On the unbelievably ideal and inspiring site for my first public book talk.
I got to talk about the
Angel Island poetry next door to a full-size recreation of an Angel Island
wall, complete with a transcribed poem carved in the wood. I got to discuss
some of the stories and histories of Yung
Wing and his Chinese Educational Mission just a few feet away from a monitor
playing a compelling short film about Yung’s life and the school he founded. I
got to analyze the rise of the
Yellow Peril narrative while asking my audience to follow up the talk by
examining the large collection of salient political and social materials exhibited
across the room. And I got to share the stage and event with the talented and
dynamic Karen Shepard, whose The
Celestials (2013) is without question one of the couple most
significant literary engagements with 19th century Chinese and Asian
American identity, community, and history yet written.
So yeah, my September book talk at New York’s Museum of the Chinese in America, as part of
the debut of the museum’s new MOCACitizen
series, was truly pitch-perfect. If you live in or near New York, or have
the chance to visit the city at any point, I can’t recommend the museum
strongly enough—it’s a truly unique and exciting space, and features not only
the standing exhibit to which my above details refer but an ongoing collection of
rotating exhibits that promise to extend such foundational historical and
cultural questions and themes to various compelling and contemporary issues and
conversations (see for example the current exhibitions on the “new
woman” in mid-20th century Shanghai and on 21st
century Chinese American designers). The museum is a model 21st
century historic, cultural, and educational site, and I look forward to future
visits, events, and connections there.
Talking about my book at MOCA also forced me to think more deeply about a
balance I’m still working out, both in these particular talks and in my ongoing
public AmericanStudies scholarship: the balance between doing specific justice
to the details and complexities of particular histories and stories (such as
those of 19th century Chinese Americans, in this case) and making
broader connections to national narratives and conversations (such as those of
immigration laws and diversity, in this case). My instinct is always to move
toward the latter connections, since they’re the ones that involve and impact
all Americans, and thus (I would argue) the most significant stakes of my work.
But on the other hand, it’s the specific histories and stories that we so often
don’t know, and without which the broader conversation would feel as
decontextualized and empty as would the museum space without all its exhibits
and materials. So MOCA inspired me to keep focusing on what goes on the walls
as much as on the communal space I hope to help us build out of those
foundations.
Next talk follow up tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you think?
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