UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH BLOGS

The Office of Undergraduate Research sponsors a number of grant programs, including the Circumnavigator Club Foundation’s Around-the-World Study Grant and the Undergraduate Research Grant. Some of the students on these grants end up traveling and having a variety of amazing experiences. We wanted to give some of them the opportunity to share these experiences with the broader public. It is our hope that this opportunity to blog will deepen the experiences for these students by giving them a forum for reflection; we also hope these blogs can help open the eyes of others to those reflections/experiences as well. Through these blogs, perhaps we all can enjoy the ride as much as they will.

EXPLORE THE BLOGS

 

 

The Wet and Dry Dichotomy

by | Jul 20, 2018 |

Without surgery or X-ray imaging, bodily fluids became the ancient physician’s primary insight into the body. With this, it’s understandable why the wetness of the body was used as one of the principle physes to differentiate feminine from masculine. Referring to the “One-sex” Model entry, Hippocratic treatises constructed feminine flesh to be of the consistency of wool and masculine flesh to be of the consistency of cotton. Moreover, women’s flesh was thought to be able to absorb more fluids then that of a man’s, which explains why female bodies had to expel the unused fluid through menstruation. On the other hand, due to the less absorbent nature of masculine flesh, men could more readily use bodily fluids to nourish and energize their bodies, which constructed men to have a higher physical potential than women. The wet and dry dichotomy functioned at the center of sex differentiation in ancient Greece medicine.

Physicians, especially those practicing under Hippocrates, worked within the wet and dry dichotomy to further confirm the social conception that women were inferior, uncontrollable, and repulsive. Moreover, to be female, was to be constantly outpouring, constantly erupting with fluids that were themselves symbolic of their bodies’ failure to function with the physical perfection of a man’s. Men of ancient Greece were dry, contained, compacted, whereas ancient Greek women were overflowing, boundless, loose and dilapidated. These male physicians projected their desires to control and contain women onto their medical perceptions of them; such a situation exposes the danger of medicine, in that if we culturally assign truth to everything a doctor says, we forfeit our agency over the ways we understand our experiences in our bodies. Hippocratic physicians were able to convince both men and women of ancient Greece that female bodies medically required the help of men to be tamed and contained. Hesiod’s myth of Pandora compliments this Hippocratic construction of female bodies, as her deceptive nature as a woman and her refusal to be controlled by men leads to a familiar outpouring of evils and atrocities from her jar, which is often seen as a metaphor for her body (to be discussed in greater detail in a later post!).

Histories like this can expose to us the power of medicine as a tool of social injustice. What “scientific” franchises are you buying into? What agency over your body are you sacrificing when you forget to be exhaustively critical of the medicine you accept as truth?

“One-Sex” Model

by | Jul 20, 2018 |

Perhaps the first hoop to jump through while attempting to understand the cultural conception of the “female” body in Ancient Greece is to understand their approach to gender. According to Laqueur, in his Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud, the “two-sex” body model that exists today is a relatively new phenomenon that began in Europe in the 18th Century. Predating this constructed anatomical binary was the “one-sex” body model, which essentially depicted men and women as different versions of the same sex. While this may sound shockingly progressive to a contemporary audience, the caveat to this body model was that people born with feminine genitalia were most often viewed as inferior to men. Moreover, this cultural conception of bodies informed somewhat of a gender spectrum, on which people where placed depending on their overall performance of masculine or feminine characteristics. For example, the Hippocratic treatises “On Generation” and “On the Nature of the Child” detail a two-seed system for conception, in which both parents donate a seed to form the fetus within the womb. The sex of the child was determined by the strength of the respective seeds, with weaker seeds combining to form feminine progeny and the stronger seeds forming masculine children. While this assertion may suggest that a person born with a vagina and womb would have the ability to reach the strength and therefore the masculine perfection of men, Hippocrates and other such male physicians were sure to qualify their arguments with details that kept such a situation from happening. Noting menstruation as a greatly unique qualities of feminine bodies, Hippocratic treatises elaborate that due to the nourishment that women lose through their menses, they would never be able to reach the physical potential of men. The physician fortifies his argument by detailing a new physis – “invisible nature” – of feminine flesh as more absorbent, wool-like, prone to hemorrhaging than the cotton-like, masculine flesh, using menstruation and lactation as evidence. Hippocratic physicians, in Diseases of Women 1, even claim that “the womb is the origin of all diseases in women.” Accepting these as truths, women would be entirely convinced that their feminine disposition prevented them from achieving the physical potential of men, and thus the ancient Greek society used the “one-sex” model to strengthen the construction that women were naturally destined for more passive, sickly, and limited lifestyles.

​Other physicians of the time worked within the “one-sex” body model in different, yet similarly imaginative ways: Galen of the 2nd Century CE detailed the vagina as an inverted penis, Aristotle of the 4th Century BCE explained feminine bodies’ continuously failure to convert seminal residue into generative matter. In most every case, women of ancient Greece were told that they were the deformed and dysfunction versions of men that were deserving of the lowest societal positions and stagnant lives.

I went clubbing. I took an L.

by | Jul 20, 2018 |

A ton happened last week.

Okay, to catch everyone up: I went on a trip to Chefchaouen last weekend. On Wednesday, I changed my host families, and then just last night was the clubbing experience.

This post is about the clubbing experience. I’m going to make another post later on about the Blue City and the host family change.

First, clubbing was an L.

I went with some friends to a club because it’s legal at age 18 here to drink. However, the music at the club wasn’t good and the crowd that was there fluctuated between forty somethings and teenagers???Seriously, I never wanted to know what a middle school dance looked like on adults, and yet I do. However, before I even got to the club, the night began on a downhill spiral.

I got harassed on the street.

The plan was to all meet up at the Pizza Hut near Myriam’s apartment. I live really close to the Pizza Hut.  I thought, “Okay, I’m gonna get dressed up, I’m gonna look really cute for the club, and I’ll walk to the Pizza Hut to wait for my friends.”

So I get dressed up, and as soon as I walk out of the door, I am harassed by almost every car, man, and group of men that walks by. About 7/10 men I passed harassed me.

Walking from my apartment to the Pizza Hut, I round a corner, and some guy on his balcony catcalls me from directly above. I walk down the street, and as I’m walking, guys in their car are driving slowly next to me to call out from the window. Even taxis honk as I pass. Guys that I pass in the street whistle. Someone walks next to me and he tries to make conversation in French. I don’t respond and eventually he stops. I cross the street to get away from the cars, and some random dude who happened to be across the street asks me if I crossed the street for him. He then starts trying to walk with me, saying that he sees that I’ve been getting harassed a lot, but then he propositions me for sex. At this point, I was near the Pizza Hut, but I could see that waiting there wasn’t going to be an option. I needed to go Myriam’s apartment, and I didn’t want this guy to follow me there. I tell this man to stop. I yell at him in French, cross the street, and go into Myriam’s building, shutting the door really fast with the hopes that no one tries to follow me in. Across the street, someone loiters, watching me. I call the elevator to go up.

I want to say something for the record: I wasn’t scared until I was near Myriam’s apartment. It was all the same old annoying BS and street harassment I’ve experienced in the States, until I realized that I was trying to enter a building where someone could try to follow me inside.

Beyond making me a public spectacle in a way I had never been before, street harassment is an example of how male-identifying people feel entitled to access women’s lives.

For what? Some lipstick? Some heeled sandals? A skirt two inches above my knees?

After I finally made it to Myriam’s apartment, I had a safe haven and some friends to wait with me for Rita and her friend who was driving all of us to the club. When I finally got in the car, there were hugs for me. I’m lucky I have that here. I took the next day to recover. The only thing worse than experiencing harassment is to let it break you. I was intentional the next day and am still trying to be intentional now to heal from this incident.

This experience hasn’t ruined my experience here in Morocco. Not even close, but it does remind me that the sexism I’ve faced back in the States is global.

Still alive, still safe.

 

New start!

by | Jul 17, 2018 |

In German, Stammtisch means table so as does this blog. It is going to take you through my adventures in Berlin. The blog will cover my day to day life learning German as well as my trips to the museums and historic sites. TPS is a place to get to know me throughout a Deutch lense. Dont worry, you will also get a glimpse of the fun I am having here in Berlin!

Physis

by | Jul 17, 2018 |

noun
/fizis/
A Greek theological, philosophical, scientific term, usually translated into English as “nature.”

Dean-Jones, in her Women’s Bodies in Classical Ancient Greece, characterizes the ancient Greek notion of “physis,” as the invisible nature of men and women, qualities that were accepted as facts, yet never empirically proven. Much of the ancient Greek civilization had to rely on physis; how could Hippocrates have possibly understood the complex anatomy of the uterus before dissection was a conceivable practice? Nonetheless, such an imaginative approach to the foundation of medicine is as indulgent, as it is dangerous. To be Hippocrates, Galen, Soranus, Aristotle, standing at the threshold of human capability, with a world suspended before your words. Perhaps these founding father should have been more careful as they began laying out the foundation of our cultural conceptions of gender and the body. As scientists continue to do, these ancient physicians used what they claimed to be medical truths as a means of confirming social understandings that benefited them, and thus they constructed women to be inferior counterparts to men, through their anatomy, physical potential, and biological purpose. Sex turned from a mutually pleasurable experience into a medical requirement for women’s sanity and vitality. Animalistic and violent characterizations of the womb illustrated female sexuality as something that needed to be tamed. The constructed differentiation of male and female flesh suggested that no matter how close to the active, masculine lifestyle a woman pursued, she would never be able to reach the perfect potential of a man, simply due to her physical disposition. Moreover, through the medical depiction women, the men of ancient Greece gained the power to subordinate the mothers and daughters of their society and told them that their bodies were something of which to be ashamed and afraid.

In the following few posts, I hope to highlight some of the most pertinent aspects of physis for this project, including the wet and dry dichotomy, the wandering womb, and the “one-sex” gender model.

From the balcony of my Greek Airbnb:

by | Jul 14, 2018 |

Sounds glamorous, doesn’t it? Sweltering heat, mosquitos galore, and blistered feet—but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This past week in Greece has been quite the adventure. Honestly, it’s been the exact same kind of adventure I’d hoped for ten months ago when I began applying for this grant. One full of sweat, sunburned skin and some sleepless nights, but also full of profound personal development, intellectual growth and new friendships.

El Sistema Greece is doing some incredible things here in Athens. I understand that can be said for many organizations around the world, but what I’ve witnessed thus far throughout my visit with ESG has really been life changing. The mission of ESG is “to provide free music education to all children who have lived the experience of leaving their homes in search of a future.” The organization has worked with children in six núcleos—including three different refugee camps—for the last two years. ESG aims to give these children social and educational experiences in order to improve their lives in the refugee camps and beyond, while also striving to prepare children for their integration into Greek and European society as a whole.

There are currently more than 60,000 refugees in Greece—20,000 of which are children. The three camps that I’ve been visiting this week represent individuals from several nations, but I’ve most commonly worked with Syrian, Iraqi, and Afghani children. The average stay at the refugee camps is at least 1 year and 8 months. At this point, most of the refugees currently in Greece arrived after the 2016 EU-Turkey deal. As a result, these families can only apply for asylum in Greece; however, they may be denied and deported to Turkey, which is considered a “safe country” for those families. (If you’d like to learn more about these facts and figures, please reach out! I’d be happy to share with you what I’ve learned about the refugee crisis in Greece.)

With its first class held in November of 2016, El Sistema Greece is a relatively new organization. Today, ESG has 18 musicians that regularly teach around 250 children at 6 different sites. Throughout the week, I’ve observed 20 hours of classes filled with children ages 2-18. Here’s a list of some of the things that’ve stood out to me thus far:
-In the violin group classes, students have been playing their instruments anywhere from 5 months to 1 year. That being said, children in the advanced classes have made some -serious- progress in that one year. While the aims of ESG are obviously rooted in addressing social issues, ESG does not sacrifice the delivery of high-quality musical instruction.
-The suburb teaching techniques exhibited in the choir classes I’ve visited have been breathtaking. I’ve witnessed excellent pacing, seamless transitions, and learned some incredible educational strategies that I will most definitely be employing in my own teaching when I return to the States.
-Across the board, ESG strives to provide a musical experience that encompasses a variety of repertoire from all across the globe. Teaching songs from Mexico, Russia, Japan, India, and more—the choir classes expose children to a variety of tunes that not only develop their musicianship, but also widen their worldview.

Four girls in an advanced choir class learning the lyrics and tune to a new song from Mexico

To conclude, another list (I love lists) of things I’m thankful for:
1) Bug spray—lots of mosquitos in Greece.
2) Literally all of the people I’ve met this week—El Sistema Greece staff, visiting pedagogy students from Paris Conservatoire, Josephine the marketing volunteer, and many more. They’ve all transformed what I thought would be a quiet stay in Athens into a great deal of fun.
3) The unmatched privilege of being born in safe country—while there have been many instances throughout my recent years where I’ve questioned just how safe I am going to class or a night out on the town with friends, I can easily say that I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve genuinely feared for my life. I will not hop onto my soapbox on this Northwestern* blog, but I begin to fathom the hostility and resulted heartache that must lead people to pack up their families, entire lives, and seek refuge in an unknown land.

A mural found in one of the classrooms at the Apostoli núcleo

*If you look to the bottom right of your screen you can see that Northwestern doesn’t endorse any of my views anyway—so we’re all good.

(CW) Helpful Advice About Pooping Abroad: The Greatest Adventure of All (CW)

by | Jul 10, 2018 |

That’s right. This blog is about to get really real.

SO!

In favor of being completely transparent with everyone out there who wants to travel, and who reads our blogs dreaming that someday they’ll be helping to write them, I am making a post about my bowel movements.

I find it important to make this post because when I read about people traveling, I always feel like I’m missing out on the nitty gritty details.

So here’s my nitty gritty.

I have not had a satisfying poop since coming to Morocco. I did a ton of reading and research before I got here. I have a water bottle that can purify water from anywhere in the world.

But I got cocky my first night. I ate some salad and I think it did me in. All the articles you read say that you shouldn’t eat anything that isn’t hot. Don’t eat anything that someone prepared that wasn’t clean. It’s just that my first night here, I felt really confident. For spring break earlier this year, I traveled to Rio, Brazil with NUHillel, and the water there was fine for my system. It made me think, “Morocco? Psh. I can take it.”

Moroccan bacteria are kicking my ass.

And now I’ve been here, had diarrhea consistently, went to the hospital a couple weeks ago probably because of some bacteria in the water that the tomatoes in my salad were washed with or something. And now I am voluntarily undergoing the very public and hilarious embarrassment of documenting my poop online for the masses, where it will remain to most likely haunt me forever and forever.

Don’t be like me, please.

I need you to be better than I was. Okay? Okay. So here’s what you’re gonna do.

STEP ONE: You’re going to get yourself a water purifying bottle.  Mine is called Grayl. It looks like this:

There’s other ones out there. But what’s important is that you’re going to search for a water PURIFYING bottle. And you’re going to make sure it says that it removes 99.999% of protozoa, viruses, and bacteria. If you buy the Grayl, pay attention to make sure you buy the orange purifying filter for the bottom.

Okay, step two: Pay attention to what you eat. Eat only hot foods if you can, and drink hot liquids. If you drink bottled water, that’s okay. Brush your teeth with bottled water.

Step Three: Make sure all your vaccinations and shots are up to date for the country you’re traveling to and that you will meet the proper vaccination requirements upon entry. Schedule an appointment with your doctor before you go. See if the country you are visiting has malaria or yellow fever requirements for visitors.

And while you’re at that appointment with your doctor, make sure that you stock up on any medications you regularly take everyday so that you will have them for your trip.

And ask for the thing that I’m hoping will save me here in Morocco: an antibiotic for traveler’s diarrhea.

That’s right.

I may have gotten cocky but thankfully I didn’t get stupid. I brought some antibiotics with me.

They can give you an antibiotic in case you catch a digestive bug. Pack immodium. At the first sign of diarrhea, take the immodium for a couple days. If it doesn’t work, start the antibiotics and also take some probiotics so that you can keep reintroducing good flora and fauna to your gut. Eat yogurt without added sugar. You can add honey if you want, but don’t buy the yogurt unless it’s unsweetened because processed sugars feed the bad bacteria in your gut. This includes the bacteria that are probably giving you diarrhea.

Finally:

Don’t get there and think you’re invincible because you’re fucking not and you’ll be praying to the porcelain throne before you even hear your first call to prayer.

Don’t be like me. I was that guy. I thought I was invincible and I’m fucking not so I need you to do better, okay? Okay.

Finally, I know this post was probably either really funny or really gross for you to read (or both). So I just wanna say:

This post is really hard to put out there. But I’m doing it because I care that you have safe, happy, and healthy travels. Now, keep your fingers crossed and send me good vibes to stop having watery poops.

#SOLIDPOOPS2K18

#Prayformypoopz

Cultural Appropriation and Continuity at Home: I have questions

by | Jul 6, 2018 |

It’s the end of a new day.

Here I am again, World.

I went to the Old Medina today and went into just about every jewelry shop there, but I didn’t find anything I wanted. I realized that I may have gone in wanting to get something modern in maybe silver or gold, but I kept getting drawn to the antiques and the beaded necklaces and bracelets that weren’t exactly valuable in a “precious metal” sense of the word.

And I guess today, not even I appreciated my own tastes.

Today is kind of a tiring, mellow kinda day. I’m thinking about history and continuity.

I feel a sense of conflict because I’m in a really modern, liberal country and city, but I’m getting drawn to these really old, historically and culturally relevant pieces. This is cultural appropriation, no?

But here in Morocco, I’m in context. Anything I buy here helps support the income of a local artisan, and I’m actually in a place where, if I wear it, I’m not infringing on the local culture because I’m in the place where it came from, where it makes sense to dress this way.

But it’s not my culture. So while I’m here, it’s assimilation. But I am still a tourist, so no matter what, when I leave, it’s still appropriation, right? And there’s also a whole other question of respect. If I know exactly which Amazigh tribe I’d be buying from, and I am aware that the jewelry isn’t ceremonial or anything that would infringe on someone’s religion or something like that, is it still cultural appropriation?

And to somebody reading this, they may have the following reactions if I buy traditional Amazigh jewelry:

And you would totally within your right to do that and I support you in your decision.

This is an awkward conversation for me, too!!

BUT!

I am a fallible human who likes shiny, pretty things.

And I would like to retain my right to like shiny, pretty jewelry that is purely cosmetic and not traditionally necessary for ceremonies or taboo for me to wear. So I see a way going forward in which it is okay for me to buy and own such things. But I want to make sure that I am responsible about it. I don’t want to just buy anything because it’s pretty if it’s coming from a specific milieu.

You know what this means?

TIME TO GO DO SOME RESEARCH!!

I’m gonna look up some info about Amazigh jewelry and get back to this.

So, in the meantime, there’s another side to this, which is continuity at home.

Why am I drawn to the old antique jewelry here and not at home in the States? It’s amazing the things we don’t realize that we take for granted.

Why did I never want old things from back home before?

Morocco has a rich history, and it’s reminding me that when I’m back in the US, I never even think about continuity. I never really think about the material history of things like jewelry. I think about the history of lots of other things, but not the things I wear everyday.

When I go back home I want to change that.

From baggage claim at Athens International Airport:

by | Jul 6, 2018 |

I know what you’re thinking: “There’s no way that she can be writing this blog post from baggage claim. She’s making all of these locations up!” False. Downloading the Google Docs app to my iPhone has changed the game. Anyway, I’ve been standing here for thirty-two minutes, so I figured I’d exert my energy into something at least mildly productive.

While I expected my travels today to be relatively quick and painless—I was so wrong. Here’s a little travel advice for that I wish I’d known circa 12 hours ago:

  • Aegean Airlines actually weighs all of their carry-on bags. I’ve taken nearly one-hundred flights across about a dozen airlines in my short lifetime, and somehow, I’ve never come across an airline that actually. weighs. carry-on. bags. Evade the $97 fee that I faced for being 2 kilos over the maximum.
  • – Three-hour flights can turn into five-hour ones when an airline insists on weighing everyone’s carry-on items (but still doesn’t begin the boarding process until, what was supposed to be, twenty minutes before takeoff).
  • – Don’t eat the food on the Aegean flights. I generally hate airplane food, but having not eaten all day, I attempted to down a room temperature (or plane temperature) mush that was ultimately not worth the tummy ache.
  • – Expect to wait at least 45 minutes before the baggage claim belt even begins to distribute luggage. I should have grabbed a cup of coffee…or started this post half an hour ago.
  • This blog post is turning into a roast of Aegean Airlines. Yikes. If I were a Yelp person, they’d be in for quite the treat.

 

***

So, my bag came. Rather quickly compared to everyone else’s actually. And last night, after hopping on two wrong busses, I finally made it to the Airbnb where I’ll live for the next fifteen days.

I’ve now got a three-day weekend to spend exploring Athens, catch up on interview transcriptions, and document remaining field notes to my computer. On Monday, I’ll begin working with El Sistema Greece and their orchestra and choir programs across three different refugee camps. I’m very excited to get back in the field and learn more from this organization over the next two weeks!

Thankful for…
1) The fact that I got here safely—regardless of how annoyed/exhausted I was throughout that entire travel experience.
2) Modern day technology—being able to FaceTime and Skype my family several times throughout the last two weeks has made all inklings of homesickness disappear; being able to Google “nearest grocery store” or “Top 10 Cutest Coffee Shops in Athens” has really made this trip so much easier…and Instragram-able; being able to stream the entire first season of This is Us has made all this time alone feel much less lonely (but don’t worry Northwestern–I’m getting my work done first!).
3) Sunshine—while it’s over 100 degrees in Athens today, and I’ve been profusely sweating since I left my apartment this morning, my trip has been nothing but sunny thus far, and I wouldn’t want it any other way!

Rabat: A Capital in Repose

by | Jul 5, 2018 |

Rabat grows more beautiful to me by the day. Maybe I’m just sentimental, but the lush palms are open to the sun and line every major boulevard. The manicured lawns are a healthy green. My logical side says that it’s because there’s tons of embassies around and just about everything important is a government building. Any self-respecting city based around governmental structures will want to look beautiful, but I hope that the rest of the country has this same beauty. There’s also something nice in knowing that I am in a small city that doesn’t receive as many tourists, comparatively, as the rest of Morocco. It feels like I get to actually know the city, rather than speed date it and simply add more mementos to my photo collection.

My host family is lovely, but I forgot what it was like to be a teenager and a preteen. It’s full of yelling, parental guidance, and moods that are only ever punctuated with a door slam. It’s weird to be an outsider in this framework, where I am both part of their lives and yet still a guest. How do I make them and myself feel comfortable when they have loud disagreements? Or when I get caught in the middle? Take this example: My host brother is moody with me. He was so sweet before yesterday, but last night he was incredibly rude, kicking a ball around the house even when I asked him not to. It was loud and I was tired. He just kept doing it, though, so I closed my door. I have a key in my door so I can lock it, and I did because he was making so much noise. I didn’t want to be bothered. I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, the key wasn’t in the door. I asked him about it, and he said he didn’t have it, but then he started to crack a smile and tried to stop his impulse. I was tired, upset, and I just closed the door right then and there with him on the other side.

It reminds me why I don’t want to have kids.

We went to Chellah today as part of our activity. It was lovely to go back. I had my camera this time, so watch out for the photos I will try to post later. I’m also deciding whether or not to make a Wix or a Tumblr for my photos. It would be SO much easier.

I don’t like rereading books, but it turns out I do kinda like revisiting places. There’s always something new that you notice. Plus, Chellah has these verdant garden walkways with hibiscuses and all sorts of plants. One of the guides told us there’s more than 20 different varieties. It’s beautiful.

Tomorrow is my last day of classes for the week and then I’m off to Chefchaouen for the weekend. It feels like I’ve been here longer than two weeks. The U.S. feels like a lifetime away. Different, and yet the same.

More things to come soon!