Today was special. We didn’t have a lot of students, but we still had a good experience. We talked about what is an unexpected thing that has brought you peace or joy recently? To my surprise, everyone talked about how fall came in so quickly. We all shared our fall experiences, and what fall meant to us.
My love for fall was cold weather “Sweater Weather”. The enjoyment of crawling up to watch “The Goonies” while drinking hot chocolate. I enjoyed listening to everyone’s love for fall experiences as well.
We passed the egg and covered the two readings: Murray and Bell. as we made shout outs to each other.
We also did free writing, which I always enjoy.
We watched a video “The Danger of a Single Story: In what ways are stories and narratives related to empathy and bias.
We also talked about the presentations coming up. C.J. will be the first presenter
In reading Queer Theory in the Writing Classroom, I found an immediate connection to Donald Murray’s article “Idea that writing should be taught as a process rather than a product”.
One question in this article sparked my interest. “Can an esoteric theory such as queer theory really have an impact on daily interactions with first year writing students? Before this question could be answered, students must have a clear understanding of what Queer Theory means.
As I read the article, I found it to be important to the pedagogical writing process. Creating a framework to assist educators to produce a step by step journey of writing as a process rather than a product. It allows students to think, research, and understand the meaning of what they’re writing about. Generating ideas, brainstorming, building background knowledge, planning and organizing, draft writing, revising, editing and proofreading, and reflecting.
As an educator, I think these practices enhances the pedagogical strategies of scaffolding each step in the writing process, by using organizers, charts, and other instructional strategies that can help students connect and organize their thoughts.
Jonathan Alexander an Michelle Gibson’s writes that their goal was to create a curriculum that challenged students to think critically about how personal stories are told, how complex issues are represented, and how compelling lives are mediated through the process of writing about dramatic, traumatic, and transformative experiences, and how a master writers explores difficult issues through narration and exposition, and how, in the process of writing, the writer comes to empowering insights about herself, the nature of family, and the construction of identities in the interaction between the two.
To approach this goal, they incorporated Dorothy Allison’s “Bastard Out of Carolina, as a primary text for both discussion and writing assignments. I strongly believe that this approach can open up students minds to critical thinking. The idea of this was to show dramatic trauma, using a narrator’s voice. I think this is an excellent teaching approach. I think it will allow students to think and write about their own personal experiences to practice writing exposition so readers can understand their story.
I believe this is a great strategy to introduce Queer Theory in the writing process to challenge students to think critically how personal stories are told about themselves, family issues, and their own identities.
This article connects to my own personal experience. I started a girls club in the after school program. We talked about hygiene, responsibilities, and boys. I had a total of eight girls. To my surprise, six out of the eight girls were all gay. I would have never knew. Because I formed a personal group, we became very close and developed a sense of trust. As the girls became more comfortable with me and with one another, they began to open up and share their personal stories and experiences. Some learned to accept their sexual identity, while the others were still hiding. Some shared why and how they chose to be gay. Some were molested, some were engaged through their own community and upbringing. The list goes on. I asked them if their parents knew. Some parents knew, and some suspected. I didn’t know how to handle this situation.
This article has given me a greater insight. It helped me develop a better understanding of how to teach the writing process of “Queer Theory” .
As someone who has never studied, read, or even talked about Queer theory (that I know of), I didn’t understand Jonathan Alexander and Michelle Gibson’s “Queer Compositions: Queer Theory in the Writing Classroom” when I first read it. I became frustrated with the new material and had questions like:
Is this about how gender has become racialized? Has it? Sexuality has definitely been racialized, with homosexuals being oppressed throughout history, but is it still? If gender is a social construct, does that mean we created it, like we did race, to label people who are different and not seen as ‘normal’ to keep certain stereotypes and expectations alive for systematic and capitalist purposes?
I’m also taking Race and Ethnic Identities, another theory class, so I’ve gotten used to questioning my own identity. I have been getting lost, however, on how my sexuality and gender could also inform the way I see myself, the world, and how I am treated because of these characteristics. Even how I treat others. During this reading, I was forced to face my own biases.
If you’re into pop culture, then you’ve seen Dove Cameron’s wedding everywhere. Her custom Valentino dress was beautiful, and even her Giorgio Armani suit. Gender, and how traditionally women aren’t ‘supposed’ to wear suits to their own wedding, didn’t even cross my mind. Her sexuality did. Alexander and Gibson bring up a good point; identities can and often contain contradictions. (p. 4).
Whenever a woman celebrity identifies as bisexual, they usually end up with a man (from what I’ve seen). Like just mentioned Dove Cameron or global sensation Billie Eilish. I have never seen either of them out publicly with a woman, yet their music profits off of liking women. Dove Cameron’s (who married Damiano David) most popular song talks about “being a better boyfriend than him” to a girl she seemingly has a crush on while being in a heterosexual relationship at the time. This seems to be the trend.
This phenomenon is why Grammy Award-winning singer Rosalía has repeatedly broken headlines. She is one of the very few female celebrities who identifies as bisexual while simoultaneously has publically been seen in public with her girlfriend.
Can I still question?
Is it okay to call out these contradictions in identity when it comes to someone else’s sexuality? Should we then also call out our own rigid beliefs of how being a part of sexuality influences our own behavior? I identify as a straight Dominican/African woman. Parts of my identity in that include: straight, Domincian/African, and woman. The intersection of my sexuality is fucking me up.
Amanda Knoradi, along with the article’s original authors, warns against being contained by identity and only seeing things through the lens of the oppressor vs. the oppressed. I am a minority who has been subject to racism, yes. But I am also straight, which I am sure has awarded me some privileges against the latter. One’s that, because my sexuality is considered the ‘normal,’ I have been ignorant to.
They also state the fluidity of identity, how one can change and how, over time, the media’s perception can as well. Whatever is acceptable is profitable. I hereby apologize to Dove Cameron for my immediate judgment on her sexuality, as I know now it is not my place, but I can’t help but to wonder and question the contradictions in the context of media:
Have homosexual relationships become profitable when it comes to gay women? Would Billie Eilish’s songs “Lost Cause” and “Lunch” be as markabtable/ profitable if a gay man wrote them? Would she have even written them? Why is that Dove Cameron’s only notable song? Why did she release it now if she’s been publicly bisexual for six years now? Is it possible their sexualities have changed over time, even if I feel like mine has not/will not?
Perhaps I am still being too rigid in my thinking…In the end, I am left with more questions. Different questions, at least. Questions I will be reflecting on after this reading.
This week’s reading made me reflect on queer theory and sexual identity. I grew up in a culture where these kinds of subjects weren’t discussed, let alone at school. I could even say that thinking about them was taboo; it was a case of being heterosexual or not existing at all. So, reading this article really gave me food for thought.
The article rejects the idea that heterosexuality is the natural or « normal » standard for human behavior, arguing instead that sexual and gender identities are not fixed biological truths but fluid constructs shaped by culture, language, and history. It made me think back to all those times at school when, whenever sex was discussed, heterosexuality was presented as the only option. The article examines how social and legal institutions privilege heterosexual norms, which perfectly reflects the society I grew up in.
The article views gender as something one does through repeated social acts and behaviors, rather than something one is. It challenges normative heterosexuality and the nature of teacher-student interactions, seeking to dismantle binary oppositions such as heterosexual/homosexual by demonstrating that these categories are unstable and limiting. Frankly, this kind of perspective does not exist in my culture. Children today still receive the same sex education that I did; on the other hand, they have the internet, making other forms of education more accessible.
Quick Disclaimer: For everyone who saw the blog post about me pirating articles, no you didn’t.
And if you really insist that you saw it—
it was AI—
not me confusing my blogs.
Now go on about your business.
I actually wanted to start with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TED Talk “The Danger of a Single Story.” When I first started teaching, in the heat of the 2024 election race, I actually used to play this video for my students. I did a few things with this video:
First off I used it as an introduction to our narrative unit. My students were expected to write college essays. I used this video in an attempt to shift the impression the students had of college applications. While the resume and transcript tell one story, they have an entire life of stories that affected those two documents. I tried stressing the importance of the college essay to counter any obstacles their transcript or resume might create. “Oh, you failed a class, well you lost a loved one the month prior.” “Oh, you’ve never had a job, well you had to take care of your siblings.” “Oh, you never participated in a club, well you had to work to support yourself because your parents kicked you out.” I think this video did a good job segueing into these conversations.
I also juxtaposed this video with twitter posts, and a video of a certain P*dophile, claiming that immigrants were eating dogs and cats. Using the context of “The Danger of a Single Story,” students were able to see the real world implications of what Ngozi Adichie was saying.
All this to say, I have a history with this video.
It was pretty refreshing to watch it again and I liked the side-by-side of it and the “Queer Theory in the Writing Classroom” article by Jonathan Alexander & Michelle Gibson.
While I try to be a very inclusive teacher, I never considered the difference between inclusion and criticality. While I do try to pull diverse text, like All Boys Aren’t Blue; however, I didn’t think about acknowledging how the excerpts are impacted by the unique perspective of the author.
It’s the same thing with the way the students are learning to write. Some students have certain mannerisms, or use certain vocabulary, that are frowned upon by Engfish (Callback ftw.)
I think, going forward, I’m going to have to reanalyze the way that I include LGBTQIA+ literature in the curriculum, especially since were going into memoir/college essays again.
Queer theory posits that identity, much like the act of writing, is fluid. Ever-changing. It requires grappling with boundaries and definitions that might have never been under consideration before. If I had any takeaways from this article (with which I struggled—it just felt so heady at times), it was this. I initially started writing this blog post as some way to connect this lesson with the other realizations I’ve had over the course of our class, but I found myself continuously led back to one idea: writing memoir.
I know I’ve made it a habit of including anecdotes with my blog posts. To be honest: I struggled with this one. It reminded me a bit of our first reading from Lauer—a lot of ideas that I agreed with, but did not know what to do with. I did not want to just write about being queer and being a writer, because that did not feel in line with the spirit of the article. I ended up reflecting on part of the memoir I had written in a class taught by Edi Giunta. While the content was about me being bisexual, I ended up realizing that the act of writing it was in itself pedagogically queer.
no annotations bc i did not get time to print this week </3, so here’s the first line of said memoir
If identity is fluid, memoir is the act of capturing your identity at one point in time. Past that, you must decide which identity you are writing from. You may be writing about your seven year old self, but whose voice are you using? The child version of you, or the version of you now, who has experienced more and knows more? How do those identities live in the same piece? What do you do with the inherent tension between them?
Memoir is also an act of grappling with your perceived identity. When you write memoir, it is your perception of who you are and what you have experienced. However, we cannot discount the fact that you have also been perceived and experienced. It is a constant negotiation of truth, and is just one of the many distinct layers of identity and experience we have. If you remember an experience one way and someone else remembers it differently, you have every right to write it as you remember. However, you must always be prepared to have it seen another way. My parents do not know I am queer. To them, I am as straight and cis as one can be. It does not help that my partner is, in fact, a straight cis man. That is the identity I have chosen to take up around them. While writing this memoir—and subsequently having it published online—I had to reconcile with the fact that there were two different spaces for me and my identities, and that there was a very real possibility that they might cross over. Still, I decided it was worth it.
As a genre, memoir is also well-equipped to discover what is possible in and out of its boundaries. “Queer Theory in the Writing Classroom” pulls from Ki Namaste and their argument that heterosexuality must exist for us to be able to understand queer theory. The boundaries of one form the definition of the other. That means we can, as writers, use queer theory and memoir as a space to play and explore. My favorite memoir, Carmen Maria Machado’s In the Dream House, is a beautiful example of this. Not only does Machado use its subject matter (confronting the lack of domestic abuse narratives in lesbian stories, even though it is a grim reality) to question what is normal, but she also uses form as a way to push against norm. In the Dream House’s chapters are each based on different styles, genres, and tropes (ie., “Dream House as Horror”, “Dream House as Choose Your Own Adventure”, or “Dream House as Famous Last Words”). By acknowledging what is the norm, writers are given the tools to push against boundaries.
absolute BANGER of a book
My attempt to write about my queer memoir, in the end, was not just an attempt at inclusivity, thank god. There are also so many ideas that we’ve discussed in class that I see reflected in this article: writing as social commentary, the power of discovery, how shame robs writers. It feels good to be able to have a throughline in places I didn’t expect.
I found this week’s read, Queer Composition(s): Queer Theory in the Writing Classroom by Jonathan Alexander and Michelle Gibson, a very interesting read.
I’d like to start out by restating what was said in one part of this article: Why do we accept and validate identity rather than try to uncover how identities were constructed?
There’s this kind of notion that says to educators and students that our personal stories aren’t any good in an academic context. In other words, saying they don’t matter. Or they have nothing to do with this.
By why are we really avoiding doing the more difficult thing?
Instead of overlooking these personal experiences, we should try to understand what our identities (& how they were constructed) say about social structures and how it manifests in our writing. It definitely adds to the transgressive approach to pedagogy as we explored when reading bell hooks last week.
Which brings me to this quote: “a pedagogy that uses the vantage point of the social margin,” said by Malinowitz (pg. 13).
By looking outside borders of this kind of pedagogy field that slyly advocates for the protection of the status quo, we can instead gain a deeper understanding by taking a step back and looking at everything that constructed these almost oppressive frameworks. No matter how radical that might sound. In fact, our stories matter so much, so much so that it makes us even better writers.
“…students are asked to consider lesbian/gay experience in the context of heterosexist and homophobic American culture.”
This is so important and is something being touched upon in my identity of racial and ethnic identity class too. To put it simply, there is a reason why everything exists and moves the way it does (gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, etc.), and a lot of those explanations are hidden behind what is told is appropriate to talk about (especially in the classroom). And as for something I found myself agreeing with:
”…it is better to acknowledge and grapple with the political within the pedagogical than risk teaching from unaware and uniformed ideological biases.” (pg. 1).
P.s. I enjoyed how this article very clearly taught me the timeline of how queer theory came to exist within English studies. It gives me a gauge of how far the field has come, but also how much more there’s left to do. (Also, did this make sense?)
adamari 10/1/2026
The (kind of nonsensical outtakes): Which is so obvious but so overlooked at the same time. Like, of course exploring our identity and understanding that we must always continue to do so because it’s fluid and ever changing with whatever happens in our personal lives is important. Gaining that understanding in turn makes us better writers. That’s why so many of our worlds respected writers were known to have journals (franz Kafka, Sylvia Plath, etc. ). It’s us processing ourselves to then come to the table with a clearer mind of why what we’re writing about matters and how we are going to uniquely approach it.
(oh! Which sort of connects to the single story podcast. These writers weren’t magically great writers, they explored their 4dness.)
Yep. I spoke it into happening. Monday night I was feeling like a cold COULD be coming, but I was like “nah… it won’t..”
It did. It sure did. Tuesday is usually my day off, which is great! So great! Cause that is when I plan to do homework! Guess who still went over the page limit despite being sick and wanting to be done with homework!
Today, well not today anymore it is 2 am as I write this, Wednesday was now my “writing the paper and making the presentation” day. I skipped chamber meeting and Guitar’s class cause I was sick. I couldn’t keep my head up. Found out hours later I could work laying down. So many hours later. Like at 10 pm when I started at 4pm. I also apparently did half the notes and didn’t read the other half the article Tuesday, so. I had to make this a huge work day. And honestly, I have been up and rocking since. But, laying down. So. Who knows if I will actually be healed to give this presentation or if I will forget all the great stuff I feverishly thought up at 2 am. Cause right now I think what I have is great, but watch. Tomorrow I am going to look at all this and go “…. what in the world was this guy on…”
Dayquil. Powerful stuff man. Laying down? Do it guys. Cause I LOCKED IN once I gave up on sitting up.
Bring me back to Monday when I was functional.
Bring me back to last Thursday when I jokingly said “you guys are never going to see me again”. Oh those were the days.
(Wash your hands, stay safe, people are DROPPING out here, the sickness is coming, you have been warned).
Also, lucky for all of you, you DON’T have to read a CJ yap! Instead you MIGHT (if I can manage to not die) get a CJ presentation!!!! Yaaaaayyyy!
I felt like this creature all day
But either I am a creature of the night, or laying down is the most magical thing ever, cause I did indeed get it all done. By 2 am. Yaaay! We love this guys. I may be healed by tomorrow? Let us hope. But, I mean, a CJ presentation is great and all, but it sure is not worth getting everyone sick over.
Stay strong soldiers. We shall maybe hopefully survive this.
For Dr Z: (or any of yall rats who want to be spoiled)
When reading Jonathan Alexander and Michelle Gibson’s “Queer Composition(s): Queer Theory in the Writing Classroom),” one of the first things I thought about was the importance of identity in the classroom and outside the classroom. Identity isn’t just a writing voice, writing agency, or persona; it’s who we truly are and our right to express our stories. The authors describe how they used Dorothy Allison’s Bastard Out of Carolina in a first-year composition class to highlight how personal stories are told and how writers can empower insights about themselves. The article explores the evolution of queer theory scholarship in composition studies, challenging the ideology that writing should only center academic pedagogies. The authors go beyond demonstrating that queer theory involves social and political norms, family structures, and the construction of our identities.
One significant idea from this article is that queer theory introduced marginalized perspectives into the classroom and transformed composition into a process pedagogy. The authors state, “for queer theory asks us to question, at the most fundamental levels and in the most essential ways, the nature of authorship, representation, and the process of coming into being through language.” It’s impacting how many people may think that queer theory is about just the inclusion of LGBTQ writers’ and scholars’ perspectives in writing studies, but it’s much more profound. It is about empowering identity, empowering story, and challenging the social norms of fixed identities. Queer theory shows us the power of language by bridging differences and giving a sense of belonging to communities. It wasn’t until the 1990s that queer theory offered scholarship to voices who felt they couldn’t express themselves in writing due to heteronormative narratives.
Many of the articles the authors mentioned, such as Margot Francis’s “On the Myth of Sexual Orientation: Field Notes from the Personal, Pedagogical, and Historical Discourses of Identity,” were remarkable works that broke stereotypes and resonated with many students’ and individuals’ experiences. Francis infers that the openness of identity categories and sexual orientation gives many people the confidence to understand that their sexual orientation should not be fixed by society. The importance of scholarly articles that use language connecting deeply with readers is essential. However, before the study of queer theory, scholarly articles were shaped by dominant narratives that excluded the perspectives and experiences of queer writers and readers. These dominant narratives were rooted in heteronormative approaches, which silenced the identities of queer individuals because this was considered “normal” in society.
In other words, this was the only story told to the public. Anybody catching my drift.
Of course, I see an enormous connection with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TED Talk “The Danger of a Single Story.” I connect them by reflecting on how identity is often treated as something already decided before we even begin to write or narrate. One thought I take away from Adichie’s talk is that identity is not just lived; it is narrated. The stories others tell about a specific group can create boundaries and rob them of their dignity. Therefore, in both the article and the TED Talk, I hear an echo of identity as fluid rather than predetermined. Identity cannot be generalized based on a single narration or experience. One single story, one perspective, can ruin the vibrant culture or identity of a group. One single story becomes a blindfold that prevents people from seeing past prejudice. One single story dismisses the essence and humanity of a person. One of my biggest takeaways is that every life holds more than one truth. And all of those truths should be valued.
The article and the TED Talk bring to mind my own experience. I’m from El Salvador, and I don’t know how many are familiar with my country’s history, but in 2015, El Salvador was labeled “the murder capital of the world” due to having the highest homicide rate per capita of any country. Every day, there were many murders. Government corruption and its association with gangs made my country a dangerous place for many innocent people. Many innocents lost their lives. For years, El Salvador was labeled as a poor, dangerous country bombarded by gang activity.
Years back, (which happened here in the U.S) I remember vividly when one of my former neighbors asked what country my family was from, and my mom, with a smile on her face, said, “El Salvador.” The first words that came out of that man’s mouth were, “Oohh, you guys gangsters from MS-13 or what gang?” in a joking manner. Then he said, “I’m just playing.” Though we knew he was joking, I could see my mom’s face drop slightly in embarrassment when she heard that. All I could think in that moment was: if only he knew the beautiful volcanic landmarks of El Salvador. How about the innocent, hard-working people who were labeled as criminals? How about its rich archaeological sites? How about my family, who don’t belong to a gang and have worthy jobs? The danger of a single story. My neighbor had one narrative, one fixed identity, that robbed us of our dignity.
In 2019, Nayib Bukele was elected president and became the first leader to dismantle the corrupt government parties that had dominated for years. Bukele brought dramatic change by eliminating gangs, raising the economy, and establishing one of the most sophisticated security systems in the region. Fast forward to the present, after two-hundred and one years, El Salvador has been labeled the safest country in Central America. I mention all of this because identities are constructed as fluid narrations (Alexander and Gibson). Identities are not fixed. They are not permanent. Identities change over time. Identity is something we tell through personal stories, cultural background, and lived experiences. We have the right to express our stories to break stereotypes and give voice to silenced and underrepresented communities.
