Journal articles on the topic 'New Century Club (Philadelphia, Pa.)'

With the emergence of baseball as America’s national sporting pastime, Camden civic and business leaders decided in 1881 to organize a professional team. This article examines the brief but spectacular history of the Albert Merritt Base Ball Club, one of the best minor league teams of the nineteenth century. Examined are the social and economic reasons for organizing a professional team, the unique founding of the club, the construction of a playing facility, and team finances including player salaries. The 1883 Merritt, which advanced every player to the major leagues, was a juggernaut, dominating the inaugural season of the Inter-State Association, one of two officially organized minor leagues. But despite success on the field with a 27-8 (.771) record, the team suddenly disbanded on July 21. The case study of the promise and perils of professional baseball as a civic and community enterprise culminates in a discussion of the club’s demise because of internal financial problems and inability to compete with two major league teams across the Delaware River in Philadelphia.

Abstract INTRODUCTION: The focus of this work is to develop new mouse models for metastatic lung cancer. Lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer deaths worldwide and greater than 75% of human lung cancer deaths can be attributed to metastasis. Metastatic disease in most existing mouse models of pulmonary adenocarcinoma is typically sporadic and often requires aging mice for several months. These factors limit the usefulness of mouse models for basic and pre-clinical research aimed at identifying effective treatments of metastatic disease. METHODS AND RESULTS: We have developed new mouse models of pulmonary adenocarcinoma in which we added mutations in Dicer1, an RNAse III enzyme within the microRNA (miRNA) biosynthesis pathway to a mouse model of Kras-driven pulmonary adenocarcinoma. For both models, we induced tumorigenesis by conditionally expressing an oncogenic allele of Kras (KrasG12D), deleting of both alleles of Trp53 and deleting one allele of Dicer1 in one cell population then expressing truncated Dicer1 in a different cell population. In the absence of Dicer1 truncation, mice expressing KrasG12D and deleting Trp53 in Club cells have a reported median survival of 28.6 weeks after tumor induction. When we also deleted one allele of Dicer1 in Club cells and truncated Dicer1 in alveolar type II cells of these mice, they exhibited respiratory distress and began dying 12.1 weeks after tumor induction. In our initial pilot study, all animals (12/12) developed pulmonary adenocarcinoma and 30% (3/10) had lymph node metastasis. We did not observe accelerated tumorigenesis, however, when we switched cell types, inducing tumorigenesis in alveolar type II cells and truncating Dicer1 in Club cells, or when induced tumorigenesis and truncating Dicer1 within the same cell populations. CONCLUSIONS: Through cell type specific truncation/deletion of Dicer1 we have generated a new mouse model that rapidly develops pulmonary adenocarcinomas and metastatic disease. Our findings support our hypothesis that tumorigenesis and metastasis are influenced by miRNA regulated communication between different cell types. These models have potential for both understanding the basic processes of metastasis and for pre-clinical studies aimed at preventing and/or treating metastatic lung cancer. Citation Format: Julie Wells, Richard Maser, Ashley Tucker, Teresa McGee, Wendy Memishian, Rosalinda Doty, Carol J. Bult. Developing new mouse models of metastatic lung cancer [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 927.

Abstract INTRODUCTION: Lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer deaths worldwide and greater than 75% of human lung cancer deaths can be attributed to metastasis. Metastatic disease in most existing mouse models of pulmonary adenocarcinoma is typically sporadic and often requires aging mice for several months. These factors limit the usefulness of most current mouse models for basic and pre-clinical research aimed at identifying mechanisms and effective treatments of metastatic disease. We have developed two novel mouse models of metastatic lung cancer and report here on changes in protein expression and immune cell recruitment in the lungs of these models. METHODS AND RESULTS: Mouse models were generated by adding mutations in Dicer1, an RNAse III enzyme within the microRNA (miRNA) biosynthesis pathway, to a mouse model of Kras-driven pulmonary adenocarcinoma. For both models, tumorigenesis was induced by conditional expression of an oncogenic allele of Kras (KrasG12D), deletion of both alleles of Trp53 and deletion of one allele of Dicer1 in one cell type and the expression of a truncated Dicer1 allele in a different cell type. In the absence of Dicer1 truncation, mice expressing KrasG12D and deleting Trp53 in club cells have a reported median survival of 28.6 weeks after tumor induction. We detected accelerated development of pulmonary adenocarcinoma and lymph node metastasis (12.1 weeks) only when we induced tumorigenesis in club cells and truncated DICER1 in alveolar type II (ATII) cells. Induction of tumorigenesis in ATII cells and truncation of DICER1 in club cells did not accelerate tumorigenesis or metastasis. To evaluate the molecular and cellular changes in the different phenotypes of these models we have characterized protein expression, using spatial proteomics, and immune cell recruitment, using flow cytometry. CONCLUSIONS: Through cell type specific truncation/deletion of Dicer1 we have generated a new mouse model that rapidly develops pulmonary adenocarcinomas and metastatic disease. Our findings support our hypothesis that tumorigenesis and metastasis are influenced by miRNA regulated communication between different cell types. Preliminary flow cytometry and spatial proteomic analyses have suggested cellular targets underlying phenotypic differences between our two mouse models. These models have potential for both understanding the basic processes of metastasis and for pre-clinical studies aimed at preventing and/or treating metastatic lung cancer. Citation Format: Paige Ramkissoon, Julie Wells, Richard S. Maser, Jiayuan Shi, Zheng Gong, Qing Li, Brian Hoffmann, Anne Marchini, Elaine Bechtel, Rosalinda Doty, Gary Ren, Carol J. Bult. New mouse models of metastatic lung cancer [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2023; Part 1 (Regular and Invited Abstracts); 2023 Apr 14-19; Orlando, FL. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(7_Suppl):Abstract nr 1321.

Abstract In medicine, as in all of human history, there is a permanent back and forth between two principal modes of thought: (i) magical/religious/ fears/obscurantism, leading to dogma;, and (ii) intellectual activities resulting in the questioning of dogma and opening doors to new concepts. Concerning cancer, since ancient Egypt, several methods of thinking have been instituted and then rejected, influenced by new discoveries but also by the cultural context. With respect to mechanisms of cancer metastasis, after considerable debate in the 19th century, intravascular dissemination of cancer was finally imposed and is still accepted as the only mechanism for distant metastasis. However, at present, other perspectives are now taken into consideration, and in particular melanoma angiotropism, pericytic mimicry, and extravascular migratory metastasis (EVMM). This new field of cancer research may open promising new strategies for reducing or preventing melanoma metastasis. Citation Format: Claire Lugassy, Raymond L Barnhill. Concepts of cancer and metastasis: Historical perspective [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the AACR Special Conference on Melanoma: From Biology to Target; 2019 Jan 15-18; Houston, TX. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2020;80(19 Suppl):Abstract nr IA06.

Abstract Renal cell carcinoma (RCC) is amongst the ten most prevalent malignancies in the United States, with 76,000 new cases each year and almost 14,000 deaths. Over the past half-century, RCC has more than doubled in incidence. RCC seems to have a greater incidence among Hispanics with a nearly three-fold increase. The epidemiology of RCC has been studied. However, there is a gap in knowledge on disparities in RCC within minority populations. We aimed to analyze epidemiologic patterns of RCC within our community, where Hispanics alone make up 70% of the population. We conducted a retrospective study to describe characteristics and calculate rates of recurrence of RCC among patients treated at Sylvester Comprehensive Cancer Center in Miami, FL, from June 2010 to April 2020. The patients were aged 18 and older and had a pathologic diagnosis of RCC. We identified ethnicity as Hispanic/Latino (HL) or non-Hispanic/Latino (NHL). Clinical presentation was classified based on information from the last encounter as either local RCC without recurrence, metastatic RCC after nephrectomy, or metastatic RCC at diagnosis/de novo. We analyzed a total of 1168 patients, from which 661 patients (55.7%) were identified as NHL and 507 (42.7%) as HL. A subtotal of 333 patients (28.5%) had metastatic RCC at diagnosis/de novo, from which 199 (59.7%) were NHL, and 134 (40.2%) were HL. A subtotal of 835 patients (71.5%) were diagnosed with local RCC and underwent nephrectomy, from which 462 (55.3%) were identified as NHL and 373 (44.7%) as HL. From the NHL group that underwent nephrectomy, 189 patients (40.9%) had recurrent disease and 273 (59%) did not. From the HL group, 121 patients (32.4%) had recurrent disease and 252 (67.5%) did not. Overall, 310 patients had metastasis after nephrectomy, from which 121 (39%) were HL and 189 (60.9%) were NHL. In this cohort of patients with RCC, four out of every ten patients with metastasis at diagnosis were HL. NHL appeared to have more recurrence of disease after nephrectomy compared to Hispanics. Further histopathologic, clinical, and genomic characteristics will be presented, along with treatment outcomes and clinical trial participation in the NHL and HL cohorts. Citation Format: Abner Antonio Murray Melo, Jesus Antonio Ocejo Gallegos, Jaime Rafael Merchan. Epidemiological characteristics and patterns of recurrence of renal cell carcinoma in Hispanics: A single US center cohort study [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the 15th AACR Conference on the Science of Cancer Health Disparities in Racial/Ethnic Minorities and the Medically Underserved; 2022 Sep 16-19; Philadelphia, PA. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev 2022;31(1 Suppl):Abstract nr C121.

Abstract Introduction Breast cancer is a complex, heterogeneous disease encompassing a spectrum of subtypes with distinct biological features, each having unique responses to various treatment modalities and different clinical outcomes. The type of neoadjuvant chemotherapy (NAC) for locally advanced breast cancer is decided based on breast cancer subtype, which includes triple negative breast cancer (TNBC), hormone receptor positive breast cancer (HR+BC), HER2+ breast cancer (HER2+BC) and triple positive breast cancer (TPBC). Multiple NAC regimens exist but have not been directly compared to determine the optimal treatment regimen in patients with various stages (I-III) and subtypes of breast cancer. The objective of this study was to assess pathological complete response (pCR) rates in patients treated with various types of NAC and analyze associated clinical factors in our diverse patient population. Methods This study included 297 patients treated with NAC for breast cancer between 2015 and 2021 at LCMC Heath, New Orleans, Louisiana. The tumor, lymph node, metastasis (TNM) system was used for clinical and pathological staging. Biologic subclassification using estrogen receptor (ER), progesterone receptor (PR), HER2 were performed. Response to NAC was documented as pCR when there was no evidence of residual invasive tumor in the breast or axillary lymph nodes. Categorical variables were summarized by reporting counts and percentages, while continuous variables were summarized by reporting means and standard deviations. Fisher exact tests were used to compare pCR status by each chemotherapy status or demographic factor. Wilcoxon Rank-sum tests were used to compare continuous variables across pCR groups. Multivariable linear regression was performed to predict overall tumor shrinkage %. Results Among all patients, median age was 54.75 years (min-max: 22-78). 30 (10%) patients were stage I, 175 (58.9%) were stage II, 89 (29.9%) were stage III and 3 (1%) were stage IV with oligometastatic disease. 171 (57.6%) were African American (AA), 82 (27.6%) were Caucasians and 41(13.8%) were other race. Table 1. shows chemotherapy and pCR rates among different breast cancer subtypes. Patients with carboplatin (57.3 vs 35.3; p< 0.001), had a higher likelihood of complete remission than non-users. After multivariable linear regression adjustment, Paclitaxel increased the % reduction in tumor size significantly (EST= 39%, CI 2% – 77%; p=0.042) compared to non-users. In the subset of TNBC patients this held in terms of pCR rates (47.1% vs 25%, p=0.036). In TPBC, pCR was higher in younger (p=0.028) and non-AA (p=0.0023) patients. Conclusion Multiple NAC regimens for breast cancer exist and optimization of regimens is key. We explored the use of several different chemotherapy agents and found the use of carboplatin beneficial, while doxorubicin, cyclophosphamide and cisplatin had a decreased likelihood of achieving a pCR; however, this may be due to the intrinsic nature of the subtypes that would be treated with these NAC regimens. We plan to explore by subtype and treatment regimen in future analysis.Interestingly, AA have significantly less pCR in TPBC, compared to non-AA, although this finding was not seen in other subtypes. Future studies are needed to investigate this further. Table 1: Chemotheraphy and pCR rates among different breast cancer subtypes. Citation Format: Aneesha Ananthula, Katharine Thomas, Lily Chen, Vincent K. Carey, Caitlin M. Sullivan, Karla M. Martin, Emily Baas, Kara C. Plasko, Brandi Sun, Madison Lanza, Cindy Nguyen, Andrew Chapple, Michelle M. Loch. Neo-adjuvant chemotherapy in various breast cancer subtypes in the 21st century. [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the 2022 San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium; 2022 Dec 6-10; San Antonio, TX. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(5 Suppl):Abstract nr P4-07-21.

-Philip D. Morgan, Marcus Wood, Blind memory: Visual representations of slavery in England and America 1780-1865. New York: Routledge, 2000. xxi + 341 pp.-Rosemarijn Hoefte, Ron Ramdin, Arising from bondage: A history of the Indo-Caribbean people. New York: New York University Press, 2000. x + 387 pp.-Flávio dos Santos Gomes, David Eltis, The rise of African slavery in the Americas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. xvii + 353 pp.-Peter Redfield, D. Graham Burnett, Masters of all they surveyed: Exploration, geography, and a British El Dorado. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. xv + 298 pp.-Bernard Moitt, Eugenia O'Neal, From the field to the legislature: A history of women in the Virgin Islands. Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 2001. xiii + 150 pp.-Allen M. Howard, Nemata Amelia Blyden, West Indians in West Africa, 1808-1880: The African Diaspora in reverse. Rochester NY: University of Rochester Press, 2000. xi + 258 pp.-Michaeline A. Crichlow, Kari Levitt, The George Beckford papers. Kingston: Canoe Press, 2000. lxxi + 468 pp.-Michaeline A. Crichlow, Audley G. Reid, Community formation; A study of the 'village' in postemancipation Jamaica. Kingston: Canoe Press, 2000. xvi + 156 pp.-Linden Lewis, Brian Meeks, Narratives of resistance: Jamaica, Trinidad, the Caribbean. Kingston: University of the West Indies Press, 2000. xviii + 240 pp.-Roderick A. McDonald, Bridget Brereton, Law, justice, and empire: The colonial career of John Gorrie, 1829-1892. Kingston: University of the West Indies Press, 1997. xx + 371 pp.-Karl Watson, Gary Lewis, White rebel: The life and times of TT Lewis. Kingston: University of the West Indies Press, 1999. xxvii + 214 pp.-Mary Turner, Armando Lampe, Mission or submission? Moravian and Catholic missionaries in the Dutch Caribbean during the nineteenth century. Göttingen, FRG: Vandenburg & Ruprecht, 2001. 244 pp.-O. Nigel Bolland, Anton L. Allahar, Caribbean charisma: Reflections on leadership, legitimacy and populist politics. Kingston: Ian Randle; Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner, 2001. xvi + 264 pp.-Bill Maurer, Cynthia Weber, Faking it: U.S. Hegemony in a 'post-phallic' era. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999. xvi + 151 pp.-Kelvin Santiago-Valles, Christina Duffy Burnett ,Foreign in a domestic sense: Puerto Rico, American expansion, and the constitution. Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2001. xv + 422 pp., Burke Marshall (eds)-Rubén Nazario, Efrén Rivera Ramos, The legal construction of identity: The judicial and social legacy of American colonialism in Puerto Rico. Washington DC: American Psychological Association, 2000. 275 pp.-Marc McLeod, Louis A. Pérez, Jr., Winds of change: Hurricanes and the transformation of nineteenth-century Cuba. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001. x + 199 pp.-Jorge L. Giovannetti, Fernando Martínez Heredia ,Espacios, silencios y los sentidos de la libertad: Cuba entre 1878 y 1912. Havana: Ediciones Unión, 2001. 359 pp., Rebecca J. Scott, Orlando F. García Martínez (eds)-Reinaldo L. Román, Miguel Barnet, Afro-Cuban religions. Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener Publishers, 2001. 170 pp.-Philip W. Scher, Hollis 'Chalkdust' Liverpool, Rituals of power and rebellion: The carnival tradition in Trinidad and Tobago, 1763-1962. Chicago: Research Associates School Times Publications and Frontline distribution international, 2001. xviii + 518 pp.-Asmund Weltzien, David Griffith ,Fishers at work, workers at sea: A Puerto Rican journey through labor and refuge. Philadelphia PA: Temple University Press, 2002. xiv + 265 pp., Manuel Valdés Pizzini (eds)-Riva Berleant-Schiller, Eudine Barriteau, The political economy of gender in the twentieth-century Caribbean. New York: Palgrave, 2001. xvi + 214 pp.-Edward Dew, Rosemarijn Hoefte ,Twentieth-century Suriname: Continuities and discontinuities in a new world society. Kingston: Ian Randle; Leiden: KITLV Press, 2001. xvi + 365 pp., Peter Meel (eds)-Joseph L. Scarpaci, Jonathan Benjamin-Alvarado, Power to the people: Energy and the Cuban nuclear program. New York: Routledge, 2000. xiii + 178 pp.-Lynn M. Festa, Keith A. Sandiford, The cultural politics of sugar: Caribbean slavery and narratives of colonialism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. 221 pp.-Maria Christina Fumagalli, John Thieme, Derek Walcott. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999. xvii + 251 pp.-Laurence A. Breiner, Stewart Brown, All are involved: The art of Martin Carter. Leeds U.K.: Peepal Tree, 2000. 413 pp.-Mikael Parkvall, John Holm, An introduction to Pidgins and Creoles. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. xxi + 282 pp.

Abstract For over 100 years, the traditional tools of pathology, such as tissue-marking dyes (e.g. the H&E stain) have been used to study the disorganization and dysfunction of cells within tissues. This has represented a principal diagnostic and prognostic tool in cancer. However, in the last 5 years, new technologies have promised to revolutionize histopathology, with Spatial Transcriptomics technologies allowing us to measure gene expression directly in pathology-stained tissue sections. In parallel with these developments, Artificial Intelligence (AI) applied to histopathology tissue images now approaches pathologist level performance in cell type identification. However, these new technologies still have severe limitations, with Spatial Transcriptomics suffering difficulties distinguishing transcriptionally similar cell types, and AI-based pathology tools often performing poorly on real world out-of-batch test datasets. Thus, century-old techniques still represent standard-of-care in most areas of clinical cancer diagnostics and prognostics. Here, we present a new frontier in digital pathology: describing a conceptually novel computational methodology, based on Bayesian probabilistic modelling, that allows Spatial Transcriptomics data to be leveraged together with the output of deep learning-based AI used to computationally annotate H&E-stained sections of the same tumor. By leveraging cell-type annotations from multiple independent pathologists, we show that this integrated methodology achieves better performance than any given pathologist’s manual tissue annotation in the task of identifying regions of immune cell infiltration in breast cancer, and easily outperforms either technology alone. We also show that on a subset of histopathology slides examined, the methodology can identify regions of clinically relevant immune cell infiltration that were missed entirely by an initial pathologist’s manual annotation. While this use case has clear diagnostic and prognostic value in cancer (e.g. predicting response to immunotherapy), our methodology is generalizable to any type of pathology images and also has broad applications in spatial transcriptomics data analytics, where most applications (such as identifying cell-cell interactions) rely on correct cell type annotations having been established a priori. We anticipate that this work will spur many follow-up studies, including new computational innovations building on the approach. The work sets the stage for better-than-pathologist performance in other cell-type annotation tasks, with relevant applications in diagnostics and prognostics across almost all cancers. Citation Format: Asif Zubair, Rich Chapple, Sivaraman Natarajan, William C. Wright, Min Pan, Hyeong-Min Lee, Heather Tillman, John Easton, Paul Geeleher. Jointly leveraging spatial transcriptomics and deep learning models for image annotation achieves better-than-pathologist performance in cell type identification in tumors [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 456.

Abstract Focal radiation therapy has demonstrated to elicit inflammatory and immune responses that contribute to cancer immunosurveillance, but may also have unwanted systemic effects. The application of ionizing radiation to cancer, which is the basis for the field of radiation oncology, has evolved to define and exploit the therapeutic window between radiation cytocidal effects in tumors versus those in normal tissue. The original standardization of specific dose-fractionation regimens reflected the results of decades of empirical experience to find the best balance between local control of the irradiated cancer and the mitigation of risk for acute and late sequelae in the exposed normal tissues. More than a century of research in radiation biology has elucidated how radiation damage recruits a classical inflammation response, activates pathways to repair tissues through scavenging of cellular debris and canonical wound repair mechanisms that aim at recovering tissue integrity. Intrinsic to this process is a robust dampening of immunogenic signals, common to those associated with wound repair, to prevent triggering of auto-immune rejections of inflamed tissues. At the same time, radiation has proimmunogenic effects, that recruit both the innate arm of the immune system (acute induction of IFN pathways) and the adaptive arm, through radiation-induced neoepitopes and enhanced cross presentation. Strategies to uncouple these opposite effects are the focus of research efforts in multiple radiation biology laboratories, worldwide. The emergence of modern cancer immunotherapy offers the opportunity to further dissect such strategies. Recent evidence suggest a new role for focal radiotherapy, to partnering and synergize with immune checkpoint blockade (ICB). Evidence is emerging both preclinically and in the clinical setting that optimal integration of radiotherapy with the available immune modifiers might require changes in standard radiation oncology practices. Variables like the type of treatment fields, the inclusion of draining nodal stations, the degree of exposure of circulating immune cells, the type of dose-fractionation and the timing of radiotherapy during ICB all can affect the success of immunoradiotherapy combinations. Hence, defining the parameters for adapting classic radiation therapy to best integrate with ICB remains a fundamental area of investigation, as it is integral to a successful partnership with immunotherapy. Citation Format: Silvia C. Formenti. Adapting clinical radiation therapy to immune checkpoint blockade [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr SY43-02.

Abstract Breast cancer represents the most commonly diagnosed female malignancy worldwide. Although breast cancer screening and treatments have improved significantly over the last half-century, aggressive subtypes like triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC) as well as growing chemoresistance cases continue to evade frontline therapies. STAT3, a transcription factor involved in cell proliferation, survival, and malignant transformation, plays a key role in mammary carcinogenesis, resistance, and recurrence. Both STAT3 overexpression and aberrant activation are frequently observed in primary breast tumors and their metastatic lesions. Although STAT3 is recognized as an attractive preventive and therapeutic target, there are no FDA-approved STAT3 inhibitors in clinical use. Via structure- and fragment-based drug design strategies as well as in silico molecular modeling and docking, our team previously developed a putative STAT3 inhibitor, HJC0152. This study aims to further characterize the anticancer mechanism of HJC0152 as well as optimize its potency. Our results show that HJC0152 interacts with STAT3 with a similar specificity to an experimental STAT3 inhibitor, Stattic. To further improve its potency and efficacy, we developed several HJC0152 derivatives including HJC0152-based proteolysis targeting chimera (PROTAC) degraders. Several molecules showed comparable or improved potency to HJC0152 against several breast cancer cell lines including TNBC cells. While the total STAT3 protein level reduces moderately with HJC0152 treatment, several new compounds decrease STAT3 protein level more profoundly. In particular, the newly developed HJC0152-PROTACs showed a significant late inhibition of STAT3 phosphorylation at the Tyr705 and Ser727 residues as well as a reduction in total STAT3 protein. Our data indicate that HJC0152-based analogs and protein degraders can suppress breast cancer cell proliferation, likely through targeting STAT3 signaling pathway. Future experiments will determine the molecular prolife of promising molecules as well as assess their in vivo anticancer efficacy using xenograft models. This project is supported by NIH/NCI Awards R01CA226001 and R01CA231150 to Q.S. and J.Z. Citation Format: Gabrielle Vontz, Jun Li, Ruixia Ma, Jimin Xu, Mingxiang Zhou, Haiying Chen, Jia Zhou, Qiang Shen. Development of HJC0152, its analogs and protein degraders to modulate STAT3 for triple-negative breast cancer therapy [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2023; Part 1 (Regular and Invited Abstracts); 2023 Apr 14-19; Orlando, FL. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(7_Suppl):Abstract nr 1659.

Abstract Background: Annually, there are over 400,000 new cases of renal cell carcinoma (RCC) and more than 170,000 deaths worldwide. RCC is one of the top ten more prevalent malignancies in the United States, with 76,000 new cases each year and almost 14,000 deaths. Over the past half-century, RCC has more than doubled in incidence. RCC seems to have a greater incidence among Hispanics with a nearly three-fold increase. The epidemiology of RCC in the Caucasian population has been previously studied. However, there is a knowledge gap on disparities in RCC on minority populations. Studying the epidemiology of RCC in Hispanics is integral to our community where Hispanics make up 70%. Methods: We conducted a retrospective cohort study to describe the characteristics and rates of recurrence of RCC among patients treated at Sylvester Comprehensive Cancer Center in Miami (which serves four counties in South Florida) between June 2010 to June 2022. We identified ethnicity as Hispanic/Latino (HL) or non-Hispanic/Latino (NHL). Clinical presentation was classified based on the last encounter as local RCC without recurrence, metastatic RCC after nephrectomy, and metastatic RCC at diagnosis/de novo. Results: We analyzed a total of 2049 patients aged 18 and older diagnosed with RCC, from which 1014 patients (47.90%) were identified as NHL and 933 (48.02%) as HL. A subtotal of 435 patients (22.86%) had metastatic RCC at diagnosis/de novo, from which 245 (55.60%) were NHL, and 176 (40.57%) were HL. A subtotal of 1614 patients (77.14%) were diagnosed with local RCC and underwent nephrectomy, from which 769 (45.61%) were identified as NHL and 787 (50.22%) as HL. From the NHL group that underwent nephrectomy, 223 patients (28.28%) had recurrent disease, and 546 patients (71.72%) did not. From the HL group, 176 patients (21.81%) had recurrent disease, and 611 (78.19%) did not. Overall, 409 patients had metastasis after nephrectomy, of which 176 (44.5%) were HL, and 203 (52.42%) were NHL. Conclusions: In this cohort of patients with RCC, almost 50% of patients diagnosed with metastasis were HL. NHL appeared to have more disease recurrence after nephrectomy and higher rates of metastatic disease at diagnosis compared to Hispanics. Further histopathological differences, clinical outcomes, genomic characterization, and rates of clinical trial participation between the NHL and HL cohorts will be presented at the meeting, along with comparisons between US and foreign-born HLs. Citation Format: Abner A. Murray, Jesus A. Ocejo Gallegos, Sandra Jones, Jose Noy, Rosa L. Frias, Leticia E. Campoverde, Jaime R. Merchan. Epidemiological characterization of renal cell carcinoma in Hispanics: A single US center cohort study [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2023; Part 1 (Regular and Invited Abstracts); 2023 Apr 14-19; Orlando, FL. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(7_Suppl):Abstract nr 722.

-Stanley L. Engerman, Heather Cateau ,Capitalism and slavery fifty years later: Eric Eustace Williams - A reassessment of the man and his work. New York: Peter Lang, 2000. xvii + 247 pp., S.H.H. Carrington (eds)-Philip D. Morgan, B.W. Higman, Writing West Indian histories. London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1999. xiv + 289 pp.-Daniel Vickers, Alison Games, Migration and the origins of the English Atlantic world. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1999. xiii + 322 pp.-Christopher L. Brown, Andrew Jackson O'Shaughnessy, An empire divided: The American revolution and the British Caribbean. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000. xviii + 357 pp.-Lennox Honychurch, Samuel M. Wilson, The indigenous people of the Caribbean. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1997. xiv + 253 pp.-Kenneth Bilby, Bev Carey, The Maroon story: The authentic and original history of the Maroons in the history of Jamaica 1490-1880. St. Andrew, Jamaica: Agouti Press, 1997. xvi + 656 pp.-Bernard Moitt, Doris Y. Kadish, Slavery in the Caribbean Francophone world: Distant voices, forgotten acts, forged identities. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2000. xxiii + 247 pp.-Michael J. Guasco, Virginia Bernhard, Slaves and slaveholders in Bermuda, 1616-1782. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1999. xviii + 316 pp.-Michael J. Jarvis, Roger C. Smith, The maritime heritage of the Cayman Islands. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2000. xxii + 230 pp.-Paul E. Hoffman, Peter R. Galvin, Patterns of pillage: A geography of Caribbean-based piracy in Spanish America, 1536-1718. New York: Peter Lang, 1999. xiv + 271 pp.-David M. Stark, Raúl Mayo Santana ,Cadenas de esclavitud...y de solidaridad: Esclavos y libertos en San Juan,siglo XIX. Río Piedras: Centro de Investigaciones Sociales, Universidad de Puerto Rico, 1997. 204 pp., Mariano Negrón Portillo, Manuel Mayo López (eds)-Ada Ferrer, Philip A. Howard, Changing history: Afro-Cuban Cabildos and societies of color in the nineteenth century. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1998. xxii + 227 pp.-Alvin O. Thompson, Maurice St. Pierre, Anatomy of resistance: Anti-colonialism in Guyana 1823-1966. London: Macmillan, 1999. x + 214 pp.-Linda Peake, Barry Munslow, Guyana: Microcosm of sustainable development challenges. Aldershot, U.K. and Brookfield VT: Ashgate, 1998. x + 130 pp.-Stephen Stuempfle, Peter Mason, Bacchanal! The carnival culture of Trinidad. Philadelphia PA: Temple University Press, 1998. 191 pp.-Christine Chivallon, Catherine Benoît, Corps, jardins, mémoires: Anthropologie du corps et de l' espace à la Guadeloupe. Paris: CNRS Éditions, 2000. 309 pp.-Katherine E. Browne, Mary C. Waters, Black identities: Wsst Indian immigrant dreams and American realities. New York: Russell Sage Foundation; Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1999. xvii + 413 pp.-Eric Paul Roorda, Bernardo Vega, Los Estados Unidos y Trujillo - Los días finales: 1960-61. Colección de documentos del Departamento de Estado, la CIA y los archivos del Palacio Nacional Dominicano. Santo Domingo: Fundación Cultural Dominicana, 1999. xx+ 783 pp.-Javier Figueroa-de Cárdenas, Charles D. Ameringer, The Cuban democratic experience: The Auténtico years, 1944-1952. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2000. ix + 230 pp.-Robert Lawless, Charles T. Williamson, The U.S. Naval mission to Haiti, 1959-1963. Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 1999. xv + 395 pp.-Noel Leo Erskine, Arthur Charles Dayfoot, The shaping of the West Indian Church, 1492-1962. Kingston: The Press University of the West Indies; Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1999. xvii + 360 pp.-Edward Baugh, Laurence A. Breiner, An introduction to West Indian poetry. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. xxii + 261 pp.-Lydie Moudileno, Heather Hathaway, Caribbean waves: Relocating Claude McKay and Paule Marshall. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999. xi + 201 pp.-Nicole Roberts, Claudette M. Williams, Charcoal and cinnamon: The politics of color in Spanish Caribbean literature. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2000. xii + 174 pp.-Nicole Roberts, Marie Ramos Rosado, La mujer negra en la literatura puertorriqueña: Cuentística de los setenta: (Luis Rafael Sánchez, Carmelo Rodríguez Torres, Rosario Ferré y Ana Lydia Vega). San Juan: Ed. de la Universidad de Puerto Rico, Ed. Cultural, and Instituto de Cultura Puertorriqueña, 1999. xxiv + 397 pp.-William W. Megenney, John H. McWhorter, The missing Spanish Creoles: Recovering the birth of plantation contact languages. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000. xi + 281 pp.-Robert Chaudenson, Chris Corne, From French to Creole: The development of New Vernaculars in the French colonial world. London: University of Westminster Press, 1999. x + 263 pp.

Abstract Clinical benefit is observed in only a limited fraction of patients that undergo immunotherapy for a variety of cancer types. Therefore, the determination of robust biomarkers for accurate prediction of response to immunotherapeutic agents remains one of the grand challenges of 21st century. Our primary goal was to investigate if phenotypic differences due to treatment with ICI can be recognized with minimally perturbative molecular tools and guide personalization of immunotherapy. In this work, we provide first-in-class evidence that Raman spectroscopy (an optical method) and machine learning allows sensitive detection of early changes in biomolecular composition of tumors in response to immunotherapy with immune checkpoint inhibitors (ICI). By studying the widely investigated CT26 murine model of colorectal cancer treated with anti-CTLA-4 (n = 8) and anti-PD-L1 (n = 7) ICIs and controls (n = 10), we revealed new biological insights into the nature and degree of microenvironmental modifications induced by exposure to clinically relevant doses of ICI. Multivariate curve resolution-alternating least squares (MCR-ALS) decomposition of Raman spectral datasets revealed early changes in lipid, nucleic acid, and collagen content of the tumors following therapy. We trained supervised classification models - support vector machines and random forests on the spectral datasets and showed that the models provided excellent prediction accuracies for response to both ICIs and delineated spectral markers specific to each therapy, consistent with their differential mechanisms of action. On the basis of these findings, we sought to determine if the tumor microenvironment changes delineated by Raman spectroscopy correspond to proteomic alterations via quantitative mass spectrometry. Of the more than 6600 proteins identified, about 136 proteins were found to be significantly different in treated tumors relative to controls (p < 0.05 and log2 fold change of > 2). A subset of these differentially expressed proteins is known to regulate lipid metabolism and extracellular matrix composition, while others are known to control transcriptome dynamics or are associated with response to ICI therapy, thereby corroborating our Raman spectroscopic measurements. Our observation of biomolecular changes in the TME should catalyze detailed investigations for translating such markers and label-free Raman spectroscopy for clinical monitoring of immunotherapy response in cancer patients. Citation Format: Santosh K. Paidi, Joel R. Troncoso, Narasimhan Rajaram, Ishan Barman. Elucidating early tumor microenvironmental changes due to immunotherapy with label-free Raman spectroscopy and machine learning [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 1943.

Abstract The National Comprehensive Cancer Center Network cancer guidelines state that the best management for a cancer patient is on a clinical trial. However, the demographics of 74 registration trials for oral cancer therapies from 2009 - 2019 show only 2.5% of participating patients were Black. Similarly, of the 3,593 patients enrolled in all registration trials for new cancer drugs approved by the FDA in 2019, only 4% were Black patients. A third analysis showed that between 2008 and 2018, only 3.1% of cancer trial patients were Black. The underrepresentation of Black patients in cancer clinical trials is a complex issue that requires a multifaceted solution. Complicated, interdependent causes include, but are not limited to system, provider, and patient bias. Increasing globalization of clinical trials also contributes to a widening gap in Black patient enrollment. Achieving diversity among clinical trial participants requires intention in study design regarding accrual sites and outreach, and involvement of a diverse trial workforce. The ideal clinical trial system would minimize system, provider, and patient biases. Such a system already exists in the Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU) system. HBCUs represent 3% of institutions of higher education in the USA, yet they enroll 16% of Black students and confer 24% of all baccalaureate degrees earned by Black students. 40% of Black engineers, 50% of Black lawyers, 70% of Black physicians, and a staggering 80% of Black judges attended an HBCU. HBCUs are exceptional at impacting communities of Color and have been doing so for centuries. The HBCU Cancer Trials Consortium (HBCU CTC) is a network of HBCUs and Ally institutions that aims to bring innovative cancer clinical trials to historically underserved communities and honor the legacy of HBCUs, which have consistently and successfully served underserved communities for over a century. The HBCU CTC will oversee and conduct cancer clinical trials at member institutions. We envision founding flagship members to include HBCUs that provide graduate medical education and training, such as Howard, Meharry, Charles Drew, and Morehouse. Non-HBCUs committed to the mission are invited to join the consortium as Ally institutions (eg. MSIs). Membership is not exclusive of membership in other cancer consortia. The HBCU CTC will provide shared resource services for member institutions that lack expertise or funding to conduct services locally (eg. data management, DSMB, biostatistics, a cancer focused IRB, central radiology, and central pathology). The Consortium will also work to develop local infrastructure support for the conduct of cancer clinical trials at member institutions. Citation Format: Sheldon L. Holder, Robert A. Winn, Wafik S. El-Deiry. The historically black colleges and universities cancer trial consortium: A way forward to diversifying cancer clinical trials [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2024; Part 1 (Regular Abstracts); 2024 Apr 5-10; San Diego, CA. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2024;84(6_Suppl):Abstract nr 1002.

Abstract The Warburg effect, the increase of glucose uptake rate and lactate production, is a tremendous metabolic switch, a prominent cancer hallmark, and a century-old mystery. We recently solved an age-old problem of biochemistry, how myriad diverse chemical reactions coincide in the cell, by chemically separating elastic solid (cytomatrix) and viscous fluid (cytosol) phases of cytoplasm (iScience, 2023, PMID:36824274) that can elucidate a role of the Warburg effect in tumors. Biochemical reactions within the cytoplasm are catalytic and performed by enzyme complexes. Catalytic complexes are immobilized on the solid platform, and the cytomatrix physically separates them from each other, but the substrate delivery mechanisms have remained unknown. Using the multiomic approach, we found that cytomatrix proteins actomyosins are responsible for cellular micromechanics and cytosolic motion. Cytosolic motion delivers substrates to catalytic complexes. Cytomatrix micromechanics requires energy maintained by mitochondrial respiration in physiological conditions. However, due to mutational and epigenetic alterations, malignant cells need additional energy to stir biochemical processes. Actomyosin and actin-binding and regulating proteome, a structural base of the cytomatrix and primary motor proteins, exploits aerobic glycolysis to meet the energy demand of cytomatrix, just as muscle fiber utilizes the aerobic glycolysis during intense exercise. Therefore, synchronizing energy output for cytomatrix micromechanics is a limiting step for the malignant transformation involving the Warburg effect. Unless mutations coalesce with the increased energy production for cytomatrix mechanics, potential cancer may only survive in the quiescent state (or benign), or it will be eliminated. Cancer development appears to be a two-sided coin relying on both the mutation and the energy demand, suggesting that not everyone gets cancer with the same mutation without the involvement of aerobic glycolysis. By uniting the Warburg effect with the cytomatrix micromechanics and genetic and epigenetic alterations, our concept of cancer development better explains the transformation of healthy cells to malignant cells and malignant cell resistance to therapy and recurrence. Revealing the cytomatrix allowed us to find its practical application. We developed technology that works on the cytomatrix level and can improve cancer treatment and prevent tumor recurrence. Suppression of the cytomatrix activity will inhibit cancer resistance and recurrence and increase the efficiency of the current anticancer therapy. It is impossible to know if cancer will return after treatment. Cancers come back when small numbers of malignant cells can remain in the body after treatment. These cells are too rare to find with current tests. We have developed a method to help detect this small number of malignant cells. Our fast and sensitive method can isolate malignant cells from a frozen biopsy about 10 – 20 mg weight. Thus, revealing the cytomatrix opens a new chapter in cancer research and therapy. Citation Format: Tattym E. Shaiken. Suppressing the cytomatrix elastic solid phase of cytoplasm will eliminate the root cause of cancer [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the AACR Special Conference in Cancer Research: Translating Cancer Evolution and Data Science: The Next Frontier; 2023 Dec 3-6; Boston, Massachusetts. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2024;84(3 Suppl_2):Abstract nr A040.

Abstract Background: Aligning with 21st Century Cures legislation, FDA is exploring various methodologies to advance appropriate uses of Real-World Data (RWD) to generate Real-World Evidence (RWE). Inclusion of RWD to support regulatory decision making has increased in oncology, and this review specifically focused on characterizing RWD submissions for the treatment of breast cancer (BC). Methods: A systematic search was conducted using internal FDA databases to identify RWD submissions from 2010 to 2020. Search terms included real world evidence, real world data, cancer registry, administrative claims, external control arm, and other terms relevant to RWD/RWE. Relevant regulatory submissions were reviewed, pre-defined common data elements were extracted, and the subset applicable to breast cancer was evaluated. Results: Of 142 regulatory submissions that included RWD, 6 specifically evaluated BC indications and 3 were for solid tumor indications with potential applicability to BC, corresponding to 4 new molecular entities. Regulatory objectives included support for labeling changes including efficacy (expanded indications), safety , and dose or administration modifications. The most commonly used design was a retrospective observational study with structured electronic health records (EHRs) or medical claims data, supplemented by unstructured data from medical records or chart review for missing data elements. Four of the 6 BC submissions were significantly limited by a high degree of data missingness and confounding, with some studies including key covariates that were missing in >50% of the structured data. RWD was used to provide contextual evidence for label expansion for populations not included or adequately represented in the registration trial. Of note, for the application expanding the label to include treatment of male BC, the regulatory decision was primarily based on clinical trial data. The primary rwEndpoints submitted were overall survival (rwOS), progression free survival (rwPFS), response rate (rwORR) and time to next treatment (TTNT). Safety outcomes were investigated in all but 1 of the studies, most commonly as a secondary RWD endpoint. Conclusion: In our review of regulatory submissions relevant to breast cancer therapies, RWD has largely been used to contextualize and complement prospective clinical trial data. Evaluating that selected RWD is fit for purpose to address the regulatory objective(s) and all analytical plans are prespecified allows for robust data characterization, and appropriate evaluation. Data relevance (availability of key variables) along with reliability assessment which includes evaluating data for completeness, consistency, and trends over time are necessary for the rigorous evaluation of RWE in drug development. Data missingness is a key issue in RWD, especially when structured data are not available and specific variables are unlikely to be captured in a reliable way in the unstructured data or further validation is not feasible. To optimize RWD as evidence for specific patient populations, attention to the proportion of patients excluded is necessary to avoid concerns regarding the generalizability of the data. Careful selection of rwEndpoints must be aligned with the study design and objective, include data such as prior, concomitant and subsequent anti-cancer treatments, and the ability for outcome validation to be methodologically appropriate. When contemplating a regulatory submission using RWD, early consultation with the appropriate FDA review division can provide additional feedback on the appropriate use of RWD or pragmatic designs. Citation Format: Melanie E Royce, Jennifer J. Lee, Christy L. Osgood, Laleh Amiri-Kordestani, Julia A. Beaver, Paul G. Kluetz, Donna R. Rivera. Methodological approaches to the use of real-world data(RWD) for medical products to treat breast cancer: An FDA oncology center of excellence evaluation of RWD submissions [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the 2021 San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium; 2021 Dec 7-10; San Antonio, TX. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(4 Suppl):Abstract nr P5-19-02.

The study of indirect translations (IT) into Ukrainian, viewed from a psycholinguistic perspective, will contribute to a better understanding of Soviet national policies and the post-Soviet linguistic and cultural condition. The paper pioneers a discussion of the strategies and types of IT via Russian in the domains of literature and religion. In many cases the corresponding Russian translation, which serves as a source text for the Ukrainian one, cannot be established with confidence, and the “sticking-out ears” of Russian mediation may only be monitored at the level of sentence structure, when Russian wording underlies the Ukrainian text and distorts its natural fluency. The discussion substantiates the strategies and singles out the types of IT, in particular, (1) Soviet lower-quality retranslations of the recent, and mostly high-quality, translations of literary classics, which deliberately imitated lexical, grammatical, and stylistic patterns of the Russian language (became massive in scope in the mid1930s); (2) the translation-from-crib type, or translations via the Russian interlinear version, which have been especially common in poetry after WWII, from the languages of the USSR nationalities and the socialist camp countries; (3) overt relayed translations, based on the published and intended for the audience Russian translations that can be clearly defined as the source texts for the IT into Ukrainian; this phenomenon may be best illustrated with Patriarch Filaret Version of the Holy Scripture, translated from the Russian Synodal Bible (the translation started in the early 1970s); and, finally, (4) later Soviet (from the mid1950s) and post-Soviet (during Independence period) hidden relayed translations of literary works, which have been declared as direct ones but in fact appeared in print shortly after the publication of the respective works in Russian translation and mirrored Russian lexical and stylistic patterns. 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Review of the book: Boccaccio G. Decameron. Tr. by L. Pakharevskyi and P. Maiorskyi; S. Rodzevych and P. Mokhor (Eds.).; introduction by V. Derzhavyn. Kharkiv: DVU, 1929. Part 1. XXXI; Part 2. Reprint in: Kalnychenko, O. and Poliakova, Yu. (2011). In Leonid Chernovatyi and Viacheslav Karaban (Eds). Ukraiins’ka perekladoznavcha dumka 1920-kh – pochatku 1930-kh rokiv: Khrestomatiia vybranykh prats z perekladosnavstva do kursu “Istoriia perekladu” [Ukrainian translation studies of the 1920s – early 1930s: A textbook of selected works in translation studies for a course on the “History of Translation”]. (pp. 344-356). Vinnytsia: Nova Knyha. Munday, J. (2010). Introducing Translation Studies: Theories and applications. 2nd Ed. London & New York: Routledge. Pauly, M. D. (2014). Breaking the Tongue: Language, Education, and Power in Soviet Ukraine. Toronto Buffalo London: University of Toronto Press. Pieta, H. & Rosa, A. A. (2013). 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Abstract Double-edged “Soil”: Stromal Microenvironment in Breast Cancer Development Mustapha Abubakar, MD, PhD1; Shaoqi Fan, MPH1; Máire A. Duggan, MD, FRCPC2; Ruth M. Pfeiffer, PhD1; Scott Lawrence, M.S.3; Kathryn Richert-Boe, MD4; Andrew G. Glass, MD4; Teresa M. Kimes, MS4; Jonine D. Figueroa, PhD, MPH5; Thomas E. Rohan, MBBS, PhD6; Gretchen L. Gierach, PhD, MPH1. Affiliations 1Division of Cancer Epidemiology and Genetics, National Cancer Institute, National Institute of Health (NIH), USA2Department of Pathology and Laboratory Medicine, University of Calgary, Calgary, T2N2Y9, Alberta, Canada3Molecular and Digital Pathology Laboratory, Cancer Genomics Research Laboratory, Leidos Biomedical Research, Inc., Frederick, MD 217024Kaiser Permanente Center for Health Research, Portland, Oregon 5Usher Institute of Population Health Sciences and Informatics, The University of Edinburgh, Scotland, UK6Department of Epidemiology and Population Health, Albert Einstein College of Medicine, Bronx, New York, 10461 Deceased Background Over a century after Paget’s postulation of the “seed” and “soil” hypothesis of breast cancer metastasis, understanding of the role of the “soil” (i.e., local or distant stromal microenvironment) in supporting and promoting the growth and dissemination of “seed” tumor cells has increased considerably. However, the role of the stromal microenvironment in early stages of breast cancer development, including tissue origins of etiologic heterogeneity, remains poorly understood. To date, the prevailing model of breast cancer development involves a linear sequence of epithelial changes that begin from normal epithelium, progress to flat epithelial atypia (FEA), develop into atypical ductal hyperplasia, transform into ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS), and culminate in the emergence of invasive breast cancer. An alternative model proposes the evolution of FEA from usual ductal hyperplasia, but this is not supported by a clear genetic link between the two. Notably, established models of breast cancer development are predicated almost exclusively on sequences of epithelial changes. Although recent efforts have shed light on the significance of stromal microenvironment in DCIS to invasive breast cancer progression, its role in breast cancer development following benign breast disease (BBD) is less well-studied. MethodsIn this case-control study, nested within a cohort of 15,395 BBD patients from Kaiser Permanente Northwest (1970-2012) who were followed for subsequent development of invasive breast cancer, we evaluated archival diagnostic, formalin-fixed and paraffin-embedded tissue blocks using high-accuracy machine learning algorithms for the detailed characterization of stromal microenvironment on digitized H&E-stained breast biopsy sections. Stromal phenotypes, including total stromal-to-epithelial ratio (TSER), dense stromal-to-epithelial ratio (DSER), loose stromal-to-epithelial ratio (LSER) and stromal cellular density (SCD) were defined based on the distributions of total stromal area, dense (mostly fibrous/collagenized, inter-lobular) stroma, loose (mostly pale, intra-lobular or remodeled) stroma, and stromal cellularity, respectively. Relationships between stromal features and invasive breast cancer incidence through 2012 were assessed in multivariable conditional logistic regression models adjusted for BBD histological classification, body mass index, menopausal status/menopausal hormone therapy use, parity and age at first live birth (AFLB), family history of breast cancer (FHBC), oophorectomy, and mammographic density. Analyses were performed overall and by BBD histologic classification. We also evaluated associations between stromal features and breast cancer risk according to tumor characteristics that define divergent etiologic pathways, namely estrogen receptor (ER) expression and histologic grade. Results The current analysis is comprised of 486 cases and 487 controls, representing 95% of the case-control study population, for whom digitized H&E-stained sections were suitable for image analysis. The median age at diagnosis was 51.4 (range=18-86) years. ~55% of the participants were either overweight (30.1%) or obese (24.5%) at BBD diagnosis, and 69% had non-proliferative disease (NPD), 28% proliferative disease (PD) without atypia, and 3% atypical hyperplasia (AH). 13% of BBD biopsies contained simple fibroadenoma, ~2% complex fibroadenoma, 8% sclerosing adenosis, 5% radial scar, and 14% columnar cell lesions. The median (range) values (%) of total, dense, and loose connective tissue stroma were 39.3% (0.6-89.9%), 25.1% (0.1-84.5%), and 8.6% (0.2-59.0%), respectively. On average, BBD lesions contained ~6 times more stroma than epithelium. Average TSER, DSER, LSER, and SCD were 6.3, 4.4, 1.8, and 7.5%, respectively. Overall, increasing TSER was associated with decreasing risk of breast cancer [OR(95% CI)Q4 vs Q1=0.51(0.32, 0.82); p-trend=0.009]. The protective effect of TSER was, however, stronger in relation to DSER [OR(95% CI)Q4 vs Q1=0.48(0.29, 0.79); p-trend=0.007] than LSER [OR(95% CI)Q4 vs Q1=0.84(0.52, 1.36); p-trend=0.70]. Conversely, increasing SCD was statistically significantly associated with increasing breast cancer risk [OR(95% CI)Q4 vs Q1=2.21 (1.38, 3.56); p-trend=0.001]. Although findings were stronger among patients with NPD than PD, there was no heterogeneity in the association by BBD histology. Of the stromal features, DSER and SCD were most predictive of breast cancer risk but these were not independent of one another. To test their joint association with risk, we combined categories [low (<25th percentile), intermediate (25th–75th percentile), and high (>75th percentile) for each variable] in a composite, stromal disruption (SD), variable as follows: 1) no SD (high DSER and low SCD); 2) minimal disruption (high DSER and intermediate SCD, or vice versa); 3) moderate SD (intermediate DSER and high SCD, or vice versa); and 4) substantial SD (low DSER and high SCD). BBD patients with moderate [OR(95% CI)=1.74(1.01, 2.99)] or substantial [OR(95% CI)=2.70(1.51, 4.84)] SD were at statistically significantly elevated risk of breast cancer than those with no SD. Younger women, those with proliferative BBD, parous and AFLB <30 years, positive FHBC, absent involution, and being postmenopausal were statistically significantly more likely to develop BBDs with substantial SD than those with no SD. Substantial SD was associated with elevated risk of both ER+ [OR(95% CI)=1.97(1.16, 3.36)] and ER- [OR(95% CI)=2.09(0.77, 5.69)] breast cancer. In terms of grade, substantial SD was more strongly associated with risks of high [OR(95% CI)=3.17(1.28, 7.85)] and intermediate [OR(95% CI)=2.30(1.10, 4.83)] than low [OR(95% CI)=1.61(0.74, 3.50)] grade tumors overall (p-heterogeneity=0.44). This association was stronger among patients with NPD [OR(95% CI) substantial SD vs no SD=5.75(2.04, 16.09); 2.83(1.15, 6.97); and 1.36(0.53, 3.46) for high, intermediate, and low grade tumors, respectively (p-heterogeneity=0.03)]. Because AH has been implicated in the development of ER+/low grade but not ER+/high grade tumors, we further evaluated the role of AH and SD in ER+ breast cancer risk: contrasting patterns were observed in associations between AH, substantial SD, and risk of ER+ tumors defined by levels of histologic grade. While AH more strongly predisposed to risk of low [OR(95% CI)=6.32(1.09, 20.08)] than high [OR(95% CI)=1.04(0.10, 11.24)] grade ER+ tumors, substantial SD more strongly predisposed to risk of high [OR(95% CI)=5.28(1.54, 18.10)] than low [OR(95% CI)=1.52(0.76, 3.06)] grade ER+ tumors.Conclusion Components of the stromal microenvironment in BBD showed disparate associations with breast cancer risk factors and risk of subsequent invasive breast cancer. In particular, increasing ratio of dense (mostly fibrous/collagenized and inter-lobular), but not loose (mostly pale/myxoid, intra-lobular, remodeled), connective tissue stroma to epithelium was strongly associated with reduced risk of breast cancer. Conversely, increasing stromal cellularity was associated with increasing risk of breast cancer. In combination, decreasing amounts of dense stroma and concomitant increase in loose stroma, epithelial volume, and stromal cellularity resulted in a stromal disruption phenotype that was strongly associated with increased breast cancer risk overall, but particularly of aggressive high grade tumors. These results were independent of BBD histologic diagnosis. Many of the observed risk factor associations with stromal microenvironment features were consistent with their breast cancer risk relationships, suggesting that stromal changes may reflect cumulative exposure to breast cancer risk factors. These findings provide new etiologic insights into stromal role in breast cancer risk, including tissue origins of breast cancer etiologic heterogeneity, with the potential to aid risk stratification and clinical decision-making for BBD patients. Citation Format: Mustapha Abubakar, Shaoqi Fan, Maire A. Duggan, Ruth M. Pfeiffer, Scott Lawrence, Kathryn Richert-Boe, Andrew Glass, Teresa M. Kimes, Jonine D. Figueroa, Thomas E. Rohan, Gretchen L. Gierach. Double-edged “soil”: Stromal microenvironment in breast cancer development [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr SY25-02.

Manufacturing Suburbs , by Robert Lewis ( ed. ). Philadelphia : Temple University Press , 2004 . 304 pp . ISBN 1‐59213‐085‐2 ( cloth ) $68.50. ISBN 1‐59213‐086‐0 ( paper ) $24.95. Hollow City: The Siege of San Francisco and the Crisis of American Urbanism , by Rebecca Solnit and Susan Schwartzenberg . New York , NY : Verso , 2002 . 182 pp . ISBN 1‐85984‐363‐8 ( cloth ) $20.00 . Popular Culture in the Age of White Flight: Fear and Fantasy in Suburban Los Angeles , by Eric Avila . Berkeley : University of California Press , 2004 . Volume 13 in the American Crossroads Series , edited by Earl Lewis, George Lipsitz, Peggy Pascoe, George Sánchez, and Dana Tagaki . 308 pp . ISBN 0‐520‐24121‐5 ( cloth ) $39.95 . Challenges for Rural America in the Twenty‐First Century , by David Brown and Louis Swanson ( eds .). State College , PA : Pennsylvania State University Press , 2003 . 513 pp ., NPL . Home Ownership and Social Inequality in Comparative Perspective , by Karin Kurz and Hans‐Peter Blossfeld ( eds. ). Stanford , California : Stanford University Press , 2004 . 385 pp . ISBN 0‐8047‐4851‐9 ( cloth ) $70.00 .

The Digital TurnMuch of the 19th century disappeared from public view during the 20th century. Historians recovered what they could from archives and libraries, with the easy pickings-the famous and the fortunate-coming first. Latterly, social and political historians of different hues determinedly sought out the more hidden, forgotten, and marginalised. However, there were always limitations to resources-time, money, location, as well as purpose, opportunity, and permission. 'History' was principally a professionalised and privileged activity dominated by academics who had preferential access to, and significant control over, the resources, technologies and skills required, as well as the social, economic and cultural framework within which history was recovered, interpreted, approved and disseminated.Digitisation and the broader development of new communication technologies has, however, transformed historical research processes and practice dramatically, removing many constraints, opening up many opportunities, and allowing many others than the professional historian to trace and track what would have remained hidden, forgotten, or difficult to find, as well as verify (or otherwise), what has already been claimed and concluded. In the 21st century, the SEARCH button has become a dominant tool of research. This, along with other technological and media developments, has altered the practice of historians-professional or 'public'-who can now range deep and wide in the collection, portrayal and dissemination of historical information, in and out of the confines of the traditional institutional walls of retained information, academia, location, and national boundaries.This incorporation of digital technologies into academic historical practice generally, has raised, as Cohen and Rosenzweig, in their book Digital History, identified a decade ago, not just promises, but perils. For the historian, there has been the move, through digitisation, from the relative scarcity and inaccessibility of historical material to its (over) abundance, but also the emerging acceptance that, out of both necessity and preference, a hybridity of sources will be the foreseeable way forward. There has also been a significant shift, as De Groot notes in his book Consuming History, in the often conflicted relationship between popular/public history and academic history, and the professional and the 'amateur' historian. This has brought a potentially beneficial democratization of historical practice but also an associated set of concerns around the loss of control of both practice and product of the professional historian. Additionally, the development of digital tools for the collection and dissemination of 'history' has raised fears around the commercialised development of the subject's brand, products and commodities. This article considers the significance and implications of some of these changes through one protracted act of recovery and reclamation in which the digital made the difference: the life of a notorious 19th century professional agitator on both sides of the Atlantic, John De Morgan. A man thought lost, but now found."Who Is John De Morgan?" The search began in 1981, linked to the study of contemporary "race riots" in South East London. The initial purpose was to determine whether there was a history of rioting in the area. In the Local History Library, a calm and dusty backwater, an early find was a fading, but evocative and puzzling, photograph of "The Plumstead Common Riots" of 1876. It showed a group of men and women, posing for the photographer on a hillside-the technology required stillness, even in the middle of a riot-spades in hand, filling in a Mr. Jacob's sandpits, illegally dug from what was supposed to be common land. The leader of this, and other similar riots around England, was John De Morgan. A local journalist who covered the riots commented: "Of Mr. De Morgan little is known before or since the period in which he flashed meteorlike through our section of the atmosphere, but he was indisputably a remarkable man" (Vincent 588). Thus began a trek, much interrupted, sometimes unmapped and haphazard, to discover more about this 'remarkable man'. "Who is John De Morgan" was a question frequently asked by his many contemporary antagonists, and by subsequent historians, and one to which De Morgan deliberately gave few answers. The obvious place to start the search was the British Museum Reading Room, resplendent in its Victorian grandeur, the huge card catalogue still in the 1980s the dominating technology. Together with the Library's newspaper branch at Colindale, this was likely to be the repository of all that might then easily be known about De Morgan.From 1869, at the age of 21, it appeared that De Morgan had embarked on a life of radical politics that took him through the UK, made him notorious, lead to accusations of treasonable activities, sent him to jail twice, before he departed unexpectedly to the USA in 1880. During that period, he was involved with virtually every imaginable radical cause, at various times a temperance advocate, a spiritualist, a First Internationalist, a Republican, a Tichbornite, a Commoner, an anti-vaccinator, an advanced Liberal, a parliamentary candidate, a Home Ruler. As a radical, he, like many radicals of the period, "zigzagged nomadically through the mayhem of nineteenth century politics fighting various foes in the press, the clubs, the halls, the pulpit and on the street" (Kazin 202). He promoted himself as the "People's Advocate, Champion and Friend" (Allen). Never a joiner or follower, he established a variety of organizations, became a professional agitator and orator, and supported himself and his politics through lecturing and journalism. Able to attract huge crowds to "monster meetings", he achieved fame, or more correctly notoriety. And then, in 1880, broke and in despair, he disappeared from public view by emigrating to the USA.LostThe view of De Morgan as a "flashing meteor" was held by many in the 1870s. Historians of the 20th century took a similar position and, while considering him intriguing and culturally interesting, normally dispatched him to the footnotes. By the latter part of the 20th century, he was described as "one of the most notorious radicals of the 1870s yet remains a shadowy figure" and was generally dismissed as "a swashbuckling demagogue," a "democratic messiah," and" if not a bandit … at least an adventurer" (Allen 684). His politics were deemed to be reactionary, peripheral, and, worst of all, populist. He was certainly not of sufficient interest to pursue across the Atlantic. In this dismissal, he fell foul of the highly politicised professional culture of mid-to-late 20th-century academic historians. In particular, the lack of any significant direct linkage to the story of the rise of a working class, and specifically the British Labour party, left individuals like De Morgan in the margins and footnotes. However, in terms of historical practice, it was also the case that his mysterious entry into public life, his rapid rise to brief notability and notoriety, and his sudden disappearance, made the investigation of his career too technically difficult to be worthwhile.The footprints of the forgotten may occasionally turn up in the archived papers of the important, or in distant public archives and records, but the primary sources are the newspapers of the time. De Morgan was a regular, almost daily, visitor to the pages of the multitude of newspapers, local and national, that were published in Victorian Britain and Gilded Age USA. He also published his own, usually short-lived and sometimes eponymous, newspapers: De Morgan's Monthly and De Morgan's Weekly as well as the splendidly titled People's Advocate and National Vindicator of Right versus Wrong and the deceptively titled, highly radical, House and Home. He was highly mobile: he noted, without too much hyperbole, that in the 404 days between his English prison sentences in the mid-1870s, he had 465 meetings, travelled 32,000 miles, and addressed 500,000 people. Thus the newspapers of the time are littered with often detailed and vibrant accounts of his speeches, demonstrations, and riots.Nonetheless, the 20th-century technologies of access and retrieval continued to limit discovery. The white gloves, cradles, pencils and paper of the library or archive, sometimes supplemented by the century-old 'new' technology of the microfilm, all enveloped in a culture of hallowed (and pleasurable) silence, restricted the researcher looking to move into the lesser known and certainly the unknown. The fact that most of De Morgan's life was spent, it was thought, outside of England, and outside the purview of the British Library, only exacerbated the problem. At a time when a historian had to travel to the sources and then work directly on them, pencil in hand, it needed more than curiosity to keep searching. Even as many historians in the late part of the century shifted their centre of gravity from the known to the unknown and from the great to the ordinary, in any form of intellectual or resource cost-benefit analysis, De Morgan was a non-starter.UnknownOn the subject of his early life, De Morgan was tantalisingly and deliberately vague. In his speeches and newspapers, he often leaked his personal and emotional struggles as well as his political battles. However, when it came to his biographical story, he veered between the untruthful, the denial, and the obscure. To the twentieth century observer, his life began in 1869 at the age of 21 and ended at the age of 32. His various political campaign "biographies" gave some hints, but what little he did give away was often vague, coy and/or unlikely. His name was actually John Francis Morgan, but he never formally acknowledged it. He claimed, and was very proud, to be Irish and to have been educated in London and at Cambridge University (possible but untrue), and also to have been "for the first twenty years of his life directly or indirectly a railway servant," and to have been a "boy orator" from the age of ten (unlikely but true). He promised that "Some day-nay any day-that the public desire it, I am ready to tell the story of my strange life from earliest recollection to the present time" (St. Clair 4). He never did and the 20th century could unearth little evidence in relation to any of his claims.The blend of the vague, the unlikely and the unverifiable-combined with an inclination to self-glorification and hyperbole-surrounded De Morgan with an aura, for historians as well as contemporaries, of the self-seeking, untrustworthy charlatan with something to hide and little to say. Therefore, as the 20th century moved to closure, the search for John De Morgan did so as well. Though interesting, he gave most value in contextualising the lives of Victorian radicals more generally. He headed back to the footnotes.Now FoundMeanwhile, the technologies underpinning academic practice generally, and history specifically, had changed. The photocopier, personal computer, Internet, and mobile device, had arrived. They formed the basis for both resistance and revolution in academic practices. For a while, the analytical skills of the academic community were concentrated on the perils as much as the promises of a "digital history" (Cohen and Rosenzweig Digital).But as the Millennium turned, and the academic community itself spawned, inter alia, Google, the practical advantages of digitisation for history forced themselves on people. Google enabled the confident searching from a neutral place for things known and unknown; information moved to the user more easily in both time and space. The culture and technologies of gathering, retrieval, analysis, presentation and preservation altered dramatically and, as a result, the traditional powers of gatekeepers, institutions and professional historians was redistributed (De Groot). Access and abundance, arguably over-abundance, became the platform for the management of historical information. For the search for De Morgan, the door reopened. The increased global electronic access to extensive databases, catalogues, archives, and public records, as well as people who knew, or wanted to know, something, opened up opportunities that have been rapidly utilised and expanded over the last decade. Both professional and "amateur" historians moved into a space that made the previously difficult to know or unknowable now accessible.Inevitably, the development of digital newspaper archives was particularly crucial to seeking and finding John De Morgan. After some faulty starts in the early 2000s, characterised as a "wild west" and a "gold rush" (Fyfe 566), comprehensive digitised newspaper archives became available. While still not perfect, in terms of coverage and quality, it is a transforming technology. In the UK, the British Newspaper Archive (BNA)-in pursuit of the goal of the digitising of all UK newspapers-now has over 20 million pages. Each month presents some more of De Morgan. Similarly, in the US, Fulton History, a free newspaper archive run by retired computer engineer Tom Tryniski, now has nearly 40 million pages of New York newspapers. The almost daily footprints of De Morgan's radical life can now be seen, and the lives of the social networks within which he worked on both sides of the Atlantic, come easily into view even from a desk in New Zealand.The Internet also allows connections between researchers, both academic and 'public', bringing into reach resources not otherwise knowable: a Scottish genealogist with a mass of data on De Morgan's family; a Californian with the historian's pot of gold, a collection of over 200 letters received by De Morgan over a 50 year period; a Leeds Public Library blogger uncovering spectacular, but rarely seen, Victorian electoral cartoons which explain De Morgan's precipitate departure to the USA. These discoveries would not have happened without the infrastructure of the Internet, web site, blog, and e-mail. Just how different searching is can be seen in the following recent scenario, one of many now occurring. An addition in 2017 to the BNA shows a Master J.F. Morgan, aged 13, giving lectures on temperance in Ledbury in 1861, luckily a census year. A check of the census through Ancestry shows that Master Morgan was born in Lincolnshire in England, and a quick look at the 1851 census shows him living on an isolated blustery hill in Yorkshire in a railway encampment, along with 250 navvies, as his father, James, works on the construction of a tunnel. Suddenly, literally within the hour, the 20-year search for the childhood of John De Morgan, the supposedly Irish-born "gentleman who repudiated his class," has taken a significant turn.At the end of the 20th century, despite many efforts, John De Morgan was therefore a partial character bounded by what he said and didn't say, what others believed, and the intellectual and historiographical priorities, technologies, tools and processes of that century. In effect, he "lived" historically for a less than a quarter of his life. Without digitisation, much would have remained hidden; with it there has been, and will still be, much to find. De Morgan hid himself and the 20th century forgot him. But as the technologies have changed, and with it the structures of historical practice, the question that even De Morgan himself posed – "Who is John De Morgan?" – can now be addressed.SearchingDigitisation brings undoubted benefits, but its impact goes a long way beyond the improved search and detection capabilities, into a range of technological developments of communication and media that impact on practice, practitioners, institutions, and 'history' itself. A dominant issue for the academic community is the control of "history." De Groot, in his book Consuming History, considers how history now works in contemporary popular culture and, in particular, examines the development of the sometimes conflicted relationship between popular/public history and academic history, and the professional and the 'amateur' historian.The traditional legitimacy of professional historians has, many argue, been eroded by shifts in technology and access with the power of traditional cultural gatekeepers being undermined, bypassing the established control of institutions and professional historian. While most academics now embrace the primary tools of so-called "digital history," they remain, De Groot argues, worried that "history" is in danger of becoming part of a discourse of leisure, not a professionalized arena (18). An additional concern is the role of the global capitalist market, which is developing, or even taking over, 'history' as a brand, product and commodity with overt fiscal value. Here the huge impact of newspaper archives and genealogical software (sometimes owned in tandem) is of particular concern.There is also the new challenge of "navigating the chaos of abundance in online resources" (De Groot 68). By 2005, it had become clear that:the digital era seems likely to confront historians-who were more likely in the past to worry about the scarcity of surviving evidence from the past-with a new 'problem' of abundance. A much deeper and denser historical record, especially one in digital form seems like an incredible opportunity and a gift. But its overwhelming size means that we will have to spend a lot of time looking at this particular gift horse in mouth. (Cohen and Rosenzweig, Web).This easily accessible abundance imposes much higher standards of evidence on the historian. The acceptance within the traditional model that much could simply not be done or known with the resources available meant that there was a greater allowance for not knowing. But with a search button and public access, democratizing the process, the consumer as well as the producer can see, and find, for themselves.Taking on some of these challenges, Zaagsma, having reminded us that the history of digital humanities goes back at least 60 years, notes the need to get rid of the "myth that historical practice can be uncoupled from technological, and thus methodological developments, and that going digital is a choice, which, I cannot emphasis strongly enough, it is not" (14). There is no longer a digital history which is separate from history, and with digital technologies that are now ubiquitous and pervasive, historians have accepted or must quickly face a fundamental break with past practices. However, also noting that the great majority of archival material is not digitised and is unlikely to be so, Zaagsma concludes that hybridity will be the "new normal," combining "traditional/analogue and new/digital practices at least in information gathering" (17).ConclusionA decade on from Cohen and Rozenzweig's "Perils and Promises," the digital is a given. Both historical practice and historians have changed, though it is a work in progress. An early pioneer of the use of computers in the humanities, Robert Busa wrote in 1980 that "the principal aim is the enhancement of the quality, depth and extension of research and not merely the lessening of human effort and time" (89). Twenty years later, as Google was launched, Jordanov, taking on those who would dismiss public history as "mere" popularization, entertainment or propaganda, argued for the "need to develop coherent positions on the relationships between academic history, the media, institutions…and popular culture" (149). As the digital turn continues, and the SEARCH button is just one part of that, all historians-professional or "amateur"-will take advantage of opportunities that technologies have opened up. Looking across the whole range of transformations in recent decades, De Groot concludes: "Increasingly users of history are accessing the past through complex and innovative media and this is reconfiguring their sense of themselves, the world they live in and what history itself might be about" (310). ReferencesAllen, Rob. "'The People's Advocate, Champion and Friend': The Transatlantic Career of Citizen John De Morgan (1848-1926)." Historical Research 86.234 (2013): 684-711.Busa, Roberto. "The Annals of Humanities Computing: The Index Thomisticus." Computers and the Humanities 14.2 (1980): 83-90.Cohen, Daniel J., and Roy Rosenzweig. Digital History: A Guide to Gathering, Preserving, and Presenting the Past on the Web. Philadelphia, PA: U Pennsylvania P, 2005.———. "Web of Lies? Historical Knowledge on the Internet." First Monday 10.12 (2005).De Groot, Jerome. Consuming History: Historians and Heritage in Contemporary Popular Culture. 2nd ed. Abingdon: Routledge, 2016.De Morgan, John. Who Is John De Morgan? A Few Words of Explanation, with Portrait. By a Free and Independent Elector of Leicester. London, 1877.Fyfe, Paul. "An Archaeology of Victorian Newspapers." Victorian Periodicals Review 49.4 (2016): 546-77."Interchange: The Promise of Digital History." Journal of American History 95.2 (2008): 452-91.Johnston, Leslie. "Before You Were Born, We Were Digitizing Texts." The Signal 9 Dec. 2012, Library of Congress. <https://blogs.loc.gov/thesignal/292/12/before-you-were-born-we-were-digitizing-texts>.Jordanova, Ludmilla. History in Practice. 2nd ed. London: Arnold, 2000.Kazin, Michael. A Godly Hero: The Life of William Jennings Bryan. New York: Anchor Books, 2006.Saint-Clair, Sylvester. Sketch of the Life and Labours of J. De Morgan, Elocutionist, and Tribune of the People. Leeds: De Morgan & Co., 1880.Vincent, William T. The Records of the Woolwich District, Vol. II. Woolwich: J.P. Jackson, 1890.Zaagsma, Gerban. "On Digital History." BMGN-Low Countries Historical Review 128.4 (2013): 3-29.

IntroductionFood Studies is a relatively recent area of research enquiry in Australia and Magazine Studies is even newer (Le Masurier and Johinke), with the consequence that Australian culinary magazines are only just beginning to be investigated. Moreover, although many major libraries have not thought such popular magazines worthy of sustained collection (Fox and Sornil), considering these publications is important. As de Certeau argues, it can be of considerable consequence to identify and analyse everyday practices (such as producing and reading popular magazines) that seem so minor and insignificant as to be unworthy of notice, as these practices have the ability to affect our lives. It is important in this case as these publications were part of the post-war gastronomic environment in Australia in which national tastes in domestic cookery became radically internationalised (Santich). To further investigate Australian magazines, as well as suggesting how these cosmopolitan eating habits became more widely embraced, this article will survey the various ways in which the idea of “abroad” is expressed in one Australian culinary serial from the post-war period, Australian Wines & Food Quarterly magazine, which was published from 1956 to 1960. The methodological approach taken is an historically-informed content analysis (Krippendorff) of relevant material from these magazines combined with germane media data (Hodder). All issues in the serial’s print run have been considered.Australian Post-War Culinary PublishingTo date, studies of 1950s writing in Australia have largely focused on literary and popular fiction (Johnson-Wood; Webby) and literary criticism (Bird; Dixon; Lee). There have been far fewer studies of non-fiction writing of any kind, although some serial publications from this time have attracted some attention (Bell; Lindesay; Ross; Sheridan; Warner-Smith; White; White). In line with studies internationally, groundbreaking work in Australian food history has focused on cookbooks, and includes work by Supski, who notes that despite the fact that buying cookbooks was “regarded as a luxury in the 1950s” (87), such publications were an important information source in terms of “developing, consolidating and extending foodmaking knowledge” at that time (85).It is widely believed that changes to Australian foodways were brought about by significant post-war immigration and the recipes and dishes these immigrants shared with neighbours, friends, and work colleagues and more widely afield when they opened cafes and restaurants (Newton; Newton; Manfredi). Although these immigrants did bring new culinary flavours and habits with them, the overarching rhetoric guiding population policy at this time was assimilation, with migrants expected to abandon their culture, language, and habits in favour of the dominant British-influenced ways of living (Postiglione). While migrants often did retain their foodways (Risson), the relationship between such food habits and the increasingly cosmopolitan Australian food culture is much more complex than the dominant cultural narrative would have us believe. It has been pointed out, for example, that while the haute cuisine of countries such as France, Italy, and Germany was much admired in Australia and emulated in expensive dining (Brien and Vincent), migrants’ own preference for their own dishes instead of Anglo-Australian choices, was not understood (Postiglione). Duruz has added how individual diets are eclectic, “multi-layered and hybrid” (377), incorporating foods from both that person’s own background with others available for a range of reasons including availability, cost, taste, and fashion. In such an environment, popular culinary publishing, in terms of cookbooks, specialist magazines, and recipe and other food-related columns in general magazines and newspapers, can be posited to be another element contributing to this change.Australian Wines & Food QuarterlyAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly (AWFQ) is, as yet, a completely unexamined publication, and there appears to be only three complete sets of this magazine held in public collections. It is important to note that, at the time it was launched in the mid-1950s, food writing played a much less significant part in Australian popular publishing than it does today, with far fewer cookbooks released than today, and women’s magazines and the women’s pages of newspapers containing only small recipe sections. In this environment, a new specialist culinary magazine could be seen to be timely, an audacious gamble, or both.All issues of this magazine were produced and printed in, and distributed from, Melbourne, Australia. Although no sales or distribution figures are available, production was obviously a struggle, with only 15 issues published before the magazine folded at the end of 1960. The title of the magazine changed over this time, and issue release dates are erratic, as is the method in which volumes and issues are numbered. Although the number of pages varied from 32 up to 52, and then less once again, across the magazine’s life, the price was steadily reduced, ending up at less than half the original cover price. All issues were produced and edited by Donald Wallace, who also wrote much of the content, with contributions from family members, including his wife, Mollie Wallace, to write, illustrate, and produce photographs for the magazine.When considering the content of the magazine, most is quite familiar in culinary serials today, although AWFQ’s approach was radically innovative in Australia at this time when cookbooks, women’s magazines, and newspaper cookery sections focused on recipes, many of which were of cakes, biscuits, and other sweet baking (Bannerman). AWFQ not only featured many discursive essays and savory meals, it also featured much wine writing and review-style content as well as information about restaurant dining in each issue.Wine-Related ContentWine is certainly the most prominent of the content areas, with most issues of the magazine containing more wine-related content than any other. Moreover, in the early issues, most of the food content is about preparing dishes and/or meals that could be consumed alongside wines, although the proportion of food content increases as the magazine is published. This wine-related content takes a clearly international perspective on this topic. While many articles and advertisements, for example, narrate the long history of Australian wine growing—which goes back to early 19th century—these articles argue that Australia's vineyards and wineries measure up to international, and especially French, examples. In one such example, the author states that: “from the earliest times Australia’s wines have matched up to world standard” (“Wine” 25). This contest can be situated in Australia, where a leading restaurant (Caprice in Sydney) could be seen to not only “match up to” but also, indeed to, “challenge world standards” by serving Australian wines instead of imports (“Sydney” 33). So good, indeed, are Australian wines that when foreigners are surprised by their quality, this becomes newsworthy. This is evidenced in the following excerpt: “Nearly every English businessman who has come out to Australia in the last ten years … has diverted from his main discussion to comment on the high quality of Australian wine” (Seppelt, 3). In a similar nationalist vein, many articles feature overseas experts’ praise of Australian wines. Thus, visiting Italian violinist Giaconda de Vita shows a “keen appreciation of Australian wines” (“Violinist” 30), British actor Robert Speaight finds Grange Hermitage “an ideal wine” (“High Praise” 13), and the Swedish ambassador becomes their advocate (Ludbrook, “Advocate”).This competition could also be located overseas including when Australian wines are served at prestigious overseas events such as a dinner for members of the Overseas Press Club in New York (Australian Wines); sold from Seppelt’s new London cellars (Melbourne), or the equally new Australian Wine Centre in Soho (Australia Will); or, featured in exhibitions and promotions such as the Lausanne Trade Fair (Australia is Guest;“Wines at Lausanne), or the International Wine Fair in Yugoslavia (Australia Wins).Australia’s first Wine Festival was held in Melbourne in 1959 (Seppelt, “Wine Week”), the joint focus of which was the entertainment and instruction of the some 15,000 to 20,000 attendees who were expected. At its centre was a series of free wine tastings aiming to promote Australian wines to the “professional people of the community, as well as the general public and the housewife” (“Melbourne” 8), although admission had to be recommended by a wine retailer. These tastings were intended to build up the prestige of Australian wine when compared to international examples: “It is the high quality of our wines that we are proud of. That is the story to pass on—that Australian wine, at its best, is at least as good as any in the world and better than most” (“Melbourne” 8).There is also a focus on promoting wine drinking as a quotidian habit enjoyed abroad: “We have come a long way in less than twenty years […] An enormous number of husbands and wives look forward to a glass of sherry when the husband arrives home from work and before dinner, and a surprising number of ordinary people drink table wine quite un-selfconsciously” (Seppelt, “Advance” 3). However, despite an acknowledged increase in wine appreciation and drinking, there is also acknowledgement that this there was still some way to go in this aim as, for example, in the statement: “There is no reason why the enjoyment of table wines should not become an Australian custom” (Seppelt, “Advance” 4).The authority of European experts and European habits is drawn upon throughout the publication whether in philosophically-inflected treatises on wine drinking as a core part of civilised behaviour, or practically-focused articles about wine handling and serving (Keown; Seabrook; “Your Own”). Interestingly, a number of Australian experts are also quoted as stressing that these are guidelines, not strict rules: Crosby, for instance, states: “There is no ‘right wine.’ The wine to drink is the one you like, when and how you like it” (19), while the then-manager of Lindemans Wines is similarly reassuring in his guide to entertaining, stating that “strict adherence to the rules is not invariably wise” (Mackay 3). Tingey openly acknowledges that while the international-style of regularly drinking wine had “given more dignity and sophistication to the Australian way of life” (35), it should not be shrouded in snobbery.Food-Related ContentThe magazine’s cookery articles all feature international dishes, and certain foreign foods, recipes, and ways of eating and dining are clearly identified as “gourmet”. Cheese is certainly the most frequently mentioned “gourmet” food in the magazine, and is featured in every issue. These articles can be grouped into the following categories: understanding cheese (how it is made and the different varieties enjoyed internationally), how to consume cheese (in relation to other food and specific wines, and in which particular parts of a meal, again drawing on international practices), and cooking with cheese (mostly in what can be identified as “foreign” recipes).Some of this content is produced by Kraft Foods, a major advertiser in the magazine, and these articles and recipes generally focus on urging people to eat more, and varied international kinds of cheese, beyond the ubiquitous Australian cheddar. In terms of advertorials, both Kraft cheeses (as well as other advertisers) are mentioned by brand in recipes, while the companies are also profiled in adjacent articles. In the fourth issue, for instance, a full-page, infomercial-style advertisement, noting the different varieties of Kraft cheese and how to serve them, is published in the midst of a feature on cooking with various cheeses (“Cooking with Cheese”). This includes recipes for Swiss Cheese fondue and two pasta recipes: spaghetti and spicy tomato sauce, and a so-called Italian spaghetti with anchovies.Kraft’s company history states that in 1950, it was the first business in Australia to manufacture and market rindless cheese. Through these AWFQ advertisements and recipes, Kraft aggressively marketed this innovation, as well as its other new products as they were launched: mayonnaise, cheddar cheese portions, and Cracker Barrel Cheese in 1954; Philadelphia Cream Cheese, the first cream cheese to be produced commercially in Australia, in 1956; and, Coon Cheese in 1957. Not all Kraft products were seen, however, as “gourmet” enough for such a magazine. Kraft’s release of sliced Swiss Cheese in 1957, and processed cheese slices in 1959, for instance, both passed unremarked in either the magazine’s advertorial or recipes.An article by the Australian Dairy Produce Board urging consumers to “Be adventurous with Cheese” presented general consumer information including the “origin, characteristics and mode of serving” cheese accompanied by a recipe for a rich and exotic-sounding “Wine French Dressing with Blue Cheese” (Kennedy 18). This was followed in the next issue by an article discussing both now familiar and not-so familiar European cheese varieties: “Monterey, Tambo, Feta, Carraway, Samsoe, Taffel, Swiss, Edam, Mozzarella, Pecorino-Romano, Red Malling, Cacio Cavallo, Blue-Vein, Roman, Parmigiano, Kasseri, Ricotta and Pepato” (“Australia’s Natural” 23). Recipes for cheese fondues recur through the magazine, sometimes even multiple times in the same issue (see, for instance, “Cooking With Cheese”; “Cooking With Wine”; Pain). In comparison, butter, although used in many AWFQ’s recipes, was such a common local ingredient at this time that it was only granted one article over the entire run of the magazine, and this was largely about the much more unusual European-style unsalted butter (“An Expert”).Other international recipes that were repeated often include those for pasta (always spaghetti) as well as mayonnaise made with olive oil. Recurring sweets and desserts include sorbets and zabaglione from Italy, and flambéd crepes suzettes from France. While tabletop cooking is the epitome of sophistication and described as an international technique, baked Alaska (ice cream nestled on liquor-soaked cake, and baked in a meringue shell), hailing from America, is the most featured recipe in the magazine. Asian-inspired cuisine was rarely represented and even curry—long an Anglo-Australian staple—was mentioned only once in the magazine, in an article reprinted from the South African The National Hotelier, and which included a recipe alongside discussion of blending spices (“Curry”).Coffee was regularly featured in both articles and advertisements as a staple of the international gourmet kitchen (see, for example, Bancroft). Articles on the history, growing, marketing, blending, roasting, purchase, percolating and brewing, and serving of coffee were common during the magazine’s run, and are accompanied with advertisements for Bushell’s, Robert Timms’s and Masterfoods’s coffee ranges. AWFQ believed Australia’s growing coffee consumption was the result of increased participation in quality internationally-influenced dining experiences, whether in restaurants, the “scores of colourful coffee shops opening their doors to a new generation” (“Coffee” 39), or at home (Adams). Tea, traditionally the Australian hot drink of choice, is not mentioned once in the magazine (Brien).International Gourmet InnovationsAlso featured in the magazine are innovations in the Australian food world: new places to eat; new ways to cook, including a series of sometimes quite unusual appliances; and new ways to shop, with a profile of the first American-style supermarkets to open in Australia in this period. These are all seen as overseas innovations, but highly suited to Australia. The laws then controlling the service of alcohol are also much discussed, with many calls to relax the licensing laws which were seen as inhibiting civilised dining and drinking practices. The terms this was often couched in—most commonly in relation to the Olympic Games (held in Melbourne in 1956), but also in relation to tourism in general—are that these restrictive regulations were an embarrassment for Melbourne when considered in relation to international practices (see, for example, Ludbrook, “Present”). This was at a time when the nightly hotel closing time of 6.00 pm (and the performance of the notorious “six o’clock swill” in terms of drinking behaviour) was only repealed in Victoria in 1966 (Luckins).Embracing scientific approaches in the kitchen was largely seen to be an American habit. The promotion of the use of electricity in the kitchen, and the adoption of new electric appliances (Gas and Fuel; Gilbert “Striving”), was described not only as a “revolution that is being wrought in our homes”, but one that allowed increased levels of personal expression and fulfillment, in “increas[ing] the time and resources available to the housewife for the expression of her own personality in the management of her home” (Gilbert, “The Woman’s”). This mirrors the marketing of these modes of cooking and appliances in other media at this time, including in newspapers, radio, and other magazines. This included features on freezing food, however AWFQ introduced an international angle, by suggesting that recipe bases could be pre-prepared, frozen, and then defrosted to use in a range of international cookery (“Fresh”; “How to”; Kelvinator Australia). The then-new marvel of television—another American innovation—is also mentioned in the magazine ("Changing concepts"), although other nationalities are also invoked. The history of the French guild the Confrerie de la Chaine des Roitisseurs in 1248 is, for instance, used to promote an electric spit roaster that was part of a state-of-the-art gas stove (“Always”), and there are also advertisements for such appliances as the Gaggia expresso machine (“Lets”) which draw on both Italian historical antecedence and modern science.Supermarket and other forms of self-service shopping are identified as American-modern, with Australia’s first shopping mall lauded as the epitome of utopian progressiveness in terms of consumer practice. Judged to mark “a new era in Australian retailing” (“Regional” 12), the opening of Chadstone Regional Shopping Centre in suburban Melbourne on 4 October 1960, with its 83 tenants including “giant” supermarket Dickens, and free parking for 2,500 cars, was not only “one of the most up to date in the world” but “big even by American standards” (“Regional” 12, italics added), and was hailed as a step in Australia “catching up” with the United States in terms of mall shopping (“Regional” 12). This shopping centre featured international-styled dining options including Bistro Shiraz, an outdoor terrace restaurant that planned to operate as a bistro-snack bar by day and full-scale restaurant at night, and which was said to offer diners a “Persian flavor” (“Bistro”).ConclusionAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly was the first of a small number of culinary-focused Australian publications in the 1950s and 1960s which assisted in introducing a generation of readers to information about what were then seen as foreign foods and beverages only to be accessed and consumed abroad as well as a range of innovative international ideas regarding cookery and dining. For this reason, it can be posited that the magazine, although modest in the claims it made, marked a revolutionary moment in Australian culinary publishing. As yet, only slight traces can be found of its editor and publisher, Donald Wallace. The influence of AWFQ is, however, clearly evident in the two longer-lived magazines that were launched in the decade after AWFQ folded: Australian Gourmet Magazine and The Epicurean. Although these serials had a wider reach, an analysis of the 15 issues of AWFQ adds to an understanding of how ideas of foods, beverages, and culinary ideas and trends, imported from abroad were presented to an Australian readership in the 1950s, and contributed to how national foodways were beginning to change during that decade.ReferencesAdams, Jillian. “Australia’s American Coffee Culture.” Australian Journal of Popular Culture 2.1 (2012): 23–36.“Always to Roast on a Turning Spit.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 17.“An Expert on Butter.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 11.“Australia Is Guest Nation at Lausanne.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 18–19.“Australia’s Natural Cheeses.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 23.“Australia Will Be There.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 14.“Australian Wines Served at New York Dinner.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.5 (1958): 16.“Australia Wins Six Gold Medals.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.11 (1959/1960): 3.Bancroft, P.A. “Let’s Make Some Coffee.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 10. 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Introduction The sensational appearance of kawaii fashion in Tokyo’s Harajuku neighborhood—full of freedom, fun, and frills— has captivated hearts and imaginations worldwide. A key motivational concept for this group is “kawaii” which is commonly translated as “cute” and can also be used to describe things that are “beautiful”, “funny”, “pretty”, “wonderful”, “great”, “interesting”, and “kind” (Yamane 228; Yomota 73; Dale 320). Representations in media such as the styling of Harajuku street model and J-pop star Kyary Pamyu Pamyu, directed by Sebastian Masuda, have helped bring this fashion to a wider audience. Of this vibrant community, decora fashion is perhaps best known with its image well documented in in street-fashion magazines such as Shoichi Aoki’s FRUiTS (1997–2017), Websites such as Tokyo Fashion (2000–present), and in magazines like KERA (1998–2017). In particular, decora fashion captures the “do-it-yourself” approach for which Harajuku is best known for (Yagi 17). In this essay we draw on New Materialism to explore the ways in which decora fashion practitioners form kawaii affective assemblages with the objects they collect and transform into fashion items. We were motivated to pursue this research to build on other qualitative studies that aimed to include the voices of practitioners in accounts of their lifestyles (e.g. Nguyen; Monden; Younker) and respond to claims that kawaii fashion is a form of infantile regression. We—an Australian sociologist and kawaii fashion practitioner, a Japanese decora fashion practitioner and Harajuku street model, and a Japanese former owner of a tearoom in Harajuku—have used an action-led participatory research method to pool our expertise. In this essay we draw on both a New Materialist analysis of our own fashion practices, a 10-year longitudinal study of Harajuku (2012–2022), as well as interviews with twelve decora fashion practitioners in 2020. What Is Decora Fashion? Decora is an abbreviation of “decoration”, which reflects the key aesthetic commitment of the group to adorn their bodies with layers of objects, accessories, and stickers. Decora fashion uses bright clothing from thrift stores, layers of handmade and store-bought accessories, and chunky platform shoes or sneakers. Practitioners enjoy crafting accessories from old toys, kandi and perler beads, weaving, braiding, crocheting novelty yarn and ribbon, and designing and printing their own textiles. In addition to this act of making, decora practitioners also incorporate purchases from specialty brands like 6%DOKI DOKI, Nile Perch, ACDC Rag, YOSUKE USA, and minacute. According to our interviewees, whom we consulted in 2020, excess is key; as Momo told us: “if it’s too plain, it’s not decora”. Decora uses clashing, vibrant, electric colours, and a wild variety of kawaii versions of monsters, characters, and food which appear as motifs on their clothing (Groom 193; Yagi 17). Clashing textures and items—such as a sweat jackets, gauzy tutus, and plastic toy tiaras—are also a key concept (Koga 81). Colour is extended to practitioners’ hair through colourful hair dyes, and the application of stickers, bandaids, and jewels across their cheeks and nose (Rose, Kurebayashi and Saionji). These principles are illustrated in fig. 1, a street snap from 2015 of our co-author, Kurebayashi. Working with the contrasting primary colours across her hair, clothes, and accessories, she incorporates both her own handmade garments and found accessories to form a balanced outfit. Her Lisa Frank cat purse, made from a psychedelic vibrant pink faux fur, acts as a salient point to draw in our eyes to a cacophony of colour throughout her ensemble. The purse is a prized item from her own collection that was a rare find on Mercari, an online Japanese auction Website, 15 years ago. Her sweater dress is handmade, with a textile print she designed herself. The stickers on the print feature smiley faces, rainbows, ducks, and candy—all cheap and cheerful offerings from a discount store. Through intense layering and repetition, Kurebayashi has created a collage that is reminiscent of the clips and bracelets that decorate her hair and wrists. This collage also represents the colour, fun, and whimsy that she immerses herself in everyday. Her platform shoes are by Buffalo London, another rare find for her collection. Her hair braids are handmade by Midoroya, an online artist, which she incorporates to create variety in the textures in her outfit from head to toe. Peeking beneath her sweater is a short colourful tutu that floats and bounces with each step. Together the items converge and sing, visually loud and popping against the urban landscape. Fig. 1: Kurebayashi’s street snap in an decora fashion outfit of her own styling and making, 2015. Given the street-level nature of decora fashion, stories of its origins draw on oral histories of practitioners, alongside writings from designers and stores that cater to this group (Ash). Its emergence was relatively organic in the early 1990s, with groups enjoying mixing and combining found objects and mis-matching clothing items. Initially, decorative styles documented in street photography used a dark colour palette with layers of handmade accessories, clips, and decorations, and a Visual-kei influence. Designers such as Sebastian Masuda, who entered the scene in 1995, also played a key role by introducing accessories and clothes inspired by vintage American toys, Showa era (1926-1989) packaging, and American West Club dance culture (Sekikawa and Kumagi 22–23). Pop idols such as Tomoe Shinohara and Kyary Pamyu Pamyu are also key figures that have contributed to the pop aesthetic of decora. While decora was already practiced prior to the release of Shinohara’s 1995 single Chaimu, her styling resonated with practitioners and motivated them to pursue a more “pop” aesthetic with an emphasis on bright colours, round shapes, and handmade colourful accessories. Shinohara herself encouraged fans to take on a rebelliously playful outlook and presentation of self (Nakao 15–16; Kondō). This history resonates with more recent pop idol Kyary Pamyu Pamyu’s costuming and set design, which was directed by Sebastian Masuda. Kyary’s kawaii fashion preceded her career, as she regularly participated in the Harajuku scene and agreed to street snaps. While the costuming and set design for her music videos, such as Pon Pon Pon, resonate with the Harajuku aesthetic, her playful persona diverges. Her performance uses humour, absurdity, and imperfection to convey cuteness and provide entertainment (Iseri 158), but practitioners in Harajuku do not try to replicate this performance; Shinohara and Kyary’s stage persona promotes ‘immaturity’ and ‘imperfection’ as part of their youthful teenage rebellion (Iseri 159), while kawaii fashion practitioners prefer not to be seen in this light. When considering the toys, stickers, and accessories incorporated into decora fashion, and the performances of Shinohara and Kyary, it is understandable that some outsiders may interpret the fashion as a desire to return to childhood. Some studies of kawaii fashion more broadly have interpreted the wearing of clothing like this as a resistance to adulthood and infantile regression (e.g., Kinsella 221–222; Winge; Lunning). These studies suggest that practitioners desire to remain immature in order to “undermin[e] current ideologies of gender and power” (Hasegawa 140). In particular, Kinsella in her 1995 chapter “in Japan” asserts that fashion like this is an attempt to act “vulnerable in order to emphasize … immaturity and inability to carry out social responsibilities” (241), and suggests that this regression is “self-mutilation [which denies] the existence of a wealth of insights, feelings and humour that maturity brings with it” (235). This view has spread widely in writing about kawaii fashion, and Steele, Mears, Kawamura, and Narumi observe for instance that “prolonging childhood is compelling” as an attractive component of Harajuku culture (48). While we recognise that this literature uses the concept of “childishness” to acknowledge the rebellious nature of Harajuku fashion, our participants would like to discourage this interpretation of their practice. In particular, participants highlighted their commitment to studies, paying bills, caring for family members, and other markers they felt indicated maturity and responsibility. They also found this belief that they wanted to deny themselves adult “insights, feelings and humour” deeply offensive as it disregards their lived experience and practice. From a Sociological perspective, this infantilising interpretation is concerning as it reproduces Orientalist framings of Japanese women who enjoy kawaii culture as dependent and submissive, rather than savvy consumers (Bow 66–73; Kalnay 95). Furthermore, this commentary on youth cultures globally, which points to an infantilisation of adulthood (Hayward 230), has also been interrogated by scholars as an oversimplistic reading that doesn’t recognise the rich experiences of adults who engage in these spaces while meeting milestones and responsibilities (Woodman and Wyn; Hodkinson and Bennett; Bennett). Through our lived experience and work with the decora fashion community, we offer in this essay an alternative account of what kawaii means to these practitioners. We believe that agency, energy, and vibrancy is central to the practice of decora fashion. Rather than intending to be immature, practitioners are looking for vibrant ways to exist. A New Materialist lens offers a framework with which we can consider this experience. For example, our informant Momota, in rejecting the view that her fashion was about returning to childhood, explained that decora fashion was “rejuvenating” because it gave them “energy and power”. Elizabeth Groscz in her essay on freedom in New Materialism encourages us to consider new ways of living, not as an expression of “freedom from” social norms, but rather “freedom to” new ways of being, as expression of their “capacity for action” (140). In other words, rather than seeking freedom from adult responsibilities and regressing into a state where one is unable to care for oneself, decora fashion is a celebration of what practitioners are “capable of doing” (Groscz 140–141) by finding pleasure in collecting and making. Through encounters with kawaii objects, and the act of creating through these materials, decora fashion practitioners’ agential capacities are increased through experiences of elation, excitement and pleasure. Colourful Treasures, Fluttering Hearts: The Pleasures of Collecting kawaii Matter Christine Yano describes kawaii as having the potential to “transform the mundane material world into one occupied everywhere by the sensate and the sociable” (“Reach Out”, 23). We believe that this conceptualisation of kawaii has strong links to New Materialist theory. New Materialism highlights the ways in which human subjects are “are unstable and emergent knowing, sensing, embodied, affective assemblages of matter, thought, and language, part of and inseparable from more-than human worlds” (Lupton). Matter in this context is a social actor in its own right, energising and compelling practitioners to incorporate them into their everyday lives. For example, kawaii matter can move us to be more playful, creative, and caring (Aiwaza and Ohno; Nishimura; Yano, Pink Globalization), or help us relax and feel calm when experiencing high levels of stress (Stevens; Allison; Yano, “Reach Out”). Studies in the behavioral sciences have shown how kawaii objects pique our interest, make us feel happy and excited, and through sharing our excitement for kawaii things become kinder and more thoughtful towards each other (Nittono; Ihara and Nittono; Kanai and Nittono). Decora fashion practitioners are sensitive to this sensate and sociable aspect of kawaii; specific things redolent with “thing-power” (Bennett) shine and twinkle amongst the cultural landscape and compel practitioners to gather them up and create unique outfits. Decora fashion relies on an ongoing hunt for objects to upcycle into fashion accessories, thrifting second-hand goods in vintage stores, dollar stores, and craft shops such as DAISO, Omocha Spiral, and ACDC Rag. Practitioners select plastic goods with smooth forms and shapes, and soft, breathable, and light clothing, all with highly saturated colours. Balancing the contrast of colours, practitioners create a rainbow of matter from which they assemble their outfits. The concept of the rainbow is significant to practitioners as the synergy of contrasting colours expresses its own kawaii vitality. As our interviewee, Kanepi, described, “price too can be kawaii” (Yano, Pink Globalization 71); affordable products such as capsule toys and accessories allow practitioners to amass large collections of glistening and twinkling objects. Rare items are also prized, such as vintage toys and goods imported from America, resonating with their own “uniqueness”, and providing a point of difference to the Japanese kawaii cultural landscape. In addition to the key principles of colour, rarity, and affordability, there is also a personalised aspect to decora fashion. Amongst the mundane racks of clothing, toys, and stationary, specific matter twinkles at practitioners like treasures, triggering a moment of thrilling encounter. Our interviewee Pajorina described this moment as having a “fateful energy to it”. All practitioners described this experience as “tokimeki” (literally, a fluttering heart beat), which is used to refer to an experience of excitement in anticipation of something, or the elating feeling of infatuation (Occhi). Our interviewees sought to differentiate this experience of kawaii from feelings of care towards an animal or children through writing systems. While the kanji for “kawaii” was used to refer to children and small animals, the majority of participants wrote “kawaii” to express the vivid and energetic qualities of their fashion. We found each practitioner had a tokimeki response to certain items that and informed their collecting work. While some items fit a more mainstream interpretation of kawaii, such as characters like Hello Kitty, ribbons, and glitter, other practitioners were drawn to non-typical forms they believed were kawaii, such as frogs, snails, aliens, and monsters. As our interviewee Harukyu described: “I think people’s sense of kawaii comes from different sensibilities and perspectives. It’s a matter of feelings. If you think it is kawaii, then it is”. Guided by individual experiences of objects on the shop shelves, practitioners select things that resonate with their own inner beliefs, interests, and fantasies of what kawaii is. In this regard, kawaii matter is not “structured” or “fixed” but rather “emergent through relations” that unfold between the practitioner and the items that catch their eye in a given moment (Thorpe 12). This offers not only an affirming experience through the act of creating, but a playful outlet as well. By choosing unconventional kawaii motifs to include in their collection, and using more standard kawaii beads, jewels, and ribbons to enhance the objects’ cuteness, decora fashion practitioners are transforming, warping, and shifting kawaii aesthetic boundaries in new and experimental ways (Iseri 148; Miller 24–25). As such, this act of collecting is a joyous and elating experience of gathering and accumulating. Making, Meaning, and Memory: Creating kawaii Assemblages Once kawaii items are amassed through the process of collecting, their cuteness is intensified through hand-making items and assembling outfits. One of our interviewees, Momo, explained to us that this expressive act was key to the personalisation of their clothes as it allows them to “put together the things you like” and “incorporate your own feelings”. For example, the bracelets in fig. 2 are an assemblage made by our co-author Kurebayashi, using precious items she has collected for 10 years. Each charm has its own meaning in its aesthetics, memories it evokes, and the places in which it was found. Three yellow rubber duck charms bob along strands of twinkling pink and blue bubble-like beads. These ducks, found in a bead shop wholesaler while travelling in Hong Kong, evoke for Kurebayashi an experience of a bubble bath, where one can relax and luxuriate in self care. Their contrast with the pink and blue—forming the trifecta of primary colours—enhances the vibrant intensity of the bracelet. A large blue bear charm, contrasting in scale and colour, swings at her wrist, its round forms evoking Lorenz’s Kindchenschema. This bear charm is another rare find from America, a crowning jewel in Kurebayashi’s collection. It represents Kurebayashi’s interest in fun and colourful animals as characters, and as potential kawaii friends. Its translucent plastic form catches the light as it glistens. To balance the colour scheme of her creation, Kurebayashi added a large strawberry charm, found for just 50 Yen in a discount store in Japan. Together these objects resonate with key decora principles: personal significance, rarity, affordability, and bright contrasting colours. While the bear and duck reference childhood toys, they do not signify to Kurebayashi a desire to return to childhood. Rather, their rounded forms evoke a playful outlook on life informed by self care and creativity (Ngai 841; Rose). Through bringing the collection of items together in making these bracelets, the accessories form an entanglement of kawaii matter that carries both aesthetic and personal meaning, charged with memories, traces of past travels, and a shining shimmering vitality of colour and light. Fig. 2: Handmade decora fashion bracelet by Kurebayashi, 2022. The creation of decora outfits is the final act of expression and freedom. In this moment, decora fashion practitioners experience elation as they gleefully mix and match items from their collection to create their fashion style. This entanglement of practitioner and kawaii matter evokes what Gorscz would describe as “free acts … generated through the encounter of life with matter” (151). If we return to fig. 1, we can see how Kurebayashi and her fashion mutually energise each other as an expression of colourful freedom. While the objects themselves are found through encounters and given new life by Kurebayashi as fashion items, they also provide Kurebayashi with tools of expression that “expand the variety of activities” afforded to adults (Gorscz 154). She feels elated, full of feeling, insight, and humour in these clothes, celebrating all the things she loves that are bright, colourful, and fun. Conclusion In this essay, we have used New Materialist theory to illustrate some of the ways in which kawaii matter energises decora fashion practitioners, as an expression of what Gorscz would describe as “capacity for action” and a “freedom towards” new modes of expression. Practitioners are sensitive to kawaii’s affective potential, motivating them to search for and collect items that elate and excite them, triggering moments of thrilling encounters amongst the mundanity of the stores they search through. Through the act of making and assembling these items, practitioners form an entanglement of matter charged with their feelings, memories, and the vitality and vibrancy of their collections. Like shining rainbows in the streets, they shimmer and shine with kawaii life, vibrancy, and vitality. Acknowledgements This article was produced with the support of a Vitalities Lab Scholarship, UNSW Sydney, a National Library of Australia Asia Studies scholarship, as well as in-kind support from the University of Tokyo and the Japan Foundation Sydney. 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We take as our subject what many would deem a waste of good celluloid: the degraded cultural form of the stoner film. Stoner films plot the experiences of the wasted (those intoxicated on marijuana) as they exhibit wastefulness—excessiveness, improvidence, decay—on a number of fronts. Stoners waste time in constantly hunting for pot and in failing to pursue more productive activity whilst wasted. Stoners waste their minds, both literally, if we believe contested studies that indicate marijuana smoking kills brains cells, and figuratively, in rendering themselves cognitively impaired. Stoners waste their bodies through the dangerous practice of smoking and through the tendency toward physical inertia. Stoners waste money on marijuana firstly, but also on such sophomoric accoutrements as the stoner film itself. Stoners lay waste to convention in excessively seeking pleasure and in dressing and acting outrageously. And stoners, if the scatological humour of so many stoner films is any index, are preoccupied with bodily waste. Stoners, we argue here, waste whiteness as well. As the likes of Jesse and Chester (Dude, Where’s My Car?), Wayne and Garth (Wayne’s World), Bill and Ted (Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure) and Jay and Silent Bob (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back) make clear, whiteness looms large in stoner films. Yet the genre, we argue, disavows its own whiteness, in favour of a post-white hybridity that lavishly squanders white privilege. For all its focus on whiteness, filmic wastedness has always been an ethnically diverse and ambiguous category. The genre’s origins in the work of Cheech Marin, a Chicano, and Tommy Chong, a Chinese-European Canadian, have been buttressed in this regard by many African American contributions to the stoner oeuvre, including How High, Half Baked and Friday, as well as by Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, and its Korean-American and Indian-American protagonists. Cheech and Chong initiated the genre with the release of Up in Smoke in 1978. A host of films have followed featuring protagonists who spend much of their time smoking and seeking marijuana (or—in the case of stoner films such as Dude, Where’s My Car? released during the height of the War on Drugs—acting stoned without ever being seen to get stoned). Inspired in part by the 1938 anti-marijuana film Reefer Madness, and the unintended humour such propaganda films begat amongst marijuana smokers, stoner films are comedies that satirise both marijuana culture and its prohibition. Self-consciously slapstick, the stoner genre excludes more serious films about drugs, from Easy Rider to Shaft, as well as films such as The Wizard of Oz, Yellow Submarine, the Muppet movies, and others popular amongst marijuana smokers because of surreal content. Likewise, a host of films that include secondary stoner characters, such as Jeff Spicoli in Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Wooderson in Dazed and Confused, are commonly excluded from the genre on the grounds that the stoner film, first and foremost, celebrates stonerism, that is “serious commitment to smoking and acquiring marijuana as a lifestyle choice.” (Meltzer). Often taking the form of the “buddy film,” stoner flicks generally feature male leads and frequently exhibit a decidedly masculinist orientation, with women, for the most part reduced to little more than the object of the white male gaze.The plot, such as it is, of the typical stoner film concerns the search for marijuana (or an accessory, such as junk food) and the improbable misadventures that ensue. While frequently represented as resourceful and energetic in their quest for marijuana, filmic stoners otherwise exhibit ambivalent attitudes toward enterprise that involves significant effort. Typically represented as happy and peaceable, filmic stoners rarely engage in conflict beyond regular clashes with authority figures determined to enforce anti-drug laws, and other measures that stoners take to be infringements upon happiness. While Hollywood’s stoners thus share a sense of entitlement to pleasure, they do not otherwise exhibit a coherent ideological orthodoxy beyond a certain libertarian and relativistic open-mindedness. More likely to take inspiration from comic book heroes than Aldous Huxley or Timothy Leary, stoners are most often portrayed as ‘dazed and confused,’ and could be said to waste the intellectual tradition of mind expansion that Leary represents. That stoner films are, at times, misunderstood to be quintessentially white is hardly suprising. As a social construct that creates, maintains and legitimates white domination, whiteness manifests, as one of its most defining features, an ability to swallow up difference and to insist upon, at critical junctures, a universal subjectivity that disallows for difference (hooks 167). Such universalising not only sanctions co-optation of ethnic cultural expression, it also functions to mask whiteness’s existence, thus reinforcing its very power. Whiteness, as Richard Dyer argues, is simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. It obfuscates itself and its relationship to the particular traits it is said to embody—disinterest, prudence, temperance, rationality, bodily restraint, industriousness (3). Whiteness is thus constructed as neither an ethnic nor racial particularity, but rather the transcendence of such positionality (Wiegman 139). While non-whites are raced, to be white is to be “just human” and thus to possess the power to “claim to speak for the commonality of humanity” whilst denying the accrual of any particular racial privilege (Dyer 2). In refuting its own advantages—which are so wide ranging (from preferential treatment in housing loans, to the freedom to fail without fear of reflecting badly on other whites) that they are, like whiteness itself, both assumed and unproblematic—whiteness instantiates individualism, allowing whites to believe that their successes are in no way the outcome of systematic racial advantage, but rather the product of individual toil (McIntosh; Lipsitz). An examination of the 1978 stoner film Up in Smoke suggests that whatever the ethnic ambiguity of the figure of the stoner, the genre of the stoner film is all about the wasting of whiteness. Up in Smoke opens with two alternating domestic scenes. We first encounter Pedro De Pacas (Cheech Marin) in a cluttered and shadowy room as his siblings romp affectionately upon his back, waking him from his slumber on the couch. Pedro rises, stepping into a bowl of cereal on the floor. He stumbles to the bathroom, where, sleepy and disoriented, he urinates into the laundry hamper. The chaos of Pedro’s disrupted sleep is followed in the film by a more metaphoric awakening as Anthony Stoner (Tommy Chong) determines to leave home. The scene takes place in a far more orderly, light and lavish room. The space’s overpowering whiteness is breached only by the figure of Anthony and his unruly black hair, bushy black beard, and loud Hawaiian shirt, which vibrates with colour against the white walls, white furnishings and white curtains. We watch as Anthony, behind an elaborate bar, prepares a banana protein shake, impassively ignoring his parents, both clothed in all-white, as they clutch martini glasses and berate their son for his lack of ambition. Arnold Stoner [father]: Son, your mother and me would like for you to cozy up to the Finkelstein boy. He's a bright kid, and, uh... he's going to military school, and remember, he was an Eagle Scout. Tempest Stoner [mother]: Arnold…Arnold Stoner: [shouts over/to his wife] Will you shut up? We’re not going to have a family brawl!Tempest Stoner: [continues talking as her husband shouts]…. Retard.Arnold Stoner: [to Anthony] We've put up with a hell of a lot.[Anthony starts blender] Can this wait? ... Build your goddamn muscles, huh? You know, you could build your muscles picking strawberries.You know, bend and scoop... like the Mexicans. Shit, maybe I could get you a job with United Fruit. I got a buddy with United Fruit. ... Get you started. Start with strawberries, you might work your way up to these goddamn bananas! When, boy? When...are you going to get your act together?Anthony: [Burps]Tempest Stoner: Gross.Arnold Stoner: Oh, good God Almighty me. I think he's the Antichrist. Anthony, I want to talk to you. [Anthony gathers his smoothie supplements and begins to walk out of the room.] Now, listen! Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you! You get a goddamn job before sundown, or we're shipping you off to military school with that goddamn Finkelstein shit kid! Son of a bitch!The whiteness of Anthony’s parents is signified so pervasively and so strikingly in this scene—in their improbable white outfits and in the room’s insufferably white décor—that we come to understand it as causative. The rage and racism of Mr. Stoner’s tirade, the scene suggests, is a product of whiteness itself. Given that whiteness achieves and maintains its domination via both ubiquity and invisibility, what Up in Smoke accomplishes in this scene is notable. Arnold Stoner’s tortured syntax (“that goddamn Finkelstein shit kid”) works to “mak[e] whiteness strange” (Dyer 4), while the scene’s exaggerated staging delineates whiteness as “a particular – even peculiar – identity, rather than a presumed norm” (Roediger, Colored White 21). The belligerence of the senior Stoners toward not only their son and each other, but the world at large, in turn, functions to render whiteness intrinsically ruthless and destructive. Anthony’s parents, in all their whiteness, enact David Roediger’s assertion that “it is not merely that ‘Whiteness’s is oppressive and false; it is that ‘Whiteness’s is nothing but oppressive and false” (Toward the Abolition 13).Anthony speaks not a word during the scene. He communicates only by belching and giving his parents the finger as he leaves the room and the home. This departure is significant in that it marks the moment when Anthony, hereafter known only as “Man,” flees the world of whiteness. He winds up taking refuge in the multi-hued world of stonerism, as embodied in the scene that follows, which features Pedro emerging from his home to interact with his Chicano neighbours and to lovingly inspect his car. As a lowrider, a customised vehicle that “begin[s] with the abandoned materials of one tradition (that of mainstream America), … [and is] … then transformed and recycled . . . into new and fresh objects of art which are distinctly Chicano,” Pedro’s car serves as a symbol of the cultural hybridisation that Man is about to undergo (quoted in Ondine 141).As Man’s muteness in the presence of his parents suggests, his racial status seems tentative from the start. Within the world of whiteness, Man is the subaltern, silenced and denigrated, finding voice only after he befriends Pedro. Even as the film identifies Man as white through his parental lineage, it renders indeterminate its own assertion, destabilising any such fixed or naturalised schema of identity. When Man is first introduced to Pedro’s band as their newest member, James, the band’s African American bass player, looks at Man, dressed in the uniform of the band, and asks: “Hey Pedro, where’s the white dude you said was playing the drums?” Clearly, from James’s point of view, the room contains no white dudes, just stoners. Man’s presumed whiteness becomes one of the film’s countless gags, the provocative ambiguity of the casting of a Chinese-European to play a white part underscored in the film by the equally implausible matter of age. Man, according to the film’s narrative, is a high school student; Chong was forty when the film was released. Like his age, Man’s whiteness is never a good fit. That Man ultimately winds up sleeping on the very couch upon which we first encounter Pedro suggests how radical and final the break with his dubious white past is. The “Mexicans” whom his father would mock as fit only for abject labour are amongst those whom Man comes to consider his closest companions. In departing his parents’ white world, and embracing Pedro’s dilapidated, barrio-based world of wastedness, Man traces the geographies narrated by George Lipsitz in The Possessive Investment in Whiteness. Historically, Lipsitz argues, the development of affluent white space (the suburbs) was made possible by the disintegration of African American, Chicano and other minority neighbourhoods disadvantaged by federal, state, and corporate housing, employment, health care, urban renewal, and education policies that favoured whites over non-whites. In this sense, Man’s flight from his parents’ home is a retreat from whiteness itself, and from the advantages that whiteness conveys. In choosing the ramshackle, non-white world of stonerism, Man performs an act of racial treachery. Whiteness, Lipsitz contends, has “cash value,” and “is invested in, like property, but it is also a means of accumulating property and keeping it from others,” which allows for “intergenerational transfers of inherited wealth that pass on the spoils of discrimination to succeeding generations” (vii-viii). Man’s disavowal of the privileges of whiteness is a reckless refusal to accept this racial birthright. Whiteness is thus wasted upon Man because Man wastes his whiteness. Given the centrality of prudence and restraint to hegemonic constructions of whiteness, Man’s willingness to squander the “valuable asset” that is his white inheritance is especially treasonous (Harris 1713). Man is the prodigal son of whiteness, a profligate who pours down the drain “the wages of whiteness” that his forbearers have spent generations accruing and protecting (Roediger, The Wages of Whiteness). His waste not only offends the core values which whiteness is said to comprise, it also denigrates whiteness itself by illuminating the excess of white privilege, as well as the unarticulated excess of meanings that hover around whiteness to create the illusion of transcendence and infinite variety. Man’s performance, like all bad performances of whiteness, “disrupt[s] implicit understandings of what it means to be white” (Hartigan 46). The spectre of seeing white domination go ‘up in smoke’—via wasting, as opposed to hoarding, white privilege—amounts to racial treason, and helps not only to explicate why whites in the film find stonerism so menacing, but also to explain the paradox of “pot [making] the people who don’t smoke it even more paranoid than the people who do” (Patterson). While Tommy Chong’s droll assertion that "what makes us so dangerous is that we're harmless" ridicules such paranoia, it ultimately fails to account for the politics of subversive squandering of white privilege that characterise the stoner film (“Biographies”). Stoners in Up in Smoke, as in most other stoner films, are marked as non-white, through association with ethnic Others, through their rejection of mainstream ideas about work and achievement, and/or through their lack of bodily restraint in relentlessly seeking pleasure, in dressing outrageously, and in refusing to abide conventional grooming habits. Significantly, the non-white status of the stoner is both voluntary and deliberate. While stonerism embraces its own non-whiteness, its Otherness is not signified, primarily, through racial cross-dressing of the sort Eric Lott detects in Elvis, but rather through race-mixing. Stoner collectivity practices an inclusivity that defies America’s historic practice of racial and ethnic segregation (Lott 248). Stonerism further reveals its unwillingness to abide constrictive American whiteness in a scene in which Pedro and Man, both US-born Americans, are deported. The pair are rounded up along with Pedro’s extended family in a raid initiated when Pedro’s cousin “narcs” on himself to la migra (the Immigration and Naturalization Service) in order to get free transport for his extended family to his wedding in Tijuana. Pedro and Man return to the US as unwitting tricksters, bringing back to the US more marijuana than has ever crossed the Mexican-US border at one time, fusing the relationship between transnationalism and wastedness. The disrespect that stoners exhibit for pregnable US borders contests presumed Chicano powerlessness in the face of white force and further affronts whiteness, which historically has mobilised itself most virulently at the threat of alien incursion. Transgression here is wilful and playful; stoners intend to offend normative values and taste through their actions, their dress, and non-white associations as part of the project of forging a new hybridised, transnational subjectivity that threatens to lay waste to whiteness’s purity and privilege. Stoners invite the scrutiny of white authority with their outrageous attire and ethnically diverse composition, turning the “inevitability of surveillance” (Borrie 87) into an opportunity to enact their own wastedness—their wasted privilege, their wasted youth, their wasted potential—before a gaze that is ultimately confounded and threatened by the chaotic hybridity with which it is faced (Hebdige 26). By perpetually displaying his/her wasted Otherness, the stoner makes of him/herself a “freak,” a label cops use derisively throughout Up in Smoke to denote the wasted without realising that stoners define themselves in precisely such terms, and, by doing so, obstruct whiteness’s assertion of universal subjectivity. Pedro’s cousin Strawberry (Tom Skerritt), a pot dealer, enacts freakishness by exhibiting a large facial birthmark and by suffering from Vietnam-induced Post Traumatic Stress disorder. A freak in every sense of the word, Strawberry is denied white status by virtue of physical and mental defect. But Strawberry, as a stoner, ultimately wants whiteness even less than it wants him. The defects that deny him membership in the exclusive “club” that is whiteness prove less significant than the choice he makes to defect from the ranks of whiteness and join with Man in the decision to waste his whiteness wantonly (“Editorial”). Stoner masculinity is represented as similarly freakish and defective. While white authority forcefully frustrates the attempts of Pedro and Man to “score” marijuana, the duo’s efforts to “score” sexually are thwarted by their own in/action. More often than not, wastedness produces impotence in Up in Smoke, either literally or figuratively, wherein the confusion and misadventures that attend pot-smoking interrupt foreplay. The film’s only ostensible sex scene is unconsummated, a wasted opportunity for whiteness to reproduce itself when Man sleeps through his girlfriend’s frenzied discussion of sex. During the course of Up in Smoke, Man dresses as a woman while hitchhiking, Pedro mistakes Man for a woman, Man sits on Pedro’s lap when they scramble to change seats whilst being pulled over by the police, Man suggests that Pedro has a “small dick,” Pedro reports liking “manly breasts,” and Pedro—unable to urinate in the presence of Sgt. Stedenko—tells his penis that if it does not perform, he will “put [it] back in the closet.” Such attenuations of the lead characters’ masculinity climax in the penultimate scene, in which Pedro, backed by his band, performs “Earache My Eye,” a song he has just composed backstage, whilst adorned in pink tutu, garter belt, tassle pasties, sequined opera mask and Mickey Mouse ears: My momma talkin’ to me tryin’ to tell me how to liveBut I don't listen to her cause my head is like a sieveMy daddy he disowned me cause I wear my sister's clothesHe caught me in the bathroom with a pair of pantyhoseMy basketball coach he done kicked me off the teamFor wearing high heeled sneakers and acting like a queen“Earache My Eye” corroborates the Othered natured of stonerism by marking stoners, already designated as non-white, as non-straight. In a classic iteration of a bad gender performance, the scene rejects both whiteness and its hegemonic partners-in-crime, heterosexuality and normative masculinity (Butler 26). Here stoners waste not only their whiteness, but also their white masculinity. Whiteness, and its dependence upon “intersection … [with] interlocking axes [of power such as] gender … [and] sexuality,” is “outed” in this scene (Shome 368). So, too, is it enfeebled. In rendering masculinity freakish and defective, the film threatens whiteness at its core. For if whiteness can not depend upon normative masculinity for its reproduction, then, like Man’s racial birthright, it is wasted. The stoner’s embodiment of freakishness further works to emphasise wasted whiteness by exposing just how hysterical whiteness’s defense of its own normativity can be. Up in Smoke frequently inflates not only the effects of marijuana, but also the eccentricities of those who smoke it, a strategy which means that much of the film’s humour turns on satirising hegemonic stereotypes of marijuana smokers. Equally, Cheech Marin’s exaggerated “slapstick, one-dimensional [portrayal] of [a] Chicano character” works to render ridiculous the very stereotypes his character incarnates (List 183). While the film deconstructs processes of social construction, it also makes extensive use of counter-stereotyping in its depictions of characters marked as white. The result is that whiteness’s “illusion of [its] own infinite variety” is contested and the lie of whiteness as non-raced is exposed, helping to explain the stoner’s decision to waste his/her whiteness (Dyer 12; 2). In Up in Smoke whiteness is the colour of straightness. Straights, who are willing neither to smoke pot nor to tolerate the smoking of pot by others/Others, are so comprehensively marked as white in the film that whiteness and straightness become isomorphic. As a result, the same stereotypes are mobilised in representing whiteness and straightness: incompetence, belligerence, hypocrisy, meanspiritedness, and paranoia, qualities that are all the more oppressive because virtually all whites/straights in the film occupy positions of authority. Anthony’s spectacularly white parents, as we have seen, are bigoted and dominating. Their whiteness is further impugned by alcohol, which fuels Mr. Stoner’s fury and Mrs. Stoner’s unintelligibility. That the senior Stoners are drunk before noon works, of course, to expose the hypocrisy of those who would indict marijuana use while ignoring the social damage alcohol can produce. Their inebriation (revealed as chronic in the DVD’s outtake scenes) takes on further significance when it is configured as a decidedly white attribute. Throughout the film, only characters marked as white consume alcohol—most notably, the judge who is discovered to be drinking vodka whist adjudicating drug charges against Pedro and Man—therefore dislodging whiteness’s self-construction as temperate, and suggesting just how wasted whiteness is. While stonerism is represented as pacific, drunkenness is of a piece with white/straight bellicosity. In Up in Smoke, whites/straights crave confrontation and discord, especially the angry, uptight, and vainglorious narcotics cop Sgt. Stedenko (Stacey Keech) who inhabits so many of the film’s counter-stereotypes. While a trio of white cops roughly apprehend and search a carload of innocent nuns in a manner that Man describes as “cold blooded,” Stedenko, unawares in the foreground, gives an interview about his plans for what he hopes will be the biggest border drug bust in US history: “[Reporter:] Do you expect to see any violence here today? [Sgt. Stedenko:] I certainly hope so.” Stedenko’s desire to act violently against stoners echoes mythologies of white regeneration in the Old West, wherein whiteness refurbished itself through violent attacks on Native Americans, whose wasteful cultures failed to make “civilised” use of western lands (Slotkin 565).White aggression is relentlessly depicted in the film, with one important exception: the instance of the stoned straight. Perhaps no other trope is as defining of the genre, as is the scene wherein a straight person accidentally becomes stoned. Up in Smoke offers several examples, most notably the scene in which a motorcycle cop pulls over Pedro and Man as they drive a van belonging to Pedro’s Uncle Chuey. In a plot twist requiring a degree of willing suspension of disbelief that even wasted audiences might find a stretch, the exterior shell of the van, unbeknownst to Pedro and Man, is made entirely of marijuana which has started to smoulder around the exhaust pipe. The cop, who becomes intoxicated whilst walking through the fumes, does not hassle Pedro and Man, as expected, but instead asks for a bite of their hot dog and then departs happily, instructing the duo to “have a nice day.” In declining, or perhaps simply forgetting, to exercise his authority, the cop demonstrates the regenerative potential not of violent whiteness but rather of hybrid wastedness. Marijuana here is transformative, morphing straight consciousness into stoner consciousness and, in the process, discharging all the uptight, mean-spirited, unnecessary, and hence wasteful baggage of whiteness along the way. While such a utopian potential for pot is both upheld and satirised in the film, the scene amounts to far more than an inconsequential generic gag, in that it argues for the disavowal of whiteness via the assumption of the voluntary Otherness that is stonerism. Whiteness, the scene suggests, can be cast off, discarded, wasted and thus surmounted. Whites, for want of a better phrase, simply need to ‘just say no’ to whiteness in order to excrete the brutality that is its necessary affliction and inevitable result. While Up in Smoke laudably offers a powerful refusal to horde the assets of whiteness, the film fails to acknowledge that ‘just saying no’ is, indeed, one of whiteness’s exclusive privileges, since whites and only whites possess the liberty to refuse the advantages whiteness bestows. Non-whites possess no analogical ability to jettison the social constructions to which they are subjected, to refuse the power of dominant classes to define their subjectivity. Neither does the film confront the fact that Man nor any other of Up in Smoke’s white freaks are disallowed from re-embracing their whiteness, and its attendant value, at any time. However inchoate the film’s challenge to racial privilege, Up in Smoke’s celebration of the subversive pleasures of wasting whiteness offers a tentative, if bleary, first step toward ‘the abolition of whiteness.’ Its utopian vision of a post-white hybridised subjectivity, however dazed and confused, is worthy of far more serious contemplation than the film, taken at face value, might seem to suggest. Perhaps Up in Smoke is a stoner film that should also be viewed while sober. ReferencesBill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Dir. Stephen Herek. Orion Pictures Corporation, 1989.“Biographies”. 10 June 2010 ‹http://www.cheechandchongfans.com/biography.html›. Borrie, Lee. "Wild Ones: Containment Culture and 1950s Youth Rebellion”. Diss. University of Canterbury, 2007.Butler, Judith. "Critically Queer”. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 1.1 (1993): 17-32.Chavoya, C. Ondine. “Customized Hybrids: The Art of Ruben Ortiz Torres and Lowriding in Southern California”. 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