teaching.

As I wrote over the summer, I enjoyed teaching more than I thought I would, not least because I kept learning things. But even though everyone tells you how hard the first year of teaching is and says that you should really finish your dissertation before you start, you don’t really absorb that lesson.

Heed my warning.

It wasn’t even so much the teaching – I taught three classes this fall, two undergraduate at my VAP position at Pomona College and one masters-level at Chapman University as an adjunct. They were all brand-new preps, and I particularly underestimated the students at Pomona, who are exceptionally well-prepared for college and expected a great deal out of me. When I knew the material really well, I was relaxed and things were fine. On other subjects, I was intimidated, which showed in my teaching. Overall, the students were great and generally kind to me, but I do feel pretty bad for them. Sorry, guys!

What I didn’t expect was how the last few months of dissertation writing, editing, and defending are all-consuming. I’ll go into this process in a later post, but my mind had next-to-zero space for anything else, including a bit of creativity in teaching. It was all I could do to write a lecture and ask questions in class.

Additionally, I was on the job market for the second time this fall (again, a later post), which was, of course, a bit smoother than last year, but my stress was still high while teaching and dissertating and driving.

The best thing about teaching this fall was that I couldn’t think about anything else during class. So even though teaching was stressful, I had to focus on it and not dwell on anxiety about my dissertation or the job market.

I guess I owe my students a giant thank you in addition to the apology!

December 10, 2917

Thank heavens.

Defended a couple of weeks ago, did some revisions, submitted the paperwork on Friday. What a relief.

November 3, 2017

As a follow up to a workshop on feminist global “secureconomy,” I wrote a post on the Progress in Political Economy blog about the limits of expertise. Why not read the entire set of posts?

July 8, 2017

My savior from unstructured time this summer has been teaching Intro to IR three mornings a week. The students have all been genuinely curious, asking perceptive questions and helping each other in discussions. Because UC Irvine has such an ethnically diverse student population, several of the students have been helpful to me and the rest of the class by giving context from regions of the world that I am less familiar with (including East and Southeast Asia, but lots of other knowledge too!).

Explaining new theoretical concepts has also helped me finish up my dissertation. I remind students to always remember what is at the center of the main theories we're studying: power-seeking is central to realism, cooperation is the essence of liberalism, economy is the core of Marxism, etc. Yet when I'm writing, I lose focus, getting lost in the context of West Africa.

After a conversation with my advisor when I was in the weeds, she reminded me to always relate it back to the WPS agenda, the object of my study, to remember how whatever I am writing about at any moment relates to—explains, questions, nuances—the agenda and its implementation. And I remembered this as what I'm telling my own students to focus on when they become overwhelmed with the details.

I've often heard that teaching a subject helps you master it. And it's true that reviewing material for the class has reminded me of concepts that I've never used once I learned them (appeasement, anyone?). But I didn't expect to reinforce my own learning processes and to remember what it's like to be an amateur.

All through grad school we surround ourselves with experts, ideal examples of scholars and scholarship, to model ourselves after and to show us what we should be working toward. Yet at this moment, near the very end of my own student-ness, it is my students, most of whom are new to politics and international relations, who are re-teaching me how to accept the contingency of my knowledge and what it means to grow as an academic.

I realize that I'm fortunate with this group of students as well as to be teaching a class that I am familiar with, so I don't expect every class to be like this every term. But if my next year at Pomona College and the (inshallah) years of teaching after that are similar, I'll be very thankful indeed. Now back to writing.

May 22, 2017

In two words: it sucks. After nearly two years of adventure, of traveling and trying to figure things out in new places, in multiple languages (most of which I don’t speak), meeting people, and learning tons and tons of new things, the time has arrived (since January, in fact) to sort out what I have learned, to make sense of it all.

BUT THAT'S NOT NEARLY AS MUCH FUN AS HAVING FUN WITH NEW PEOPLE IN NEW PLACES!

I did write a chapter last summer, and I have lots of notes and a few presentations, so it’s not like I was starting from complete scratch. But putting your data to your ideas, even though you’ve been thinking about the connections for years, is nigh impossible some days. It’s exciting when something comes together, but those days don’t come often.

However, I am finding some joy in the little things, like revisiting interviews and realizing the little connections between what an Ivorian woman has told me and a theoretical concept. And when I can take a few moments to step back and look at what I'm doing, I can see a bigger picture, pinpoint where my tiny contribution fits in, and feel a bit proud of myself.

This drag will end soon, inshallah, as soon as I take care of a bit of conference travel. (I did not fly for more than two months, which is some kind of record for me recently!) As I type, I’m on my way to Lund, Sweden, for the Feminist Peace Research Network workshop, then next week to Long Island for the Berkshire Conference, then the European Conference on Politics and Gender in Geneva, a short stop in Berlin for fun, and finally Brighton, UK, for the British International Studies Association. Several of these are places I’ve never been, and between the travel and the productive conversations, I’ll be looking forward to wrapping up this long slog of writing and moving on …

November 18, 2026

Like most researchers who use semi-structured interviews, I start off with a fairly routine set of questions – tell me about your organization; what aspect of the Women, Peace, and Security agenda do you focus on; what are your successes so far and what are the challenges you face – though we inevitably get very specific to the organization, their donors, and their target population.

After one interview, the president of the organization I was visiting introduced me to one of her assistants who, as part of a women’s empowerment project supported by her employer, makes organic soap in her home to be sold in the markets.

She invited me to her house to see the project and quickly made some sample soap with the assistance of her son and a couple other neighborhood boys. I don’t even remember the whole process, but the chemistry of the thing and the quality of the soap was amazing!

November 3, 2016

I love doing fieldwork. Love meeting people and learning about their lives and where they live and how they work. And I love traveling to conferences, again meeting new people and learning about their research and thinking more about mine, plus visiting new cities.

Last month, I got the opportunity to travel to Pietermaritzburg, South Africa, to attend, present at, and assist at a conference sponsored by The CIHA Blog, for which I am an editorial assistant. Once again, the conference was wonderful, a place to catch up with old colleagues and meet new ones. Please read more about the conference and the broad swatch of issues related to religion, humanitarianism, and governance that we discussed.

Then, because it was my first time in South Africa and since I was already there, I took 10 days to drive from Durban to Cape Town – along the Wild Coast, the Garden Route, and into Wine Country. I was so impressed by the diversity of the landscape and the beauty of the coastline especially.

No major stories happened, good or bad, just a relaxing vacation where I got to meet new people, see new things, and learn new lessons about culture, race, gender, and politics.

October 17, 1979

Aside from the boat trip (see the last post), I've been working quite a lot and haven't yet done much exploring. But the little that has been done always makes me smile.

My problems with her appointment come more from what work her celebrity activist position does in the WPS agenda, how it distorts priorities and politics already in the WPS resolutions.

Celebrities reinforce stratification and hierarchy that was present before. When UN Security Council Resolution 2106, which focused on sexual violence, was passed in June 2013, Jolie addressed the Security Council in the debate preceding the resolution. By contrast, the speaker who addressed the Security Council for Resolution 2122—which focuses on including women at all phases of conflict prevention, conflict resolution, and peacebuilding—in October 2013 was Brigitte Balipou, a lawyer and member of the Constitutional Court of Central African Republic. Balipou is prominent in international legal circles but is certainly no celebrity. In October 2015, Resolution 2242 was passed, also a broader discussion of gender in peace and security as well as countering violent extremism; the prior debate saw remarks from high-level policymakers and advocates but no celebrity activists.

The effect of using celebrity activism in urging the Security Council to pass a resolution addressing sexualized violence lends legitimacy to this resolution and its focus on sexualized violence as an issue that those who might not otherwise pay attention to the United Nations should care about, the “fetishization of sexual violence,” as Sara Meger has written. The discrepancy in the advocacy between these resolutions illustrates that enlisting a celebrity for policy work lends legitimacy as well as spurs donors, casual observers who might become involved in advocacy work, and governments to devote attention to the issue. In essence, because of Jolie’s advocacy, there is likely an unintended consequence of attempting to address sexual violence in conflict without addressing the underlying political and economic factors that contribute to it, both during conflict and before and after.

While there is, perhaps, some “academic snobbery” in criticizing Jolie’s new appointment, neither is her presence an unalloyed good. As Lauren Wolfe points out in a defense of Jolie from two years ago, “the attention economy for truly caring about suffering is tiny.” Yet it is this, allowing suffering to become part of an “economy” – making it a political problem to be debated, toward which to allocate resources that can be taken away in the next moment, that addressing suffering of any type is vulnerable to market forces is what is the problem with her attention.

Wolfe goes on: “Now we just need governments to take on the complex problems that lead to rape in war and the needs of survivors after the fact.” Herein lies the problem. This sentence is essentially an afterthought in her post, but it is the crux of remedying gender inequality and gender-based violence in both conflict and peacetime. Having policies on women’s issues (and broader gender issues) rest on activism, whether that is celebrity or grassroots, instead of spurring government action means that these issues will never receive sustained attention.

As one of my research participants told me recently, “Activism is exhausting, but we must keep doing it, or people will stop paying attention.” With policies for women relying on women’s activism, governments and policymakers can continue to use women as a tool when it is politically expedient.

Truly, Jolie’s attention to the rights of women, especially to combatting sexual violence in conflict, is genuine. But universities, especially centers devoted to the WPS agenda (and the career academics that are part of this center, who I know to be invested in women’s security and rights as a holistic endeavor), should be cautious about involving celebrities, even when it brings much-needed attention.

May 13, 2016

One of my interviewees in Guinea offered me an opportunity to travel to Freetown, Sierra Leone, to conduct research there; she said that the women’s activism there was quite strong compared to Guinea and that I might be interested in seeing what they had to say. So with her facilitation, I left Conakry for a week to Freetown.

What a difference in the two capital cities. While certainly poor, Freetown is swarming with development money – signs for NGOs big and small, international and local are everywhere, and so many white 4x4wd vehicles roam the streets. This is in stark contrast to Conakry, which has a few evident foreigners but not the mass of NGO-as-a-business as Freetown (or business-as-business like Abidjan).

April 25, 2015

I am decidedly not a beach person – too much sun, too much sand, and too much ocean that I never learned how to swim in. But I was invited to visit the Los Islands yesterday, so I went. Islands! A boat ride! Out of the city!

You hop on a pirogue (a long, narrow boat) that has a small motor. The sea was choppy, and we got hit several times in the face by small waves, making my heavily applied sunscreen run into my eyes. I wish I could have taken more pictures from the boat, but I didn't want to lose my phone.

When there, there's some ruins, but we really just laid around (me in the shade mostly) and enjoyed the quiet and the cleanliness of the beaches. Boat ride and lunch together cost me about $20.

April 20, 2016

More than when I went to Senegal, my first time in West Africa, or when I went to Côte dʼIvoire, where I was to live for nearly a year, I felt like I more or less knew what to expect in Guinea. I was used to the food and regional culture, my language skills were far improved, and I had a place to stay for the first few days. This was all true.

Yet what really surprised me was how the level of development is so much lower than other countries I have visited in the region. Friends in Abidjan had warned me of the trash situation; I thought that was because they had been there for a week or so, only in the city center, while I would be staying in a somewhat well-off area on the outskirts. Oh no. Trash is everywhere.

Mural on a gym or torture chamber?

April 4, 2016

This post was previously published on The CIHA Blog, where I am an editorial assistant.

In October 2015, The New York Times published an article titled “The Chains of Mental Illness in West Africa.” The author, Benedict Carey, provides insight into prayer camps in Togo, which were established for families with few other resources to house and ostensibly treat those with mental illness (and possibly intellectual or developmental disabilities).

While Carey does write that “Every society struggles to care for people with mental illness” and acknowledges that people with mental illness are bound in the United States and other places as well, he solely focuses on what he sees as the barbarity of the practice in West Africa. The article sets up a dichotomy between “real” approaches to alleviating or ameliorating mental illness and non-proven practices like prayer and traditional healing.

What is missing from his article is that both restraint and non-medical approaches to mental illness are also prevalent in the United States and that the differences in approach between Togo and the United States is one of magnitude, not of kind, likely attributable to the money allocated to mental illness in each country.

In the United States, patients with mental illness or other behavioral issues are not technically chained but are instead restrained – at times forcibly so with straps or sedating chemicals – in psychiatric institutions or in prisons, the latter of which was never intended to help those with mental illness. The U.S. criminal justice system has become the de facto method of dealing with mental illness in face of the lack of social structures to help. About 15 percent of state prisoners and 24 percent of jail inmates report symptoms that meet the criteria for a psychiatric disorder, according to the U.S. Department of Justice, and more than 10 times the number of mentally ill patients are in prisons and jails than in state psychiatric hospitals, according to the Treatment Advocacy Center.

Carey’s article reports that “most countries in Africa, if they have a dedicated budget for mental health care at all, devote an average of less than 1 percent of their health spending to the problem, compared with 6 to 12 percent in the wealthy countries of the West.” In fact, the United States is on the low end, spending about 5.6 percent of its national health-care budget on mental health treatment, more than a quarter of which goes toward prescription drugs.

In any culture, mental illness is difficult for families, with the tension between the dignity and autonomy of the individual while families attend to their medical care and protecting them from themselves and others. An article from IRIN News points out that victims, former combatants, and their families in the Democratic Republic of Congo are allocated few provisions for mental health in North Kivu but that private clinics are working together with NGOs and communities to train mental health professionals, as well as pastors and traditional healers. They spread messages on the radio, in churches, and among state authorities to educate about mental illness and the available treatments, even if those treatments remain limited.

By only focusing on one aspect of mental health treatment in a foreign place while neglecting to mention how the United States similarly treats much of its population or that many of the treatments described are part of a larger treatment effort, The New York Times piece sadly overlooks the holistic approach that is vital to treating mental health issues – including mental, physical, and spiritual aspects.

April 1, 2016

This post was previously published on The CIHA Blog, where I am an editorial assistant.

For a number of years, reports of corruption in Liberia’s education system, reaching all the way to the Ministry of Education, have been numerous, and the country’s president, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, has called for a reform of the education system.

But now, the Liberian government has decided to outsource its entire primary and early childhood education programs to a private company, Bridge Academies, which has been backed by Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates. As reported in The News of Liberia, Kishore Singh, the UN’s Special Rapporteur on the right to education, stated, “This is unprecedented at the scale currently being proposed and violates Liberia’s legal and moral obligations."

The company already runs education projects in Kenya and Uganda, where lessons are provided on mobile phones, reports Front Page Africa, so that “the teacher does not have to be sophisticated to teach.” Following on previous posts on The CIHA Blog discussing “effective altruism,” paternalistic interventions in education, and attempts to innovate out of poverty, this is yet another example of how problems on the local and national levels in many African countries can set the stage for philanthrocapitalist innovations/interventions that do not address the root causes of the problems.

“Don’t Outsource Primary Education System”
The News of Liberia

“Education Minister Negotiates Public–Private Partnership Deal”
Front Page Africa

“An Africa first! Liberia outsources entire education system to a private American firm. Why all should pay attention”
by Christine Mungai for Mail & Guardian Africa

March 22, 2016

I've recently learned that I have been awarded a Doctoral Dissertation Research Improvement Grant from the National Science Foundation. What this means is that I get to do more fieldwork!

I'm headed to Conakry, Guinea, in about two weeks until mid-June and then Bamako, Mali, from September sometime to December sometime. This research will be focused on the same international agenda that I researched in Cote d'Ivoire, but I won't be doing strictly comparative research.

What I'm really excited about (in the research sense, not in the human citizen sense) is learning the differences in context with these three countries. Guinea has reported a number of new Ebola cases in the past week, and the security situation in Mali is somewhat unstable at the moment. My project is not explicitly focused on either of these threats/events, but they of course inform the context that my research partners operate in and impact the response of the international community (and lots of others), which in turn changes women's strategies and the attention given to women's issues in these countries.

I'm not certain I'm able to express how much I'm beginning to love West Africa as a sometime-resident and as a politics-art-society–watcher. But I'm so thrilled to be heading back.

March 17, 2016

This past Sunday, 18 people were killed in the French colonial capital–turned beach resort of Grand-Bassam, about 25 miles outside Abidjan. Here's a reconstruction of the events by my friend Robbie Corey-Boulet, along with Carley Petesch.

Fellow Fulbrighter and UC political science grad student Justine Davis and I wrote an article for The Washington Post's Monkey Cage blog, "6 things you need to know about Côte d'Ivoire in the wake of Sunday's attack." It's almost a primer on current events there and integrates our preliminary research. You should read it.

December 16, 2015

This post was previously published on The CIHA Blog, where I am an editorial assistant.

The CIHA Blog frequently draws on the concept of the “White Savior Industrial Complex,” articulated by Nigerian-American writer Teju Cole, in its critiques of the work that NGOs and celebrity activists often do in Africa: well-meaning but short-sighted, perhaps more about the doer than it is about the intended recipients. Advocacy in Conflict: Critical Perspectives on Transnational Activism, edited by Alex de Waal, extends this argument by demonstrating how it actually works in concrete cases in Africa, but also in Asia and Latin America. In each of these contexts, Western non-governmental involvement has been central to local advocacy campaigns.

Much of Advocacy in Conflict delves into how narratives from every actor involved in a political issue or event can both complement and contradict each other. In some cases—Burma, for example, described in chapter 3 by Maung Zarni and Trisha Taneja—local actors simplify their own narratives in order to draw Western attention (and funds). In the vast majority of cases selected for the book, however, Western celebrities and transnational NGOs eliminate nuance in order to advance their own line of advocacy, whether to boost a public profile, advocate for particular policy goals, or push for what they believe is “right.” These are tales of what can happen despite local involvement.

To situate the book within academic debates on humanitarianism and activism, de Waal’s chapter 2, “Genealogies of Transnational Activism,” explores the history of Western advocacy framed through three impulses: personal salvation or self-fulfillment of the activist, protection of the social order through charity, and solidarity in support of radical political change. These three impulses are often in tension, and he details three models of transnational activism that have developed historically to deal with this tension. The merry-go-round of policy attention in response to some transnational activism sustains the “white savior industrial complex,” and de Waal also points out that that this work “is not a phenomenon that easily lends itself to placement on a left–right political spectrum: it can be progressive at home and regressive abroad” (19).

Many of the most prominent cases of transnational activism, particularly in Africa—the KONY2012 campaign, conflict minerals in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and the Sudan–South Sudan split—are covered in Advocacy in Conflict, not surprisingly, as it is the public attention to these issues and the policies that resulted (or didn’t result) from them that are being analyzed. These cases are considered alongside wider advocacy movements such as disability rights, the arms trade, and land grabs, though these issues are still contextualized within national and regional politics as well as Western intervention in Africa.

Several chapters focus on how the simplicity of the narrative is important to the uptake of the issue by external advocates yet simultaneously risks a simplistic solution put forth by the advocates and then by policymakers. Complexity does not make for an easy social media or celebrity campaign, but solutions that ignore it are nearly guaranteed to be inadequate and, at times, harmful.

An example of the creation of a tidy narrative is Laura Seay’s chapter on conflict minerals in the DRC, subtitled “The Consequences of Oversimplification.” She writes that through the rise of media campaigns linking sexualized violence and conflict minerals in the country, the drivers of violent behavior, the political roots of the violence, and the responsibility of the international actors for continuing the conflict were all but ignored in international advocacy. In what could be the theme for the entire volume, Seay asks, “How can advocates account for the need to make a message simple enough that anyone can understand but complex enough not to obfuscate the real challenges that need to be addressed to solve a crisis” (119)?

One of the greatest strengths of this book is the selection of a diverse range of advocacy campaigns that illustrates so many of the problems and that academics, practitioners, and policymakers can draw their own lessons from. The book shies away from prescription, not intending to be a “lessons learned project,” but each case study highlights successes and failures of the various advocacy campaigns.

For instance, the chapter on African disability rights activism by Chataika, Berghs, Mateta, and Shava argues that the intersectionality of (dis)abilism with other campaigns coming from the global South that combat neocolonialism, racism, and sexism challenge both these activists as well as disability activists from the global North who are pushing for disability rights globally. Because disability activism is lesser known than many of the other social justice campaigns, this exploration upends neocolonial and neoliberal approaches to human rights and development debates and pushes against “empowerment” narratives that come from all sides.

The book endeavors to show how international activism can compromise local efforts, though in many cases the international activism is a necessary (though not sufficient) condition to bring about a solution. Because the media attention does stimulate international political attention, it can also generate local and national political attention for an issue that might have otherwise been ignored. Most of the authors and editors acknowledge this and refrain from calling for an end to Western and/or celebrity advocacy. The conclusion puts forth four themes pulled from the chapters in service of “reclaiming activism,” pushing for “empowerment of the people as the basis for transformational change” (271) that can be adapted to a particular context: empowering local actors, recognizing complexity of issues, including a wide range of actors, and accepting diversity while rejecting a singular narrative.

Ultimately, this book highlights the need for legitimacy and accountability in international advocacy campaigns. As it stands for most internationally dominated advocacy programs, the accountability only operates in one direction, from the assisted population toward the donors; many large agencies require monitoring and evaluation processes as part of their donations. However, as Advocacy in Conflict argues, accountability should also, perhaps more importantly, point in the other direction, toward local advocates and local populations. Defining an issue locally and retaining ownership of the campaign with the help of international activists and, yes, media and celebrities, is key to tackling the issue and developing a solution.

(all photos taken by my friend Eglantine)

November 11, 2015

This past weekend, I went with friends to Grand Bassam, Cote d'Ivoire's first capital, for Abissa, the cultural celebration of the people of that region (and the fishing village that's part of Bassam).

I'd been to Bassam a few times before for a day at the beach and to visit the run-down colonial-era buildings and the National Costume Museum, in need of a cash infusion.

Mostly, I wanted to share these photos my friend took of the festival. At the end, all of us had our faces painted with clay, but little evidence of this exists because we were grouchy from the day in the sun with no food.

More information on the festival and a video can be found here (in French):

http://visiterlafrique.com/cote-divoire/labissa-de-grand-bassam-ou-le-halloween-ivoirien-abisaloween/11868/

http://www.lemonde.fr/afrique/video/2015/11/09/l-abissa-la-fete-qui-reconcilie-les-ivoiriens_4805892_3212.html

October 28, 2015

Yes, I was in Abidjan for the elections on October 25. It was very, very quiet. An expat friend who had lived in Abidjan during the last election was a bit nervous about the outcome (unnecessarily, in my opinion) and asked a few of us to spend the weekend at her house for fun and because the city would be mostly shut down. So, because I'm not a journalist and had been told by the least-security-minded people that staying in Abidjan would be best rather than leaving to do work outside the city.

So I have absolutely nothing of my own to report, other than election rallies all over the city and outside that were only for the incumbent, Ouattara (ADO), and that had the huge balloons and tents so that they looked like American car dealerships on the weekends. I am advocating for the noodle men as campaigners in the next election in 2020.

I'm glad it was calm, as it was generally anticipated to be. Most of those who have any knowledge about Ivorian elections (all 15 of us) believe that the true results of Cote d'Ivoire's justice and peacebuilding efforts will be seen in 2020, when Ouattara will not be running.

Here's a roundup of mostly solid articles in English about the elections:

African Arguments, 19 October

Washington Post, 19 October

Washington Post, 20 October

Mail & Guardian, 21 October

BBC, 24 October

Reuters, 28 October

(update) Washington Post, 26 November

September 27, 2015

To keep my sanity, I run in Abidjan a couple of times a week, usually just before dusk. It's warmer but less humid than the morning. But I always go during daylight – it's unsafe to run in the dark. Not because of the people but because of the risk of falling over or into something (or being hit by a car). A friend compared my style of running here to parkour because I have to jump over and around rocks, potholes, ditches, and chickens, not to mention keeping out of the way of cars and people walking on the sides of the street.

But I love it. I was in the U.S. for a few weeks in August and September and couldn't make myself run more than 10 minutes because I was so bored. The jumping, dodging, and bonsoir-ing at the strange looks keep me entertained when I'm bright red from the heat/humidity 2 minutes in.

There's not the running culture here that there is in Senegal, but there doesn't seem to be the same shock that comes with a white woman running – though I have only worn running shorts once, when my running pants were all in the laundry.

But I still get cheered along and encouraged by neighbors who see me regularly. And occasionally I see another woman jogging, though always with other women or with a male companion. And I love it. It's the best way to see get to know my neighborhood, to find the tiny maquis, to know where the new apartments are being built, to get used to the rhythm of others' lives, to see flocks of chickens grow. And when I stop to walk de temps en temps, red-faced and out of breath, and the kindly security guard inquires, "Ça va, madame?" to make sure this idiot running in 86/30-degree heat isn't going to pass out in front of him, I'm no longer embarrassed like am at home, now able to laugh at myself: "Oh oui, ça va!"

August 13, 2015

This post was originally published on The CIHA Blog, where I am an editorial assistant.

(Just before this post went live, the UN envoy to the Central African Republic was forced to resign because of the sexual abuse allegations.)

Recent reports documenting sexual abuse committed by United Nations peacekeeping troops in Haiti, Democratic Republic of the Congo, South Sudan, Mali and Central African Republic underscore the long history of sexual misconduct committed by peacekeepers around the world. With the recent spate of such reports and the UN peacekeepers’ obvious abuse of power, it becomes essential to examine critically the manner in which the UN responds to the accusations as well as the way the media presents these events.

In the recent article, “Could Peacekeeping Wives Deter Sexual Abuse in UN Overseas Operations?”, following reports documenting widespread abuses by peacekeepers, Thalif Deen asks, “As a preventive measure, would it help if peacekeepers and U.N. staffers are sent on overseas missions along with their wives, partners and families?” The article explores the notion of allowing spouses to join deployed peacekeepers, specifically male peacekeepers, as a viable solution to halt sexual abuse. Similarly, in a separate article, “Sexual exploitation by UN peacekeepers remains ‘significantly under-reported‘” the author quotes the new UN report, which states, “Staff with long mission experience state that was a ‘general view that people should have romantic rights’ and raised the issue of sexuality as a human right.”

These articles’ failure to mention the United Nations’ efforts to incorporate a gender perspective into all organizational policies – gender mainstreaming – as prevention of sexual abuse and exploitations in the UN’s peace operations highlights the ineffectiveness of UN efforts. Gender mainstreaming has resulted in women making up 13 percent of those deployed in UN peacekeeping missions; however, the first article’s proposed solution does not mention this, perhaps because women are not the ones committing sexual abuse.

Instead, the proposed solution perpetuates the idea that men, to some extent, lack the ability to control their sexual urges. Moreover, it deflects the blame from UN peacekeepers perpetrating these atrocious acts by suggesting the absence of a sexual partner drives men to sexually abuse and exploit the people they are sent to protect. Yet the age of many of the victims undermines the argument for “romantic rights,” with 36 percent of the victims reported to be minors and with evidence that minors were targeted for sexual assault even after previous reports drew public outrage. For the staffers claiming that peacekeepers should have better access to appropriate sexual partners in order to attain their romantic or sexual rights, this objective is at odds with addressing the power imbalances inherent in UN missions, which are tasked with ensuring the basic human right of physical security of the local population.

While certainly the majority of peacekeepers are law-abiding, acts of sexual abuse and exploitation continue to be reported, as peacekeeping troops continue to be deployed. Images of UN peacekeepers raping and abusing the very people they are sent to protect further complicate the neocolonial narrative put forward by opponents of peacekeeping forces, highlighting the UN’s work and response to the allegations as also gendered. Meanwhile, narratives that portray African men as violent and sexually aggressive persist.

A new narrative is needed, one that takes into account the intersecting power relations of sex, nationality and economic position, both in the UN’s work and in the media accounts that cover world affairs.

July 28, 2015

My final months in Abidjan (for now) were busy and exhausting. On my very last day, however, Abidjan provided me with not one, but two gifts in the form of #AnimalAdvertising.

May 25, 2015

Cloudy holiday weekend with a book. The Gulf of Guinea knows what kind of beach day I like.

April 5, 2015

Little by little, more is being written about Cote d'Ivoire's recent trials and its economic transformation, all viewed through a lens of the upcoming October elections (exact date TBD). French-language media is generally a better source, but English-language analysis is slowly catching up.

"Court decision deepens Ivory Coast opposition rift" for Reuters, by Joe Bavier

"Côte d’Ivoire’s victor’s Justice? ICC, the Gbagbos and the Mega-Trial" for African Arguments, by Giulia Piccolino (seriously excellent overview of the set of trials set in political context)

"Investigations against pro-Ouattara camp to begin mid-2015, says ICC chief prosecutor" for The Interview, France 24 (the first time the ICC has explicitly addressed the criticisms of both the Ivorian opposition and human rights observers that the national and international justice mechanisms have been one-sided)

"Deja vu: And if the cocoa price dropped?" by John James on his blog Drogba's Country (examination of the possible second round of CIV's "economic miracle" that could be based, once again, on high global cocoa prices; what could happen if prices plunge?)

March 9, 2015

I fell in love with Ouagadougou. It's West Africa, but the pace is slower than in Abidjan, the people are nicer, the streets are straighter, the weather is drier. I described it as the Midwest of West Africa, which means it felt like home.

The thing I REALLY wish I had gotten a photo of is the number of women on scooters. Old women, young women, women in both modern and traditional clothing, women going to work or market. My favorite was on my taxi ride from the airport I saw two women on a scooter, each of which had a baby strapped to their backs, West African-style. I loved it.

I don't know if it was the dry heat, the calm, the hours and hours of movies, the fact that there's fewer foreigners there so I got bothered less, but I would move there if I ever found a reason to.

Also, Burkinabés have a sense of humor, when it comes to their politics:

March 3, 2015

On a whim, just hearing about FESPACO, the Pan-African Film Festival held in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, I decided to go if I could. There's a few direct flights from Abidjan, I had nothing concrete planned, and a friend was thinking of going as well, so I'd have a bit of company. So I bought the plane ticket a few weeks ago, got my Burkina visa last week, and hopped on the plane without knowing much about Ouaga or West African films.

Verdict so far? Amazing. I love Ouaga with its desert dry heat and its ladies of all stripes driving scooters; I love the film festival for being unapologetically African in its outlook and sentiments. There's been films that I've really enjoyed (Des Étoiles, Four Corners) and some I haven't (the series of shorts almost entirely about women's victimization/rape). But people's enthusiasm about films from their country or neighboring ones, their cheering for when the bad guy gets got, the big deal that is FESPACO, even if few others outside film or the African arts scene even knows it exists).

I was uncertain if I would be needlessly spending money for an excuse to visit another West African capital city when I'm not much of a film buff. But for both Ouaga itself and for the film festival, it's totally worth it. This bit of vacation is doing something for my psyche and my cultural and French-language expansion.

January 6, 2015

Today is a post on something I learned the hard way: bill paying.

We received our electricity bill about a month before it was due, but I didn't get around to paying it until the due date. I walked into the office nearest my house around 10 a.m., fully expecting to wait in a short line to pay in cash (as I don't have a local bank account and this is essentially a cash society). I took my ticket and was number 584 in line. The number being called upon my arrival was 107.

I sat for three hours, went out to run an errand and grab some lunch (around number 250), and returned to sit for 2 more hours before the office closed. Good thing I brought a book. And my electricity bill was now overdue.

That night at home, I read the fine print on my bill and the website and realized that I could pay it through Orange Money, a mobile money system (similar to M-Pesa in East Africa) where you deposit money into your mobile phone account essentially and can then pay bills, pay individuals, or purchase mobile credit.

The account is free, and for Westerners, the payment fees (100-200 FCFA/0.20-0.40 USD) are negligible. And I would have saved hours and lots of confusion. Do it.

December 16, 2014

I've heard of this Harmattan and that somehow it extends all the way to tropical Abidjan. It's not the dusty winds of northern Cote d'Ivoire (or the rest of the Sahel and Sahara); here, it's the haze.

Will I really not see the sun for a while? After living in drought-stricken Southern California for so many years and then moving here, I can only hope. I can handle the heat if the sun isn't beating down on me. Let's see what will drive me the most crazy – this hazy Harmattan, the direct sun, or the late spring's incessant rains.

November 26, 2014

The most marked feature of my fieldwork, I think, will be my improving-but-not-fast-enough language skills. Unlike in Senegal, French (or an adapted form of it, called Nouchi) is the language that unifies a great number of ethnic groups in Cote d'Ivoire and is widely spoken across the country, especially in Abidjan. This is generally good for me, as I'm not having to guess whether I'm not understanding someone's French or whether they're not speaking French at all. But it also means that I'm quickly identified as a non-native French speaker, since the average level of the language is much higher than in Dakar.

But at times, it's such a shock when, after a brief conversation, people still misidentify me as French. The first time this happened was when I was buying a bed. After 5 minutes of discussion on the quality, the price, and whether they would deliver, the seller asked if I was French or Moroccan. Aside from the blue eyes that generally mark me as not-Moroccan, I was so surprised that he didn't register my lack of language facility and thought he was teasing me. Then he guessed Italian. Okay.

The second time was this week, when we had a plumber come back for a repeat visit. My French roommate had told him of the problem over the phone and arranged the visit, so I was just there to let him in. I spoke a few words with the plumber, and he communicated that he would have to return another day to do the whole job. When he returned, he asked for a few items and tried to explain what he was doing, but I couldn't understand him – I didn't learn home repair vocabulary in French class. Later, when he asked me another question and I asked him to speak "doucement" – slowly, gently – his assistant realized I wasn't French. Once they learned I was American, the plumber was much warmer toward me, and it dawned on me that he thought I was being rude to him with my miming, when I really didn't have the vocab for "drain" and "pail" ("canalisation" and "seau," for the curious).

It's troublesome that language and our use of it in in law and policy is central to my project but that I'm so tense about it in everyday life. Aside from the daily shopping and greetings, I read documents in French, I try to text my bilingual friends in French, I eavesdrop a bit on others' conversations, I have a French tutor, and I can talk about my project in French. But I am still so hesitant to not be able to explain myself fully, something I take such care about in English, selecting just the right word.

Apologizing up front for my French skills, explaining that I'm American, and being friendly seems to go a long way. I guess it's time that I just get over myself.

November 23, 2014

Always ask the locals. My roommate and I were uncertain about where to go buy a basic kitchen table and chairs and a shelf. We talked about Treichville, which is a bit far from where we live, so we decided to ask our security guard, who was chatting with the phone cabin guys in the shade across the street. A young guy there recommended a place near Pharmacie Azur in the neighborhood of Plateau Dokui and said that any decent taxi driver should know it. So off we went!

And it was perfect! We got a great price with only a bit of bargaining and will probably be back for a couple other small tables.

One of my favorite things here is how you can get recommendations for almost anything you want from anyone you ask. I'm so used to resorting to google when I'm looking for a particular item, but because of google's lack of relevance here, as well as no street names if you do find the shop, it's much easier to use your loose social ties to find something. Basically, anyone who you might know for at least a week – security guards (who are always polite to me and generally willing to cut me some slack with my language skills), women selling fruits and vegetables, phone cabin guys, even store clerks – will offer up assistance if you ask politely.

While I miss the ability to find anything I want on the internet (have great access here, just less relevant), using the people around me is unarguably better for my language skills and for forming social ties.

November 19, 2014

Saturday I moved into my (hopefully) permanent apartment in Abidjan after moving around a bit. On Sunday, I went shopping at Adjamé market for a number of kitchen and household items. To buy lots of stuff, the trip was worth it. Supermarkets are quite expensive, but if you're willing to spend the time and brave the crowds, markets like Adjamé are wonderful.

My previous experience with African markets was in Dakar, where so many expats also go. There, you can't take a quick look at something without being harassed (and if you don't speak French, don't worry, many of the merchants speak enough English or German to tell you to look at their wares). But in Abidjan, my market day was completely different.

The most notable thing was that I was the only white person that I saw in the market, which is vast (both the market itself and the surrounding "black market"). One of the stores on the edge of the market, apparently some kind of restaurant supply store, was owned by a Lebanese couple, fairly common here, but I was surprised that it was frequented only by Africans.

I mentioned this later to a friend who has been here a couple of years, and she said that there were more expats before the crisis, so it was to be expected that there were few to none at this market especially, which is not in an expat neighborhood.

The other issue was that I was not overly harassed when walking by or when stopping to look at something. Certainly, I was asked quickly if I needed help or encouraged to buy another type of vegetable, but there was no pushiness behind it. If I responded no thanks, then that was taken as a given. I'm assuming this stems from a lack of recent tourism and that many of the markets in the city are geared toward actual local trade rather than tourist spots.

I don't write this to toot my horn about how "real" I am by shopping at a local market, just that my expectations from one country in the region didn't transfer directly to the reality in another country. And this is the core of my research, that a policy that might work in one place is sometimes inappropriate to the context of the place you are in because of history, politics, social relations, economics, and any other little thing you can think of. (Also relevant in humanitarianism and development aid.)

I love markets and am going back – if only for vegetables and to take photos of the giant land snails in buckets and tied-up chickens on the floor.

November 3, 2014

Reconfiguring my master to-do list today. I'm feeling behind and not fully in grasp of the mountain of things I have to do in the next nine months. But I certainly don't want to look back in July and freak, so ...

Musical accompaniment by Doc Martin and Mark Farina, courtesy of Live@Focus, and by a friend of a friend, LephonQ.

October 30, 2014

Went to the U.S. embassy yesterday to meet some people, for my security briefing, and to get the badge that allows me to check for mail, use the gym, and hang out at general events. I'm officially a Fulbrighter now.

There was nothing too remarkable about it, just the usual multiple layers of security plus vast bureaucracy and promotion of certain forms of power. While the machinery and larger global politics is certainly ripe for criticism (and which has been done so many times before), everyone I met there, both the Americans and the Ivorian national staff, were all helpful and welcoming. My fellowship is paid for by the U.S. government for international cultural exchange, and I am quite aware of the privileges that I personally have and that I also am able to exercise because of my citizenship.

But again, though my research focus is not health care, it's that topic that seems to attract my attention. I was given a health packet from the embassy clinic, mostly so I could know the recommended local doctors and hospitals (and the French versions of medications was a bonus). Much of the packet is devoted toward preventative medicine, and the HIV & Sexually Transmitted Diseases section is a disaster – I don't know if it was developed locally or copied from similar packets in the rest of sub-Saharan Africa, but the language is so problematic when talking about local populations.

"Cote d'Ivoire, like the rest of sub-Saharan Africa, is a hotbed of HIV infections; 3.9% adult HIV prevalence." Hotbed? While this rate is higher than the U.S., it's not anywhere close to the prevalence in a number of other countries in southern Africa. The date for this statistic is 2008, and the current UNAIDS estimate is lower, at 2.7%, both of which are down even further from 7% in 2003 and 13% prior to the first war. And the "hotbed" language simply serves to reinforce the "othering" of Africa as a diseased place.

"The HIV prevalence among local prostitutes, and presumably amongst promiscuous natives [emphasis mine] who frequent late-night clubs, is 50%. That means there is a 1 out of 2 chance that the person you 'pick-up' in a bar is infected with HIV!" Wut? Let's allow that the 50% figure is accurate for prostitution (I couldn't find a recent source but note previous stats), how on earth can it be extrapolated to "promiscuous natives"? So much sex-shaming and racial/national segregation and repeated othering language used in a public health message. And the cute little exclamation point at the end, that you really only have yourself to blame.

I would encourage a great deal more sensitivity and less fear-mongering toward the local populations. Give the stats, give the health precautions (as done for malaria and diarrhea), but keep the ugly, moralizing, whiff-of-superiority tone out of it.

October 16, 2014

After walking off the plane in Abidjan, just after I got a whiff of West Africa (ocean, humidity, diesel, and who knows what else), we went through a quick Ebola test. Our skin temperature was quickly taken, and we were all given two generous pumps of hand sanitizer. The 50-ish French man ahead of me joked about having Ebola and coughed on the guy taking our temperature. I hope a malaria mosquito bit him.

We were not, however, given a card about our travels or asked if we have been in a place where Ebola has been found, maybe because we walked off a plane from France. Technically, my country does have Ebola cases …

I shared a ride from the airport with two USAID workers who were very nice, but one was saying that if Ebola cases are discovered in Cote d’Ivoire, they would probably start requesting that Americans leave. (Because the Fulbright is sponsored by the U.S. State Department, I’m involved a bit with the embassy, though I’m not a U.S. employee, and I pretty much am on my own.)

I explained about the clinics set up along the border with Liberia and Guinea and how I think the government is somewhat prepared to contain if an outbreak does cross the border. She thought that anyone with Ebola would be brought to the capital for treatment – but I just can’t think that’s true. For one, if the government has set up treatment clinics near the border, it’s as much to prevent spread of the virus as it is to treat the people with it. Also, someone showing symptoms of Ebola is probably too sick to be transported on back-country roads to the capital.

But then I realized I was lecturing again and just said that I didn’t really know, that maybe the embassy briefing would tell them differently. Because nobody likes a pedant.

September 22, 2014

As part of a UCI workshop for women in academia, couple of women in my program and I developed a guide to survive graduate school (mostly in political/social science), though it is fairly general. This will likely become part of an APSA Women's Caucus resource, but feel free to use for your own resources (with a link or credit).

When entering graduate school, women can face a number of challenges that might not be apparent to men. Many of the suggestions below can benefit grad students in general, both men and women, but they are particularly relevant for people in any number of underrepresented categories – women, LGBTQ, students of color, etc. The key is to recognize the strengths that you bring to your study, even if they are not traditionally valued by your discipline, and seek out avenues of support.

Self-promotion

• Perfect is the enemy of the good. You must send in work, even if you feel it is less than complete. Uncertainty and self-doubt are normal for everyone. Be confident in what you know. You’re here for a reason.

• Learn about impostor syndrome: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/olivia-fox-cabane/self-doubt_b_1373542.html

• Women often have to walk a fine line between being “too nice” and “sweet” on one hand and being “pushy” on the other. While this is unfortunate, and you are encouraged to be yourself, work on asserting yourself without being arrogant or a pushover.

Seek out a mentor

• This person does not necessarily have to be your advisor (and it’s sometimes best if it’s not).

• Even if you have a good relationship with your advisor, one person cannot be everything – find a junior faculty member, more advanced grad student, or peer. Seek these connections both within your department and outside of it (whether at your university or another university).

Networking

• Joining women’s groups, both in the national discipline and on campus can be a means of formal support, a way to advance your own scholarship, and a sometimes friendlier place to interact in stressful times.

• Women’s caucuses give awards, have established mentoring programs, and are often sites where senior scholars are eager to mentor.

• Seek out women and also allied men as peers and mentors. Lots of people are friendly and supportive to graduate students. Be polite and professional but also have confidence in yourself.

Reproductive/parenting/family issues

• There will be assumptions that you will or won’t have children. This scrutiny can feel relentless.

• What about reproductive timing? When should you have children? Answer: Whenever you want. Many academics find that grad school is flexible enough to have children, while others want to wait until they’re more established in their careers. Some have to consider age or partners – but you need to decide what is best for you and your family.

• Learn about the resources available to you as a grad student, TA, or graduate researcher. At some universities, unions have bargained for child care and time off benefits. Investigate state programs for low-income parents (which many grad students are).

Teaching/TAing

• A lot of TAs want to care for and nurture their students, which can be a double-edged sword. You should spend NO MORE than 20 hours/week on all TA duties combined (or whatever your contract says). Don’t let your job as a TA consume all of your energy – you are a student too.

• Students will evaluate you on any number of characteristics having to do with your gender, including caring/nurturing, clothing, attractiveness, etc., and your perceived effectiveness may also depend on class size. Be attentive to the nuances but don’t let what you can’t change overtake your teaching or your scholarship.

• Female instructors can be treated by students as a therapist or a mother figure, especially if personal reasons are overwhelming the student’s studies. Be kind, but consider referring the student to campus resources such as counseling services or the learning center. Not only is therapy not your job, but understand that you are not qualified to handle these situations.

Sexual harassment still happens

• Unfortunately. If it does, not only is it illegal in the workplace, but it is also a Title IX violation because it impedes your access to equal education. (Check out this PDF from the U.S. Department of Education: http://www2.ed.gov/about/offices/list/ocr/docs/title-ix-rights-201104.pdf)

• Report it. All universities have procedures to deal with harassment, and it can be handled in a way to make you most comfortable, protect your privacy, and deal with the problem.

• Even if sexual harassment or discrimination is not overt (as in, subtle comments that still have the effect of making you uncomfortable), please report it both for your sake and because can be a part of an ongoing problem.

Resources

Do Babies Matter? Gender and Family in the Ivory Tower
http://rutgerspress.rutgers.edu/product/Do-Babies-Matter,4767.aspx
(review http://gas.sagepub.com/content/28/5/777.full)

UCI’s Office of Equal Opportunity and Diversity
http://www.oeod.uci.edu/

UCI’s Childbirth Accommodation and Child Care Reimbursement
http://www.grad.uci.edu/funding/employment/child-care.html

UC Student Association’s annual Students of Color Conference (SOCC)
http://ucsa.org/our-work/student-of-color-conference/

UC Office of the President diversity policies and goals
http://ucnet.universityofcalifornia.edu/working-at-uc/our-values/diversity.html

September 20, 2014

As I'm preparing for my fieldwork, number of people have asked me whether I'm scared of Ebola. My response is usually overly pedantic, explaining step by step why I'm not and how unlikely it is that I would be exposed to it. I'm compiling all my reasons here, so that instead of droning on and on, I can just say "no" and direct them to this post.

1. As of yet, there's no Ebola in Cote d'Ivoire. The country does share a border with Liberia and Guinea, which means that it is at high risk, but it has put a good deal of effort into both preparing for Ebola and keeping it out. If I were heading for extended fieldwork in Liberia, Sierra Leone, or Guinea, my calculations might be different.

2. I'm not a health care worker. Transmission of Ebola is through bodily fluids, but the infected person is only contagious when symptomatic. When symptomatic, the person generally feels so sick as not to move around in public. My likelihood of exposure is low.

3. Much of the transmission of the virus is through caring activities – bathing, feeding, cleaning, preparing for burial. Not only am I not an overly caring person, I don't have family to care for in the country.

4. I'm American. My Fulbright fellowship affords me some contact with the U.S. Embassy in Abidjan, which means that if necessary I could access high-quality health care and evacuation procedures.

All this, to me, is incredibly sad. I know that I am at an incredibly low risk of infection, and I also know that if there was even the chance I was infected, my government would do as much as it could to protect me. Yes, I would be thankful that my life was saved, and yes, I know that the U.S. government has (finally) committed resources to fight Ebola after the global health infrastructure dropped the ball, but I also know that no expense would be spared to save me.

So yes, my dear friends and family, I know that you care about me, but don't fret. If Ebola does move into Cote d'Ivoire, then I might write another post about why you still shouldn't worry.

September 5, 2014

Not so long before I leave for Côte d'Ivoire, and I'm working on ways to work through the anticipation insomnia. One way is checking out the few English-language blogs on living in Côte d'Ivoire (Abidjan especially). I know I can learn more in French, but it's not so conducive for late-night browsing.

Drogba's Country

AttiekeLand

Phil in the Blank

I'll add more as/if I find them.

August 25, 2014

In an inauguration of my new site and blog and in preparation for the fieldwork to come, a few of my favorite photos from last summer in Dakar: