What do you think?
Rate this book


256 pages, Paperback
First published March 28, 2012
During several nights when I could not get to sleep, a recurrent crackling noise in the [brick] wall of our bedroom became noticeable at shorter or longer intervals; time and again it woke me as I was about to go to sleep. Naturally we thought of a mouse [. . .] but having heard similar noises innumerable times since then, and still hearing them around me every day in day-time and at night, I have come to recognize them as undoubted divine miracles
— Daniel Paul Schreber, Memoirs of My Nervous Illness (1903)
"It came to me as if it were reaching out from the past. The very reach of the past shows that it was not one I had left behind. It was a memory of walking near my home in Adelaide and being stopped by two policemen in a car, one of whom asked me, ‘Are you Aboriginal?’ It turned out that there had been some burglaries in the area. It was an extremely hostile address and an unsettling experience at the time. Having recalled this experience, I wrote about it. The act of writing was a reorientation, affecting not simply what I was writing about but what I was thinking and feeling. As memory, it was an experience of not being white, of being made into a stranger, the one who is recognized as ‘out of place,’ the one who does not belong, whose proximity is registered as crime or threat. As memory, it was of becoming a stranger in a place I called home" (2).It's remarkable what this phrase "Are you Aboriginal?" does as a performative statement. As a policeman's "hostile address", it makes the author experience "not being white" and makes her "into a stranger". But the author, who is herself not Aboriginal, is also doing work of her own with the "hostile address". Using the "Aboriginal" woman as a generic source non-whiteness, the narrator includes herself in that category, while at the same time working to maintain the difference between her "brownness" and "Aboriginality". The narrator's contention with the policemen seems something other than a refutation of their racist assumptions e.g. "Why would you ask if I'm Aboriginal?" but instead the more expedient, "What makes you think I'm Aboriginal?" or rather, "No I'm not!" The experience of this scene recalls the "brick wall" in the sense that it stages frustration in a moment of reflection, which is itself unreflected, (one notes that this anecdote is the only mention of "Aboriginal" identity in the entire text), as if "the Aboriginal" were being called forth, but only to create an occasion in which it might to be dismissed for good.
I was surprised at one of these meetings when the vice chancellor, with a letter in his hand, referred to the race equality policy we had written [. . .] With an extravagant smile, and waving the letter in front of us (somehow the physicality of this gesture mattered), he talked about the content of the letter, which took the form of a congratulation (or which he gave the form of a congratulation), informing the university that it had been given the ‘top rank’ for its race equality policy. ‘We are good at race equality,’ he said, with a beaming smile, pointing to the letter. It was a feel-good moment, but those of us who wrote the document did not feel so good. What is at stake in this performance of good feeling? A document that documents the inequality of the university becomes usable as a measure of good performance" (83).In Ahmed's account, the contradictory nature of diversity work seems to include the existence of diversity workers themselves, whose employment, at times, seems to be at cross-purposes with diversity itself. Diversity, which "should be everyone's business," is offloaded onto a few select individuals for whom it becomes a special project. Though the point seems to be that even though institutions will point to the existence of a dedicated diversity department as an excuse to not "do the work", these positions remain the major inroads to institutional change, "somebody the other day was saying to me 'oh there's equity fatigue, people are sick of the word equity.' . . . oh well okay we've gone through equal opportunity, affirmative action--they are sick of equity--now what do we call ourselves?! They are sick of it because we have to keep saying it because they are not doing it [laughs]” (61). The analogy to this text being, perhaps, that it compels the reader to keep "saying it['s right behind you!]", even as it continues in its way of not seeing.
"The glass ceiling refers to the institutional processes that stop certain categories of people from moving up (vertical mobility), whereas the brick wall refers to the institutional processes that stop certain values from moving across (horizontal mobility). Both metaphors point to the significance of visibility and invisibility: the point of the ceiling being made of glass is that you can’t see it. [. . .] With the brick wall, you cannot see it unless you come up against it. The metaphor of the brick wall points to how what is tangible and visible to some subjects, something so thick and solid that you cannot see through it, does not even appear to others. What some cannot see through, others cannot see" (199).What to make of this elaboration except to note that it seems to carry a couple contradictions. (Somewhat characteristic for Ahmed, whose writing often shows that a background in phenomenology via Husserl doesn't mean one is always careful with metaphor.) The brick wall "stops values from moving across" because it is "so solid and thick that you cannot see through it", which seems to be a quality it shares with plywood, and also "does not appear to others" so it's as if it were transparent — but somehow not see-through! The image of a "brick wall" in this text (page 27, magnified on the two-page spread 188-189), is a further complication. This image, like the pantomime villain right in front of our hero, does not depict what its caption would suggest — this is not a "brick wall", but merely a façade. The pictured brick is part of a non-structural veneer. (One can tell by its pattern.) It provides no structural support — being merely one layer deep — but remains a pleasant way of finishing a building's exterior.