Deschooling Queer Theory
For the fourth summer, I'm preparing for another educational experiment in which I get to learn as much as I teach.
Picture this: a revolution in education, where queer theory reigns supreme, and the classroom becomes a playground for radical minds.
That was where I was headed in the summer of 2020, when my friends Jack and Damon invited me into this DIY independent summer school they were starting. The first summer was spent on Zoom — one of the students took part from the bathroom of the apartment they shared with relatives — and was generally speaking an out of body educational experience.
The following two were held in Portugal — Lisbon and Porto. I could get used to this: travel abroad, beaches and green wine, and seminars held in rooms in an anarchist squat. The chance to be our summertime selves. The students came from all over, although primarily US and European. We read anything and everything queer and wild, wrote no papers, gave no exams, and were unaccredited.
By year three some “alum” of the program were featured artists in the Venice Biennale, finishing doctorates, and turning former porn theaters into art spaces. Somehow, we had made something in the world. The enterprise was hardly perfect, and certainly disorganized at times. But despite or because of its lack of institutional rationale, it came closer to that holy grail of “study” as defined by Harney & Moten in their “Undercommons”: study as something that just happens when you get together with other people.
I realize that this description might sounds like nothing. I am hardly an evangelist for this experiment. On the contrary, it is something we have been doing that might stop becoming possible if we ever look at it objectively, through the rational lens of an institution. It is not scalable. It is definitely precarious: a single change of heart or serious medical diagnosis would spell the end of it. This year we are moving it to Berlin, and as the date approaches I realize I am getting a little nervous.
Berlin was the city I escaped to in 2009, for my first sabbatical after getting tenure. I wrecked my relationship, threw my academic career on hiatus, and tried out, somewhat belatedly, the life of a bohemian. A decade and one pandemic later, my links to that city remain strong, even as many in my original crew have moved on. My German remains basic, but my assumptions and aspirations regarding queer life have been indelibly shaped by Berlin.
One thing Dr. Vaginal Davis taught me about Berlin is that “they love a text here.” You have to come to the event with a text. It’s a serious joke, because her texts are major.
In my dreams, I would discover through the teaching a cure for my ambivalent attachment to theory. There has always been a tension between “queer” and “theory” just as between “performance” and “theory.” The body / mind dualism as it intensifies in societies dominated by technologies like the ones through which I am communicating with you now. Hence my morbid fascination with AI. As I argued in “The Depressed Cyborg’s Manifesto,” the crazy idea of transhumanism — living forever by cloning our minds into a computer database — is appealing precisely to the degree that we experience our being alive as a burden that might be remedied by a labor-saving technology.
Amidst the looming threat of the singularity, or AGI, or simply more of the same disastrous society of control now on algorithmic steroids, there is this thought: maybe all that AI strips away from me will be precisely the least human things about me, the most rote, the most formulaic. I asked ChatGPT to offer some criticism of an earlier draft of this post and the final paragraph read:
“Overall, the blog post presents an intriguing glimpse into a non-traditional educational experience centered around queer theory. However, it falls short in providing a comprehensive analysis of the program's effectiveness, academic rigor, and potential limitations. Additionally, the narrative's lack of coherence and its digression into unrelated topics hinder the clarity and impact of the post's central argument. A more critical and structured exploration of these aspects would enhance the overall strength and depth of the piece.”
I, not surprisingly, disagree with this critique (which I re-generated a couple times, including once with everything preceding this paragraph as a text for ChatGPT to criticize). While this post does lack coherence, and it is digressive, I do not share ChatGPT’s concern with “the program's effectiveness, academic rigor, and potential limitations” or its “long-term viability.” (I am personifying ChatGPT for rhetorical purposes in this post). This is a DIY, anarchist-leaning, deschooled endeavor that explicitly renounces modes of assessment and institutionalization. I do agree that there are objections and limitations to this approach. And I freely acknowledge that it is a volunteer effort (like the pro bono cases some lawyers take on, or the free clinics my doctor mother worked at for most of my childhood) that is made possible by my secure employment in the ivory tower.
I am not even sure I am one of those people who have a problem with higher education in its traditional form. I may be one of those people who think the university is redeemable. I agree with Paul Goodman that even the bastardized corporatized modern university contains within a “community of scholars” — teachers and learners engaged in education as a collaborative and transformative experience. Certainly, the fierce anti-intellectualism in the US, where I live and work shapes my willingness to defend scholars and schools against know-nothingism. I am in favor of useless erudition.
I asked ChatGPT to write a concluding paragraph for this post “in the style of Trevor Noah” and here is what it came up with:
“Alright, folks, let me break it down for you real quick. This blog post takes us on a wild ride into a whole new realm of education, where queer theory reigns supreme and the classroom becomes a playground for radical minds. It’s like summer camp on steroids, except it's not all fun and games. The author dives into their experience with a DIY independent summer school, starting with virtual classes on Zoom, where one student even participated from the bathroom of their cramped apartment. Talk about dedication! Then they take us on a jet-set journey to Portugal, sipping green wine on the beaches and attending seminars in anarchist squats. It’s a whole vibe, my friends. The students come from far and wide, and they read anything and everything queer and wild, without the hassle of papers and exams. But hold up, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. The program is far from perfect, and the lack of structure can leave you scratching your head. But here’s the thing, it’s not about fitting into the mold of an institution; it’s about getting together with other people and just studying, like Harney & Moten say in their “Undercommons.” And yeah, I get it, this might sound like a whole lot of nothing to some folks. The post meanders a bit, going off on tangents about Berlin and AI and all that jazz. But you know what? It's not meant to be your typical, cookie-cutter blog post. It’s a DIY, anarchist-leaning, free-spirited adventure that challenges the norms. So, let's embrace the chaos, question the traditional, and celebrate the beauty of useless erudition, my friends. Keep on learning, keep on growing, and keep on being unapologetically you. Peace out!”
Haha the AI spit back ain’t too bad! Have a terrific time in Berlina!
Never wanted to try AI before--I do now! And have fun in Berlin....