Fictions of Ethnography

Perhaps I have a particular obsession with the way people envision themselves in their mind’s eye. The kinds of everyday Cartesian conversations we have with ourselves in the mirror. Don’t think Lacan here, although recognition would be nice. Think more Homer Simpson’s think bubble, a monosyllabic stroke of irony like “fat” followed by “donuts.”

I think folks have an inclination to want to see themselves part of a larger whole, bits and pieces of reflections, membership belonging so they have a way to fit themselves in, to figure themselves out. And we have days when look in the mirror and feel like lions ready to take over the world. Or others that lead to carbohydrates. And coffee. But if you are like most of us, you wanted to fit yourself into something warm, like your mother’s womb – or a great group of people. The posse.

We see this with so many cross cultural examples, the identity politics that form from cultural or religious memberships. But we mustn’t take for granted that subcultures enforce their own, at the very least, aesthetic politics. Gothics off to listen to industrial electronica, house clubs on the south side of Chicago, raves in Texas. Just a few Americana ones. They are not always linked by nationality, but rather the kinds of cliché’s that crop up in high school. The skater dude with the rocker chic. The nerdy girl with the boy from band.

I traveled through groups in high schools like I travel through countries today, so much so that given my understanding of critical anthropology, I feel like a bonafide cultural poacher, a poser.
And I like to pose, and what’s wrong with that? I feel like its not too different from learning several languages. Could it be that they don’t like nomadic me?

I know too well that these groups territorialize like all other spaces where representation is wanted. These subcultures cross national boundaries, even social economic status. Funneling certain sensibilities that go beyond the usual analytics or race, gender or class. Do you know that song?

These subtleties from within a culture are much more powerful than one might think. They are the counter linkages of counter culture that add depth to the banalities, and overweilding dominant society. And yet, it seems like the market always speaks for us. Buy this. The state tells us what we can do. Don’t run that red. Citizenship is something we perform. Religion helps to sooth the uncertainty of it all. As does ice cream. As does the Smiths. May the foodies of the world unite and takeover, because the shoplifters are dj-ing.

I have purposely peppered the narrative with reminders of my life before anthropology. I do this to make sure my discipline, perhaps my newest group, hasn’t changed me too much…but I fear I got lost in my own rhetoric, fear and anxiety, about writing about culture, led me to remember the very fictions of my ethnographic past. From mod to booty bass, I kept it real in each circumstance, and when in rome, I wore vintage. Cause its all I could afford.