Zeitschriftenartikel zum Thema „BML Home Set“

Automation of the smart home binds together services of hardware and software to provide support for its human inhabitants. The rise of web technologies offers applicable concepts and technologies for service composition that can be exploited for automated planning of the smart home, which can be further enhanced by implementation based on service oriented architecture (SOA). SOA supports loose coupling and late binding of devices, enabling a more declarative approach in defining services and simplifying home configurations. One such declarative approach is to represent and solve automated planning through constraint satisfaction problem (CSP), which has the advantage of handling larger domains of home states. But CSP uses hard constraints and thus cannot perform optimization and handle contradictory goals and partial goal fulfillment, which are practical issues smart environments will face if humans are involved. This paper extends this approach to Weighted Constraint Satisfaction Problem (WCSP). Branch and bound depth first search is used, where its lower bound is estimated by bacterial memetic algorithm (BMA) on a relaxed version of the original optimization problem. Experiments up to 16-step planning of home services demonstrate the applicability and practicality of the approach, with the inclusion of local search for trivial service combinations in BMA that produces performance enhancements. Besides, this work aims to set the groundwork for further research in the field.

Objective. Examine the effects of exercise on femoral neck (FN) and lumbar spine (LS) bone mineral density (BMD) in premenopausal women.Methods. Meta-analysis of randomized controlled exercise trials ≥24 weeks in premenopausal women. Standardized effect sizes (g) were calculated for each result and pooled using random-effects models,Zscore alpha values, 95% confidence intervals (CIs), and number needed to treat (NNT). Heterogeneity was examined usingQandI2. Moderator and predictor analyses using mixed-effects ANOVA and simple metaregression were conducted. Statistical significance was set atP≤0.05.Results. Statistically significant improvements were found for both FN (7g's, 466 participants,g=0.342, 95% CI=0.132, 0.553,P=0.001,Q=10.8,P=0.22,I2=25.7%,NNT=5) and LS (6g's, 402 participants,g=0.201, 95% CI=0.009, 0.394,P=0.04,Q=3.3,P=0.65,I2=0%,NNT=9) BMD. A trend for greater benefits in FN BMD was observed for studies published in countries other than the United States and for those who participated in home versus facility-based exercise. Statistically significant, or a trend for statistically significant, associations were observed for 7 different moderators and predictors, 6 for FN BMD and 1 for LS BMD.Conclusions. Exercise benefits FN and LS BMD in premenopausal women. The observed moderators and predictors deserve further investigation in well-designed randomized controlled trials.

ABSTRACT The region upstream of the Escherichia coli bgloperon is an insertion hot spot for several transposons. Elements as distantly related as Tn1, Tn5, and phage Mu home in on this location. To see what characteristics result in a high-affinity site for transposition, we compared in vivo and in vitro Mu transposition patterns near the bgl promoter. In vivo, Mu insertions were focused in two narrow zones of DNA nearbgl, and both zones exhibited a striking orientation bias. Five hot spots upstream of the bgl cyclic AMP binding protein (CAP) binding site had Mu insertions exclusively with the phage oriented left to right relative to the direction of bgl transcription. One hot spot within the CAP binding domain had the opposite (right-to-left) orientation of phage insertion. The DNA segment lying between these two Mu hot-spot clusters is extremely A/T rich (80%) and is an efficient target for insertion sequences during stationary phase. IS1 insertions that activate the bgl operon resulted in a decrease in Mu insertions near the CAP binding site. Mu transposition in vitro differed significantly from the in vivo transposition pattern, having a new hot-spot cluster at the border of the A/T-rich segment. Transposon hot-spot behavior and orientation bias may relate to an asymmetry of transposon DNA-protein complexes and to interactions with proteins that produce transcriptionally silenced chromatin.

Abstract. Modeling of the onset of permafrost formation and succeeding gas hydrate formation in the changing surface temperature environment has been done for the Beaufort-Mackenzie Basin (BMB). Numerical 1-D modeling is constrained by deep heat flow from deep well bottom hole temperatures, deep conductivity, present permafrost thickness and thickness of Type I gas hydrates. Latent heat effects were applied to the model for the entire ice bearing permafrost and Type I hydrate intervals. Modeling for a set of surface temperature forcing during the glacial-interglacial history including the last 14 Myr was performed. Two scenarios of gas formation were considered; case 1: formation of gas hydrate from gas entrapped under deep geological seals and case 2: formation of gas hydrate from gas in a free pore space simultaneously with permafrost formation. In case 1, gas hydrates could have formed at a depth of about 0.9 km only some 1 Myr ago. In case 2, the first gas hydrate formed in the depth range of 290–300 m shortly after 6 Myr ago when the GST dropped from −4.5 °C to −5.5. °C. The gas hydrate layer started to expand both downward and upward subsequently. These models show that the gas hydrate zone, while thinning persists under the thick body of BMB permafrost through the current interglacial warming periods.

Fishing group Tirta Buana, around the beach of Banyuurip village, Ujung-Gresik. Cooperate with FERTILIZER and PT. PGN SAKA is Limited to hold the center of seedlings and mangrove sales. Until then from this mangrove business make a new tourist destination called Banyuurip Mangrove Center (BMC). Mangrove Banyuurip Ujungsemini lately visited by many domestic tourists. It is located about 35 kilometers from the city of Surabaya or about 23 kilometers from the city of Gresik to the north. The average day of visitors who come 600 people, but at the time of the feast can reach 1,600 visitors. The large number of tourists who come to enjoy the beautiful panorama of Mangrove if handled precisely will bring their source of income for the community Banyu Urip, the tip of the step has not been optimally absorbed. Several business opportunities will be directed in this Community Partnership program which includes: the empowerment of mangrove crops such as batik handicrafts made from mangrove, dodol mangrove and syrup made from mangrove. Seafood products are also the potential for the development of the production of the main shells. Besides the improvement of the facilities and Preasarana mangrove forest itself needs to be beautified so that visitors energy comfortable and feel at home in enjoying tourism of the BMC Mangrove such as The Making of jogging track to the shore of white sand, Gazebo level that So that tourists can see mangrove forests from above as well as repair and illumination of the road to access tourist attractions.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to assess the advantages and disadvantages of the use of spit guards by police forces in the UK and to make recommendations regarding an evidence-based approach to decisions related to the use of such equipment. Design/methodology/approach The paper is based upon an examination of a range of primary source material, secondary sources and grey literature. Findings Although the use of spit guards can be justified by factors that include the need to protect police officers from contracting serious infectious diseases, there are a number of problems that concern ethical policing and human rights. Concerns arise when spit guards are deployed against vulnerable individuals, are used offensively rather than defensively and when such equipment is deployed disproportionately against persons from Black and Minority Ethnic (BME) communities. Additionally, the image of the police may suffer if spit guards are accompanied by the use of excessive force which may be perceived as an abuse of police power. Practical implications The paper makes recommendations that a comprehensive evidence base is required to assist practitioners to make informed decisions regarding the deployment of spit guards. This evidence base should include the extent to which officers are spat at, medical evidence relating to spitting and the transmission of serious diseases, the views of the public concerning the deployment of spit guards and estimations as to whether such equipment will deter spitting by suspects of crime. Originality/value This paper provides an original academic contribution to the ongoing debate on the use of spit guards within policing. In particular, it brings together a wide range of material that relates to this topic and presents it as a coherent set of arguments located in a single source.

We assessed the use of a filler compound together with the osteoinductive demineralized bone matrix (DBM), Colloss E. The filler was comprised of carboxymethyl-cellulose and collagen type 1. The purpose of the study was to see if the filler compound would enhance the bone formation and distribute the osteoinductive stimulus throughout the bone defect. Six sheep underwent a bilateral humerus drill defect. The drill hole was filled with a compound consisting of 100 mg CMC, 100 mg collagen powder, and 1 ccm autologous full blood in one side, and a combination of this filler compound and 20 mg Colloss E in the other. The animals were divided into three groups of two animals and observed for 8, 12 and 16 weeks. Drill holes was evaluated using quantitative computed tomography (QCT), micro computed tomography (µCT) and histomorphometry. Mean total bone mineral density (BMD) of each implantation site was calculated with both QCT and µCT. Bone volume to total volume (BV/TV) was analyzed using µCT and histomorphometry. Although not statistically significant, results showed increased bone BMD after 16 weeks in µCT data and an increased BV/TV after 16 weeks in both µCT and histology. Correlation between QCT and µCT was R2 = 0.804. Correlation between histomorphometry and µCT BV/TV data was R2 = 0.8935 and with an average overrepresentation of 8.2% in histomorphometry. In conclusion the CMC-Collagen + Colloss E filler seems like a viable osteogenic bone filler mid- to long term. A correlation was found between the analytical methods used in this study.

Abstract Introduction: Individuals with type 2 diabetes mellitus (T2DM) are at an increased risk of developing fractures, despite higher mean BMI and BMD. Recently, clinically-relevant sub-groups of T2DM have been characterised using biomarkers of glycemic metabolism. Aim: Characterise T2DM sub-groups in a population-based setting and test for differences in fracture risk. Methods: A total of 10019 Rotterdam Study participants were available with glycemic and (incident) fracture follow-up. Participants with T2DM (n=1678) were partitioned in subgroups using K-means clustering based on: HOMA-B, HOMA-IR, age of diabetes onset, BMI and waist circumference measurements. Non-vertebral fracture risk was estimated across T2D subgroups using Cox proportional hazard models, adjusted for sex, age, BMI, collection cohort and prevalent T2DM. Results: Four T2D clusters were defined each with relatively-unique clinical characteristics namely, 1) advanced age of onset; 2) decreased insulin sensitivity; 3) beta-cell disfunction; 4) Obesity/high BMI. Individuals with prevalent and incident T2DM (independent of cluster) had lower risk of fracture than non-diabetics (see Forest plot). In contrast, individuals with prevalent T2DM (n=1152) had increased risk of non-vertebral fracture (HR: 2.1, 95%CI: 1.65–2.76), than individuals without T2DM. Conclusion: Despite that partitioning the heterogeneity of T2DM in clinically-meaningful clusters opens the road to tailored prevention and care, our findings with prevalent T2DM indicate that disease duration (likely with inadequate glycemic control) is the main determinant of fracture risk. In line with this contention, the association between T2DM and fracture risk is not causal, as causality requires association with incident cases, as also confirmed by earlier Mendelian randomization studies. Future work, using genetically-determined disease definitions and biomarkers will help unveil clusters of individuals with T2DM at increased risk of fracture.

Housing is a basic human need. But for the majority of the Indonesian people, the word "home" became the term that is very expensive, but the house is a building basic, fundamental and also a prerequisite for everyone to survive and live and enjoy life dignified, peaceful, safe and comfortable. Many problems regarding housing draw made this issue to be studied. Identification of research problems are 1) How is the role and perspectives of Law No. 8, 1999 (BFL) for violation of consumer rights in the housing industry?; 2) The extent to which the responsibility of the developer or developer to default or negligence in carrying out obligations, and how the reality faced by consumers?; 3) what legal action can be taken if a dispute arises consumers with businesses?. This study is a descriptive analysis is intended to provide a detailed overview of the rights of consumers in the housing industry, to see the problems that exist in the present and perspective of research that its analysis leads to the future in order to find the right policy to consumer protection housing. From these results it can be concluded that: 1) the implementation of Law No. 8 of 1999 on Consumer Protection (BFL), especially regarding the implementation of consumer rights cannot be realized as a whole, particularly with regard to the behavior for the rights, such as rights advocacy, the right to obtain redress. 2) On the issue of consumer protection, based on the findings directly in the field indicates that Act No. 8, 1999 do not yet play as expected at the time of enactment. 3) Control the government to businesses in the housing industry or developers so far only limited to licensing only, while the interactions or direct relationship between developers and consumers, the government does not intervene. On the advice of the above conclusions are: 1) There needs to be a social movement about empowering consumers so considered important encouragement for socialization activities; 2) Establishment of an independent body specialized dispute resolution field of housing or property in Indonesia is quite urgent, given the weak position of the consumer; 3) For a more integrative and comprehensive reach the target of legal protection to consumers, Act No. 8 of 1999 on Consumer Protection in the implementation must be accompanied by implementing regulations.

3576 Background: Obatoclax (Ob) is a small-molecule antagonist of all the Bcl-2 prosurvival proteins. In vitro it enhances the effects of the drugs cisplatin and etoposide. Bcl-2 family proteins are frequently expressed in SCLC, and SCLC cell lines are sensitive to Ob. Methods: This study was designed to find the maximal tolerated doses (MTD) of oOb when given on a 21 day (D) cycle together with carboplatin (AUC 5 D1) and etoposide (100 mg/m2 D1–3), in separate dose escalations using Ob as a 3-hr infusion D1–3 and as a 24-hr infusion D1–3. Eligible patients had ES-SCLC, measurable disease, ≤1 prior therapy, ECOG PS ≤1, and adequate hematological, renal and hepatic function. 3- 6 patients were enrolled into ascending dose cohorts with standard DLT rules evaluating safety in C1 to determine dose escalation. Results: 24 patients were enrolled into 5 dosing cohorts (14 males; median age 67). A total of 66 cycles (C) have been administered to date. There were no DLTs in the initial cohorts using Ob 15 mg over 3 hr or Ob 30 mg over 24 hr. Two DLTs occurred in the Ob 30 mg over 3 hr cohort - both due to myelosuppression in previously treated patients. As a result, the trial was amended to exclude previously treated patients. 5 previously untreated patients receiving Ob 30 over 3 hr had no DLTs. There were no DLTs in the Ob 45 mg over 24 hr cohort but 2 patients in the Ob 24-hr infusion cohorts had infusion pump malfunctions while at home. There were 2 DLTs in the Ob 45 mg over 3 hr cohort (somnolence, euphoria, & disorientation) establishing MTD of Ob 30 mg over 3 hr daily x 3. After C2 the 6 previously untreated patients on Ob 24-hr infusion cohorts had 3 PRs, 1 SD, 1 PD, and 1 Unk; the 2 previously treated patients had PRs. After C2 all 7 previously-untreated patients at 15 or 30 mg in the 3-hr infusion cohorts have PR; the 3 previously treated patients had SD. Conclusions: Ob can be combined with carboplatin and etoposide using either a 3-hr or a 24-hr infusion, and both regimens are associated with high early response rates in ES-SCLC, perhaps due to inhibition of mcl-1. Due to practical issues with the 24-hr infusion arm, the 3-hr 30 mg MTD dose will be utilized in a randomized phase II versus carboplatin and etoposide alone. [Table: see text]

Direct-to-Patient (DTP) Multiple Myeloma (MM) research studies have been launched recently, including PCROWD (NCT02269592), PROMISE (NCT03689595) and the MMRF CureCloud Research Initiative (NCT03657251), aimed at enrolling thousands of individuals from whom comprehensive molecular and immune analyses will be generated from blood specimens and the resulting data aggregated with the correlating clinical information. To support the molecular characterization of liquid biopsies for such DTP efforts, a set of myeloma-specific liquid biopsy approaches were developed. First, a hybrid selection panel was developed that detects somatic variants present in a patient's circulating-free DNA (cfDNA) in 70 commonly altered MM and Clonal Hematopoiesis of Indeterminate Potential (CHIP) genes. For this MM 70-Gene cfDNA Assay, samples are received as blood in a StreckTM tube designed for stabilization of cfDNA and DNA is extracted from buffy coat using magnetic bead-based chemistry. Deep coverage sequencing (80,000x depth) is performed and duplex BAM files generated with UMI alignment and error correction allowing for sensitive detection of clinically relevant variants. Technical validation data on healthy donor cfDNA mixes was generated using samples with a range of cfDNA inputs. This data determined that the assay is capable of achieving >90% sensitivity for detecting somatic events present at 1% variant allele frequency with a specificity of <0.2 false positives per megabase. Using a clinical cohort, we observed a strong correlation between Bone Marrow Aspirate (BMA) and cfDNA samples with the vast majority of variants previously detected in BMA also identified via the MM-70 Gene panel analysis. Interestingly, we also saw evidence of additional somatic variants identified in cfDNA previously undetected in BMA analysis. Because one the aims of this effort is to return results to treating physicians, a clinical-grade (CLIA) pipeline was established. For that CLIA pipeline, the variants reported are a subset of all the events detected by the MM 70-Gene Assay. The events detected in the assay are reviewed by experienced molecular pathologists at the Dana Farber Cancer Institute (DFCI) who have developed a customized reporting process. These reports utilize an internally-developed knowledgebase of variant/gene annotations that leverages the DFCI expertise in hematologic malignancies and myeloma specifically. The reports are then provided back through providers to the patient via the CureCloud system for their use in clinical care and trial identification. In order to complement the MM-70 Gene panel with copy number and translocation information, we have been exploring Circulating Multiple Myeloma Cells (CMMCs). Our current approach involves automated capture of CMMCs using ferrofluids coated with MM-selective and discriminating antibodies to immunomagnetically enrich circulating plasma cells. The highly enriched CMMCs fractions generated in such a fashion are then submitted for molecular characterization. At the submission date of this abstract, 163 patients have been fully enrolled into CureCloud from which results will be presented. In summary, we have developed a robust and very sensitive clinical-grade next-gen liquid biopsy sequencing platform allowing for minimally invasive monitoring of MM disease genomics that can be used to complement other more classical approaches and to help support our Direct-To-Patient Initiatives. Especially in this post-COVID19 era, such liquid biopsy-based approaches that avoid clinic visits for the patients and can be performed through at-home mobile phlebotomy are emerging as important new options. Disclosures Kim: LabCorp: Consultancy; Quanterix, Inc: Consultancy; PapGene, Inc: Consultancy. Ghobrial:AbbVie: Consultancy; GNS Healthcare: Consultancy; GlaxoSmithKline: Consultancy; Genentech: Consultancy; Noxxon Pharma: Consultancy; Novartis: Consultancy; Adaptive Biotechnologies: Consultancy, Honoraria; Sanofi: Consultancy, Honoraria; Celgene: Consultancy, Honoraria; Bristol-Myers Squibb: Consultancy, Honoraria; Janssen: Consultancy, Honoraria; Takeda: Consultancy, Honoraria; Cellectar: Honoraria; Karyopharm Therapeutics: Consultancy, Honoraria; Amgen: Consultancy, Honoraria.

244 Background: Current literature suggests that weight gain during treatment for breast cancer is associated with a poorer prognosis and an increased risk of developing secondary health problems such as the metabolic syndrome (MetSyn). Physical activity (PA) can alter features of the MetSyn and improve body composition by reducing abdominal adiposity. We report metabolic results of a prospective randomized controlled trial (PEACH trial; Walsh JM, et al. [2010] BMC Cancer. 10[42]) which examines the effect of an exercise intervention on the metabolic risk profile of breast cancer survivors 2-6 months post chemotherapy. Methods: All subjects gave written informed consent and were randomized to an 8-week, twice weekly aerobic exercise intervention programme or a usual care control group consisting of routine medical advice about PA. The five clinical features of the MetSyn were measured: waist circumference (WC), resting blood pressure (BP), triglycerides, high-density lipoprotein cholesterol (HDL-C) and fasting glucose. Insulin resistance was estimated by the homeostatic model assessment (HOMA). Statistical analysis was carried out using independent sample t-tests with significance set at p < 0.05. Results: Twenty-six breast cancer survivors participated (mean (± SD) age 48.13 (8.75) years). At baseline, 50% (n = 13) of subjects were overweight and 23.1% (n = 6) were obese, with 73.1% (n = 19) centrally obese. 34.6% (n = 9) of subjects were classified with the MetSyn. There were no significant differences between groups at baseline. Intention-to-treat analysis showed no significant changes, however, analysis of those who adhered to > 70% of the supervised exercise intervention showed a significant improvement in WC when compared to the control group (p < 0.05). Conclusions: Results show that an 8-week aerobic exercise intervention significantly reduced WC but did not modify other features of the MetSyn. The decrease in WC demonstrated by this short intervention may have important implications in terms of improving survival and the metabolic risk profile of breast cancer survivors. Final follow-up assessments are ongoing and will enable change in WC over time to be evaluated further.

The problem of violence has become a central part of European politics and of each human being in the European countries. We have heard reports of massive rape rituals in Bosnia, we are witnessing a Belgium in deep sorrow because of the slaughter of its daughters, we are experiencing gang wars in the inner cities, In every country, racism is creating death and pain and fradually the knowledge of violence against women and children in their own homes is reaching our consciousness. Most of the time, this violence is talked about in the media in terms of gangsters, devils, murderers, bandits, drug addicts, blacks, nazis, rapists or just thieves, Very seldom are the perpetrators talked about as men, and almost never are they understood within the concept of masculinity. Even when the fact undoubtedly is that they are, in almost every case, men. One of the most important things is that we need to know more about how masculinity is created. What does it mean that the violators are men? What implications will this have for the understanding of violence? What is the specific relationship between masculinity and violence? And: How will it influence the politics of violence - the work against violence in the media, in the streets and in the society as a whole? These types of questions will be the guidelines of our talk here today. Let us go straight to the heart of the problem. While the media and the public's attention are concentrated on the violence which occurs in the public sphere, they are forgetting the violence in the private sphere. Our claim is that the violence which we see in public is largely rooted in the private sphere, It is violence carried out in the private sphere which is transferred and extended into the public sphere. In other words, it is the private violence which should claim our attention, and it is against this violence that the efforts to combat violence should be directed. Focusing on private violence will also enable us to bring to bear a clearer gender perspective. Even though we know that women use violence against men and children, private violence mainly consists of men's violence against those nearest to them: girlfriends, wives and children. Let us therefore spend the few minutes we have presenting three perspectives on men's violence against women, in order better to get to know these men.

Abstract Abstract 3593 Azacitidine (AZA) is currently being used in AML patients (Pts) not deemed candidates for intensive chemotherapy. Most of this usage follows approved drug label by EMA, but off-label usage is not uncommon in Pts with >30% bone marrow blast (BMB) cells. Clinical trials are now comparing AZA vs. conventional care in selected populations, and data from daily practice may shed light on the generalizability of their results. A retrospective nationwide study was set up in Spain in order to evaluate the population of AML Pts that is receiving AZA as front-line therapy (Rx) in Spain, its patterns of usage, effectiveness and safety in daily practice conditions, as well as the factors linked to overall response rate (ORR) and overall survival (OS). Only Pts treated before Dec/2010 could be included in this study, that was approved by the Spanish Medicines Agency (AEMPS, code ACL-AZA-2011–01). Data were collected from Oct/2011 to Jan/2012 and analyzed as of Jun/2012. ORR was evaluated according to both ELN-2010 criteria for AML as well as IWG-2006 criteria for MDS (in order to assess the impact of PB changes), OS measured from 1st cycle of AZA to death or last follow-up, and toxicity coded according to NCI CTCAEv3.0. One-hundred and ten untreated Pts (79 M/31 F, median age 75, range 56–89) were recruited from 22 academic and community sites. Comorbidity was present in 96 Pts (cardiac 43, hepatic 10, renal 3, diabetes 26, other neoplasms 18, etc.), ECOG being ≥2 in 33. Thirty Pts had an antecedent hematological disorder. Five cases had recurrent genetic abnormalities (NPM1-mutated AML in 4), 61 had MDS-related AML, 16 therapy-related AML and 28 AML not otherwise specified. Cytogenetics (Cyto) was available in 95 (86.4%): 48 diploid and 47 abnormal. MRC-2010 cyto category was favourable in 1, intermediate in 64 and adverse in 30. Median WBC at Dx was 3.3 x10E9/L (0.8–172.4), WBC before 1st AZA cycle 2.8 (1.0–175.0), platelet count 56 (7–467), PB blast 4.0% (0–100) and hemoglobin 91 g/L (48–142). Sixty-four Pts (58.2%) had BMB>30% (median 35.0%, range 15.0–98.0%). Median time from Dx to Rx was 19.5 days (0–411). Pts received 745 AZA cycles (median 4, range 1–29; ≥6 cycles 45.4%, ≥12 cycles 18.8%), but 30.9% received ≤2 because of disease progression or toxicity. 7.2% received concomitantly hydroxiurea for WBC control. Route of administration was EV in 5.8%, home administration took place in only 1.5%, and AZA was given as inpatients in 27.3% of the cycles. The no. of days of AZA Rx was 7 in 63.6% of the cycles, week-end off Rx being common place (5–2–2 schedule in 71.9%). Median AZA daily dose was 73.6 mg/sqm (<50 in 2.7%). During follow-up (median 8.6 months, 0.1–48.7), 56 Pts progressed (39 on and 17 off-Rx). In 18, response was not evaluable (lack of BM assessment or death before 8 weeks). Best ORR according to IWG-2006 was 44.5% and 53.3% in the ITT and evaluable populations, respectively, while ORR according to ELN-2010 was 17.3% and 20.7%, respectively. Complete response rate (including CRm/CRi) was 15.5% and 18.5%, respectively, with both criteria. Platelet count duplication after 1st cycle predicted ORR with IWG-2006 (82.4% vs. 33.8%, p=0.001, Fisher) but this was less evident with ELN-2010 (41.2% vs., 18.3%, p=0.057, Fisher). Median OS from 1st AZA cycle was 8.1 months (CI95% 5.3–10.9, range 0.1–47.9; OS at 12 months 36.7%, OS at 24 months 7%), OS from Dx 9.5 (CI 6.0–10.0, 0.1–48.7) and PFS 7.2 (CI 4.7–9.8; 0.1–29.5). Multivariate analysis showed that the best predictors of OS in our series were: ECOG ≤1, BMB ≤30%, a diploid cyto and WBC before 1st AZA cycle <10.0xE9/L. GFM score (Park et al, 2008), but not MLD, MDS-related AML or AZA dose, also predicted OS (p<0.001, Logrank). As expected, responders lived longer than non-responders, but discrimination was better for IWG-2006 (HR=2.84) than ELN-2010 (HR=2.32), suggesting that a PB response may also impact survival in AML. Six-hundred thirty-eight AEs were reported (25.9% SAEs and 36.7% grade III-IV), most commonly infectious (25.5%), hematological (19.3%), gastrointestinal (18.3%) and cutaneous (11.8%). CONCLUSION: OS of AML Pts treated with AZA seems promising, although it depends on ECOG, BM blast proportion, cytogenetics and WBC before 1st AZA cycle. After adjusting for cytogenetics, multilineage dysplasia does not result informative for OS in this population. Disclosures: Ramos: Celgene: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding, Speakers Bureau. Off Label Use: Azacitidine in AML (even without multilineage dysplasia or with more than 30% bone marrow blast cells). Deben:Celgene: Honoraria. Colado:Celgene: Honoraria.

<p>Cuando Bret Easton Ellis publicó en el año 1985 «Less Than Zero», no se imaginó que su narración iba a tener éxito editorial. La acción de la novela se desarrolla en Los Angeles, constituyendo la obra de Ellis un retrato de una generación joven, que experimenta tempranamente con el sexo, las drogas y la desolación. "Less Than Zero" (título de una canción amarga de Elvis Costello) narra las vivencias de un joven estudiante que regresa a su casa de Los Angeles, para pasar las vacaciones de Navidad junto a sus padres. Clay relata cómo sus vacaciones se convierten en una vertiginosa espiral de desesperación, que le conduce a fiestas interminables, clubs de rock, líneas de coca, luces de neón, y al submundo de la pornografía. Su observación de la vida procede de su juventud y dinero. El narrador, testigo de la acción, mantiene a veces un distanciamiento con respecto a las experiencias de sus amigos de infancia. En otras ocasiones, participa de la acción, utilizando un estilo directo, cortante y seco. En rasgos generales, podemos señalar que el narrador-protagonista de la novela contempla lo que sucede a su alrededor sin tomar posturas determinantes. En relación con esta nueva corriente dentro de la narrativa norteamericana de los años ochenta, situamos el "Dirty Realism". En las novelas incluidas en el Dirty Realism, los personajes son menos favorecidos por la fortuna debido a su baja condición social. En general, las historias que se narran, están llenas de hombres y mujeres, cuyas vidas están vacías o truncadas a causa de innumerables problemas, problemas que les hace difícil la comunicación con los demás miembros de la sociedad. Sin embargo, estos personajes no muestran una actitud de rebeldía, sino de resignación. Son personas que piden muy poco de la vida.</p><p>When «Less Than Zero» was first published in 1985, Bret Easton Elli could not imagine that bis novel was going to become a bcst-seller. This novel is set in Los Angeles, it is a powerful portrayal of a generation of young people who have experienced sex, drugs, and disaffection at an carly age.</p><p>"Less Than Zero" (Elvis Costello's title of a bitter song), narrates the experience of a young student who comes home to Los Angeles for Christmas vacation and its narrator, Clay, tells us how his holiday turns into a dizzing spiral of desperation, that takes him through parties, rock clubs, co-kaine nes, neon lights, and the underworld of pornography. His observation of life comes with youth and money. Sometimes, the evidence narrator keeps away from his youthful American alienation; others he shares its experiences through a direct, constant, and dry style. In general, we can point out that the protagonist narrator of "Less Than Zero" observes what's happcning around him without taking any determing part. In relation to this new trend of the American narrative of the 1980s, there is the so called "Dirty Realism". The characters who inhabit this low-life ambience are everyday guys who may be a bit down on their luck. But in general the stories are full of men and women whose lives are troubled or just plain empty being difficult for them to communicate themselves with society. Things never turra out well... at best, not badly. However, theirs is not to re-bel or explode, the overwhelming sensation is one of resignation, they are people who ask very little out of life.</p>

Abstract Genetic blood diseases can potentially be treated by transplantation of autologous hematopoietic stem cells (HSC) transduced with the functional gene. Nonmyeloablative conditioning regimens such as low-dose total body irradiation (LDTBI) can enhance competitive engraftment in the absence of a selective advantage for HSC. Granulocyte colony-stimulating factor (G-CSF) treatment of recipients prior to LDTBI has been shown to enhance engraftment of fresh bone marrow (BM) cells, but the underlying mechanisms and whether this combined approach can enhance long-term engraftment of genetically transduced donor cells have not been defined. We examined whether pre-treatment of recipient mice with G-CSF prior to LDTBI improves long-term donor engraftment of retroviral vector-transduced HSC in murine X-linked chronic granulomatous disease (X-CGD). In initial studies, we verified that pre-treatment of wild type mice with 4 ug G-CSF SC BID for 5 days prior to irradiation with either 160 cGy or 300 cGy significantly increased long-term engraftment of congenic fresh BM cells (see Table). Donor → Host Cell dose LDTBI (cGy) Donor chimerism + vs - G-CSF (Mean ±SD) C57BL/6J → PtrcaPep3b/Boy J 20 x 106 fresh BM 160 65.2±0.9% vs 43.4±3.5%, n=4 and 5 mice each; p=0.0002 (4 months after transplant) C57BL/6J-EGFP → C57BL/6J 2.5 x 106 fresh BM 300 55.25±4.5% vs 28.7±5.3%, n=4mice each; p=0.0002 (6 months after transplant) C57BL/6J male X-CGD → C57BL/6J female X-CGD 5 x 106 transduced BM 300 51.0±13.1% vs 30.4±7.8%, n=5mice each; p=0.02 (3 months after transplant) We next investigated 2 potential mechanisms by which G-CSF prior to LDTBI might enhance long-term engraftment of HSC. First, analysis of host BM 20 hours after transplantation showed a significantly lower frequency of homed donor HSC in G-CSF+160cGy treated mice compared to 160 cGy-conditioned mice (1 ± 0.13% vs 3.5 ± 0.7% in one experiment, and 3.4 ± 0.8% vs 9.5 ± 2.3% in another experiment, n= 20 mice). Second, in a competitive repopulation assay, we observed a substantial decrease in marrow long-term repopulating ability (LTRA) in mice treated with G-CSF + 160 cGy compared to 160 cGy alone (10.5% vs 48.6%, n= 5 mice in each group; p= 0.0002). These results suggest that administration of G-CSF prior to LDTBI does not increase initial homing of donor cells but further impairs LTRA of recipient BM compared to LDTBI alone. In the context of gene therapy, we transduced male X-CGD BM with MSCV-gp91Neo vector and infused these transduced cells into female X-CGD mice treated ± G-CSF + 300 cGy. Donor cell engraftment, measured by FISH for Y chromosome, at 3 months post-transplant was significantly increased in recipients pretreated with G-CSF (see Table). NADPH oxidase activity (by 123-dihydrorhodamine assay) was reconstituted in 9.75 ± 5.5% of neutrophils compared to 6.6 ± 2.5% without G-CSF pretreatment. The calculated fraction of donor cells with oxidase activity was similar in both groups (18.8 ± 6.6% vs 21.4 ± 11%, respectively) (p= 0.67). These results suggest that the use of G-CSF prior LDTBI provides a competitive advantage for long-term engraftment by decreasing LTRA in the host and may be a useful strategy to increase engraftment of fresh and retroviral transduced donor BMC.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to systematically appraise the effect of use of interpreters for mental health problems in old age. The primary objective of the review is to assess the impact of a language barrier for assessment and management in relation to mental health problems in the old age. The secondary objectives are to assess the effect of the use of interpreters on patient satisfaction and quality of care, identify good practice and make recommendations for research and practice in the old age mental health. Design/methodology/approach – The following data sources were searched for publications between 1966 and 2011: PubMed, PsycINFO, CINAHL and Cochrane Library. The authors found in previous reviews that a substantial number of papers from developing and non-English speaking countries are published in journals not indexed in mainstream databases, and devised a search strategy using Google which identified a number of papers, which could not be found when the search was limited to scientific data bases only (Farooq et al., 2009). The strategy was considered especially important for this review which focuses on communication across many different languages. Thus, the authors conducted a search of the World Wide Web using Google Scholar, employing the search term Medical Interpreters and Mental Health. The search included literature in all languages. The authors also searched the reference lists of included and excluded studies for additional relevant papers. Bibliographies of systematic review articles published in the last five years were also examined to identify pertinent studies. Findings – Only four publications related specifically to “old age” and 33 addressed “interpreting” and “psychiatry” generally. Four articles presented original research (Parnes and Westfall, 2003; Hasset and George, 2002; Sadavoy et al., 2004; Van de Mieroop et al., 2012). One article (Shah, 1997) reports an “anecdotal descriptive account” of interviewing elderly people from ethnic backgrounds in a psychogeriatric service in Melbourne and does not report any data. Therefore, only four papers met the inclusion and exclusion criteria and present original research in the field of “old age”, “psychiatry” and “interpreting”. None of these papers present UK-based research. One is a quantitative study from Australia (Hasset and George, 2002), the second is a qualitative study from Canada (Sadavoy et al., 2004), in the third paper Van de Mieroop et al. (2012) describe community interpreting in a Belgian old home and the final paper is an American case study (Parnes and Westfall, 2003). Practical implications – Interviewing older patients for constructs like cognitive function and decision-making capacity through interpreters can pose significant clinical and legal problems. There is urgent need for training mental health professionals for developing skills to overcome the language barrier and for interpreters to be trained for work in psychogeriatrics. Social implications – The literature on working through interpreters is limited to a few empirical studies. This has serious consequences for service users such as lack of trust in services, clinical errors and neglect of human rights. Further studies are needed to understand the extent of problem and how effective interpreting and translating services can be provided in the routine clinical practice. It is also essential to develop a standard of translation services in mental health that can be measured for their quality and also efficiency. At present such a quality standard is not available in the UK, unlike Sweden (see www.regeringen.se/sb/d/3288/a/19564). This omission is disturbing – especially when decisions on human rights are being considered as part of the Mental Health Act. Such a standard can best be achieved by collaboration between medical profession and linguists’ professional associations (Cambridge et al., 2012). Originality/value – Whilst translation/interpretation has been addressed more generally in mental health: specific considerations related to old age psychiatry are almost absent. This needs urgent rectification given that a large proportion of older people from BME communities will require translation and interpretation services.

Abstract Background: The Philadelphia chromosome negative chronic myeloproliferativeneoplasms (MPNs) including essential thrombocythemia (ET), polycythemia vera(PV), and myelofibrosis (MF) are a group of diseases of myeloid clonal lineage with significant symptom burden. MPN patients have also been found to have a high likelihood of mood disturbance related to their MPN, including symptoms of depression and anxiety (BMC Cancer. 201616:167). To date, the relationship between disease factors and depressive symptoms among MPN patients has not been well characterized. Methods: We have previously published the results of a 70-item internet-based survey which evaluated fatigue-relieving strategies among MPN patients (Cancer. 2016 Feb 1;122(3):477-85). Surveyed data included mental health questionnaires including a measure of symptoms of depression, the PHQ-2, (Ann Fam Med. 2010. 8(4): 348-353), a measure of positive and negative moods the POMS-short form (J Nerv Ment Dis. 1979;167(10):612-4) and a measure of symptoms of depression and anxiety, the MHI-5 (J Consult Clin Psychol. 1983. 51;730-742). This abstract is a secondary analysis of data collected among this cohort. Data: Demographics A total of 1788 individuals diagnosed with an MPN participated in the survey. 1389 patients answered questions regarding mood and psychological comorbidities. Many MPN patients reportedthat they had been seen by a health provider for care or diagnosis of depression (32%), anxiety (29.5%), stress (26.2%), or grief(15.0%). Overall, 24.0% of ET, 22.2% of PV, and 22.9% of MF patients endorsed symptoms of depression based on their score of greater than or equal to 3 on the PHQ-2. Demographic and Psychosocial Correlates Younger patients were significantly more likely to have PHQ-2 score of equal to or greater than three (57.0 years vs 59.5 years, p=0.0006). Gender, race, and country of origin did not significantly correlate with screening positive for symptoms of depression. Higher BMI was associated with a higher likelihood of screening positive for symptoms of depression (BMI 26.2 vs 24.6, p=0.005). Not surprisingly, having received treatment for mood problems in the last 6 months (p<0.0001) along with medications for mood disorders (p=0.03) were significantly associated with increased symptoms of depression. Specifically, the use of psychostimulants (p<0.0001), antidepressants (p<0.0001), anti-anxiety medications (p=0.0005) and prescription pain medications (p<0.001), were significantly associated with elevated PHQ-2 score. Individuals with lower educational attainment were more likely to endorse depressive symptoms (p=0.0001) as well as those who were unable to work from home due to a medical disability (p<0.0001). Tobacco use was significantly associated with depressive symptoms (p=0.0002). Symptom and Mental Health Correlates Increased MPN-SAF TSS (MPN-10) score and all individual symptom items in the MPN-SAF were significantly associated with symptoms of depression (p<0.0001, Table 1). Increased POMS-B Subscales scores and total score along with lower MHI score was associated with positive depression screening. When asking patients what interventions they had tried to reduce fatigue, those who endorsed volunteer activities (18% vs 25.4%, p= 0.0062) and exercise (19.7% vs 32.2, p<0.0001) were significantly less likely to screen positive for symptoms of depression. Prognostic Risk Scoring Correlates For MF, PV and ET prognostic risk scoring did not significantly correlate with PHQ score (for all, P>0.005). Conclusions Depression and mood disorders among individuals with malignancy represent a particular challenge for health care providers, particularly in MPN patients who have been found to have a higher risk of depression than the general population. In our cohort, prognostic risk did not correlate with risk of depression. Based on these findings, it is critical that physicians who see MPN patients should closely monitor these patients for signs of depression and provide appropriate treatment when needed. Continued investigation into treatment of mood disorders among MPN patients is warranted, as patients may benefit from both symptom-directed therapies as well as traditional therapies. Encouragement of volunteering and exercise activities should be considered for thesepatientsas participation may be associated with improved mood status. Disclosures Harrison: Novartis: Consultancy, Honoraria, Other: travel, accommodations, expenses, Research Funding, Speakers Bureau; Shire: Honoraria, Speakers Bureau; Gilead: Honoraria, Speakers Bureau; Baxaltra: Consultancy, Honoraria, Speakers Bureau; Incyte Corporation: Honoraria, Speakers Bureau. Mesa:Galena: Consultancy; Incyte: Research Funding; Gilead: Research Funding; Novartis: Consultancy; CTI: Research Funding; Promedior: Research Funding; Ariad: Consultancy; Celgene: Research Funding.

Maha Appraisal Hits Gas for Eni in Indonesia Eni encountered natural-gas-bearing sands with its Maha 2 well in the West Ganal Block offshore Indonesia. Drilled to a depth of 2970 m in 1115 m water depth, the well encountered 43 m of gas-bearing net sands in levels of Pliocene Age, according to the operator. A production test, which was limited by surface facilities, recorded a gas deliverability of the reservoir flowing at 34 MMscf/D. The opera-tor collected data and samples during the test, to study in preparation of a field development plan for the Maha field. Two additional appraisal wells are planned for the discovery. Eni, along with partners Neptune West Ganal BV and P.T. Pertamina Hulu West Ganal, expect the field to be developed subsea and tied back to the nearby Jangkrik floating production unit (FPU), about 16 km to the northwest. Eni has been operating off Indonesia since 2001. Its current equity production in the region is around 80,000 BOE/D. Shell Sells Out of Philippines Gas Field Royal Dutch Shell has agreed to sell its stake in the Malampaya offshore gas field in the Philippines for $460 million. The major sold its 45% stake in Service Contract 38 (SC38), a deepwater license which includes the producing gas field, to a subsidiary of the Udenna Group, which already holds a 45% stake in the project. The divestment is part of the company’s strategy to narrow its oil and gas operations. The base consideration for the sale is $380 million, with additional payments of up to $80 million in 2022 and 2024 contingent on asset performance and commodity prices, according to Shell. The deal is due to complete by the end of 2021. The Malampaya gas field, discovered in 1991, currently supplies fuel to power plants that deliver about a fifth of the country’s electricity requirements, based on energy ministry data. Equinor Green Lights First Phase of Bacalhau Development Off Brazil Equinor, along with partners ExxonMobil, Petrogal Brasil, and Pré-Sal Petróleo SA, will move forward with a planned $8-billion Phase 1 development of the Bacalhau field in the Brazilian pre-salt Santos area. The Bacalhau field is situated across two licenses, BM-S-8 and Norte de Carcará. The target resource is a high-quality carbonate reservoir containing light oil. The development will consist of 19 subsea wells tied back to a floating production, storage, and offloading unit (FPSO) located at the field. The vessel will be one of the largest FPSOs in Brazil with a production capacity of 220,000 B/D of oil and 2 million bbl of storage capacity. The stabilized oil will be offloaded to shuttle tankers and the gas from Phase 1 will be re-injected in the reservoir. The FPSO contractor will operate the FPSO for the first year. Thereafter, Equinor plans to operate the facilities until the end of the license period. The development plan was approved by the Brazilian National Agency of Petroleum, Natural Gas, and Biofuels (ANP) in March 2021. First oil from the field is slated for 2024. Wintershall Strikes Gas at Dvalin North An exploration well drilled by Wintershall on its Dvalin North prospect in the Norwegian Sea has encountered a significant gas reservoir. The discovery at Dvalin North is estimated to hold to hold 33–70 million BOE and is just 12 km north of the company’s operated Dvalin field and 65 km north of the operated Maria field. The well also encountered hydrocarbons in two shallower secondary targets, with a combined resource estimate of 38–87 million BOE, making the potential for the field in excess of 150 million BOE. The well, drilled by the Deepsea Aberdeen rig, encountered gas, condensate, and oil columns of 33 m and 114 m in the Cretaceous Lysing and Lange formations, respectively. In the primary target in the Garn Formation, the well found a gas column of 85 m. The license partners, including Petoro and Sval Energi, are evaluating development options for the discovery, which could include a tieback to the Dvalin field. Third Odfjell Rig Tapped by Equinor Odfjell has been awarded a three-well, $40-million drilling contract for its semisubmersible drilling unit Deepsea Stavanger by Equinor. The rig will join sister units Deepsea Atlantic and Deepsea Aberdeen under contract with the Norwegian operator. The rig is scheduled to start drilling the first of three planned exploration wells in the North Sea in February 2022. The wells are expected to take about 4 months to complete. The contract includes continuing options after the initial phase. South Africa Shale Tests Encounter Gas at Karoo Pockets of shale gas were encountered during test drilling in the semi-desert Karoo region of South Africa, according to the nation’s energy ministry. A total of 34 gas samples had been bottled and taken to laboratories after the government’s Council for Geosciences set out to drill a 3500-m stratigraphic hole in the Karoo to establish and test the occurrence of shale gas. “The first pocket of gas was intercepted at 1734 m with a further substantial amount intercepted at 2467 m spanning a depth of 55 m,” said Gwede Mantashe, South African energy minister, during his budget vote in parliament on 18 May. In 2017, geologists at the University of Johannesburg and three other institutions estimated the gas resource in the Karoo was probably 13 Tcf. Earlier, the US Energy and Information Administration estimated the Karoo Basin’s technically recoverable shale-gas resource at 390 Tcf, then making it the eighth largest in the world and second largest in Africa behind Algeria. Seadrill Venture Nets New Drilling Contract Seadrill’s Sonadrill Holding Ltd., the 50/50 joint venture with an affiliate of Sonangol, has secured a 12-well contract with one option for nine wells and 11 one-well options in Angola for drillship Sonangol Quenguela. The $131-million contract before options is inclusive of mobilization revenue and additional services with commencement expected in early 2022 and running through mid-2023. The contract is contingent on National Concessionaire approval. Sonangol Quenguela is the second of two Sonangol-owned drillships to be bareboat-chartered into Sonadrill. The drillship is a seventh-generation, DP3, dual activity, e-smart ultradeepwater drillship delivered in 2019, capable of drilling up to 40,000-ft wells. A further two Seadrill-owned units are expected to be bareboat-chartered into Sonadrill. Seadrill will manage and operate the four units on behalf of Sonadrill. Shell Makes US Gulf Discovery at Leopard An exploration well at the Shell-led Leopard prospect in the deepwater US Gulf of Mexico encountered more than 600 ft net oil pay at multiple levels. Leopard is in Alaminos Canyon Block 691, approximately 20 miles east of the Whale discovery, 20 miles south of the recently appraised Blacktip discovery, and 33 miles from the Perdido spar host facility. Evaluation is ongoing to further define development options. According to Shell, Leopard is an opportunity to increase production in the Perdido Corridor, where its Great White, Silvertip, and Tobago fields are already producing. Meanwhile, the Whale discovery, also in the Perdido Corridor, is progressing toward a final investment decision in 2021. Shell operates Leopard with a 50% working interest. Partner Chevron holds the remaining 50% stake. Shell Could Leave Tunisia in 2022 Shell informed Tunisian authorities in May it will hand back upstream concessions and leave the country next year as it turns its focus to renewable energy, according to a Reuters report sourcing a senior official in the country’s energy ministry. The license in question is the Miskar concession in the southern city of Gabes. The operator has also requested the early hand-back of the Asdrubal permit, which expires in 2035. Recent reports suggest the operator may be looking for the Tunisian government to extend its permit on the field under more favorable terms ahead of its planned departure.

The use of the family home as a setting for television sitcoms (situation comedies) has long been recognised for its ability to provide audiences with an identifiable site of ontological security (much discussed by Giddens, Scannell, Saunders and others). From the beginnings of American sitcoms with such programs as Leave it to Beaver, and through the trail of The Brady Bunch, The Cosby Show, Roseanne, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and on to Home Improvement, That 70s Show and How I Met Your Mother, the US has led the way with screenwriters and producers capitalising on the value of using the suburban family dwelling as a fixed setting. The most obvious advantage is the use of an easily constructed and inexpensive set, most often on a TV studio soundstage requiring only a few rooms (living room, kitchen and bedroom are usually enough to set the scene), and a studio audience. In Singapore, sitcoms have had similar successes; portraying the lives of ‘ordinary people’ in their home settings. Some programs have achieved phenomenal success, including an unprecedented ten year run for Phua Chu Kang Pte Ltd from 1996-2007, closely followed by Under One Roof (1994-2000 and an encore season in 2002), and Living with Lydia (2001-2005). This article furthers Blunt and Dowling’s exploration of the “critical geography” of home, by providing a focused analysis of home-based sitcoms in the nation-state of Singapore. The use of the home tells us a lot. Roseanne’s cluttered family home represents a lived reality for working-class families throughout the Western world. In Friends, the seemingly wealthy ‘young’ people live in a fashionable apartment building, while Seinfeld’s apartment block is much less salubrious, indicating (in line with the character) the struggle of the humble comedian. Each of these examples tells us something about not just the characters, but quite often about class, race, and contemporary societies. In the Singaporean programs, the home in Under One Roof (hereafter UOR) represents the major form of housing in Singapore, and the program as a whole demonstrates the workability of Singaporean multiculturalism in a large apartment block. Phua Chu Kang Pte Ltd (PCK) demonstrates the entrepreneurial abilities of even under-educated Singaporeans, with its lead character, a building contractor, living in a large freestanding dwelling – generally reserved for the well-heeled of Singaporean society. And in Living with Lydia (LWL) (a program which demonstrates Singapore’s capacity for global integration), Hong Kong émigré Lydia is forced to share a house (less ostentatious than PCK’s) with the family of the hapless Billy B. Ong. There is perhaps no more telling cultural event than the sitcom. In the 1970s, The Brady Bunch told us more about American values and habits than any number of news reports or cop shows. A nation’s identity is uncovered; it bares its soul to us through the daily tribulations of its TV households. In Singapore, home-based sitcoms have been one of the major success stories in local television production with each of these three programs collecting multiple prizes at the region-wide Asian Television Awards. These sitcoms have been able to reflect the ideals and values of the Singaporean nation to audiences both at ‘home’ and abroad. This article explores the worlds of UOR, PCK, and LWL, and the ways in which each of the fictional homes represents key features of the multi-ethnic, multi-cultural Singapore. Through ownership and regulation, Singaporean TV programs operate as a firm link between the state and its citizens. These sitcoms follow regular patterns where the ‘man of the house’ is more buffoon than breadwinner – in a country defined by its neo-Confucian morality, sitcoms allow a temporary subversion of patriarchal structures. In this article I argue that the central theme in Singaporean sitcoms is that while home is a personal space, it is also a valuable site for national identities to be played out. These identities are visible in the physical indicators of the exterior and interior living spaces, and the social indicators representing a benign patriarchy and a dominant English language. Structure One of the key features of sitcoms is the structure: cold open – titles – establishing shot – opening scene. Generally the cold opening (aka “the teaser”) takes place inside the home to quickly (re)establish audience familiarity with the location and the characters. The title sequence then features, in the case of LWL and PCK, the characters outside the house (in LWL this is in cartoon format), and in UOR (see Figure 1) it is the communal space of the barbeque area fronting the multi-story HDB (Housing Development Board) apartment blocks. Figure 1: Under One Roof The establishing shot at the end of each title sequence, and when returning from ad breaks, is an external view of the characters’ respective dwellings. In Seinfeld this establishing shot is the New York apartment block, in Roseanne it is the suburban house, and the Singaporean sitcoms follow the same format (see Figure 2). Figure 2: Phua Chu Kang External Visions of the Home This emphasis on exterior buildings reminds the viewer that Singaporean housing is, in many ways, unique. As a city-state (and a young one at that) its spatial constraints are particularly limiting: there simply isn’t room for suburban housing on quarter acre blocks. It rapidly transformed from an “empty rock” to a scattered Malay settlement of bay and riverside kampongs (villages) recognisable by its stilt houses. Then in the shadow of colonialism and the rise of modernity, the kampongs were replaced in many cases by European-inspired terrace houses. Finally, in the post-colonial era high-rise housing began to swell through the territory, creating what came to be known as the “HDB new town”, with some 90% of the population now said to reside in HDB units, and many others living in private high-rises (Chang 102, 104). Exterior shots used in UOR (see Figure 3) consistently emphasise the distinctive HDB blocks. As with the kampong housing, high-rise apartments continue notions of communal living in that “Living below, above and side by side other people requires tolerance of neighbours and a respect towards the environment of the housing estate for the good of all” (104). The provision of readily accessible public housing was part of the “covenant between the newly enfranchised electorate and the elected government” (Chua 47). Figure 3: Establishing shot from UOR In UOR, we see the constant interruption of the lives of the Tan family by their multi-ethnic neighbours. This occurs to such an extent as to be a part of the normal daily flow of life in Singaporean society. Chang argues that despite the normally interventionist activities of the state, it is the “self-enforcing norms” of behaviour that have worked in maintaining a “peaceable society in high-rise housing” (104). This communitarian attitude even extends to the large gated residence of PCK, home to an almost endless stream of relatives and friends. The gate itself seems to perform no restrictive function. But such a “peaceable society” can also be said to be a result of state planning which extends to the “racial majoritarianism” imposed on HDB units in the form of quotas determining “the actual number of households of each of the three major races [Chinese, Malay and Indian] … to be accommodated in a block of flats” (Chua 55). Issues of race are important in Singapore where “the inscription of media imagery bears the cultural discourse and materiality of the social milieu” (Wong 120) perhaps nowhere more graphically illustrated than in the segregation of TV channels along linguistic / cultural lines. These 3 programs all featured on MediaCorp TV’s predominantly English-language Channel 5 and are, in the words of Roland Barthes, “anchored” by dint of their use of English. Home Will Eat Itself The consumption of home-based sitcoms by audiences in their own living-rooms creates a somewhat self-parodying environment. As John Ellis once noted, it is difficult to escape from the notion that “TV is a profoundly domestic phenomenon” (113) in that it constantly attempts to “include the audiences own conception of themselves into the texture of its programmes” (115). In each of the three Singaporean programs living-rooms are designed to seat characters in front of a centrally located TV set – at most all the audience sees is the back of the TV, and generally only when the TV is incorporated into a storyline, as in the case of PCK in Figure 4 (note the TV set in the foreground). Figure 4: PCK Even in this episode of PCK when the lead characters stumble across a pornographic video starring one of the other lead characters, the viewer only hears the program. Perhaps the most realistic (and acerbic) view of how TV reorganises our lives – both spatially in the physical layout of our homes, and temporally in the way we construct our viewing habits (eating dinner or doing the housework while watching the screen) – is the British “black comedy”, The Royle Family. David Morley (443) notes that “TV and other media have adapted themselves to the circumstances of domestic consumption while the domestic arena itself has been simultaneously redefined to accommodate their requirements”. Morley refers to The Royle Family’s narrative that rests on the idea that “for many people, family life and watching TV have become indistinguishable to the extent that, in this fictional household, it is almost entirely conducted from the sitting positions of the viewers clustered around the set” (436). While TV is a central fixture in most sitcoms, its use is mostly as a peripheral thematic device with characters having their viewing interrupted by the arrival of another character, or by a major (within the realms of the plot) event. There is little to suggest that “television schedules have instigated a significant restructuring of family routines” as shown in Livingstone’s audience-based study of UK viewers (104). In the world of the sitcom, the temporalities of characters’ lives do not need to accurately reflect that of “real life” – or if they do, things quickly descend to the bleakness exemplified by the sedentary Royles. As Scannell notes, “broadcast output, like daily life, is largely uneventful, and both are punctuated (predictably and unpredictably) by eventful occasions” (4). To show sitcom characters in this static, passive environment would be anathema to the “real” viewer, who would quickly lose interest. This is not to suggest that sitcoms are totally benign though as with all genres they are “the outcome of social practices, received procedures that become objectified in the narratives of television, then modified in the interpretive act of viewing” (Taylor 14). In other words, they feature a contextualisation that is readily identifiable to members of an established society. However, within episodes themselves, it as though time stands still – character development is almost non-existent, or extremely slow at best and we see each episode has “flattened past and future into an eternal present in which parents love and respect one another, and their children forever” (Taylor 16). It takes some six seasons before the character of PCK becomes a father, although in previous seasons he acts as a mentor to his nephew, Aloysius. Contained in each episode, in true sitcom style, are particular “narrative lines” in which “one-liners and little comic situations [are] strung on a minimal plot line” containing a minor problem “the solution to which will take 22 minutes and pull us gently through the sequence of events toward a conclusion” (Budd et al. 111). It is important to note that the sitcom genre does not work in every culture, as each locale renders the sitcom with “different cultural meanings” (Nielsen 95). Writing of the failure of the Danish series Three Whores and a Pickpocket (with a premise like that, how could it fail?), Nielsen (112) attributes its failure to the mixing of “kitchen sink realism” with “moments of absurdity” and “psychological drama with expressionistic camera work”, moving it well beyond the strict mode of address required by the genre. In Australia, soap operas Home and Away and Neighbours have been infinitely more popular than our attempts at sitcoms – which had a brief heyday in the 1980s with Hey Dad..!, Kingswood Country and Mother and Son – although Kath and Kim (not studio-based) could almost be counted. Lichter et al. (11) state that “television entertainment can be ‘political’ even when it does not deal with the stuff of daily headlines or partisan controversy. Its latent politics lie in the unavoidable portrayal of individuals, groups, and institutions as a backdrop to any story that occupies the foreground”. They state that US television of the 1960s was dominated by the “idiot sitcom” and that “To appreciate these comedies you had to believe that social conventions were so ironclad they could not tolerate variations. The scripts assumed that any minute violation of social conventions would lead to a crisis that could be played for comic results” (15). Series like Happy Days “harked back to earlier days when problems were trivial and personal, isolated from the concerns of a larger world” (17). By the late 1980s, Roseanne and Married…With Children had “spawned an antifamily-sitcom format that used sarcasm, cynicism, and real life problems to create a type of in-your-face comedy heretofore unseen on prime time” (20). This is markedly different from the type of values presented in Singaporean sitcoms – where filial piety and an unrelenting faith in the family unit is sacrosanct. In this way, Singaporean sitcoms mirror the ideals of earlier US sitcoms which idealise the “egalitarian family in which parental wisdom lies in appeals to reason and fairness rather than demands for obedience” (Lichter et al. 406). Dahlgren notes that we are the products of “an ongoing process of the shaping and reshaping of identity, in response to the pluralised sets of social forces, cultural currents and personal contexts encountered by individuals” where we end up with “composite identities” (318). Such composite identities make the presentation (or re-presentation) of race problematic for producers of mainstream television. Wong argues that “Within the context of PAP hegemony, media presentation of racial differences are manufactured by invoking and resorting to traditional values, customs and practices serving as symbols and content” (118). All of this is bound within a classificatory system in which each citizen’s identity card is inscribed as Chinese, Malay, Indian or Other (often referred to as CMIO), and a broader social discourse in which “the Chinese are linked to familial values of filial piety and the practice of extended family, the Malays to Islam and rural agricultural activities, and the Indians to the caste system” (Wong 118). However, these sitcoms avoid directly addressing the issue of race, preferring to accentuate cultural differences instead. In UOR the tables are turned when a none-too-subtle dig at the crude nature of mainland Chinese (with gags about the state of public toilets), is soon turned into a more reverential view of Chinese culture and business acumen. Internal Visions of the Home This reverence for Chinese culture is also enacted visually. The loungeroom settings of these three sitcoms all provide examples of the fashioning of the nation through a “ubiquitous semi-visibility” (Noble 59). Not only are the central characters in each of these sitcoms constructed as ethnically Chinese, but the furnishings provide a visible nod to Chinese design in the lacquered screens, chairs and settees of LWL (see Figure 5.1), in the highly visible pair of black inlaid mother-of-pearl wall hangings of UOR (see Figure 5.2) and in the Chinese statuettes and wall-hangings found in the PCK home. Each of these items appears in the central view of the shows most used setting, the lounge/family room. There is often symmetry involved as well; the balanced pearl hangings of UOR are mirrored in a set of silk prints in LWL and the pair of ceramic Chinese lions in PCK. Figure 5.1: LWL Figure 5.2: UOR Thus, all three sitcoms feature design elements that reflect visible links to Chinese culture and sentiments, firmly locating the sitcoms “in Asia”, and providing a sense of the nation. The sets form an important role in constructing a realist environment, one in which “identification with realist narration involves a temporary merger of at least some of the viewer’s identity with the position offered by the text” (Budd et al. 110). These constant silent reminders of the Chinese-based hegemon – the cultural “majoritarianism” – anchors the sitcoms to a determined concept of the nation-state, and reinforces the “imaginative geographies of home” (Blunt and Dowling 247). The Foolish “Father” Figure in a Patriarchal Society But notions of a dominant Chinese culture are dealt with in a variety of ways in these sitcoms – not the least in a playful attitude toward patriarchal figures. In UOR, the Tan family “patriarch” is played by Moses Lim, in PCK, Gurmit Singh plays Phua and in LWL Samuel Chong plays Billy B. Ong (or, as Lydia mistakenly refers to him Billy Bong). Erica Sharrer makes the claim that class is a factor in presenting the father figure as buffoon, and that US sitcoms feature working class families in which “the father is made to look inept, silly, or incompetent have become more frequent” partly in response to changing societal structures where “women are shouldering increasing amounts of financial responsibility in the home” (27). Certainly in the three series looked at here, PCK (the tradesman) is presented as the most derided character in his role as head of the household. Moses Lim’s avuncular Tan Ah Teck is presented mostly as lovably foolish, even when reciting his long-winded moral tales at the conclusion of each episode, and Billy B. Ong, as a middle-class businessman, is presented more as a victim of circumstance than as a fool. Sharrer ponders whether “sharing the burden of bread-winning may be associated with fathers perceiving they are losing advantages to which they were traditionally entitled” (35). But is this really a case of males losing the upper hand? Hanke argues that men are commonly portrayed as the target of humour in sitcoms, but only when they “are represented as absurdly incongruous” to the point that “this discursive strategy recuperates patriarchal notions” (90). The other side of the coin is that while the “dominant discursive code of patriarchy might be undone” (but isn’t), “the sitcom’s strategy for containing women as ‘wives’ and ‘mothers’ is always contradictory and open to alternative readings” (Hanke 77). In Singapore’s case though, we often return to images of the women in the kitchen, folding the washing or agonising over the work/family dilemma, part of what Blunt and Dowling refer to as the “reproduction of patriarchal and heterosexist relations” often found in representations of “the ideal’ suburban home” (29). Eradicating Singlish One final aspect of these sitcoms is the use of language. PM Lee Hsien Loong once said that he had no interest in “micromanaging” the lives of Singaporeans (2004). Yet his two predecessors (PM Goh and PM Lee Senior) both reflected desires to do so by openly criticising the influence of Phua Chu Kang’s liberal use of colloquial phrases and phrasing. While the use of Singlish (or Singapore Colloquial English / SCE) in these sitcoms is partly a reflection of everyday life in Singapore, by taking steps to eradicate it through the Speak Good English movement, the government offers an intrusion into the private home-space of Singaporeans (Ho 17). Authorities fear that increased use of Singlish will damage the nation’s ability to communicate on a global basis, withdrawing to a locally circumscribed “pidgin English” (Rubdy 345). Indeed, the use of Singlish in UOR is deliberately underplayed in order to capitalise on overseas sales of the show (which aired, for example, on Australia’s SBS television) (Srilal). While many others have debated the Singlish issue, my concern is with its use in the home environment as representative of Singaporean lifestyles. As novelist Hwee Hwee Tan (2000) notes: Singlish is crude precisely because it’s rooted in Singapore’s unglamorous past. This is a nation built from the sweat of uncultured immigrants who arrived 100 years ago to bust their asses in the boisterous port. Our language grew out of the hardships of these ancestors. Singlish thus offers users the opportunity to “show solidarity, comradeship and intimacy (despite differences in background)” and against the state’s determined efforts to adopt the language of its colonizer (Ho 19-20). For this reason, PCK’s use of Singlish iterates a “common man” theme in much the same way as Paul Hogan’s “Ocker” image of previous decades was seen as a unifying feature of mainstream Australian values. That the fictional PCK character was eventually “forced” to take “English” lessons (a storyline rapidly written into the program after the direct criticisms from the various Prime Ministers), is a sign that the state has other ideas about the development of Singaporean society, and what is broadcast en masse into Singaporean homes. Conclusion So what do these home-based sitcoms tell us about Singaporean nationalism? Firstly, within the realms of a multiethnic society, mainstream representations reflect the hegemony present in the social and economic structures of Singapore. Chinese culture is dominant (albeit in an English-speaking environment) and Indian, Malay and Other cultures are secondary. Secondly, the home is a place of ontological security, and partial adornment with cultural ornaments signifying Chinese culture are ever-present as a reminder of the Asianness of the sitcom home, ostensibly reflecting the everyday home of the audience. The concept of home extends beyond the plywood-prop walls of the soundstage though. As Noble points out, “homes articulate domestic spaces to national experience” (54) through the banal nationalism exhibited in “the furniture of everyday life” (55). In a Singaporean context, Velayutham (extending the work of Morley) explores the comforting notion of Singapore as “home” to its citizens and concludes that the “experience of home and belonging amongst Singaporeans is largely framed in the materiality and social modernity of everyday life” (4). Through the use of sitcoms, the state is complicit in creating and recreating the family home as a site for national identities, adhering to dominant modes of culture and language. References Blunt, Alison, and Robyn Dowling. Home. London: Routledge, 2006. Budd, Mike, Steve Craig, and Clay Steinman. Consuming Environments: Television and Commercial Culture. New Jersey: Rutgers UP, 1999. Chang, Sishir. “A High-Rise Vernacular in Singapore’s Housing Development Board Housing.” Berkeley Planning Journal 14 (2000): 97-116. Chua, Beng Huat. “Public Housing Residents as Clients of the State.” Housing Studies 15.1 (2000). Dahlgren, Peter. “Media, Citizenship and Civic Culture”. Mass Media and Society. 3rd ed. Eds. James Curran and Michael Gurevitch. London: Arnold, 2000. 310-328. Ellis, John. Visible Fictions: Cinema, Television, Video. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1982. Hanke, Robert. “The ‘Mock-Macho’ Situation Comedy: Hegemonic Masculinity and its Reiteration.” Western Journal of Communication 62.1 (1998). Ho, Debbie G.E. “‘I’m Not West. I’m Not East. So How Leh?’” English Today 87 22.3 (2006). Lee, Hsien Loong. “Our Future of Opportunity and Promise.” National Day Rally 2004 Speech. 29 Apr. 2007 http://www.gov.sg/nd/ND04.htm>. Lichter, S. Robert, Linda S. Lichter, and Stanley Rothman. Prime Time: How TV Portrays American Culture. Washington D.C.: Regnery Publishing, 1994. Livingstone, Sonia. Young People and New Media: Childhood and the Changing Media Environment. London: Sage, 2002 Morley, David. “What’s ‘Home’ Got to Do with It? Contradictory Dynamics in the Domestication of Technology and the Dislocation of Domesticity.” European Journal of Cultural Studies 6 (2003). Noble, Greg. “Comfortable and Relaxed: Furnishing the Home and Nation.” Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies 16.1 (2002). Rubdy, Rani. “Creative Destruction: Singapore’s Speak Good English Movement.” World Englishes 20.3 (2001). Scannell, Paddy. “For a Phenomenology of Radio and Television.” Journal of Communication 45.3 (1995). Scharrer, Erica. “From Wise to Foolish: The Portrayal of the Sitcom Father, 1950s-1990s.” Journal of Broadcasting and Electronic Media 45.1 (2001). Srilal, Mohan. “Quick Quick: ‘Singlish’ Is Out in Re-education Campaign.” Asia Times Online (28 Aug. 1999). Tan, Hwee Hwee. “A War of Words over ‘Singlish’: Singapore’s Government Wants Its Citizens to Speak Good English, But They Would Rather Be ‘Talking Cock’.” Time International 160.3 (29 July 2002). Taylor, Ella. “From the Nelsons to the Huxtables: Genre and Family Imagery in American Network Television.” Qualitative Sociology 12.1 (1989). Velayutham, Selvaraj. “Affect, Materiality, and the Gift of Social Life in Singapore.” SOJOURN 19.1 (2004). Wong, Kokkeong. Media and Culture in Singapore: A Theory of Controlled Commodification. New Jersey: Hampton Press, 2001. Images Under One Roof: The Special Appearances. Singapore: Television Corporation of Singapore. VCD. 2000. Living with Lydia (Season 1, Volume 1). Singapore: MediaCorp Studios, Blue Max Enterprise. VCD. 2001. Phua Chu Kang Pte Ltd (Season 5, Episode 10). Kuala Lumpur: MediaCorp Studios, Speedy Video Distributors. VCD. 2003. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Pugsley, Peter. "At Home in Singaporean Sitcoms: Under One Roof, Living with Lydia and Phua Chu Kang." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/09-pugsley.php>. APA Style Pugsley, P. (Aug. 2007) "At Home in Singaporean Sitcoms: Under One Roof, Living with Lydia and Phua Chu Kang," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/09-pugsley.php>.

Purpose Black British minority ethnics (BME) students are nationally underachieving in comparison to their Ethnic Chinese and White peers, showing typically a 16 per cent graduate attainment gap in the UK. Previous research has suggested that the attainment gap could be explained by BME student disengagement, as the students typically commute from family home to University, and they work part time. However, peer-assisted learning (PAL) has been shown to have a positive impact on addressing and resolving student alienation and disengagement. However, a question still remains regarding whether student perceptions hold up to statistical analysis when scrutinised in comparison to similar cohorts without PAL interventions. The paper aims to discuss these issues. Design/methodology/approach This paper presents the results of a statistical study for two cohorts of students on engineering courses with a disproportionately high representation of BME students. The research method involved a statistical analysis of student records for the two cohorts to ascertain any effect of correlation between: PAL; student ethnicity; and student parental employment on student academic performance and placement attainment. Findings The results indicate that PAL has no significant impact on the academic performance; however, PAL has a positive impact on the placement/internship attainment for BME students and students from parental households with parents in non-managerial/professional employment. Research limitations/implications The research limitations are that the cohorts are small, but more equal diverse mix of different social categories than any other courses. However, as the cohorts are less than 30 students, comparing social categories the data sets are small to have absolute confidence in the statistical results of academic performance. Even the t-test has its limitations as the subjects are human, and there are multiple personal factors that can impact an individual academic performance; therefore, the data sets are heterostatic. Practical implications The results highlight that there is need for pedagogy interventions to support: ideally all BME students from all social categery to secure placements; BME students who are unable to go on placement to gain supplementary learning that has the same impact on their personal development and learning as placement/internship experience; and White students from managerial/professional family households to engage more in their studies. Social implications Not addressing and providing appropriate pedagogy interventions, in the wider context not addressing/resolving the BME academic and placement attainment gap, a set of students are being disadvantaged to their peers through no fault of their own, and compounding their academic attainment. As academics we have a duty to provide every opportunity to develop our student attainment, and as student entry is generally homogeneous, all students should attain it. Originality/value Previous research evaluation of PAL programmes has focused on quantitative students surveys and qualitative semi-structured research interviews with students on their student engagement and learning experience. On the other hand, this paper evaluates the intervention through conducting a quantitative statistical analysis of the student records to evaluate the impact of PAL on a cohort’s performance on different social categories (classifications) and compares the results to a cohort of another group with a similar student profile, but without PAL intervention implementation.

Abstract Background There is an ongoing discussion about incorporating additional risk factors to established WHO fracture risk assessment tool (FRAX) to improve the prediction accuracy in clinical subgroups. We aimed to reach an expert consensus on possible additional predictive parameters for specific clinical subgroups. Methods Two-round modified Delphi survey: We generated a shortlist of experts from the authors’ lists of the pertinent literature and complemented the list with experts known to the authors. Participants were asked to name possible relevant risk factors besides the FRAX-parameters for the occurrence of osteoporotic fractures. Experts specified these possible predictors for specific subgroups of patients. In the second round the expert panel was asked to weight each parameter of every subgroup assigning a number between one (not important) to ten (very important). We defined the threshold for an expert consensus if the interquartile range (IQR) of a predictor was ≤2. The cut-off value of the median attributed weights for a relevant predictor was set at ≥7. Results Eleven experts of seven countries completed both rounds of the Delphi. The participants agreed on nine additional parameters for seven categories. For the category “secondary osteoporosis”, “older adults” and “nursing home patients”, there was a consensus that history of previous falls was relevant, while for men and postmenopausal women, there was a consensus that the spine fracture status was important. For the group “primary and secondary osteoporosis” the experts agreed on the parameters “high risk of falls”, “lumbar spine bone mineral density (BMD)” and “sarcopenia”. Conclusion This Delphi survey reached a consensus on various parameters that could be used to refine the currently existing FRAX for specific clinical situations or patient groups. The results may be useful for studies aiming at improving the predictive properties of instruments for fracture prediction.

Barnacles that live attached to dynamic surfaces, particularly species that are epizoic with marine megafauna, draw benefit from their mobile homes through assistance with passive feeding and escape from predators. A moveable substratum may also offer positive cues for their settling larvae. In this study, we tested a technique for rearing in the laboratory, from larval stage to adult, a barnacle that associates with sea turtles, Chelonibia testudinaria. A dual-stage culturing system was devised, coupling circular tanks with rotating substrata to generate effects of flow and motion. A round-bottomed culturing vessel with gentle cyclical flow was used to raise larvae and then induce them to settle on revolving PVC pipes. The colonized pipes were then transferred to a separate tank for grow-out with continued rotation. Though settlement rates were low, the system proved valuable in obtaining the even distribution of a satisfactory number of juveniles across the pipes and in growing them in the laboratory for up to two years. This technique opens a variety of avenues of study for taxa that prefer or require a dynamic substratum.

Introduction It has frequently been noted that ICTs and social networking applications have blurred the once-clear boundary between work, leisure and entertainment, just as they have collapsed the distinction between public and private space. While each individual has a sense of what “home” means, both in terms of personal experience and more conceptually, the following three examples of online interaction (based on participants’ interest, or involvement, in activities traditionally associated with the home: pet care, craft and cooking) suggest that the utilisation of online communication technologies can lead to refined and extended definitions of what “home” is. These examples show how online communication can assist in meeting the basic human needs for love, companionship, shelter and food – needs traditionally supplied by the home environment. They also provide individuals with a considerably expanded range of opportunities for personal expression and emotional connection, as well as creative and commercial production, than that provided by the purely physical (and, no doubt, sometimes isolated and isolating) domestic environment. In this way, these case studies demonstrate the interplay and melding of physical and virtual “home” as domestic practices leach from the most private spaces of the physical home into the public space of the Internet (for discussion, see Gorman-Murray, Moss, and Rose). At the same time, online interaction can assert an influence on activity within the physical space of the home, through the sharing of advice about, and modeling of, domestic practices and processes. A Dog’s (Virtual) Life The first case study primarily explores the role of online communities in the formation and expression of affective values and personal identity – as traditionally happens in the domestic environment. Garber described the 1990s as “the decade of the dog” (20), citing a spate of “new anthropomorphic” (22) dog books, Internet “dog chat” sites, remakes of popular classics such as Lassie Come Home, dog friendly urban amenities, and the meteoric rise of services for pampered pets (28-9). Loving pets has become a lifestyle and culture, witnessed and commodified in Pet Superstores as well as in dog collectables and antiques boutiques, and in publications like The Bark (“the New Yorker of Dog Magazines”) and Clean Run, the international agility magazine, Website, online book store and information gateway for agility products and services. Available online resources for dog lovers have similarly increased rapidly during the decade since Garber’s book was published, with the virtual world now catering for serious hobby trainers, exhibitors and professionals as well as the home-based pet lover. At a recent survey, Yahoo Groups – a personal communication portal that facilitates social networking, in this case enabling users to set up electronic mailing lists and Internet forums – boasted just over 9,600 groups servicing dog fanciers and enthusiasts. The list Dogtalk is now an announcement only mailing list, but was a vigorous discussion forum until mid-2006. Members of Dogtalk were Australian-based “clicker-trainers”, serious hobbyist dog trainers, many of whom operated micro-businesses providing dog training or other pet-related services. They shared an online community, but could also engage in “flesh-meets” at seminars, conferences and competitive dog sport meets. An author of this paper (Rutherford) joined this group two years ago because of her interest in clicker training. Clicker training is based on an application of animal learning theory, particularly psychologist E. F. Skinner’s operant conditioning, so called because of the trademark use of a distinctive “click” sound to mark a desired behaviour that is then rewarded. Clicker trainers tend to dismiss anthropomorphic pack theory that positions the human animal as fundamentally opposed to non-human animals and, thus, foster a partnership (rather than a dominator) mode of social and learning relationships. Partnership and nurturance are common themes within the clicker community (as well as in more traditional “home” locations); as is recognising and valuing the specific otherness of other species. Typically, members regard their pets as affective equals or near-equals to the human animals that are recognised members of their kinship networks. A significant function of the episodic biographical narratives and responses posted to this list was thus to affirm and legitimate this intra-specific kinship as part of normative social relationship – a perspective that is not usually validated in the general population. One of the more interesting nexus that evolved within Dogtalk links the narrativisation of the pet in the domestic sphere with the pictorial genre of the family album. Emergent technologies, such as digital cameras together with Web-based image manipulation software and hosting (as provided by portals like Photobucket and Flickr ) democratise high quality image creation and facilitate the sharing of these images. Increasingly, the Dogtalk list linked to images uploaded to free online galleries, discussed digital image composition and aesthetics, and shared technical information about cameras and online image distribution. Much of this cultural production and circulation was concerned with digitally inscribing particular relationships with individual animals into cultural memory: a form of family group biography (for a discussion of the family photograph as a display of extended domestic space, see Rose). The other major non-training thread of the community involves the sharing and witnessing of the trauma suffered due to the illness and loss of pets. While mourning for human family members is supported in the off-line world – with social infrastructure, such as compassionate leave and/or bereavement counselling, part of professional entitlements – public mourning for pets is not similarly supported. Yet, both cultural studies (in its emphasis on cultural memory) and trauma theory have highlighted the importance of social witnessing, whereby traumatic memories must be narratively integrated into memory and legitimised by the presence of a witness in order to loosen their debilitating hold (Felman and Laub 57). Postings on the progress of a beloved animal’s illness or other misfortune and death were thus witnessed and affirmed by other Dogtalk list members – the sick or deceased pet becoming, in the process, a feature of community memory, not simply an individual loss. In terms of such biographical narratives, memory and history are not identical: “Any memories capable of being formed, retained or articulated by an individual are always a function of socially constituted forms, narratives and relations … Memory is always subject to active social manipulation and revision” (Halbwachs qtd. in Crewe 75). In this way, emergent technologies and social software provide sites, akin to that of physical homes, for family members to process individual memories into cultural memory. Dogzonline, the Australian Gateway site for purebred dog enthusiasts, has a forum entitled “Rainbow Bridge” devoted to textual and pictorial memorialisation of deceased pet dogs. Dogster hosts the For the Love of Dogs Weblog, in which images and tributes can be posted, and also provides links to other dog oriented Weblogs and Websites. An interesting combination of both therapeutic narrative and the commodification of affect is found in Lightning Strike Pet Loss Support which, while a memorial and support site, also provides links to the emerging profession of pet bereavement counselling and to suppliers of monuments and tributary urns for home or other use. loobylu and Narratives of Everyday Life The second case study focuses on online interactions between craft enthusiasts who are committed to the production of distinctive objects to decorate and provide comfort in the home, often using traditional methods. In the case of some popular craft Weblogs, online conversations about craft are interspersed with, or become secondary to, the narration of details of family life, the exploration of important life events or the recording of personal histories. As in the previous examples, the offering of advice and encouragement, and expressions of empathy and support, often characterise these interactions. The loobylu Weblog was launched in 2001 by illustrator and domestic crafts enthusiast Claire Robertson. Robertson is a toy maker and illustrator based in Melbourne, Australia, whose clients have included prominent publishing houses, magazines and the New York Public Library (Robertson “Recent Client List” online). She has achieved a measure of public recognition: her loobylu Weblog has won awards and been favourably commented upon in the Australian press (see Robertson “Press for loobylu” online). In 2005, an article in The Age placed Robertson in the context of a contemporary “craft revolution”, reporting her view that this “revolution” is in “reaction to mass consumerism” (Atkinson online). The hand-made craft objects featured in Robertson’s Weblogs certainly do suggest engagement with labour-intensive pursuits and the construction of unique objects that reject processes of mass production and consumption. In this context, loobylu is a vehicle for the display and promotion of Robertson’s work as an illustrator and as a craft practitioner. While skills-based, it also, however, promotes a family-centred lifestyle; it advocates the construction by hand of objects designed to enhance the appearance of the family home and the comfort of its inhabitants. Its specific subject matter extends to related aspects of home and family as, in addition to instructions, ideas and patterns for craft, the Weblog features information on commercially available products for home and family, recipes, child rearing advice and links to 27 other craft and other sites (including Nigella Lawson’s, discussed below). The primary member of its target community is clearly the traditional homemaker – the mother – as well as those who may aspire to this role. Robertson does not have the “celebrity” status of Lawson and Jamie Oliver (discussed below), nor has she achieved their market saturation. Indeed, Robertson’s online presence suggests a modest level of engagement that is placed firmly behind other commitments: in February 2007, she announced an indefinite suspension of her blog postings so that she could spend more time with her family (Robertson loobylu 17 February 2007). Yet, like Lawson and Oliver, Robertson has exploited forms of domestic competence traditionally associated with women and the home, and the non-traditional medium of the Internet has been central to her endeavours. The content of the loobylu blog is, unsurprisingly, embedded in, or an accessory to, a unifying running commentary on Robertson’s domestic life as a parent. Miles, who has described Weblogs as “distributed documentaries of the everyday” (66) sums this up neatly: “the weblogs’ governing discursive quality is the manner in which it is embodied within the life world of its author” (67). Landmark family events are narrated on loobylu and some attract deluges of responses: the 19 June 2006 posting announcing the birth of Robertson’s daughter Lily, for example, drew 478 responses; five days later, one describing the difficult circumstances of her birth drew 232 comments. All of these comments are pithy, with many being simple empathetic expressions or brief autobiographically based commentaries on these events. Robertson’s news of her temporary retirement from her blog elicited 176 comments that both supported her decision and also expressed a sense of loss. Frequent exclamation marks attest visually to the emotional intensity of the responses. By narrating aspects of major life events to which the target audience can relate, the postings represent a form of affective mass production and consumption: they are triggers for a collective outpouring of largely homogeneous emotional reaction (joy, in the case of Lily’s birth). As collections of texts, they can be read as auto/biographic records, arranged thematically, that operate at both the individual and the community levels. Readers of the family narratives and the affirming responses to them engage in a form of mass affirmation and consumerism of domestic experience that is easy, immediate, attractive and free of charge. These personal discourses blend fluidly with those of a commercial nature. Some three weeks after loobylu announced the birth of her daughter, Robertson shared on her Weblog news of her mastitis, Lily’s first smile and the family’s favourite television programs at the time, information that many of us would consider to be quite private details of family life. Three days later, she posted a photograph of a sleeping baby with a caption that skilfully (and negatively) links it to her daughter: “Firstly – I should mention that this is not a photo of Lily”. The accompanying text points out that it is a photo of a baby with the “Zaky Infant Sleeping Pillow” and provides a link to the online pregnancystore.com, from which it can be purchased. A quotation from the manufacturer describing the merits of the pillow follows. Robertson then makes a light-hearted comment on her experiences of baby-induced sleep-deprivation, and the possible consequences of possessing the pillow. Comments from readers also similarly alternate between the personal (sharing of experiences) to the commercial (comments on the product itself). One offshoot of loobylu suggests that the original community grew to an extent that it could support specialised groups within its boundaries. A Month of Softies began in November 2004, describing itself as “a group craft project which takes place every month” and an activity that “might give you a sense of community and kinship with other similar minded crafty types across the Internet and around the world” (Robertson A Month of Softies online). Robertson gave each month a particular theme, and readers were invited to upload a photograph of a craft object they had made that fitted the theme, with a caption. These were then included in the site’s gallery, in the order in which they were received. Added to the majority of captions was also a link to the site (often a business) of the creator of the object; another linking of the personal and the commercial in the home-based “cottage industry” sense. From July 2005, A Month of Softies operated through a Flickr site. Participants continued to submit photos of their craft objects (with captions), but also had access to a group photograph pool and public discussion board. This extension simulates (albeit in an entirely visual way) the often home-based physical meetings of craft enthusiasts that in contemporary Australia take the form of knitting, quilting, weaving or other groups. Chatting with, and about, Celebrity Chefs The previous studies have shown how the Internet has broken down many barriers between what could be understood as the separate spheres of emotional (that is, home-based private) and commercial (public) life. The online environment similarly enables the formation and development of fan communities by facilitating communication between those fans and, sometimes, between fans and the objects of their admiration. The term “fan” is used here in the broadest sense, referring to “a person with enduring involvement with some subject or object, often a celebrity, a sport, TV show, etc.” (Thorne and Bruner 52) rather than focusing on the more obsessive and, indeed, more “fanatical” aspects of such involvement, behaviour which is, increasingly understood as a subculture of more variously constituted fandoms (Jenson 9-29). Our specific interest in fandom in relation to this discussion is how, while marketers and consumer behaviourists study online fan communities for clues on how to more successfully market consumer goods and services to these groups (see, for example, Kozinets, “I Want to Believe” 470-5; “Utopian Enterprise” 67-88; Algesheimer et al. 19-34), fans regularly subvert the efforts of those urging consumer consumption to utilise even the most profit-driven Websites for non-commercial home-based and personal activities. While it is obvious that celebrities use the media to promote themselves, a number of contemporary celebrity chefs employ the media to construct and market widely recognisable personas based on their own, often domestically based, life stories. As examples, Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson’s printed books and mass periodical articles, television series and other performances across a range of media continuously draw on, elaborate upon, and ultimately construct their own lives as the major theme of these works. In this, these – as many other – celebrity chefs draw upon this revelation of their private lives to lend authenticity to their cooking, to the point where their work (whether cookbook, television show, advertisement or live chat room session with their fans) could be described as “memoir-illustrated-with-recipes” (Brien and Williamson). This generic tendency influences these celebrities’ communities, to the point where a number of Websites devoted to marketing celebrity chefs as product brands also enable their fans to share their own life stories with large readerships. Oliver and Lawson’s official Websites confirm the privileging of autobiographical and biographical information, but vary in tone and approach. Each is, for instance, deliberately gendered (see Hollows’ articles for a rich exploration of gender, Oliver and Lawson). Oliver’s hip, boyish, friendly, almost frantic site includes the what are purported-to-be self-revelatory “Diary” and “About me” sections, a selection of captioned photographs of the chef, his family, friends, co-workers and sponsors, and his Weblog as well as footage streamed “live from Jamie’s phone”. This self-revelation – which includes significant details about Oliver’s childhood and his domestic life with his “lovely girls, Jools [wife Juliette Norton], Poppy and Daisy” – completely blurs the line between private life and the “Jamie Oliver” brand. While such revelation has been normalised in contemporary culture, this practice stands in great contrast to that of renowned chefs and food writers such as Elizabeth David, Julia Child, James Beard and Margaret Fulton, whose work across various media has largely concentrated on food, cooking and writing about cooking. The difference here is because Oliver’s (supposedly private) life is the brand, used to sell “Jamie Oliver restaurant owner and chef”, “Jamie Oliver cookbook author and TV star”, “Jamie Oliver advertising spokesperson for Sainsbury’s supermarket” (from which he earns an estimated £1.2 million annually) (Meller online) and “Jamie Oliver social activist” (made MBE in 2003 after his first Fifteen restaurant initiative, Oliver was named “Most inspiring political figure” in the 2006 Channel 4 Political Awards for his intervention into the provision of nutritious British school lunches) (see biographies by Hildred and Ewbank, and Smith). Lawson’s site has a more refined, feminine appearance and layout and is more mature in presentation and tone, featuring updates on her (private and public) “News” and forthcoming public appearances, a glamorous selection of photographs of herself from the past 20 years, and a series of print and audio interviews. Although Lawson’s children have featured in some of her television programs and her personal misfortunes are well known and regularly commented upon by both herself and journalists (her mother, sister and husband died of cancer) discussions of these tragedies, and other widely known aspects of her private life such as her second marriage to advertising mogul Charles Saatchi, is not as overt as on Oliver’s site, and the user must delve to find it. The use of Lawson’s personal memoir, as sales tool, is thus both present and controlled. This is in keeping with Lawson’s professional experience prior to becoming the “domestic goddess” (Lawson 2000) as an Oxford graduated journalist on the Spectator and deputy literary editor of the Sunday Times. Both Lawson’s and Oliver’s Websites offer readers various ways to interact with them “personally”. Visitors to Oliver’s site can ask him questions and can access a frequently asked question area, while Lawson holds (once monthly, now irregularly) a question and answer forum. In contrast to this information about, and access to, Oliver and Lawson’s lives, neither of their Websites includes many recipes or other food and cooking focussed information – although there is detailed information profiling their significant number of bestselling cookbooks (Oliver has published 8 cookbooks since 1998, Lawson 5 since 1999), DVDs and videos of their television series and one-off programs, and their name branded product lines of domestic kitchenware (Oliver and Lawson) and foodstuffs (Oliver). Instruction on how to purchase these items is also featured. Both these sites, like Robertson’s, provide various online discussion fora, allowing members to comment upon these chefs’ lives and work, and also to connect with each other through posted texts and images. Oliver’s discussion forum section notes “this is the place for you all to chat to each other, exchange recipe ideas and maybe even help each other out with any problems you might have in the kitchen area”. Lawson’s front page listing states: “You will also find a moderated discussion forum, called Your Page, where our registered members can swap ideas and interact with each other”. The community participants around these celebrity chefs can be, as is the case with loobylu, divided into two groups. The first is “foodie (in Robertson’s case, craft) fans” who appear to largely engage with these Websites to gain, and to share, food, cooking and craft-related information. Such fans on Oliver and Lawson’s discussion lists most frequently discuss these chefs’ television programs and books and the recipes presented therein. They test recipes at home and discuss the results achieved, any problems encountered and possible changes. They also post queries and share information about other recipes, ingredients, utensils, techniques, menus and a wide range of food and cookery-related matters. The second group consists of “celebrity fans” who are attracted to the chefs (as to Robertson as craft maker) as personalities. These fans seek and share biographical information about Oliver and Lawson, their activities and their families. These two areas of fan interest (food/cooking/craft and the personal) are not necessarily or always separated, and individuals can be active members of both types of fandoms. Less foodie-orientated users, however (like users of Dogtalk and loobylu), also frequently post their own auto/biographical narratives to these lists. These narratives, albeit often fragmented, may begin with recipes and cooking queries or issues, but veer off into personal stories that possess only minimal or no relationship to culinary matters. These members also return to the boards to discuss their own revealed life stories with others who have commented on these narratives. Although research into this aspect is in its early stages, it appears that the amount of public personal revelation either encouraged, or allowed, is in direct proportion to the “open” friendliness of these sites. More thus are located in Oliver’s and less in Lawson’s, and – as a kind of “control” in this case study, but not otherwise discussed – none in that of Australian chef Neil Perry, whose coolly sophisticated Website perfectly complements Perry’s professional persona as the epitome of the refined, sophisticated and, importantly in this case, unapproachable, high-end restaurant chef. Moreover, non-cuisine related postings are made despite clear directions to the contrary – Lawson’s site stating: “We ask that postings are restricted to topics relating to food, cooking, the kitchen and, of course, Nigella!” and Oliver making the plea, noted above, for participants to keep their discussions “in the kitchen area”. Of course, all such contemporary celebrity chefs are supported by teams of media specialists who selectively construct the lives that these celebrities share with the public and the postings about others’ lives that are allowed to remain on their discussion lists. The intersection of the findings reported above with the earlier case studies suggests, however, that even these most commercially-oriented sites can provide a fruitful data regarding their function as home-like spaces where domestic practices and processes can be refined, and emotional relationships formed and fostered. In Summary As convergence results in what Turow and Kavanaugh call “the wired homestead”, our case studies show that physically home-based domestic interests and practices – what could be called “home truths” – are also contributing to a refiguration of the private/public interplay of domestic activities through online dialogue. In the case of Dogtalk, domestic space is reconstituted through virtual spaces to include new definitions of family and memory. In the case of loobylu, the virtual interaction facilitates a development of craft-based domestic practices within the physical space of the home, thus transforming domestic routines. Jamie Oliver’s and Nigella Lawson’s sites facilitate development of both skills and gendered identities by means of a bi-directional nexus between domestic practices, sites of home labour/identity production and public media spaces. As participants modify and redefine these online communities to best suit their own needs and desires, even if this is contrary to the stated purposes for which the community was instituted, online communities can be seen to be domesticated, but, equally, these modifications demonstrate that the activities and relationships that have traditionally defined the home are not limited to the physical space of the house. While virtual communities are “passage points for collections of common beliefs and practices that united people who were physically separated” (Stone qtd in Jones 19), these interactions can lead to shared beliefs, for example, through advice about pet-keeping, craft and cooking, that can significantly modify practices and routines in the physical home. Acknowledgments An earlier version of this paper was presented at the Association of Internet Researchers’ International Conference, Brisbane, 27-30 September 2006. 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The Wired Homestead: An MIT Press Sourcebook on the Internet and the Family. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Brien, Donna Lee, Leonie Rutherford, and Rosemary Williamson. "Hearth and Hotmail: The Domestic Sphere as Commodity and Community in Cyberspace." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/10-brien.php>. APA Style Brien, D., L. Rutherford, and R. Williamson. (Aug. 2007) "Hearth and Hotmail: The Domestic Sphere as Commodity and Community in Cyberspace," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/10-brien.php>.

The City of Myrtle Beach (South Carolina, USA) initiated a three-phase plan for beach restoration in the 1980s: Phase 1 — small-scale beach scraping; Phase 2 — mediumscale nourishment by trucks using inland sand; and Phase 3 — large-scale nourishment by dredge using offshore sand. Phases 1 and 2 were locally funded and served as interim measures (1981-1996) until a 50-year federal project could be constructed (1997 to present). In the course of this work, the city pioneered several approaches to beach management and became a model for the state. These include: the prototype SC beach survey program; the profile volume method for determining shorelines in the presence of seawalls, which was codified in the Beach Management Act (BMA) of 1988; the first locally funded nourishment (1986-1987) and FEMA-funded postdisaster renourishment after Hurricane Hugo 1989-1990; and the first surveys of offshore deposits for nourishment. Before restoration, nearly 65% of the 9-mile (14.5 kilometer) oceanfront was armored with seawalls, bulkheads, and revetments (1981). After nourishment, erosion control structures are now buried and fronted by a vegetated storm berm, while a wider beach accommodates millions of visitors each year. Total volumes and adjusted costs of nourishment from 1986 to early 2018 are 4,997,201 cubic yards (3,820,360 m3) and ~$70.8 million ($2018), respectively. On a unit annual beach length basis, the cost of beach restoration and improvement has averaged $46.80 per one foot of shoreline per year (~$153.50/m/yr) ($2018). Oceanfront property values on a unit length of shoreline basis presently range from ~$15,000/ft (~$49,200/m) for single-family homes to ~$75,000/ft (~$250,000/m) for high-rise buildings, suggesting that beach maintenance has cost well under 0.5% of oceanfront property values per year. Sand loss rates have averaged ~0.8 cy/ft/yr (2.0 m3/m/yr), and the rate of nourishment has been more than adequate to keep up with the ~0.37 ft (0.11 m) sea level rise between 1980 and 2018.

In finding patriarchal oppression in linear narratives, early Second Wave feminist writers like Hélène Cixous, Julia Kristeva, and Luce Irigaray opposed biologically based Freudian theories that claimed the feminine was grounded in a certain essence of male-ness and female-ness. Cixous’ advocacy of écriture féminine includes her critique of traditional narrative, which she claims is structured by a sexual opposition that “has always worked for man’s profit to the point of reducing writing . . . to his laws” (883). Specifically in terms of cinema, the focus of this paper, Laura Mulvey finds similar oppression in filmic linear narratives. For her, the avant-garde’s near limitless possibilities can break this power, thus freeing “the look of the camera into its materiality in time and space and the look of the audience into dialectics and passionate detachment” (47). Similarly, Steve Neale’s “Masculinity as Spectacle: Reflections on Men and Mainstream Cinema,” where he theorizes about placing the male body under the erotic gaze, remains immersed in a discourse on linear narrative. Some pornography theorists like Richard Dyer slightly eschew the overall plot-based notion of narrative by using the visible male orgasm as the structuring device, creating something of a narrative of ejaculation. Specifically, I am referring to Dyer’s “Idol thoughts: orgasm and self-reflexivity in gay pornography” where he states that cumming “brings the linear narrative drive that structures porn to a clear climax and end” (192). This emphasis on the male orgasm is also a tool used by some anti-porn feminists to read male-supremacy into (heterosexual) porn. Linda Williams, however, is quick to show that the money shot “is after all only male orgasm” which “can also be seen as the very limit of the visual representation of sexual pleasure,” countering some anti-porn arguments of pornography vis-à-vis the recorded male orgasm (Hard Core 101, author’s emphasis). Yet this too comes from an ever-present formalist tradition of film theory that reads meaning almost exclusively on the screen, maintaining the notion that porn is viewed as standard, commercial movies are, a notion that hardly seems thorough enough to account for the particulars of porn spectatorship. (Subsequently, Williams explores patterns of consumption in a later article entitled “Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess,” an article which I will discuss in more detail below.) With specific attention to pornography’s effects on viewers, Andrea Dworkin and Catharine A. MacKinnon were successful in getting certain municipalities to pass legislation banning pornography based on the detriments of the genre. (For further explanation of their position, please see the Minneapolis, Minnesota and Indianapolis, Indiana city council meeting transcripts in their book In Harm’s Way: The Pornography Civil Rights.) Although the courts subsequently struck down this legislation, MacKinnon explained some of her reasoning in “Sexuality” where she asked important questions of (heterosexual) pornography’s defining woman in terms of what (heterosexual) male viewers find erotic, and her account of this definition’s role in terms of power seems fairly accurate. “Sexual meaning is not made only, or even primarily, by words and in texts. It is made in social relations of power in the world, through which process gender is also produced” (160). Yet because her argument is grounded in heterosexual porn, I must question some of her conclusions about “man” as a collective gender. In other words, do the erotics of gay porn still define woman as “what male desire requires for arousal and satisfaction and is totally tautologous with ‘female sexuality’ and ‘the female sex’” (161)? Or does man—at least in part—now fall into this category, thus disrupting the strict binaries of male and female sexuality? MacKinnon does bring in issues of same-sex desire, and her effort at inclusion should be commended. Her understanding of male-male sex, however, remains wed to the idea that dominance and submission are still defining characteristics, and that these characteristics reinforce the masculine:feminine binary, presumably in terms of sexual positioning, thus eliminating variance within male-male desire. The sum total of this is that many gender-based understandings of narrative are too closely tied to formalism, and much theory that questions the positioning of viewers—via feminist theory or otherwise—fails to account for variety within audiences. Porn theorists can use texts like Bel Ami’s Frisky Summer 1: Best Friends to correct the subtracting of marginalized groups by studying the technological characteristics of DVDs in the domestic sphere. And studying these features will allow for more in depth inquiries about geographies of consumption, a category in need of expansion for all of porn studies, not just gay porn. John Champagne favors this type of culturally-minded analysis of gay porn, focusing on consumption practices within the geographic spaces of gay porn theatres/arcades in his “‘Stop Reading Films!’: Film Studies, Close Analysis, and Gay Pornography.” Here, Champagne claims that close analyses of films of any genre act as a gatekeeper for film studies, suggesting that, through formalism, film theorists are able to ward off intrusions from other disciplines (like queer studies), preserve the film text as a privileged site of knowledge, and ensure their own place of authority (79). With regard to gay porn, Champagne claims that these acts of self-preservation film theorists perform when doing close analysis contain any perceived threat that gay porn and the gay porn theatre/arcade present. “In its psychoanalytically inflected variant in particular, it [film studies] uses close analysis to diagnose the desire of (homo)sexualized spectators, a desire it thinks it already knows and can recognize” (77). Offering the gay porn theatre/arcade as a more appropriate location for examination, Champagne aims “to understand the porno film viewing experience as part of a larger set of cultural and social rituals and practices” rather than studying it as simply another filmmaking practice (81). Going hand-in-glove with Champagne’s rejection of close analysis as a tool for porn studies, Linda Williams suggests that pornography—gay, lesbian, straight, or otherwise—is a “body genre,” defining this in terms of its desire to cause a bodily reaction (“Film Bodies” 3). In other words, porn wants to get the viewer off. Champagne’s transferring the emphasis from the text to the spectator is very appropriate for a cultural/social investigation into gay porn because of porn’s encoded desires to cause this bodily reaction. (Similarly, work could be done on the video rental store where consumption of pornography—i.e., renting a movie—could be the pretext for a desired sexual encounter.) Yet by focusing so tightly on the theatre/arcade, Champagne misses the opportunity to bridge textual analysis with consumption practices as they are acted out in the home viewing experience. I, as the home viewer, am allowed more control over the text than the theatre/arcade patron. Champagne describes a machine found in some porn theatres/arcades that cycles through movies, showing brief clips from specific scenes as a preview of what the patron could watch (86). Beyond that, the theatre/arcade patron has little control over pausing, rewinding, or fast-forwarding the film. DVDs, on the other hand, can be viewed non-linearly, something beyond comparison for theatre/arcade patrons and even exceeding what VHS offers. This ability of DVD to turn just about any porn film into a compilation movie infuses far more control over the text than ever before. Because of the overwhelming popularity of home consumption and the ever-expanding DVD market, porn research must account for these newer strategies of consumption. Like most mainstream DVDs, porn DVDs are divided into individual “chapters,” with porn DVDs usually featuring one sex scene at a time, thus acting similarly to the machine Champagne describes. The Frisky Summer DVD is divided into six chapters representing the six sex scenes, but after selecting, say, chapter 6—Ion Davidov and Johan Paulik—the DVD offers sub-chapter options of “play chapter,” “foreplay,” “oral,” “anal,” and “orgasms,” as written on the screen. By beginning with chapter six, the final scene/chapter, I am not missing vital information to understanding what will be present in this final scene because, as a body genre, the film is trying to cause a bodily reaction, trying to produce my orgasm, not necessarily needing me to follow a linear plot. In other words, what happens in chapter 1—Ion Davidov’s sex scene with Daniel Valent—has no bearing on the visceral pleasure of chapter 6. In fact, porn DVDs like Frisky Summer provide the pieces for me to construct my own sequences that meet my visceral desires. But we shouldn’t completely disregard formalist film theory because one of the offered pieces is the film as “sequenced” by the filmmakers. After all, following characters/actors from encounter to encounter could help drive the orgasmic pleasure for some viewers or possibly even satisfy other visual interests unintended by the filmmakers. Separating home porn consumption from other forms of domestic cinema consumption is that porn filmmakers must expect their product to be seen in fragments, illustrating their knowledge of porn viewer behavior. Furthermore, dividing the film into not only the individual sex scenes but also the types of sex featured in that scene suggests that the home viewer is not interested in watching the movie form beginning to end because porn’s true goal of viewer orgasm can be met more efficiently by watching a specific sexual act. Jumping right to, say, the anal sex in chapter six allows me to construct a meta-narrative that both defies the diegetic story offered by the filmmakers yet complies with the genre’s, and therefore, the filmmakers’ larger goal to produce my orgasm. And with my orgasm, the narrative truly comes to an end because, shortly after, I will presumably press stop, thus ending the diegetic narrative at a fairly random place, yet ending the meta-narrative of consumption at its standard and expected post-orgasmic conclusion. Underlining the specificity of the particular sexual act within the sex scene is that, after selecting the anal sex moments between Ion and Johan, the film does not continue on to their orgasms despite this being the next moment in the linear action. Rather, the DVD returns me to the sex act menu within their chapter, allowing me to watch the anal sex again, pick a different type of sex, or return to the chapter menu to pick a different set of actors. With these options of sexual acts within sex scenes, the filmmakers recognize both that I am not necessarily interested in watching the film from beginning to end and that even watching an entire sexual sequence could be more than I want. Furthermore, returning to the menu instead of continuing with the scene as the filmmakers’ edited it suggests that I might never want to see the actor’s orgasms anyway, challenging the formalist importance of the cum shot. An interesting note to consider with this is the time limitation selecting a specific sexual act places on the viewer. The anal sex sequence between Ion and Johan lasts 3:27. This does not guarantee the viewer enough time to reach an orgasm, a fact that appears to counter the film’s body genre qualities. Yet limited time actually results in viewer control. If 3:27 isn’t enough time to orgasm, the film’s return to the sub-chapter menu demands the viewer exercise power over the text by re-watching, rewinding, pausing, or “slow-motioning” the sequence. While the film could at one point be working against my ejaculation, it nevertheless demands that I control the text. Grounding gender-based theories on formalist traditions of narrative and heterosexist notions of spectatorship create a structured absence of marginalized sexual identities in non-linear narrative film viewing. Although my comments on this subscribe to a somewhat limited/“vanilla” idea of solo masturbation by self-identified gay men watching gay porn at home, they should be viewed as a starting point for future research that examines all forces being enacted upon porn viewers. Specifically, we can use this idea of pleasure being found between the text and the orgasm to look at both female and straight male pleasures of their using gay male porn. This middle ground between production and consumption is where I place the structuring device of gay male porn viewed by gay men and should be considered in future studies. References Champagne, John. “‘Stop Reading Films!: Film Studies, Close Analysis, and Gay Pornography.” Cinema Journal 36.4 (Summer 1997): 76-97. Cixous, Hélène. “The Laugh of the Medusa.” Trans. Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen. Signs 1.4 (Summer 1976): 875-893. Dyer, Richard. “Idol thoughts: orgasm and self-reflexivity in gay pornography.” The Culture of Queers. London: Routledge, 2002. 187-203. Frisky Summer 1: Best Friends. DVD. Dir. George Duroy. With Ion Davidov and Johan Paulik. Bel Ami, 1995. 87 min. MacKinnon, Catharine A. “Sexuality.” The Second Wave: A Reader in Feminist Theory. Ed. Linda Nicholson. New York: Routledge, 1997. 158-180. MacKinnon, Catharine A., and Andrea Dworkin, eds. In Harm’s Way: The Pornography Civil Rights Hearings. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard UP, 1997. Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Feminism and Film. Ed. E. Ann Kaplan. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000. 34-47. Neale, Steve. “Masculinity as Spectacle: Reflections on Men and Mainstream Cinema.” Feminism and Film. Ed. E. Ann Kaplan. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000. 253-264. Williams, Linda. “Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess.” Film Quarterly 44.4 (Summer 1991): 2-13. —-. Hard Core: Power, Pleasure, and the “Frenzy of the Visible”. Rev. ed. Berkeley: Univ. of Cal. Press, 1999. MLA Style Bolton, Michael C. "Cumming to an End: The Male Orgasm and Domestic Consumption of Gay Pornography." M/C Journal 7.4 (2004). 10 October 2004 <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0410/08_cumming.php>. APA Style Bolton, M. (2004 Oct 11). Cumming to an End: The Male Orgasm and Domestic Consumption of Gay Pornography, M/C Journal 7(4). Retrieved Oct 10 2004 from <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0410/08_cumming.php>

Educational Psychology is one of the subjects that help Pedagogy, since it corresponds to a branch of Psychology that discusses principles and psychological theories directed to teaching methods. To do so, it composes the curriculum of the Pedagogy degree, addressing the numerous dimensions of psychological development as well as the teaching and learning process, with the purpose of employing them as necessary subsidies for teacher training, and their performance. Therefore, the pivotal aim of the research is to analyze the contents covered in the subjects of Psychology in the courses of Pedagogy of the State Public Universities of Paraná and the perception of the undergraduate students in Pedagogy of one of the researched universities about the mentioned subject. With the analysis of the School Summary, it was noticed that there is no standard between the universities regarding the time and the nomination of the subjects, as well as the contents referring to the teaching of Educational Psychology. Through the results, it was possible to identify that the academics understand the importance of the subject of Educational Psychology for teacher education, although the workload is considered insufficient to cover the psychological theories related to Education and, even more, it was evidenced the lack of articulation between theory and practice in the discipline.ResumoA Psicologia da Educação é uma das disciplinas que auxilia a Pedagogia, uma vez que corresponde a um ramo da Psicologia que discute princípios e teorias psicológicas voltados aos métodos de ensino. Para tanto, compõe a grade curricular do curso de Pedagogia, abordando as inúmeras dimensões do desenvolvimento psicológico bem como do processo de ensino e de aprendizagem, com a finalidade de empregá-los como subsídios necessários à formação de professores e à sua atuação. Diante do exposto, o objetivo geral da pesquisa consiste em analisar os conteúdos abordados nas disciplinas de Psicologia nos cursos de Pedagogia das Universidades Públicas Estaduais do Paraná e a percepção das acadêmicas do curso de Licenciatura em Pedagogia, de uma das universidades pesquisadas, sobre a referida disciplina. Com a análise dos ementários, percebeu-se que não existe um padrão entre as universidades no tocante à carga horária e à nominação das disciplinas, bem como dos conteúdos referentes ao ensino de Psicologia da Educação. A partir dos resultados, identificou-se que as acadêmicas compreendem a importância da disciplina de Psicologia da Educação para a formação docente, ainda que a carga horária seja considerada insuficiente para abarcar as teorias psicológicas relacionadas à Educação; evidenciou-se, ainda, a ausência da articulação entre teoria e prática na disciplina.ResuménLa Psicología de la Educación es una de las asignaturas que ayudan a la Pedagogía, una vez que corresponde a una rama de la Psicología que trata principios y teorías psicológicas dirigidas a los métodos de enseñanza. Para ello, compone la rejilla curricular del curso de Pedagogía, abordando las innumerables dimensiones del desarrollo psicológico así como del proceso de enseñanza y de aprendizaje, con la finalidad de emplearlos como subsidios necesarios a la formación de profesores, y a su actuación. El objetivo general de la investigación consiste en analizar los contenidos abordados en las disciplinas de Psicología en los cursos de Pedagogía de las Universidades Públicas Estaduales de Paraná y la percepción de las académicas del curso de Licenciatura en Pedagogía, de una universidad del norte del estado, sobre el tema, el encaminamiento de la asignatura. Con el análisis de los eminentes, se percibió que no hay un estándar entre las universidades en cuanto a la carga horaria y la nominación de las disciplinas, así como de los contenidos referentes a la enseñanza de Psicología de la Educación. A partir de los resultados, se identificó que las académicas comprenden la importancia de la disciplina de Psicología de la Educación para la formación docente, aunque la carga horaria sea considerada insuficiente para abarcar las teorías psicológicas relacionadas a la Educación; se evidenció, además, la ausencia de la articulación entre teoría y práctica en la disciplina.Keywords: Pedagogy, Educational psychology, Psychology teaching.Palavras-chave: Pedagogia, Psicologia da educação, Ensino de psicologia.Palabras clave: Pedagogía, Psicología de la educación, Enseñanza de psicología.ReferencesALMEIDA, P. C. A. Discutindo a relação professor-licenciado e aluno-adolescente à luz da formação em psicologia. In: AZZI, R. G.; BATISTA, S. H. S. S.; SADALLA, A. M. F. A. Formação de professores: discutindo o ensino de psicologia. Campinas: Alínea, 2000, p.97-118.ASSOCIAÇÃO PSICOLÓGICA AMERICANA. Dicionário de Psicologia. Porto Alegre: Artmed, 2010.BOCK, A. M. B; FURTADO, O.; TEIXEIRA, M. de L. T. Psicologias: uma introdução ao estudo de psicologia. São Paulo: Editora Saraiva, 2001.BOCK, A. M. B. A Psicologia no Brasil. In: Psicologia: Ciência e Profissão. Brasília, v. 30, n. especial, Dec. 2010. p. 246-271. Disponível em: http://www.scielo.br/scielo.php?script=sci_arttext&pid=S1414-98932010000500013&lng=en&nrm=iso. Acesso em: 25 out. 2017.BRASIL. Decreto-Lei nº1190 de 04/04/1939. Disponível em: http://www.planalto.gov.br/ccivil_03/decreto-lei/1937-1946/Del1190.htm. Acesso em 28 out. 2017.BRASIL. Conselho Nacional de Educação. Define as Diretrizes Curriculares Nacionais para a formação inicial em nível superior (cursos de licenciatura, cursos de formação pedagógica para graduados e cursos de segunda licenciatura) e para a formação continuada. Resolução CNE/CP n. 02/2015, de 1º de julho de 2015. Brasília, Diário Oficial [da] República Federativa do Brasil, seção 1, n. 124, p. 8-12, 02 de julho de 2015. Disponível em: http://pesquisa.in.gov.br/imprensa/jsp/visualiza/index.jsp?data=02/07/2015&jornal=1&pagina=1&totalArquivos=72. Acesso em 28 out. 2017.CARRAHER, T. N. Aprender pensando: contribuições da psicologia cognitiva para a educação. 11. ed. Petrópolis: Vozes, 1997.CARRARA, K. (Org.). Introdução à Psicologia da Educação: seis abordagens. São Paulo: Avercamp, 2004.GATTI, B. A estrutura e dinâmica das licenciaturas: problemas antigos, alternativas e o papel da psicologia da educação. Psicologia da Educação. São Paulo. Revista do programa de estudos pós graduados, n. 1, nov. 1995. p. 21-33.GUERRA, C. T. Conhecimento psicológico e formação de professores. In: AZZI, R. G.; BATISTA, S. H. S. S.; SADALLA, A. M. F. A. (Org.). Formação de professores: discutindo o ensino de psicologia. Campinas: Alinea, 2000. p. 69-96.GUERRA, C. T. O ensino de psicologia na formação inicial de professores - constituição de conhecimentos sobre aprendizagem e desenvolvimento por estudantes de licenciatura. 2003. Tese (Doutorado) – Universidade Estadual de Campinas. Campinas: São Paulo, 2003.LAROCCA, P. Psicologia e prática pedagógica: o processo de reflexão de uma professora. 2002. Tese de Doutorado em Educação – Faculdade de Educação, Universidade Estadual de Campinas, Campinas, 2002.LEONARDO, N. S. T.; SILVA, V. G. A relação entre aprendizagem e desenvolvimento na compreensão de professores do Ensino Fundamental. Revista Semestral da Associação Brasileira de Psicologia Escolar e Educacional (ABRAPEE), São Paulo, v. 17, n. 2, 2013. p. 309-317. Disponível em: http://www.scielo.br/pdf/pee/v17n2/v17n2a13.pdf. Acesso em 28 set. 2017.LIBÂNEO, J. C. Psicologia educacional: uma avaliação crítica. In: SILVIA, T. M. L.; CODO, W. Psicologia social: o homem em movimento. São Paulo: Brasiliense, 2004.LIBÂNEO, J. C. Pedagogia e pedagogos, para quê? 12 ed. São Paulo: Cortez, 2010.MORAES, R. Uma tempestade de luz: a compreensão possibilitada pela análise textual discursiva. Ciência & Educação, v. 9, n. 2, 2003. p. 191-211.PARANÁ. Lei Complementar nº. 103/04. Plano de Carreira dos Professores. Publicado no Diário Oficial nº. 6687 de 15/03/2004.PARANÁ. Planos de Ensino do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Paraná. Campus de Apucarana. 2017. Disponível em: http://www.fecea.br/userfiles/planos%20de%20ensino%20pedagogia%202017.pdf. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual de Londrina. 2010. Disponível em: http://www.uel.br/ceca/pedagogia/pages/arquivos/Ementas pedagogia matutino e noturno.pdf. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Centro-Oeste. Campus de Irati e Guarapuava. 2009. Disponível em: https://www2.unicentro.br/proen/files/2017/12/PEDAGOGIA-I-2009.pdf?x34126. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Oeste. Campus de Cascavel. 2002. Disponível em: http://www.unioeste.br/cursos/cascavel/pedagogia/. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Norte do Paraná. Campus de Cornélio Procópio. 2011. Disponível em:https://www.uenp.edu.br/pedagogia-ementas. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Norte do Paraná. Campus de Jacarezinho. 2010. Disponível em: https://www.uenp.edu.br/pedagogia-cj-ementas. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Oeste. Campus de Foz do Iguaçu. 2015. Disponível em: http://www.unioeste.br/campi/foz/foz-pedagogia.asp. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Oeste. Campus de Francisco Beltrão. 2016. Disponível em: http://www.unioeste.br/campi/beltrao/bel-pedagogia.asp. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual do Paraná. Campus de União da Vitória. 2008. Disponível em: http://uniaodavitoria.unespar.edu.br/ensino/graduacao/pedagogia. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Projeto Político-Pedagógico do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual de Ponta Grossa. Campus de Ponta Grossa. 2013. Disponível em: http://www3.uepg.br/pedagogia/ppc/. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Resolução 128/2013-CI-CCH. Universidade Estadual de Maringá. Modalidade de Educação à Distância. 2013. Disponível em: http://portal.nead.uem.br/site/img/_9NU_files/docs/128_13.pdf. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Ementa do Curso de Pedagogia. Universidade Estadual de Maringá. Campus de Maringá e Cianorte. 2009. Disponível em: http://sites.uem.br/pen/deg/apoio-aos-colegiados-aco/documentos/cursos-1/cursos/pedagogia-matutino-noturno. Acesso em 29 set. 2017.PARANÁ. Secretaria de Estado da Educação. Edital de concurso para pedagogos nº. 037/2007. 2004.PARANÁ, Secretaria Estadual de Educação. Caminhos Pedagógicos em Foco I. Cornélio Procópio: setembro de 2017.SALA, E. M.; GOÑI, J. O. As teorias da aprendizagem escolar. In: COLL, C. Psicologia do ensino. Porto Alegre: Artmed, 2000.SALVADOR, C. C. Concepções e tendências atuais em psicologia da educação. In: COLL, C. et. al. Psicologia da Educação Escolar. Coleção Desenvolvimento Psicológico e Educação. 2 ed. São Paulo: Artmed, 2004.TONUS, K. P.; RODRIGUES, M. A. C. Psicologia e Educação: aproximação e apropriação. 2009. 184f. Tese (Doutorado em Educação Escolar) – Universidade Estadual Paulista, Faculdade de Ciências e Letras, Araraquara, 2009. Disponível em: http://livros01.livrosgratis.com.br/cp106300.pdf. Acesso em: 28 out 2017.VEIGA, F. Psicologia da Educação. In: VEIGA, F. H. (Coord.). Psicologia da educação: teoria, investigação e aplicação: envolvimento dos alunos na escola. Lisboa: Climepsi Editora, 2013.

She lies helpless and fragmented, limbs leaden with story, forced ever further into herself by the viscous shame that suffocates and disables her. Fleshed lips cling to each other, tongue recoils from the sharp taste of the narrative of her body. Within the impotent portal of her mouth, her story sits, an impenetrable oral hymen. — Brenda DowningRape is, without doubt, a catastrophic experience.When rape is experienced in childhood and is also silenced, it can have devastating consequences that carry through to adulthood.In what ways then can the catastrophic memory of silenced childhood rape be coaxed from its hiding place in the female body? How is it possible to make the transition from silenced experience to public articulation? Can creativity fill the body with courage in the face of helplessness and create breath in the suffocating and silencing space of the aftermath? Can creativity help facilitate the personal expression of muted experience?In this paper we will each reflect on the complexities and enabling capacities of the creative and collaborative processes present when negotiating the landscape between the private memory of silenced childhood rape and public articulation and performance. Brenda will retrace the steps of her academic research. She will identify two paths that have taken her from personal and social silence to public voice, and the articulation of her embodied trauma experience through differing modes of creative expression. Alice will reflect on the ways in which preparing Brenda for the journey from articulation and expression to public performance sometimes required moments of freefall full of risk yet also full of creative forces. Images from Brenda’s solo performance aperture will accompany these reflections. aperture is a companion piece to Brenda’s doctoral research and is the creative result of our collaboration.BrendaIn 2008, I completed my feminist and autoethnographic Honours research. This work explored the multiple and significant ramifications of my silenced and silencing experience of childhood rape. Commencing this research as a mature aged woman inevitably involved a movement back through time to revisit 1971, the year of my rape experience, gathering recollections of the aftermath along the way. My memories of the events of that year, folded tight within me since I was eleven years old and enveloped in a shroud of secrecy for decades, had nonetheless been held with full consciousness and silenced in an act of pragmatism that allowed me to function. These were not uncovered or recovered memories; rather they were suppressed and revisited. I didn’t experience a sudden cracking open of lost memory, instead I stepped easily, though not without discomfort, into the archives of my body and reached with outstretched hand. In the gesture, I offered my memories the opportunity to speak, and speak they did.From within my body, stored memories were unleashed and hurled themselves at me. I caught these memories and held them close. I turned them over, set them down, reached again. I reflected, I explored, paused, considered. I sat alongside them. I got angry. I wept. It was as though these embodied memories, these lived subjective experiences, had been crouching impatiently just beneath the surface awaiting release from the repressive silence that had contained them for so many years.But what had helped facilitate this release? Was it simply the opportunity to be immersed in self-reflective and reflexive research? Following the conventionally written academic-style opening chapters of my Honours thesis, sits my autoethnographic chapter. It was no accident of method that I explored my personal experience through creative writing. I didn’t stumble into this medium; I had a compelling and irresistible urge to express my experience creatively. It seemed the only way. When I sat down to write, the sentences were expelled from my body like a series of long-held but desperate exhalations. They emerged as my memories had sat since childhood, blunt, raw and panting, filled with barely-contained energy. They revealed the chaos and disconnection of the body and mind in the aftermath of silenced childhood rape. They disrupted chronology and mirrored shattered identity. Temporally and spatially they were restless birds, unable to perch for too long, nor in one place. Slipping in and out of the first and third person, they struggled to sustain a fixed identity, or perhaps, refused one. Relational threads appeared transparent but were as strong as lines that support the weight of thrashing fish.In the laying down of the multiple layers of my story, I soon realised the writing was serving an additional purpose. It had evolved to become a critical factor in not only the actualisation of my story but also a means of making sense of my experience by locating it within wider familial, social and cultural contexts. The grounding of my experience through reflexivity and the piecing together of my tenuous sense of self became intimately entwined in the creative process. I recorded each evocative exhalation with frantic diligence, as though I mustn’t lose a word. I felt my visibility, my credibility reliant on each syllable and every nuance. I intuitively sensed that the creative re-capturing of my story would liberate my memories from the smothering folds of corporeal darkness in which they had reluctantly huddled and in that liberation, I would also find freedom from the dragging and stultifying weight of their heavy presence. Helene Cixous talks of moments when we are “unwoven weft” (38), when writings or “songs of an unheard-of purity flow through you [...] well up […] surge forth” (39). I’m certain the liberation of story and self I experienced through the creative writing medium, at a point when I too was unwoven weft, gave me the courage to walk in the night shadows of my embodied childhood memories, the light of creativity guiding my way. In making the transition in 2009 from Honours to doctoral research, I carried with me the knowledge that to ignore or pay cursory attention to the materiality of the raped body is to deny its cellular intelligence and its abundant creative reserves. While the researching and writing of my Honours project was deeply satisfying, what emerged for me during that process was an intense desire for a more three-dimensional aesthetic and embodied engagement with my PhD project. I felt the poetics of embodied language and my moving body would satisfy this desire.With the addition of a performance modality I was convinced I could lift the words off the thesis page in order to, literally, bring the information to life. Through performance I knew I could give the bones of the written language of sexual trauma a heartbeat, a pulse, give them breath. I believed a performance held the potential to drape flesh on the words and pump blood through their sentences. I wanted the narrative of sexual trauma to move and sweat, collapse and stand rather than remain in stasis. I wanted the unresolved nature of silenced sexual trauma to permeate the flesh and speak with more than written language. I wanted my raped female body to be fully present. A performance seemed the only way to convey the three-dimensionality of my muted experience. “Performance is a promissory act,” Della Pollock tells us, “not because it can promise possible change but because it catches its participants—often by surprise—in a contract with possibility: with imagining what might be, could be, should be” (2). When I came across these words, I felt certain that I could create for an audience Pollock’s contract with possibility. Through a performance modality a portal would open to the reality of how it is to live with silenced and unresolved sexual trauma. Beyond that portal an invitation would await for others to engage with the difficulties and compromises of this reality through embodied imagination and somatic empathy. A performance, I felt, could act as a physical, emotional and intellectual bridge of communication between those who have experienced sexual violence and those who have not. In the actualisation of this PhD project my role would be multiple. I would take up the position not only of the researcher but also the researched. Through an engagement with the somatic work of Body-Mind Centering® (BMC®), my still traumatised body would become the primary focus of the research. Additionally, I would present this work in the solo performance aperture. My body then, would become the site of somatic inquiry, providing the embodied text for the research, scribing the work in symbolic language and articulating the emotional landscape of the aftermath of my trauma through performance. As Tami Spry notes, “words can construct, but cannot hold the weight of the body” (170). The words of my thesis then would construct my story from the findings of my somatic inquiry as well as shape my research but the performance would hold the weight of my flesh in the embodied articulation of my story. But I couldn’t do this alone.Help arrived in mid-2010, when I was introduced to and entered the world of BMC® and the work of Alice Cummins. At times the BMC® work and the creative development phase of aperture felt a little like attempting a base jump with a parachute that might, or might not open. However, with Alice’s depth of knowledge and experience guiding me, I have taken what has been an extraordinarily profound journey of somatic exploration resulting in personal healing, revelation, illumination and embodied performance. AliceAs a dance artist and somatic movement educator, my teaching and choreography are influenced by post-modern dance practices and feminist philosophy. My interests have engaged me with socio-political concerns and how the poetics of the moving body articulates our humanity. In my somatic movement practice I draw on BMC®, the work of Bonnie Bainbridge Cohen, with whom I studied in Massachusetts, 1995-98. BMC® evolved in the post-modern dance scene of New York City in the early 1970s and belongs to the lineage of moving research pioneered by Rudolph Laban, F.M. Alexander, and Mabel Todd.Bainbridge Cohen writes:Body-Mind Centering® (BMC®) is an ongoing, experiential journey into the alive and changing territory of the body. The explorer is the mind – our thoughts, feelings, energy, soul, and spirit. Through this journey we are led to an understanding of how the mind is expressed through the body in movement. (1)In June 2010 Brenda participated in a three-day BMC® workshop. During an integrative practice of Authentic Movement she experienced pleasure in moving for the first time. This experience was profound for Brenda after a lifetime of repressing sensation and feeling as a way to contain the memory of her rape. To unravel a torment you must begin somewhere. — Louise BourgeoisSo we began.Before embarking on the creative development of performance making it was critical that Brenda did private work with me. Her history was too traumatic to venture into making work from the body without prior therapeutic hands-on work. When trauma has occurred, the tissue holds this frozen as a way to contain the terror. But it lies in wait and erupts unexpectedly when the circumstances stimulate or provoke memory. As BMC® teacher Phoebe Neville (1996) says: “Memory remains in the tissue until we are ready to feel it”. During her two years of private sessions this hands-on work gave Brenda the capacity to feel and helped her develop somatic and personal insight. This provided the leverage for her understanding, and eventually the making involved in the collaborative process. A BMC® hands-on technique I used during the therapeutic process was cellular touch. This dialogue through touch invites the cells to breathe—to receive and process new information. This exchange supported and stabilized Brenda’s nervous system and perceptual response cycles and helped cultivate endurance. Through the BMC® work we created a visceral bond of attachment and trust that allowed risk as provocation towards realization not as re-stimulus and withdrawal. This allowed Brenda to go from a withdrawn physicality to a dynamic performance presence. Without this capacity to be present, we could not have found a vocabulary that might unearth and express her story through embodied performance making. Brenda’s capacity to be “100% available to be seen” (Hay), would allow meaning to touch her audience. I make work with and through the bodymind and for Brenda’s “voice” to be heard I knew she needed to be able to access the intelligence and imaginary life of her body ... to make, to grasp, to reveal her experience. As artistic director of aperture it was my role to discern how the creative met the psychodynamic and became new realisation and transformation. The BMC® philosophy “support precedes change” (Cohen) infused the collaborative process. Our collaboration also involved a constant flow and exchange of ideas, feelings, intuitive responses and imaginings in both verbal and somatic conversation. This process enabled Brenda’s experience of childhood rape to become a way of exposing the silence and silencing that surrounds rape in our culture.One of the specific research skills we practiced in the creative process was Authentic Movement. Developed in the 1950s by Jungian analyst, Mary Starks Whitehouse, it is a practice that relies on moving and being witnessed. As Brenda moved I, as witness, provided the space of containment and safety, both physical and psychological for the moving exploration to occur. It was in the intersubjective space between us that material arose that might otherwise remain held in the tissue. As Starks Whitehouse says: “Movement, to be experienced, has to be ‘found’ in the body, not put on like a dress or a coat […] it is that which can liberate us” (53). This practice gave Brenda the creative and therapeutic space to explore her experience. In crafting the work I guided Brenda’s movement and emotional states through improvisation and experimentation. In paying close attention to the emergent language and meaning of the nuanced moving, I identified moments of creative potential. Risk and provocation, critical to the transformative act of contemporary performance making, was now possible.As Brenda and I moved to performance making, I was unable to maintain the relationship of client/practitioner. Shifting from the clear perimeters of client and practitioner to an arts practice entails risk. I felt I had to choose at specific moments in our work together to step across the line and transgress, though what it is I transgressed I’m now unsure of. I’ve allowed Brenda into my private realm; she’s shared meals with me, met my friends and partner and slept at my studio home. We’ve spent many hours together and the intimacy of the creative process and the material itself forged our friendship as well as the work. I don’t know if this intimacy was necessary to make this work with Brenda. It is what happened. Brenda’s story touched me deeply and I was participating in its evolution. The work is the result of our private work and our creative relationship, coloured by all its variables. Brenda’s experience of being raped as a child is the catastrophe that we mined to make aperture. The ordeal of this experience shaped her life and her relationships. Its aftermath destroyed her capacity to interact in the world with any agency. When someone has lost their voice and their agency how do we help them find it? During a private session in 2010, Brenda experienced re-stimulation of the trauma. This experience became the “aperture” through which Brenda’s healing has come about. She entered the wound and slowly found her voice and her agency. Both literally and metaphorically, Brenda found her self and her story gathered fleshed substance.The making and performing of aperture was a collaborative process made possible through Brenda’s deep desire for healing and understanding. She led and I followed. Sometimes the path felt perilous and yet it was in these moments that I also felt most certain. These were the risks critical for her realization and empowerment. In both the private and the performance work I practiced a state of love that was self-reflexive and dispassionate. In the moments of greatest distress and disturbance I felt a certainty that was irreducible. The dance we were in was one of survival and I felt the certainty of her innate capacity to survive, and my own capacity to follow her. This was not a certainty constructed of ideas but a felt experience based on every skill and nuance I embodied at that moment. I employed my whole life to work with Brenda and the work also moved my life. What I know and don’t yet know is present in aperture. I am privileged to have witnessed Brenda finding her way to “step into the light”, as Antonio Damasio would put it, and move “through a threshold that separates a protected but limiting shelter from the possibility and risk of a world beyond and ahead” (3).ConclusionThe work of traversing the landscape between private memory and public performance has taken us across some difficult terrain. The adoption of a creative approach has been intrinsic to the navigation of this terrain and central to the storying of this catastrophic experience. The creative process has coaxed, shaped and articulated the complexities and sensitivities of this experience in multiple ways, encouraging voice where once there was silence. This story now speaks and moves. ReferencesBainbridge Cohen, Bonnie. Sensing, Feeling, and Action: The Experiential Anatomy of Body-Mind Centering. 2nd ed. Northampton: Contact Editions, 2008. Bourgeouis, Louise. What Is the Shape of This Problem. Detail. 1999 Cixous, Helene. Coming to Writing and Other Essays. Ed. Jenson, Deborah. Cambridge: Harvard U P, 1991. Cohen, Bainbridge. Personal Communication. 28 Jun. 1995.Damasio, Antonio. The Feeling of What Happens. London: Heinemann & Vintage, 2000. Hay, Deborah. Personal Communication. 20 Jul. 1985.Neville, Phoebe. Personal Communication. 4 Jul. 1996.Pollock, Della. "Introduction: Remembering." Remembering: Oral History Performance. Ed. Pollock, Della. Gordonsville: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. 1-17.Spry, Tami. Body, Paper, Stage: Writing and Performing Autoethnography. Walnut Creek: Left Coast, 2011. Starks Whitehouse, Mary. "Physical Movement and Personality (1963)." Authentic Movement: A Collection of Essays by Mary Starks Whitehouse, Janet Adler & Joan Chodrow. Ed. Pallaro, Patrizia. London: J. Kingsley, 1999. 51-57.

In The Threshold of the Visible World, Kaja Silverman advances a subtle, ethical, post-Lacanian account of what constitutes “the active gift of love” and how this might be expressed on the screen. She argues for an orientation of subject to love object which is not merely an alternative to romantic passion, but an account of how identification of the loving subject and love object “might function in a way that results in neither the triumph of self-sameness, nor craven submission to an exteriorised but essentialized ideal”. In a move particularly relevant to our focus in this paper, she goes on to suggest that a gift of love so constituted entails an escape from conformity with culturally dictated ideals and thence a capacity “to put ourselves in a positive identificatory relation to bodies which we have been taught to abhor and repudiate” (79). Two lesbian/gay teen films of the late 1990s – Lukas Moodysson’s Fucking Åmål (1998; also known as Show Me Love) and Simon Shore’s Get Real (1999) – offer an illuminating contrast in the ways they deal with the possibility of the gift of love in the conflictual contexts both of teenage gay and lesbian love and sexuality, and of small-town spaces. Space solicits desire, but the sexual frisson that is evoked through encounters in various spaces in film depicted as offering excitement, risk, and bodily pleasures seems limited in three ways. First, the progression from desire to love is severely circumscribed by cultural presuppositions about the physical and social attributes of appropriate love objects. This is particularly evident in the Hollywood teen film, with its recurrent male and female Cinderella roles. Second, the desire represented is predominantly heterosexual, so the appropriate love object is further specified by the assumption of heteronormativity. Finally, there is a persistent attribution of space to woman and time to man – as early as the late eighteenth century William Blake had written, “Space is a woman” (in Bal 169) – and although this has been questioned by feminist thinkers (see Irigaray 1987) it still pervades filmic imagery. As Sue Best notes, the bounded spaces that people inhabit – “the nation, regions, cities and the home” – often rely on feminine metaphors to describe their attributes, contours, architecture; in the case of the romantic ‘home’, its enclosures suggest a warm, uterine space and maternal care. In a related sense, the open spaces of the countryside, the city streets and solitary travel have connoted a masculine space and prerogative (182-3). Traditionally, man moves through these spaces with a sense of temporal purpose, while woman bides her time in bounded domestic space. In Fucking Åmål, the film’s preoccupation with enclosed spaces, and especially the domestic spaces of home and school, on one hand generates an intense mood of claustrophobia while, on the other, communicates the terrifying aloneness of the young person abjected by the “in”-crowd. A measure of the inanity of the teenage boys of this small Swedish community is the unexamined misogyny of their spatial thinking, as when, for example, Jessica’s boyfriend Markus asserts that boys are interested in and understand technology, like cell phones, and that girls are instead good at things like "make-up and looking good". Get Real expresses the contrast more as that of outside and inside: the male domain of the sports field set against the interior space of the room where girls and boys like Steven (“I don’t smoke or play football and have an IQ over 25”) produce the school magazine. While these binaristic notions of gender and space serve as useful means for considering the restrictive nature of masculine and feminine constructions which still exist in various contemporary societies, they are also limited and limiting when it comes to thinking beyond a heterosexual framework. The imbrication of space and woman could account for the ongoing censure, disruption, and violation of feminised movement in so-called masculinised spaces. The notion of transgressing across spaces is the underlying theme of both Get Real and Fucking Åmål. Both films, with their “coming out” narratives, move away from conventional cinematic representations of teen love. Moreover, they provide a cinematic space in which the female or male body is a source of same-sex pleasure and desire, and offer viewers a space not defined by the other gender or by a narrative progress towards heterosexual romance and fulfilment. Consequently, the characters’ sensual/sexual encounters privilege bodily pleasure, response, and the ability to go beyond “the blind spot” of patriarchal sexuality (Irigaray 1985). Where they differ is that Fucking Åmål depicts Elin (the “love object”) progressing so far in her love for Agnes that her triumphant coming out is simultaneously an affirmation of a body universally abhorred and repudiated within the dominant youth community. There is no suggestion, for example, that Agnes will need to abandon her loose, oversized clothes and her trousers in favour of Elin’s short skirts and low-cut tops (although there is a hint that Elin may find Agnes’s intellectual interests more engrossing than the belated and etiolated versions of popular culture she has up until now inhabited). In contrast to Fucking Åmål, Get Real depicts the ultimate failure of John Dixon (the love object) to acknowledge love for Steven Carter, abhorred and repudiated by male peers for his suspected (and actual) homosexuality. Space is a shifting signifier which points to, but does not anchor, meaning across social, cultural, and territorial dimensions. In a Foucauldian sense, space is often linked to concepts of power. Furthermore, space, particularly queer space, becomes both a visual and metaphorical entity which needs to be interrogated in terms of its relationship to, and representation through, the eye of the beholder. In Get Real and Fucking Åmål “looking” becomes a complex play between characters and viewers. The specular logic that operates within the conventional notions of the gaze, with its underlying structure of a dominant subject and submissive object, is thus both interrogated and undercut (Mulvey). In Get Real a hole in a public toilet wall provides a spatial site for spying on illicit gay sexual encounters as well as a means for checking out a potential sexual partner. Such voyeurism is perverse as it disrupts the visual pleasure which has become intimately tied to patriarchal ideology with its structures of looking (male) and being looked at (female). This is one instance (and there are others in both films) when looking occupies a queer space, demonstrating complicity with voyeurism, desire, and visual pleasure, and disrupting the association of the gaze with rigid gender roles. The act of looking that the characters undertake also helps to make the viewer aware of the particular quality of their own gaze. The films contrive to position the viewer in ways that focus attention on the specific nature of his/her gaze as we become witness/voyeur to the characters’ spatial trajectories across private and public spaces - bedroom, toilet, home, school. Early in Fucking Åmål the gaze is invited and dismantled when Elin goes half undressed to try on clothes in front of the mirror in the apartment block’s lift, only to find that her sister Jessica has forgotten to bring the clothes. By overtly and comically replacing the narcissistic gaze with the gaze of the camera (and hence audience) the film problematizes looking, and begins to establish the situation whereby to look at Elin is to share the looking with Agnes, effectively queering the look. Further deconstructions of the look, or gaze, occur in the contrasting femme/butch representations of Elin and Agnes. The erotic pleasure of looking (at Elin) provides a counterpoint of gazes and highlights the vicissitudes of desire. While Elin’s sexy body and conventional beauty conform to an image of female desirability and make her the object of male fantasy, she is also the love object of Agnes. However, Elin’s feisty, restless character refuses any image of passive femininity. Rather, she embodies an active, desiring female subjectivity. Thus, the space of both female and male spectatorship is open to erotic imaginings. By contrast, the film undoes the tradition of fetishisation associated with the male gaze through the character of Agnes: she wears no makeup, hides her body in oversized clothing, and her hair is unadorned and simply styled. Thus, the camera’s attention to Agnes’s silent watching of Elin undermines the male gaze, creating a female gaze and a space of female desire. A comparable effect is achieved in Get Real when Steven uses his membership of the school magazine committee to suggest that a queer community exists within the school. First, and more subtly, the photographs he takes of John Dixon as school sporting hero queer the act of looking: Steven’s father, a professional photographer, sees them as examples of photographic art; John’s father views them as a celebration of a finely tuned athletic body; girls look at them heterosexually; but from Steven’s perspective they are gay pin-ups. The ground of a love relationship, as Silverman argues, is to posit the other rather than the self as the cause of desire, and hence to perceive perfection in the features of another and to celebrate that perceived perfection. This is the work performed by Steven’s photographs of John, and the irony inherent in the fact that the significance of the photographs depends on the interpretation of the beholder exemplifies how irony operates in these films to change how people interpret the “cultural screen”, the mental picture of society which they have naturalised. In Fucking Åmål, a class photograph of Elin in a school magazine also serves to queer the act of looking as it represents the love object of both Johan and Agnes. Whereas Johan cuts out Elin’s image, effectively excising her from the others in the photograph, and stores it in his wallet, Agnes is content to contemplate the image in the privacy of her bedroom, leaving it intact. Elin’s image has a strong erotic and visual impact on both Johan and Agnes, connoting “a to-be-looked-at-ness”, and the actions by Johan and Agnes to look and to possess can be understood in psychoanalytic terms as their attempt to turn the represented image into a fetish object (Mulvey). In a related way to Steven’s photograph of John Dixon as a gay pin-up, Agnes is able to reinvest erotically in the body of another woman. Steven’s second intervention by means of the magazine is to write the “Get Real” article about youth homosexuality. Once this is banned by the school Principal, it functions as a space of absence which defines and publicises the lack at the heart of the community. Further, in so far as it is lack which makes desire possible, Steven’s manifesto on a more individual level legitimises that lack for homosexual subjects. Get Real quite explicitly seeks to overturn the heterosexist stereotype of gays as lonely and unhappy figures, and to offer a different perspective on gay subjectivity and sexuality. Fucking Åmål performs the same work for the subjectivity and sexuality of young lesbians, as Agnes works through the trauma of her initial rejection by Elin and her “outing” at home, and Elin works through the identity crisis prompted by her emerging desire for Agnes. For each, the journey from abjection to joy ends triumphantly as, with no apparent threat of retribution, they redefine the significance of key spaces, of school and home. Both films use space to articulate the characters’ joys and anguish as they struggle with the conflicting effects of love and desire for another, the taunts they suffer from others because of their sexuality, and the eventual amelioration of the restrictions of their spatial location. While the gaze offers a metaphorical space for looking in Get Real and Fucking Åmål, space is also defined in regional and sexual terms. Elin and Agnes are space-bound characters, living within the claustrophobic confines of small town Åmål (Sweden). The original title of the film (Fucking Åmål), rather than the more bland, international release title (Show Me Love), captures teenage boredom with the stifling confines of their environment. Elin’s howls of exasperation give voice to her feelings of entrapment: “Why do we have to live in fucking Åmål? When something’s ‘in’ in the rest of the world, it’s already ‘out’ by the time it gets here.” When Elin and Agnes attempt an escape by hitching a ride out of town, their make-out session in the backseat of their lift’s car is accompanied by Foreigner’s “I want to know what love is”; the interplay of song lyrics, the young lovers’ sexual play, and their eventual eviction from the car offering an ironic performance that rehearses the double meaning of the film’s title and the story’s vexed themes of subjection and subjectivity. The visual style of Fucking Åmål also adds to the pervading sense of containment that the young protagonists experience. Interior domestic scenes dominate and appear spatially constrained. Often a low-key colour scheme serves as an iconic sign indicating the metaphorical nature of the drabness of Åmål. Agnes, as a relative newcomer to Åmål, occupies the spatial fringe both in terms of her strangeness to the place and her perceived queerness. She is the subject of ridicule, innuendo, and ostracism by her peers. Agnes’s marginalisation and abjection are metaphorically expressed through camera framing and tracking – close-ups capture her feelings of rejection and aloneness, and her movements in public spaces, such as the school canteen and corridors, are often confined to the perimeters or the background. By contrast, Elin appears to be in the spatial centre as she is a popular and sexually desirable young woman. It is when she falls in love with Agnes that she too finds herself dislocated, both within her self and within her home town. The stifling confines of Åmål offer limited recreational spaces for its youth, with the urban shopping centre and park are places for congregation and social contact. Ironically, communal spaces, such as the school and the park, effect a spatial intimacy through proximity; yet, the heterosexual imperative that operates in these public and populated spaces compels Elin and Agnes to effect a spatial distance with its necessary emotional and physical separation. When Elin and Agnes finally ‘come out’, it is part of a broader teen rebellion against continuing ennui and oppressive strictures that limit their lives. Steven (Get Real) lives a privileged middle class life in Basingstoke (Hampshire, UK) although this is unsettled by a pervasive sense of homophobic surveillance, locally and immediately embodied in the school’s masculinist bullies, but networked more widely through fathers, school principals, and the police. As Foucault argued, surveillance has a disciplinary function because individuals are made conscious that they are being watched and judged from a normalising perspective. This being so, even open spaces in Get Real have a claustrophobic effect. The park where Steven goes in quest of sexual contact thus signifies ambiguously: messages are passed from within the smallest space (a cubicle within the toilet) but once outside an individual’s presence can be registered by any neighbour, and the concealed spaces of the woodland are subjected to police raids. The film neatly ties this physical surveillance to mental surveillance when Steven’s father confronts him about being seen in the park when he was supposed to have been working on his essay project about youth in the contemporary world. For Steven, the project is a sham because he is only enabled to write from within the normalised perspective which excludes himself. Communication at the highest level available to him – a prize-winning essay in a public competition – thus denies him any subjective agency. The film’s ironic chain thus entails first the winning of the prize (but only because his father secretly submitted Steven’s discarded essay) and then Steven’s subsequent use of the award ceremony to present his other, suppressed essay and to declare his sexual orientation. In both films, gay and lesbian sexualities are constructed as paradoxical spaces. On the one hand, gay and lesbian desires and identities are distanced from the heterosexual paradigm, yet firmly embedded within it and (therefore subject to) homophobic discourses. Difference is not tolerated. In Fucking Åmål, characters are marginalised because of physical and sexual difference; in Get Real, difference is defined in terms of class, sexuality, and hegemonic masculinity. Both films offer positive outcomes which affirm a resignification of the “cultural screen”. By depicting the dystopic effect of heteronormative society on the principal gay and lesbian characters, each film functions to highlight issues of access to and place within the spatial public sphere. From Fucking Åmål, indeed, we might infer that such strategies as the ironic transformation of the gaze have the potential to produce utopian visions. Despite the strategy of allowing Steven one further transformation of public space, when he seizes a public forum to deliver his coming-out speech, Get Real offers a less utopian vision, but still a firm sense that social space has undergone significant disruption. While Elin comes to accept and realise the value of Agnes’s original “gift of love” to her, John Dixon is unable to move beyond the restrictive confines of heteronormative space and therefore rejects Steven’s public and personal gift of love. Nevertheless, in both films, it is through the agential actions of Elin, Agnes, and Steven in publicly declaring their love for the other that serves as an active signifier, openly challenging the sexualised space of their school and community: a space that passively accepts the kind of orthodoxy that naturalises heterosexualised ways of looking and loving, and abhors and repudiates homosexual/lesbian desire. In this sense, there is an opening up of a queer space of desire which exerts its own form of resistance and defiance to patriarchal discourse. Works Cited Bal, Mieke. Death and Dissymmetry: The Politics of Coherence in the Book of Judges. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Best, Sue. “Sexualising space”. Eds. Elizabeth. Grosz & Elspeth Probyn Sexy Bodies: The strange Carnalities of Feminism. London & New York: Routledge, 1995. 181-194. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish : The Birth of the Prison. London: A. Lane (Penguin Books), 1977. Irigaray, Luce. Speculum of the Other Woman, trans. G.C. Gill. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985. Irigaray, Luce. “Sexual difference”. Ed. Toril Moi, French Feminist Thought: A Reader. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1987. 118-130. Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” (1975) reprinted in Visual and Other Pleasures. London: Macmillan, 1989. 29-37. Silverman, Kaja. The Threshold of the Visible World. New York: Routledge, 1996. Filmography Fucking Åmål (Show Me Love). Dir./writer Lukas Moodysson. WN Danubius/ITA Slovakia, 1998. Get Real. Dir. Simon Shore. Paramount, 1999. Links linenoise.co.uk (Accessed 31/10/02) cinephiles.net (Accessed 31/10/02) brightlightsfilm.com (Accessed 31/10.02) hollywood.com (Accessed 31/10/02) movie-reviews.colossus.net (Accessed 31/10/02) culturevulture.net (Accessed 31/10/02) english.lsu.edu (Accessed 3/11/02) Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Mallan, Kerry and Stephens, John. "Love’s Coming (Out)" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.6 (2002). Dn Month Year < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/lovescomingout.php>. APA Style Mallan, K. & Stephens, J., (2002, Nov 20). Love’s Coming (Out). M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 5,(6). Retrieved Month Dn, Year, from http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/lovescomingout.html

Introdução: O Policial Militar, que faz parte do quadro da Rádio Patrulha, é o profissional da área da segurança pública que tem em sua atividade o risco iminente a sua integridade física e psíquica. Objetivo: Avaliar a qualidade de vida, sintomas osteomusculares e fadiga em Policias Militares (PMS) da 1° Companhia de Rádio Patrulha lotados no 4° Batalhão de Policia Militar de Guarabira/PB. Metodologia: Trata-se de uma pesquisa de campo do tipo descritiva, transversal, de natureza quali-quantitiva com amostra de 33 Policiais de ambos os sexos. Foram analisados através de um questionário de perfil sociodemográfico, do questionário qualidade de vida SF-36 (Medical Outcomes Study 36 – Item Short – Form Health Survey), da Escala de Fadiga de Chalder e o questionário Nórdico de Sintomas Osteomusculares. As análises foram realizadas através de estatística descritiva e não paramétrica. Resultados e Discussões: Apresentaram índices satisfatórios entre os domínios de Qualidade de Vida, entretanto foram os domínios “Vitalidade” (58,79) e “Dor” (65,67) que tiveram as menores pontuações. Pelo cálculo bimodal do questionário de fadiga de Chalder, identificou-se a presença de fadiga em 36,36% dos PMS. A região lombar foi área do corpo mais acometida por sintomas osteomusculares, enquanto o cotovelo foi a menor. Conclusões: Possibilitou estabelecer uma correlação entre os questionários da fadiga de Chalder e qualidade de vida SF36, onde se constatou que o domínio vitalidade foi o que mais apresentou uma forte correlação invertida e significativa entre as fadigas. Diante desse estudo, recomenda-se que equipe multidisciplinar em saúde acompanhem esses profissionais.Descritores: Polícia; Qualidade de Vida; Fadiga; Transtornos Traumáticos Cumulativos; Ergonomia.ReferênciasPolícia Militar da Paraíba. 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IntroductionThis article suggests extensions to the place of ‘national collections’ of Australia’s migration histories, and considers the role of regional libraries and museums in collecting, preserving, and making accessible the history of migration. The article describes a recent collaboration between the Bonegilla Migrant Experience site, the Albury LibraryMuseum and the regionally-based Charles Sturt University (CSU) to develop a virtual, three-dimensional tour of Bonegilla, a former migrant arrival centre. Through this, the role of regional collections as keeping places of migration memories and narratives outside of those institutions charged with preserving the nation’s memory is highlighted and explored.What Makes a Nation’s Memory?In 2018 the Australian Research Council (ARC) awarded a Linkage grant to a collaboration between two universities (RMIT and Deakin), and the National Library of Australia, State Library of South Australia, State Library of Victoria, and State Library of New South Wales titled “Representing Multicultural Australia in National and State Libraries” (LP170100222). This Linkage project aimed to “develop a new methodology for evaluating multicultural collections, and new policies and strategies to develop and provide access to these collections” (RMIT Centre for Urban Research).One planned output of the Linkage project was a conference, to be held in early 2019, titled “Collecting for a Society’s Memory: National and State Libraries in Culturally Diverse Societies.” The conference call for papers suggested themes that included an interrogation of the relationship between libraries and ‘the collecting sector’, but with a focus still on National and State Libraries (Boyd). As an aside, the correlation between libraries and memories seemed slightly incongruous here, as archives and museums in particular would also be key in this collecting (and preserving) society’s memory, and also the libraries that exist outside of the national and state capitals.It felt like the project and conference had a definite ‘national’ focus, with the ‘regional’ mentioned only briefly in a suggested theme.At the same time that I was reading this call for papers and about the Linkage, I was part of a CSU Learning and Teaching project to develop online learning materials for students in our Teacher Education programs (history in particular) based around the Bonegilla Migrant Arrival Centre in Wodonga, Victoria. This project uses three-dimensional film technology to bring students to the Centre site, where they can take an interactive, curriculum-based tour of the site. Alongside the interactive online tour, a series of curricula were developed to work with the Australian History Curriculum. I wondered why community-led collections like these in the regions fall to the side in discussions of a ‘national’ (aka institutional) memory, or as part of a representation of a multicultural Australia, such as in this Linkage.Before I start exploring this question I want to acknowledge the limitations of the ARC Linkage framework in terms of the project mentioned above, and that the work that is being done in the “Representing Multicultural Australia in National and State Libraries” project is of value to professional practice and community; in this article I am using the juxtaposition of the two projects as an impetus to interrogate the role of regional collaboration, and to argue for a notion of national memory as a regional collecting concern.Bonegilla: A Contested SiteFrom 1947 through to 1971 over 300,000 migrants to Australia passed through the Bonegilla Migrant Reception and Training Centre (“Bonegilla”) at a defining time in Australia’s immigration history, as post-World War II migration policies encompassed non-English speaking Europeans displaced by the war (Pennay "Remembering Bonegilla" 43). Bonegilla itself is a small settlement near the Hume Dam, 10 km from the New South Wales town of Albury and the Victorian town of Wodonga. Bonegilla was a former Army Camp repurposed to meet the settlement agendas of multiple Australian governments.New migrants spent weeks and months at Bonegilla, learning English, and securing work. The site was the largest (covering 130 hectares of land) and longest-lasting reception centre in post-war Australia, and has been confirmed bureaucratically as nationally significant, having been added to the National Heritage Register in 2007 (see Pennay “Remembering Bonegilla” for an in-depth discussion of this listing process). Bonegilla has played a part in defining and redefining Australia’s migrant and multicultural history through the years, with Bruce Pennay suggesting thatperhaps Bonegilla has warranted national notice as part of an officially initiated endeavour to develop a more inclusive narrative of nation, for the National Heritage List was almost contemporaneously expanded to include Myall Creek. Perhaps it is exemplary in raising questions about the roles of the nation and the community in reception and training that morph into modern day equivalents. (“Memories and Representations” 46)Given its national significance, both formally and colloquially, Bonegilla has provided rich material for critical thinking around, for example, Australian multicultural identity, migration commemorations and the construction of cultural memory. Alexandra Dellios argues that Bonegilla and its role in Australia’s memory is a contested site, and thatdespite criticisms from historians such as Persian and Ashton regarding Bonegilla’s adherence to a revisionist narrative of multicultural progress, visitor book comments, as well as exchanges and performances at reunions and festivals, demonstrate that visitors take what they will from available frameworks, and fill in the ‘gaps’ according to their own collective memories, needs and expectations. (1075)This recognition of Bonegilla as a significant, albeit “heritage noir” (Pennay, “Memories and Representations” 48), agent of Australia’s heritage and memory makes it a productive site to investigate the question of regional collections and collaborations in constructing a national memory.Recordkeeping: By Government and CommunityThe past decade has seen a growth in the prominence of community archives as places of memory for communities (for example Flinn; Flinn, Stevens, and Shepherd; Zavala et al.). This prominence has come through the recognition of community archives as both valid sites of study as well as repositories of memory. In turn, this body of knowledge has offered new ways to think about collection practices outside of the mainstream, where “communities can make collective decisions about what is of enduring value to them, shape collective memory of their own pasts, and control the means through which stories about their past are constructed” (Caswell, Cifor, and Ramirez 58). Jimmy Zavala, and colleagues, argue that these collections “challenge hierarchical structures of governance found in mainstream archival institutions” (212), and offer different perspectives to those kept on the official record. By recognising both the official record and the collections developed and developing outside of official repositories, there are opportunities to deepen understandings and interpretations of historical moments in time.There are at least three possible formal keeping places of memories for those who passed through, worked at, or lived alongside Bonegilla: the National Archives of Australia, the Albury LibraryMuseum in Albury, New South Wales, and the Bonegilla Migrant Experience site itself outside of Wodonga. There will of course be records in other national, state, local, and community repositories, along with newspaper articles, people’s homes, and oral lore that contribute to the narrative of Bonegilla memories, but the focus for this article are these three key sites as the main sources of primary source material about the Bonegilla experience.Official administrative and organisational records of activity during Bonegilla’s reception period are held at the National Archives of Australia in the national capital, Canberra; these records contribute to the memory of Bonegilla from a nation-state perspective, building an administrative record of the Centre’s history and of a significant period of migration in Australia’s past. Of note, Bonegilla was the only migrant centre that created its own records on site, and these records form part of the series known as NAA: A2567, NAA A2571 1949–56 and A2572 1957–71 (Hutchison 70). Records of local staff employed at the site will also be included in these administrative files. Very few of these records are publicly accessible online, although work is underway to provide enhanced online and analogue access to the popular arrival cards (NAA A2571 1949-56 and A2572 1957–71) onsite at Bonegilla (Pennay, personal communication) as they are in high demand by visitors to the site, who are often looking for traces of themselves or their families in the official record. The National Archives site Destination Australia is an example of an attempt by the holder of these administrative records to collect personal stories of this period in Australia’s history through an online photograph gallery and story register, but by 2019 less than 150 stories have been published to the site, which was launched in 2014 (National Archives of Australia).This national collection is complemented and enhanced by the Bonegilla Migration Collection at the Albury LibraryMuseum in southern New South Wales, which holds non-government records and memories of life at Bonegilla. This collection “contains over 20 sustained interviews; 357 personal history database entries; over 500 short memory pieces and 700 photographs” (Pennay “Memories and Representations” 45). It is a ‘live’ collection, growing through contributions to the Bonegilla Personal History Register by the migrants and others who experienced the Centre, and through an ongoing relationship with the current Bonegilla Migrant Experience site to act as a collection home for their materials.Alongside the collection in the LibraryMuseum, there is the collection of infrastructure at the Bonegilla Migrant Experience (BME) site itself. These buildings and other assets, and indeed the absence of buildings, plus the interpretative material developed by BME staff, give further depth and meaning to the lived experience of post-war migration to Australia. Whilst both of these collections are housed and managed by local government agencies, I suggest in this article that these collections can still be considered community archives, given the regional setting of the collections, and the community created records included in the collections.The choice to locate Bonegilla in a fairly isolated regional setting was a strategy of the governments of the time (Persian), and in turn has had an impact on how the site is accessed; by who, and how often (see Dellios for a discussion of the visitor numbers over the history of the Bonegilla Migrant Experience over its time as a commemorative and tourist site). The closest cities to Bonegilla, Albury and Wodonga, sit on the border of New South Wales and Victoria, separated by the Murray River and located 300 km from Melbourne and 550 km from Sydney. The ‘twin towns’ work collaboratively on many civic activities, and are an example of a 1970s-era regional development project that in the twenty-first century is still growing, despite the regional setting (Stein 345).This regional setting justifies a consideration of virtual, and online access to what some argue is a site of national memory loaded with place-based connections, with Jayne Persian arguing that “the most successful forays into commemoration of Bonegilla appear to be website-based and institution-led” (81). This sentiment is reflected in the motivation to create further online access points to Bonegilla, such as the one discussed in this article.Enhancing Teaching, Learning, and Public Access to CollectionsIn 2018 these concepts of significant heritage sites, community archives, national records, and an understanding of migration history came together in a regionally-based Teaching and Learning project funded through a CSU internal grant scheme. The scheme, designed to support scholarship and enhance learning and teaching at CSU, funded a small pilot project to pilot a virtual visit to a real-life destination: the Bonegilla Migrant Experience site. The project was designed to provide key teaching and learning material for students in CSU Education courses, and those training to teach history in particular, but also enhance virtual access to the site for the wider public.The project was developed as a partnership between CSU, Albury LibraryMuseum, and Bonegilla Migrant Experience, and formalised through a Memorandum of Understanding with shared intellectual property. The virtual visit includes a three-dimensional walkthrough created using Matterport software, intuitive navigation of the walkthrough, and four embedded videos linked with online investigation guides. The site is intended to help online visitors ‘do history’ by locating and evaluating sources related to a heritage site with many layers and voices, and whose narrative and history is contested and told through many lenses (Grover and Pennay).As you walk through the virtual site, you get a sense of the size and scope of the Migrant Arrival Centre. The current Bonegilla Migrant Experience site sits at Block 19, one of 24 blocks that formed part of the Centre in its peak time. The guiding path takes you through the Reception area and then to the ‘Beginning Place’, a purpose built interpretative structure that “introduces why people came to Australia searching for a new beginning” (Bonegilla site guide). Moving through, you pass markers on the walls and other surfaces that link through to further interpretative materials and investigation guides. These guides are designed to introduce K-10 students and their teachers to practices such as exploring online archives and thematic inquiry learning aligned to the Australian History Curriculum. Each guide is accompanied by teacher support material and further classroom activities.The guides prompt and guide visitors through an investigation of online archives, and other repositories, including sourcing files held by the National Archives of Australia, searching for newspaper accounts of controversial events through the National Library of Australia’s digital repository Trove, and access to personal testimonies of migrants and refugees through the Albury LibraryMuseum Bonegilla Migration Collection. Whilst designed to support teachers and students engaging with the Australian History Curriculum, these resources are available to the public. They provide visitors to the virtual site an opportunity to develop their own critical digital literacy skills and further their understanding of the official records along with the community created records such as those held by the Albury LibraryMuseum.The project partnership developed from existing relationships between cultural heritage professionals in the Albury Wodonga region along with new relationships developed for technology support from local companies. The project also reinforced the role of CSU, with its regional footprint, in being able to connect and activate regionally-based projects for community benefit along with teaching and learning outcomes.Regional CollaborationsLiz Bishoff argues for a “collaboration imperative” when it comes to the galleries, libraries, archives, and museums (GLAM) sector’s efficacy, and it is the collaborative nature of this project that I draw on in this article. Previous work has also suggested models of convergence, where multiple institutions in the GLAM sector become a single institution (Warren and Matthews 3). In fact the Albury LibraryMuseum is an example of this model. These converged models have been critiqued from resourcing, professionalisation and economic perspectives (see for example Jones; Hider et al.; Wellington), but in some cases for local government agencies especially, they are an effective way of delivering services to communities (Warren and Matthews 9). In the case of this virtual tour, the collaboration between local government and university agencies was temporal for the length of the project, where the pooling of skills, resources, and networks has enabled the development of the resource.In this project, the regional setting has allowed and taken advantage of an intimacy that I argue may not have been possible in a metropolitan or urban setting. The social intimacies of regional town living mean that jobs are often ‘for a long time (if not for life)’, lives intersect in more than a professional context, and that because there are few pathways or options for alternative work opportunities in the GLAM professions, there is a vested interest in progress and success in project-based work. The relationships that underpinned the Bonegilla virtual tour project reflect many of these social intimacies, which included former students, former colleagues, and family relationships.The project has modelled future strategies for collaboration, including open discussions about intellectual property created, the auspicing of financial arrangements and the shared professional skills and knowledge. There has been a significant enhancement of collaborative partnerships between stakeholders, along with further development of professional and personal networks.National Memories: Regional ConcernsThe focus of this article has been on records created about a significant period in Australia’s migration history, and the meaning that these records hold based on who created them, where they are held, and how they are accessed and interpreted. Using the case study of the development of a virtual tour of a significant site—Bonegilla—I have highlighted the value of regional, non-national collections in providing access to and understanding of national memories, and the importance of collaborative practice to working with these collections. These collections sit physically in the regional communities of Albury and Wodonga, along with at the National Archives of Australia in Canberra, where they are cared for by professional staff across the GLAM sector and accessed both physically and virtually by students, researchers, and those whose lives intersected with Bonegilla.From this, I argue that by understanding national and institutional recordkeeping spaces such as the National Archives of Australia as just one example of a place of ‘national memory’, we can make space for regional and community-based repositories as important and valuable sources of records about the lived experience of migration. Extending this further, I suggest a recognition of the role of the regional setting in enabling strong collaborations to make these records visible and accessible.Further research in this area could include exploring the possibility of giving meaning to the place of record creation, especially community records, and oral histories, and how collaborations are enabling this. In contrast to this question, I also suggest an exploration of the role of the Commonwealth staff who created the records during the period of Bonegilla’s existence, and their social and cultural history, to give more meaning and context to the setting of the currently held records.ReferencesBishoff, Liz. “The Collaboration Imperative.” Library Journal 129.1 (2004): 34–35.Boyd, Jodie. “Call for Papers: Collecting for a Society’s Memory: National and State Libraries in Culturally Diverse Societies.” 2018. 1 Apr. 2019 <https://networks.h-net.org/node/73374/announcements/2079324/collecting-society%E2%80%99s-memory-national-and-state-libraries>.Caswell, Michelle, Marika Cifor, and Mario H. Ramirez. “‘To Suddenly Discover Yourself Existing': Uncovering the Impact of Community Archives.” The American Archivist 79.1 (2016): 56–81.Dellios, Alexandra. “Marginal or Mainstream? Migrant Centres as Grassroots and Official Heritage.” International Journal of Heritage Studies 21.10 (2015): 1068–83.Flinn, Andrew. “Community Histories, Community Archives: Some Opportunities and Challenges.” Journal of the Society of Archivists 28.2 (2007): 151–76.Flinn, Andrew, Mary Stevens, and Elizabeth Shepherd. “Whose Memories, Whose Archives? Independent Community Archives, Autonomy and the Mainstream.” Archival Science 9.1–2 (2009): 71.Grover, Paul, and Bruce Pennay. “Learning & Teaching Grant Progress Report.” Albury Wodonga: Charles Sturt U, 2019.Hider, Philip, Mary Anne Kennan, Mary Carroll, and Jessie Lymn. “Exploring Potential Barriers to Lam Synergies in the Academy: Institutional Locations and Publishing Outlets.” The Expanding LIS Education Universe (2018): 104.Hutchison, Mary. “Accommodating Strangers: Commonwealth Government Records of Bonegilla and Other Migrant Accommodation Centres.” Public History Review 11 (2004): 63–79.Jones, Michael. “Innovation Study: Challenges and Opportunities for Australia’s Galleries, Libraries, Archives and Museums.” Archives & Manuscripts 43.2 (2015): 149–51.National Archives of Australia. “Snakes in the Laundry... and Other Horrors”. Canberra, 29 May 2014. <http://www.naa.gov.au/about-us/media/media-releases/2014/25.aspx>.Pennay, Bruce. “‘But No One Can Say He Was Hungry’: Memories and Representations of Bonegilla Reception and Training Centre.” History Australia 9.1 (2012): 43–63.———. “Remembering Bonegilla: The Construction of a Public Memory Place at Block 19.” Public History Review 16 (2009): 43–63.Persian, Jayne. “Bonegilla: A Failed Narrative.” History Australia 9.1 (2012): 64–83.RMIT Centre for Urban Research. “Representing Multicultural Australia in National and State Libraries”. 2018. 11 Feb. 2019 <http://cur.org.au/project/representing-multicultural-australia-national-state-libraries/>.Stein, Clara. “The Growth and Development of Albury-Wodonga 1972–2006: United and Divided.” Macquarie U, 2012.Warren, Emily, and Graham Matthews. “Public Libraries, Museums and Physical Convergence: Context, Issues, Opportunities: A Literature Review Part 1.” Journal of Librarianship and Information Science (2018): 1–14.Wellington, Shannon. “Building Glamour: Converging Practice between Gallery, Library, Archive and Museum Entities in New Zealand Memory Institutions.” Wellington: Victoria U, 2013.Zavala, Jimmy, Alda Allina Migoni, Michelle Caswell, Noah Geraci, and Marika Cifor. “‘A Process Where We’re All at the Table’: Community Archives Challenging Dominant Modes of Archival Practice.” Archives and Manuscripts 45.3 (2017): 202–15.

“Language is inseparable from the world that provokes it”-- Don DeLillo, “In the Ruins of the Future”The attacks of 9/11 generated a public discourse of suspicion, with Osama bin Laden occupying the role of the quintessential “most wanted” for nearly a decade, before being captured and killed in May 2011. In the novel, Falling Man (DeLillo), set shortly after the attacks of September 11, Justin, the protagonist’s son, and his friends, the two Siblings, spend much of their time at the window of the Siblings’ New York apartment, “searching the skies for Bill Lawton” (74). Mishearing bin Laden’s name on the news, Robert, the younger of the Siblings, has “never adjusted his original sense of what he was hearing” (73), and so the “myth of Bill Lawton” (74) is created. In this paper, I draw on postclassical, cognitive narratology to “defamiliarise” processes undertaken by both narrator and reader (Palmer 28) in order to explore how narrative elements impact on readers’ and characters’ perceptions of the terrorist. My focus on select episodes within the novel “pursue[s] the author’s means of controlling his reader” (Booth i), and I refer to a generic reader to identify a certain intuitive reaction to the text. Assuming that “the written text imposes certain limits on its unwritten implications” (Iser 281), I trace a path from the uttered or printed word, through the reading act, to the process of meaning-making. I demonstrate how renaming the terrorist, and other language games, challenge the notion that terror can be synonymous with a locatable, destructible source by activating a suspicion towards the text in particular, and towards language in general.Falling Man tells the story of Keith who, after surviving the attacks on the World Trade Centre, shows up injured and disoriented at the apartment of his estranged wife, Lianne, and their son, Justin. The narrative, set at different periods between the day of the attacks and three years later, focuses on Keith’s and Lianne’s lives as they attempt to deal, in their own ways, with the trauma of the attacks and with the unexpected reunion of their small family. Keith disappears into games of poker and has a brief relationship with another survivor, while Lianne searches for answers in the writings of Alzheimer sufferers, in places of worship, and in conversations with her mother, Nina, and her mother’s partner, Martin, a German art-dealer with a questionable past. Each of the novel’s three parts also contains a short narrative from the perspective of Hammad, a fictional terrorist, starting with his early days in a European cell under the leadership of the real terrorist, Mohamed Atta, through the group’s activities in Florida, to his final moments aboard the plane that crashes into the World Trade Centre. DeLillo’s work is noted for treating language as central to society and culture (Weinstein). In this personalised narrative of post-9/11, DeLillo’s choices reflect his “refusal to reproduce the mass media’s representations of 9/11 the reader is used to” (Grossinger 85). This refusal is manifest not so much in an absence of well-known, mediated images or concepts, but in the reshaping and re-presenting of these images so that they appear unexpected, new, and personal (Apitzch). A notable example of such re-presentation is the Falling Man of the title, who is introduced, surprisingly, not as the man depicted in the famous photograph by Richard Drew (Leps), but a performance artist who uses the name Falling Man when staging his falls from various New York buildings. Not until the final two sentences of the novel does DeLillo fully admit the image into the narrative, and even then only as Keith’s private vision from the Tower: “Then he saw a shirt come down out of the sky. He walked and saw it fall, arms waving like nothing in this life” (246). The bin Laden/Bill Lawton substitution shows a similar rejection of recycled concepts and enables a renewed perspective towards the idea of bin Laden. Bill Lawton is first introduced as an anonymous “man” (17), later to be named Bill Lawton (73), and later still to be revealed as bin Laden mispronounced (73). The reader first learns of Bill Lawton in a conversation between Lianne and the Siblings’ mother, Isabel, who is worried about the children’s preoccupation at the window:“It has something to do with this man.”“What man?”“This name. You’ve heard it.”“This name,” Lianne said.“Isn’t this the name they sort of mumble back and forth? My kids totally don’t want to discuss the matter. Katie enforces the thing. She basically inspires fear in her brother. I thought maybe you would know something.”“I don’t think so.”“Like Justin says nothing about any of this?”“No. What man?”“What man? Exactly,” Isabel said. (17)If “the piling up of data [...] fulfils a function in the construction of an image” (Bal 85), a delayed unravelling of the bin Laden identity distorts this data-piling so that by the time the reader learns of the Bill Lawton/bin Laden link, an image of a man is already established as separate from, and potentially exclusive of, his historical identity. The segment beginning immediately after Isabel’s comment, “What man? Exactly” (17), refers to another, unidentified man with the pronoun “he” (18), as if to further sway the reader’s attention from the subject of that man’s identity. Fludernik notes that “language games” are a key feature of the postmodern text (Towards 221), adding that “techniques of linguistic emasculation serve implicitly to question a simple and naive view of the representational potential of language” (225). I propose that, in Falling Man, bin Laden is emasculated by the Bill Lawton misnomer, and is thereby conceptualised as two entities, one historical and one fictional. The name-switch activates what psychologists refer to as a “dual-process,” conscious and unconscious, that forms the reader’s experience of the narrative (Gerrig 37), creating a cognitive dissonance between the two. Much like Wittgenstein’s duck-rabbit drawing, bin Laden and Bill Lawton exist as two separate entities, occupying the same space of the idea of bin Laden, but demanding to be viewed singularly for the process of recognition to take place. Such distortion of a well-known figure conveys the sense that, in this novel, “all identities are either confused [...] or double [...] or merging [...] or failing” (Kauffman 371), or, occasionally, doing all these things simultaneously.A similar cognitive process is triggered by the introduction of aliases for all three characters that head each of the novel’s three parts. Ernst Hechinger is revealed as Martin Ridnour’s former, ‘terrorist’ identity (DeLillo, Falling 86), and performance artist David Janiak (180) as the Falling Man’s everyday name. But the bin Laden/Bill Lawton switch offers an overt juxtaposition of the historical with the fictional or, as Žižek would have it, “the Raw real” with the “virtual” (387), and allows the mutated bin Laden/Bill Lawton figure to shift, in the mind of the reader, between the two worlds, as well as form a new, blended entity.At this point, it is important to notice that two, interconnected, forms of suspicion exist in the novel. The first is invoked in the story-level towards various terrorist-characters such as Bill Lawton, Hammad, and Martin. The second form is activated when various elements within the narrative prompt the reader to treat the text itself as suspicious, triggering in the reader a cognitive reaction that mirrors that of the narrated character. One example is the “halting process” (Leps) that is forced on the reader when attempting to manoeuvre through the narrative’s anachronical arrangement that mirrors Keith’s mental perception of time and memory. Another such narrative device is the use of “unheralded pronouns” (Gerrig 50), when ‘he’ or ‘she’ is used ambiguously, often at the beginning of a chapter or segment. The use of pronouns in narrative must adhere to strict grammatical rules (Fludernik, Introduction) and when these rules are ignored, the reading pattern is affected. First, the reader of Falling Man is immersed within an element in the story, then becomes puzzled about the identity of a character, and finally re-reads the passage to gain clarity. The reader, after a while, distances somewhat from the text, scanning for alternative possibilities and approaching interpretation with a tentative sense of doubt.The conversation between the two mothers, the Bill Lawton/bin Laden split, and the use of unheralded pronouns also destabilises the relationship between person and name, and appears to create a world in which “personality has disintegrated into a mere semiotic mark” (Versluys 21). Keith’s obsession with correcting the spelling of his surname, Neudecker, “because it wasn’t him, with the name misspelled” (DeLillo, Falling 31), Lianne’s fondness of the philosopher Kierkegaard, “right down to the spelling of his name. The hard Scandian k’s and lovely doubled a” (118), her consideration of “Marko [...] with a k, whatever that might signify” (119), and Rumsey, who is told that “everything in his life would be different [...] if one letter in his name was different” (149), are a few examples of the text’s semiotic emphasis. But, while Versluys sees this tendency as emblematic of the novel’s portrayal of a decline in humanity, I suggest that the text’s preoccupation with the shape and constitution of words may work to “de-automatise” (Margolin 66) the relationship between sign and perception, rather than to denigrate the signified human. With the renamed terrorist, the reader comes to doubt not only the printed text, but also his or her automatic response to “bin Laden” as a “brand, a sort of logo which identifies and personalises the evil” (Chomsky, September 36). Bill Lawton, according to Justin, speaks in monosyllables (102), a language Justin chooses, for a time, for his own speech (66), and this also contributes to the de-automatisation of the text. The language game, in which a speaker must only use words with one syllable, began as a classroom activity “designed to teach the children something about the structure of words and the discipline required to frame clear thoughts” (66). The game also gives players, and readers, an embodied understanding of what Genette calls the gap between “being and saying” (93) that is inevitable in the production of language and narrative. Justin, who continues to play the game outside the classroom, because “it helps [him] go slow when [he] thinks” (66), finds comfort in the silent pauses that are afforded by widening the gap between thought and utterance. History in Falling Man is a collection of the private narratives of survivors, families, terrorists, artists, and the host of people that are affected by the attacks of 9/11. Justin’s character, with the linguistic and psychic code of a child, represents the way in which all participants, to some extent, choose their own antagonist, language, plot, and sequence to personalise this mega-public event. He insists that the towers did not collapse (72), but that they will, “this time coming” (102); Bill Lawton, for Justin, “has a long beard [...] speaks thirteen languages but not English except to his wives [and] has the power to poison what we eat” (74). Despite being confronted with the factual inaccuracies of his narrative, Justin resists editing his version precisely because these inaccuracies form his own, non-mediated, authentic account. They are, in a sense, a work of fiction and, paradoxically, more ‘real’ because of that. “We want to pass beyond the limits of safe understandings”, thinks Lianne, “and what better way to do it than through make-believe” (63). I have so far shown how narrative elements create a suspicion in the way characters operate within their surrounding universe, in the reader’s attitude towards the text, and, more implicitly, in the power of language to accurately represent a personal reality. Within the context of the novel’s historical setting—the period following the 9/11 attacks—the narration of the terrorist figure, as represented in Bill Lawton, Hammad, Martin, and others, may function as a response to the “binarism” of Bush’s proposal (Butler 2), epitomised in his “either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists” (Silberstein 14) approach. Within the novel’s universe, its narration of terrorist-characters works to free discourse from superficial categorisations and to provide “a counterdiscourse to the prevailing nationalistic interpretations” (Versluys 23) of the events of 9/11 by de-automatising a response to “us” and “them.” In his essay published shortly after the attacks, DeLillo notes that “the sense of disarticulation we hear in the term ‘Us and Them’ has never been so striking, at either end” (“Ruins”), and while he draws distinctions, in the same essay, with technology on ‘our’ side and religious fanaticism on ‘their’ side, I believe that the novel is less settled on the subject. The Anglicisation of bin Laden’s name, for example, suggests that Bush’s either-or-ism is, at least partially, an arbitrary linguistic construct. At a time when some social commentators have highlighted the similarity in the definitions of “terror” and “counter terror” (Chomsky, “Commentary” 610), the Bill Lawton ‘error’ works to illustrate how easily language can destabilise our perception of what is familiar/strange, us/them, terror/counter-terror, victim/perpetrator. In the renaming of the notorious terrorist, “the familiar name is transposed on the mass murderer, but in return the attributes of the mass murderer are transposed on one very like us” (Conte 570), and this reciprocal relationship forms an imagined evil that is no longer so easily locatable within the prevailing political discourse. As the novel contextualises 9/11 within a greater historical narrative (Leps), in which characters like Martin represent “our” form of militant activism (Duvall), we are invited to perceive a possibility that the terrorist could be, like Martin, “one of ours […] godless, Western, white” (DeLillo, Falling 195).Further, the idea that the suspect exists, almost literally, within ‘us’, the victims, is reflected in the structure of the narrative itself. This suggests a more fluid relationship between terrorist and victim than is offered by common categorisations that, for some, “mislead and confuse the mind, which is trying to make sense of a disorderly reality” (Said 12). Hammad is visited in three short separate sections; “on Marienstrasse” (77-83), “in Nokomis” (171-178), and “the Hudson corridor” (237-239), at the end of each of the novel’s three parts. Hammad’s narrative is segmented within Keith’s and Lianne’s tale like an invisible yet pervasive reminder that the terrorist is inseparable from the lives of the victims, habituating the same terrains, and crafted by the same omniscient powers that compose the victims’ narrative. The penetration of the terrorist into ‘our’ narrative is also perceptible in the physical osmosis between terrorist and victim, as the body of the injured victim hosts fragments of the dead terrorist’s flesh. The portrayal of the body, in some post 9/11 novels, as “a vulnerable site of trauma” (Bird, 561), is evident in the following passage, where a physician explains to Keith the post-bombing condition termed “organic shrapnel”:The bomber is blown to bits, literally bits and pieces, and fragments of flesh and bone come flying outwards with such force and velocity that they get wedged, they get trapped in the body of anyone who’s in striking range...A student is sitting in a cafe. She survives the attack. Then, months later, they find these little, like, pellets of flesh, human flesh that got driven into the skin. (16)For Keith, the dead terrorist’s flesh, lodged under living human skin, confirms the malignancy of his emotional and physical injury, and suggests a “consciousness occupied by terror” (Apitzch 95), not unlike Justin’s consciousness, occupied from within by the “secret” (DeLillo, Falling 101) of Bill Lawton.The macabre bond between terrorist and victim is fully realised in the novel’s final pages, when Hammad’s death intersects, temporally, with the beginning of Keith’s story, and the two bodies almost literally collide as Hammad’s jet crashes into Keith’s office building. Unlike Hammad’s earlier and clearly framed narratives, his final interruption dissolves into Keith’s story with such cinematic seamlessness as to make the two narratives almost indistinguishable from one another. Hammad’s perspective concludes on board the jet, as “something fell off the counter in the galley. He fastened his seatbelt” (239), followed immediately by “a bottle fell off the counter in the galley, on the other side of the aisle, and he watched it roll this way and that” (239). The ambiguous use of the pronoun “he,” once again, and the twin bottles in the galleys create a moment of confusion and force a re-reading to establish that, in fact, there are two different bottles, in two galleys; one on board the plane and the other inside the World Trade Centre. Victim and terrorist, then, share a common fate as acting agents in a single governing narrative that implicates both lives.Finally, Žižek warns that “whenever we encounter such a purely evil on the Outside, [...] we should recognise the distilled version of our own self” (387). DeLillo assimilates this proposition into the fabric of Falling Man by crafting a language that renegotiates the division between ‘out’ and ‘in,’ creating a fictional antagonist in Bill Lawton that continues to lurk outside the symbolic window long after the demise of his historical double. Some have read this novel as offering a more relative perspective on terrorism (Duvall). However, like Leps, I find that DeLillo here tries to “provoke thoughtful stillness rather than secure truths” (185), and this stillness is conveyed in a language that meditates, with the reader, on its own role in constructing precarious concepts such as ‘us’ and ‘them.’ When proposing that terror, in Falling Man, can be found within ‘us,’ linguistically, historically, and even physically, I must also add that DeLillo’s ‘us’ is an imagined sphere that stands in opposition to a ‘them’ world in which “things [are] clearly defined” (DeLillo, Falling 83). Within this sphere, where “total silence” is seen as a form of spiritual progress (101), one is reminded to approach narrative and, by implication, life, with a sense of mindful attention; “to hear”, like Keith, “what is always there” (225), and to look, as Nina does, for “something deeper than things or shapes of things” (111).ReferencesApitzch, Julia. "The Art of Terror – the Terror of Art: Delillo's Still Life of 9/11, Giorgio Morandi, Gerhard Richter, and Performance Art." Terrorism, Media, and the Ethics of Fiction: Transatlantic Perspectives on Don DeLillo. Eds. Peter Schneck and Philipp Schweighauser. London: Continuum [EBL access record], 2010. 93–110.Bal, Mieke. Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narratology. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1985.Bird, Benjamin. "History, Emotion, and the Body: Mourning in Post-9/11 Fiction." Literature Compass 4.3 (2007): 561–75.Booth, Wayne C. The Rhetoric of Fiction. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1961.Butler, Judith. Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence. New York: Verso, 2004.Chomsky, Noam. "Commentary Moral Truisms, Empirical Evidence, and Foreign Policy." Review of International Studies 29.4 (2003): 605–20.---. September 11. Crows Nest, NSW: Allen & Unwin, 2002.Conte, Joseph Mark. "Don Delillo’s Falling Man and the Age of Terror." MFS Modern Fiction Studies 57.3 (2011): 557–83.DeLillo, Don. Falling Man. London: Picador, 2007.---. "In the Ruins of the Future." The Guardian (22 December, 2001). ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2001/dec/22/fiction.dondelillo›.Duvall, John N. & Marzec, Robert P. "Narrating 9/11." MFS Modern Fiction Studies 57.3 (2011): 381–400.Fludernik, Monika. An Introduction to Narratology. Taylor & Francis [EBL access record], 2009.---. Towards a 'Natural' Narratology. Routledge, [EBL access record], 1996.Genette, Gerard. Figures of Literary Discourse. New York: Columbia U P, 1982.Gerrig, Richard J. "Conscious and Unconscious Processes in Reader's Narrative Experiences." Current Trends in Narratology. Ed. Greta Olson. Berlin: De Gruyter [EBL access record], 2011. 37–60.Grossinger, Leif. "Public Image and Self-Representation: Don Delillo's Artists and Terrorists in Postmodern Mass Society." Terrorism, Media, and the Ethics of Fiction: Transatlantic Perspectives on Don DeLillo. Eds. Peter Schneck and Philipp Schweighauser. London: Continuum [EBL access record], 2010. 81–92.Iser, Wolfgang. "The Reading Process: A Phenomenological Approach." New Literary History 3.2 (1972): 279–99.Kauffman, Linda S. "The Wake of Terror: Don Delillo's in the Ruins of the Future, Baadermeinhof, and Falling Man." Modern Fiction Studies 54.2 (2008): 353–77.Leps, Marie-Christine. "Falling Man: Performing Fiction." Terrorism, Media, and the Ethics of Fiction: Transatlantic Perspectives on Don DeLillo. Eds. Peter Schneck and Philipp Schweighauser. London: Continuum [EBL access record], 2010. 184–203.Margolin, Uri. "(Mis)Perceiving to Good Aesthetic and Cognitive Effect." Current Trends in Narratology. Ed. Greta Olson. Berlin: De Gruyter [EBL access record], 2011. 61–78.Palmer, Alan. "The Construction of Fictional Minds." Narrative 10.1 (2002): 28–46.Said, Edward W. "The Clash of Ignorance." The Nation 273.12 (2001): 11–13.Silberstein, Sandra. War of Words : Language Politics and 9/11. Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2004.Versluys, Kristiaan. Out of the Blue: September 11 and the Novel. New York: Columbia U P, 2009.Weinstein, Arnold. Nobody's Home: Speech, Self and Place in American Fiction from Hawthorne to DeLillo. Oxford U P [EBL Access Record], 1993.Žižek, Slavoj. "Welcome to the Desert of the Real!" The South Atlantic Quarterly 101.2 (2002): 385–89.

“I’m fat–and it’s okay! It doesn’t mean I’m stupid, or ugly, or lazy, or selfish. I’m fat!” so proclaims Joy Nash in her YouTube video, A Fat Rant. “Fat! It’s three little letters–what are you afraid of?!” This is the question I pose to my class on day one of Fat Studies. Sadly, many college students do fear fat, and negative attitudes toward fat people are quite prevalent in this population (Ambwani et al. 366). As I teach it, Fat Studies is cross-listed between Psychology and Gender Studies. However, most students who enrol have majors in Psychology or other behavioural health science fields in which weight bias is particularly pronounced (Watkins and Concepcion 159). Upon finding stronger bias among third- versus first-year Physical Education students, O’Brien, Hunter, and Banks (308) speculated that the weight-centric curriculum that typifies this field actively engenders anti-fat attitudes. Based on their exploration of textbook content, McHugh and Kasardo (621) contend that Psychology too is complicit in propagating weight bias by espousing weight-centric messages throughout the curriculum. Such messages include the concepts that higher body weight invariably leads to poor health, weight control is simply a matter of individual choice, and dieting is an effective means of losing weight and improving health (Tylka et al.). These weight-centric tenets are, however, highly contested. For instance, there exists a body of research so vast that it has its own name, the “obesity paradox” literature. This literature (McAuley and Blair 773) entails studies that show that “obese” persons with chronic disease have relatively better survival rates and that a substantial portion of “overweight” and “obese” individuals have levels of metabolic health similar to or better than “normal” weight individuals (e.g., Flegal et al. 71). Finally, the “obesity paradox” literature includes studies showing that cardiovascular fitness is a far better predictor of mortality than weight. In other words, individuals may be both fit and fat, or conversely, unfit and thin (Barry et al. 382). In addition, Tylka et al. review literature attesting to the complex causes of weight status that extend beyond individual behaviour, ranging from genetic predispositions to sociocultural factors beyond personal control. Lastly, reviews of research on dieting interventions show that these are overwhelmingly ineffective in producing lasting weight loss or actual improvements in health and may in fact lead to disordered eating and other unanticipated adverse consequences (e.g., Bacon and Aphramor; Mann et al. 220; Salas e79; Tylka et al.).The newfound, interdisciplinary field of scholarship known as Fat Studies aims to debunk weight-centric misconceptions by elucidating findings that counter these mainstream suppositions. Health At Every Size® (HAES), a weight-neutral approach to holistic well-being, is an important facet of Fat Studies. The HAES paradigm advocates intuitive eating and pleasurable physical activity for health rather than restrictive dieting and regimented exercise for weight loss. HAES further encourages body acceptance of self and others regardless of size. Empirical evidence shows that HAES-based interventions improve physical and psychological health without harmful side-effects or high dropout rates associated with weight loss interventions (Bacon and Aphramor; Clifford et al. “Impact of Non-Diet Approaches” 143). HAES, like the broader field of Fat Studies, seeks to eradicate weight-based discrimination, positioning weight bias as a social justice issue that intersects with oppression based on other areas of difference such as gender, race, and social class. Much like Queer Studies, Fat Studies seeks to reclaim the word, fat, thus stripping it of its pejorative connotations. As Nash asserts in her video, “Fat is a descriptive physical characteristic. It’s not an insult, or an obscenity, or a death sentence!” As an academic discipline, Fat Studies is expanding its visibility and reach. The Fat Studies Reader, the primary source of reading for my course, provides a comprehensive overview of the field (Rothblum and Solovay 1). This interdisciplinary anthology addresses fat history and activism, fat as social inequality, fat in healthcare, and fat in popular culture. Ward (937) reviews this and other recently-released fat-friendly texts. The field features its own journal, Fat Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Body Weight and Society, which publishes original research, overview articles, and reviews of assorted media. Both the Popular Culture Association and National Women’s Studies Association have special interest groups devoted to Fat Studies, and the American Psychological Association’s Division on the Psychology of Women has recently formed a task force on sizism (Bergen and Carrizales 22). Furthermore, Fat Studies conferences have been held in Australia and New Zealand, and the third annual Weight Stigma Conference will occur in Iceland, September 2015. Although the latter conference is not necessarily limited to those who align themselves with Fat Studies, keynote speakers include Ragen Chastain, a well-known member of the fat acceptance movement largely via her blog, Dances with Fat. The theme of this year’s conference, “Institutionalised Weightism: How to Challenge Oppressive Systems,” is consistent with Fat Studies precepts:This year’s theme focuses on the larger social hierarchies that favour thinness and reject fatness within western culture and how these systems have dictated the framing of fatness within the media, medicine, academia and our own identities. What can be done to oppose systemised oppression? What can be learned from the fight for social justice and equality within other arenas? Can research and activism be united to challenge prevailing ideas about fat bodies?Concomitantly, Fat Studies courses have begun to appear on college campuses. Watkins, Farrell, and Doyle-Hugmeyer (180) identified and described four Fat Studies and two HAES courses that were being taught in the U.S. and abroad as of 2012. Since then, a Fat Studies course has been taught online at West Virginia University and another will soon be offered at Washington State University. Additionally, a new HAES class has been taught at Saint Mary’s College of California during the last two academic years. Cameron (“Toward a Fat Pedagogy” 28) describes ways in which nearly 30 instructors from five different countries have incorporated fat studies pedagogy into university courses across an array of academic areas. This growing trend is manifested in The Fat Pedagogy Reader (Russell and Cameron) due out later this year. In this article, I describe content and pedagogical strategies that I use in my Fat Studies course. I then share students’ qualitative reactions, drawing upon excerpts from written assignments. During the term reported here, the class was comprised of 17 undergraduate and 5 graduate students. Undergraduate majors included 47% in Psychology, 24% in Women Studies, 24% in various other College of Liberal Arts fields, and 6% in the College of Public Health. Graduate majors included 40% in the College of Public Health and 60% in the College of Education. Following submission of final grades, students provided consent via email allowing written responses on assignments to be anonymously incorporated into research reports. Assignments drawn upon for this report include weekly reading reactions to specific journal articles in which students were to summarise the main points, identify and discuss a specific quote or passage that stood out to them, and consider and discuss applicability of the information in the article. This report also utilises responses to a final assignment in which students were to articulate take-home lessons from the course.Despite the catalogue description, many students enter Fat Studies with a misunderstanding of what the course entails. Some admitted that they thought the course was about reducing obesity and the presumed health risks associated with this alleged pathological condition (Watkins). Others understood, but were somewhat dubious, at least at the outset, “Before I began this class, I admit that I was skeptical of what Fat Studies meant.” Another student experienced “a severe cognitive dissonance” between the Fat Studies curriculum and that of a previous behavioural health class:My professor spent the entire quarter spouting off statistics, such as the next generation of children will be the first generation to have a lower life expectancy than their parents and the ever increasing obesity rates that are putting such a tax on our health care system, and I took her words to heart. I was scared for myself and for the populations I would soon be working with. I was worried that I was destined to a chronic disease and bothered that my BMI was two points above ‘normal.’ I believed everything my professor alluded to on the danger of obesity because it was things I had heard in the media and was led to believe all my life.Yet another related, “At first, I will be honest, it was hard for me to accept a lot of this information, but throughout the term every class changed my mind about my view of fat people.” A few students have voiced even greater initial resistance. During a past term, one student lamented that the material represented an attack on her intended behavioural health profession. Cameron (“Learning to Teach Everybody”) describes comparable reactions among students in her Critical Obesity course taught within a behavioural health science unit. Ward (937) attests that, even in Gender Studies, fat is the topic that creates the most controversy. Similarly, she describes students’ immense discomfort when asked to entertain perspectives that challenge deeply engrained ideas inculcated by our culture’s “obesity epidemic.” Discomfort, however, is not necessarily antithetical to learning. In prompting students to unlearn “the biomedically-informed truth of obesity, namely that fat people are unfit, unhealthy, and in need of ‘saving’ through expert interventions,” Moola at al. recommend equipping them with an “ethics of discomfort” (217). No easy task, “It requires courage to ask our students to forgo the security of prescriptive health messaging in favour of confusion and uncertainty” (221). I encourage students to entertain conflicting perspectives by assigning empirically-based articles emanating from peer-reviewed journals in their own disciplines that challenge mainstream discourses on obesity (e.g., Aphramor; Bombak e60; Tomiyama, Ahlstrom, and Mann 861). Students whose training is steeped in the scientific method seem to appreciate having quantitative data at their disposal to convince themselves–and their peers and professors–that widely held weight-centric beliefs and practices may not be valid. One student remarked, “Since I have taken this course, I feel like I am prepared to discuss the fallacy of the weight-health relationship,” citing specific articles that would aid in the effort. Likewise, Cameron’s (“Learning to Teach Everybody”) students reported a need to read research reports in order to begin questioning long-held beliefs.In addition, I assign readings that provide students with the opportunity to hear the voices of fat people themselves, a cornerstone of Fat Studies. Besides chapters in The Fat Studies Reader authored by scholars and activists who identify as fat, I assign qualitative articles (e.g., Lewis et al.) and narrative reports (e.g., Pause 42) in which fat people describe their experiences with weight and weight bias. Additionally, I provide positive images of fat people via films and websites (Clifford et al. HAES®; Watkins; Watkins and Doyle-Hugmeyer 177) in order to counteract the preponderance of negative, dehumanising portrayals in popular media (e.g., Ata and Thompson 41). In response, a student stated:One of the biggest things I took away from this term was the confidence I found in fat women through films and stories. They had more confidence than I have seen in any tiny girl and owned the body they were given.I introduce “normal” weight allies as well, most especially Linda Bacon whose treatise on thin privilege tends to set the stage for viewing weight bias as a form of oppression (Bacon). One student observed, “It was a relief to be able to read and talk about weight oppression in a classroom setting for once.” Another appreciated that “The class did a great job at analysing fat as oppression and not like a secondhand oppression as I have seen in my past classes.” Typically, fat students were already aware of weight-based privilege and oppression, often painfully so. Thinner students, however, were often astonished by this concept, several describing Bacon’s article as “eye-opening.” In reaction, many vowed to act as allies:This class has really opened my eyes and prepared me to be an ally to fat people. It will be difficult for some time while I try to get others to understand my point of view on fat people but I believe once there are enough allies, people’s minds will really start changing and it will benefit everyone for the better.Pedagogically, I choose to share my own experiences as they relate to course content and encourage students, at least in their written assignments, to do the same. Other instructors refrain from this practice for fear of reinforcing traditional discourses or eliciting detrimental reactions from students (Watkins, Farrell, and Doyle-Hugmeyer 191). Nevertheless, this tack seems to work well in my course, with many students opting to disclose their relevant circumstances during classroom discussions: Throughout the term I very much valued and appreciated when classmates would share their experiences. I love listening and hearing to others experiences and I think that is a great way to understand the material and learn from one another.It really helped to read different articles and hear classmates discuss and share stories that I was able to relate to. The idea of hearing people talk about issues that I thought I was the only one who dealt with was so refreshing and enlightening.The structure of this class allowed me to learn how this information is applicable to my life and made it deeper than just memorising information.Thus far, across three terms, no student has described iatrogenic effects from this process. In fact, most attribute positive transformations to the class. These include enhanced body acceptance of self and others: This class decreased my fat phobia towards others and gave me a better understanding about the intersectionality of one’s weight. For example, I now feel that I no longer view my family in a fat phobic way and I also feel responsible for educating my brother and helping him develop a strong self-esteem regardless of his size.I never thought this class would change my life, almost save my life. Through studies shown in class and real life people following their dreams, it made my mind completely change about how I view my body and myself.I can only hope that in the future, I will be more forgiving, tolerant, and above all accepting of myself, much less others. Regardless of a person’s shape and size, we are all beautiful, and while I’m just beginning to understand this, it can only get better from here.Students also reported becoming more savvy consumers of weight-centric media messages as well as realigning their eating and exercise behaviour in accordance with HAES: I find myself disgusted at the television now, especially with the amount of diet ads, fitness club ads, and exercise equipment ads all aimed at making a ‘better you.’ I now know that I would never be better off with a SlimFast shake, P90X, or a Total Gym. I would be better off eating when I’m hungry, working out because it is fun, and still eating Thin Mints when I want to. Prior to this class, I would work out rigorously, running seven miles a day. Now I realise why at times I dreaded to work out, it was simply a mathematical system to burn the energy that I had acquired earlier in the day. Instead what I realise I should do is something I enjoy, that way I will never get tired of whatever I am doing. While I do enjoy running, other activities would bring more joy while engaging in a healthy lifestyle like hiking or mountain biking.I will never go on another diet. I will stop choosing exercises I don’t love to do. I will not weigh myself every single day hoping for the number on the scale to change.A reduction in self-weighing was perhaps the most frequent behaviour change that students expressed. This is particularly valuable in that frequent self-weighing is associated with disordered eating and unhealthy weight control behaviours (Neumark-Sztainer et al. 811):I have realised that the number on the scale is simply a number on the scale. That number does not define who you are. I have stopped weighing myself every morning. I put the scale in the storage closet so I don’t have to look at it. I even encouraged my roommate to stop weighing herself too. What has been most beneficial for me to take away from this class is the notion that the number on the scale has so much less to do with fitness levels than most people understand. Coming from a numbers obsessed person like myself, this class has actually gotten me to leave the scales behind. I used to weigh myself every single day and my self-confidence reflected whether I was up or down in weight from the day before. It seems so silly to me now. From this class, I take away a new outlook on body diversity. I will evaluate who I am for what I do and not represent myself with a number. I’m going to have my cake this time, and actually eat it too!Finally, students described ways in which they might carry the concepts from Fat Studies into their future professions: I want to go to law school. This model is something I will work toward in the fight for social justice.As a teacher and teacher of teachers, I plan to incorporate discussions on size diversity and how this should be addressed within the field of adapted physical education.I do not know how I would have gone forward if I had never taken this class. I probably would have continued to use weight loss as an effective measure of success for both nutrition and physical activity interventions. I will never be able to think about the obesity prevention movement in the same way.Since I am working toward being a clinical psychologist, I don’t want to have a client who is pursuing weight loss and then blindly believe that they need to lose weight. I’d rather be of the mindset that every person is unique, and that there are other markers of health at every size.Jones and Hughes-Decatur (59) call for increased scholarship illustrating and evaluating critical body pedagogies so that teachers might provide students with tools to critique dominant discourses, helping them forge healthy relationships with their own bodies in the process. As such, this paper describes elements of a Fat Studies class that other instructors may choose to adopt. It additionally presents qualitative data suggesting that students came to think about fat and fat people in new and divergent ways. Qualitative responses also suggest that students developed better body image and more adaptive eating and exercise behaviours throughout the term. Although no students have yet described lasting adverse effects from the class, one stated that she would have preferred less of a focus on health and more of a focus on issues such as fat fashion. Indeed, some Fat Studies scholars (e.g., Lee) advocate separating discussions of weight bias from discussions of health status to avoid stigmatising fat people who do experience health problems. While concerns about fostering healthism within the fat acceptance movement are valid, as a behavioural health professional with an audience of students training in these fields, I have chosen to devote three weeks of our ten week term to this subject matter. Depending on their academic background, others who teach Fat Studies may choose to emphasise different aspects such as media representations or historical connotations of fat.Nevertheless, the preponderance of positive comments evidenced throughout students’ assignments may certainly be a function of social desirability. Although I explicitly invite critique, and in fact assign readings (e.g., Welsh 33) and present media that question HAES and Fat Studies concepts, students may still feel obliged to articulate acceptance of and transformations consistent with the principles of these movements. As a more objective assessment of student outcomes, I am currently conducting a quantitative evaluation, in which I remain blind to students’ identities, of this year’s Fat Studies course compared to other upper division/graduate Psychology courses, examining potential changes in weight bias, body image and dieting behaviour, adherence to appearance-related media messages, and obligatory exercise behaviour. I postulate results akin to those of Humphrey, Clifford, and Neyman Morris (143) who found reductions in weight bias, improved body image, and improved eating behaviour among college students as a function of their HAES course. As Fat Studies pedagogy proliferates, instructors are called upon to share their teaching strategies, document the effects, and communicate these results within and outside of academic spheres.ReferencesAmbwani, Suman, Katherine M. Thomas, Christopher J. Hopwood, Sara A. Moss, and Carlos M. Grilo. “Obesity Stigmatization as the Status Quo: Structural Considerations and Prevalence among Young Adults in the U.S.” Eating Behaviors 15.3 (2014): 366-370. Aphramor, Lucy. “Validity of Claims Made in Weight Management Research: A Narrative Review of Dietetic Articles.” Nutrition Journal 9 (2010): n. pag. 15 May 2015 ‹http://www.nutritionj.com/content/9/1/30›.Ata, Rheanna M., and J. 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