Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh my!

T.R Johnson packs much philosophical references, fictional narratives, and scientific resources into one piece just to prove that 1) writing cannot be taught 2) people are multi-dimensional 3) Plato is just... no. I have to thank Poetics for helping me through this reading, without which I may have had to re-read this essay three or four times. Johnson picks at some really interesting topics, such as trauma, teaching, and transformation. But what I found to be the most interesting was how Johnson broke down expressivist theory and where it was derived from.
Johnson argues that expressivist critics often assume that this rhetoric focuses too much on "individualism" and an "ideal-self"-- influenced by Plato. This assumption, however, is incorrect. The essay argues that expressivist rhetoric is derived from anti-Platonic ideals, and is rather more concerned with discovering the multi-dimensional self and emphasizing the importance of that process rather than the product.
In relation to healing, Johnson points out that traumatic events can cause illnesses (such as PTSD). These characters of disease can, in a way, possess someone of their spirit. To treat such illnesses, Johnson refers back to logotherapy as a means to rid people of these illnesses. Eventually, as these oral traditions faded due to a rise in literacy, the same process of ridding the body of illness was applied in writing. Seen as a mere character among characters within a person, expressivists believed that through writing, one can free themselves of a damaging personality or illness and move on to find a more productive and positive person within themselves. Of course, as teachers, no one can teach a student or writer how to heal --only the writer can evoke hope within their trauma-- but Johnson argues that the teacher can provide the environment for the student to build up that rhetoric. This makes me think about a traditional therapy session-- the kind you see in the movies. A psychologist sits in a chair facing a client who's laying down on a couch, and a series of questions (usually very similar in content) are being asked by the therapist. The client responds with explanations that seem to lead nowhere until BOOM, they sit up and all of a sudden they realize there's some hope. Of course this is is only an exaggeration, but in a way it summarizes the importance of the process, rather than the product. In order to heal a person must take the time to reflect, express and revise their experience until they are released into "euphoric catharsis".

 Usually I am the type of person who ruthlessly expresses what's on my mind. I'm not afraid to stand out or stand up for who I am and what I believe in. This character trait is of course a a lot easier to get away with in the "land of the free" where nearly every person feels entitled to the public expression of his or her own opinion. I went on vacation this summer to a country I had never been to before. My boyfriend and I were invited to a wedding, and we were planning on staying there a whole month. The idea of traveling out of the country with someone who wasn't family evoked such elation in me that I completely forgot to consider the reality I was about to face.
Since I was born and raised in four different countries I consider myself pretty well traveled. I'm used to adapting to different customs, sticking out, and not speaking the language. Not once have I ever felt out of place because I don't really feel like I come from any one place. In a way, I can say my voice and character is an accumulation of all the cultures and people I've grown up around, but that doesn't necessarily mean that myself as an individual is as easily accepted as I am of other cultures. Let me try and make sense of this using Croatia as an example. We didn't have a traditional touristy experience. Alex and I stayed at a friend of his cousins' house, and their family was warm and welcoming. There was a bit of a language barrier seeing as only one of their daughters spoke English (not fluently). Luckily the universal language of hand gestures, food and music played out their usual role, but this was only the case at home.
Whenever we left the house, I made sure not to dress in anything too revealing seeing as it was a predominantly Catholic country. Yes, there were many girls walking around in booty shorts and strappy tops but unless we were walking back from the beach I tended to dress mildly conservative. Some people whispered, some people cat-called, but mostly people stared. We could be at the beach or in a restaurant it didn't matter, wherever we were people would look. At first I figured it was just because we weren't locals, but it turned out being much deeper than that.
Vir is a small island far from the capital and an hour away from the mainland. The family we stayed with have lived on the island for generations, and only their grandfather had traveled outside of the country (back in the 30's when he was in the navy). They welcomed me as if I were family, and they considered my boyfriend family too even though he had only visited twice. I wish I could say the other locals were as welcoming as they were. It was strange not really being able to communicate with too many people, and the only voice I had was with the other visiting people and Antonia (the daughter). People looked offended by the color of my skin, that or just grossly aroused. I felt so uncomfortable in my own skin-- a feeling I have never really felt before. What made it worse was not really being able to express this feeling unless it was to my boyfriend and his friends.
Part of me sympathizes with these people. Maybe they had never seen an interracial couple before, or maybe they had never seen a Bolivian. Elderly people looked very stunned and offended by seeing an interracial couple, and the younger people either didn't care or stared me down. All of my experience, all of my character was nearly depleted and useless there. For someone like me, this felt very belittling.

"Whose Voice is it Anyway?"

This passage explores the possibilities and strengths of authenticity and building of a relationship between personal experience and voice. Anne Ruggles Gere argues that the authenticity of voice can only be brought forth when put inn the context of other voices. A writer must be able to provide evidence of their story. The evidence can not only help them grow into their own voice but also restructure, rewrite and enhance their past to aid the their current story or argument.
The first pieces of evidence Gere uses alludes to two experiences she had in her youth: the first being when she was a child, and then as a young adult in college. I imagine these experiences were mentioned as a means to dictate the importance of how imperative it is for a writer to strengthen and articulate their voice enough to be projected (or heard) in a social setting to both the audience at large and the independent reader. The way she went about this was really compelling because she used a physical/vocal experience to render the argument that personal voice is constructed by relational voices-- voices that helped create who that person is, how they rationalize and how they convey personal thought. The voice of Anne Gere is not solely the voice of Anne Gere, it is a complex variety made up of her mother, her heritage and the culture she was raised in. It is a writer's prerogative to narrow in on this voice that has been created by their influences and apply it to their experiences; in writing, the ability to bring authenticity to personal experience helps the reader relate to the story and identify to those pieces of evidence that shape a larger communal voice.
What confused me, and I would like the class to pay attention to, was Gere's purpose of mentioning the experience she had raising her daughter and helping her mother. This really confused me and did not exactly bring me around full circle. I would like to ask the class to give their interpretation on these two examples because maybe there's something I missed. Gere's first two examples were helpful, but the final two conflicted my understanding of the importance of voice. I get that Gere helped bring a voice to her daughter and mother when they were not able to articulate their needs, wants and opinions, but it's almost a role reversal from what she was trying to explain earlier. I suppose she was trying to say that the way she was helping shape a voice for them was how culture and her mother formed the voice that she has today.

The authors who wrote this book ultimately aim to create a methodical approach to structuring written experiences. There are certain words and phrases they use to summarize what they are doing and how they are doing it. The techniques help translate experience to the audience, but it seems as if the purpose is to transform a cultural approach to sharing. For example, re-externalization is the ability for a writer to expose their traumatic story and to reflect on that event once it has been articulated. This is a primary step for the writer because it enables them to look at themselves from an outsider's point of view, and think critically and freshly at the event rather than internalizing their pain. I learned (from the reading) that healing stems from pain and confusion. The authors state that there's this point in time where the writer has conflicting personalities of their former and present self, and from this experience they realize there has been a transition from who they used to be during the traumatic event and who they are now-- this is when the healing can begin. The authors have outlined a process of writing about traumatic experiences which entail roughly four steps: Discover and Rediscover, Ephemeral Flow and Space of Talk, Permanent Space, and Considered/Reconsidered or Left Behind/Taken Up Again. I found this process to be particularly interesting because the authors don't create a restrictive method. A lot of methods of writing are restrictive and do not consider the author's personal experience, which is why I really admire the craft of Writing and Healing. Anderson and MacCurdy articulate the importance of writing for healing and describe it as "a site at which the social and discursive practices of the individual, the community, and the larger culture are interrogated and from which they may be effectively altered." There is an understanding here that writing for healing is not only for the writer, it is for their audience and (as I mentioned earlier) for improving our culture. There are many stories to be told and a lot of people hold them back. Writing can be therapeutic, actually writing is therapeutic. Anderson and MacCurdy understand this and want to improve the academia surrounding the experience of writing for healing.