On praxis and practice

There is this funny thing that happens in the cataloging world sometimes. When someone dies or a person has a significant change to their identity, it is not long before that person's name authority record has been updated. When Caitlyn Jenner made her debut on the cover of Vanity Fair, her name authority record was updated pretty quickly.

What followed was a debate about how (and whether) her gender should be reflected in the record. The record currently has three 375 fields: one with "transgender woman," one with "female" and the dates associated with that identity, and one with "male" and the dates associated with that identity. This debate has lead to people asking larger questions about the appropriateness of recording gender at all and about whether catalogers should be the ones to assign attributes to people that they might not necessarily assign to themselves.

In some ways, I think this 'should we or shouldn't we code gender' debate is a conflict between practice and praxis. Our practice as catalogers is to use the rules outlined for us in the descriptive standard we've chosen in order to describe an item. Praxis, I think, would be describing an item using both the descriptive standard we've chosen and the critical theory through which we see the world.

In the article "What's gender got to do with it: a critique of RDA Rule 9.7," Amber Billey, Emily Drabinski, and K.R. Roberto look at recording gender in name authority records through the lens of queer theory. In this article, they write:

 For queer theorists, gender and sex are always negotiated and socially constituted; fixing them as RDA asks catalogers to do denies the shifting and contextual nature of gender identities.

The authors make a series of well-considered arguments against recording gender in name authority records that all have queer theory as their foundation. And in the end, the application of queer theory and RDA as a descriptive standard leads them to recommend that gender not be coded in name authority records.

I think catalogers do the best we can to describe the resources we're tasked with describing. Sometimes, though, the work we're given to is beyond the scope of what we can understand by the nature of the language the resource is written in or the subject matter the resource covers. And while it's valuable for us, as a profession, to consider the implications of our decisions, I think we should also acknowledge that for some people, our thought exercises are their lives.

For cisgender folks, recording gender in NAR is a thought experiment. For transgender & gender non-conforming folks, it's lived experience.

— Erin Leach (@erinaleach) June 8, 2015

The thing is, while critical cataloging starts with examining the practice of considering why we record gender as an attribute of a person. But it doesn't stop there. We also need to think critically about why we assign subject headings and classification in the ways that we do. Catalogers are not neutral, and to act like we are does a disservice to everyone.

If we want to move toward a more critical theory-based model of cataloging, we have to stop prioritizing cost and quantity over quality when it comes to metadata creation. We have to give catalogers the space to think critically about the work they do and create quality metadata that respects the lived experiences of the people it describes. But we can't do that if we're not given the space and the resources to do this kind of work.

I think a good first step in moving toward critical cataloging would be to think about why you do what you do the next time you create a record. And think about how your bias and your privilege impact the decisions that you make. Knowing what's there, under the surface, is the best first step to changing it.

Stay positive,
Erin

Friday Jams (06/05/2015)

Rachel:
I was going to go and check to see if I'd posted this before and then I realized that I do not care.

Erin:
I'm posting two jams today. I do what I want.

Jam the first:
One of my favorite of Erin McKeown's songs.

Jam the second:
The older I get, the more this song resonates with me. Woah-oh-oh-oh, you gotta stay positive.

Building the Introverted Library Scene?

So, I recently took one of those short online Myers/Briggs based personality assessments because, you know, the internet. I came out just about how I always do, INTJ, with strong I & J, weaker N & T. I don't think this would be a surprise to anyone who knows me or the MB. I also think that the rarer types like INTJ tend to be over-represented in library and academic work for obvious reasons. Anyhow, as we come to the point, in its descriptions about "work habits" I read the following:

Above all else, INTJs want to be able to tackle intellectually interesting work with minimal outside interference, no more, no less. Time-consuming management techniques like trust-building getaways, progress meetings, and drawn-out, sandwiched criticisms are only going to annoy INTJs – all they need, be they subordinate, colleague, or manager, is to meet their goals with the highest standard of technical excellence and to be surrounded by, if anyone at all, people who share those values.

 Note that as I am reading this, I am involved in supporting and planning "time-consuming management techniques." What I'm interested in doing is high level intellectual stuff and making the library the very very best it can be. What I've found is essential in making that happen is... people. In fact, PEOPLE are the most intellectually interesting problem I've found in my life. I can put a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle together in less than a day, I learned how to do a Rubik's Cube and now find them relaxing. Planning scenarios for how people will react to proposals and options? Figuring out if the people (who make the organization) are on the right track? that never gets solved, never gets finished, is mind-bendingly complex. It's the best puzzle there is.

I realize that many people would be appalled to hear that I consider them a puzzle to be figured out, but it's just the way I consider everything. Including myself. I suppose the consolation is that I want everything and everyone to be operating at its absolute peak. Which speaks to my management style and my obsession with organizational development and strategic planning. Specifically, doing them right. If I manage people, I want those people to be doing the best things in the best ways being their best selves. That's what is best for the organization, best for the people, and best for me as a manager. Putting in the people-work to make this happen is therefore I can probably say best some more, don't worry.

There's been widespread dismissal of many different kinds of management strategies, specifically about the time and effort they take without "proof" of the results. These strategies are not solutions in the way that the solution to your car not starting is a new battery. They are solutions like meditation. Ones that are difficult to implement well, have many trip-ups at the beginning, take a while to show results, and have dramatically positive benefits in the long term. Taking the time to work with people to get them truly involved in these processes means working through an iterative process to show the value of the various practices that you're trying to implement. The time to sit down with someone and help them work through their feelings about all of the issues, their intellectual, and emotional thoughts about everything that is happening in your organization.

That's a lot of work! But! Librarians! Look at me. Let me tell you the reward for getting these puzzles solved is better than any other puzzle-solving experience. If I can pivot the skills and dispositions of my INTJ personality to working on huge system projects where the system is made of people, there are a lot of people in libraries who might be able to do the same. We have the capacity to make "annoying management practices" into truly effective organizational tools.

And when we do? It's gonna be rockin'

What's your M/B? How do you use the dispositions within that type to push against it's very definition? Let me know in the comments or on twitter.

Keep rockin'
Rachel

You're pretty good with words

Both Rachel and I have written about the power of words. To be fair, Rachel has written about it more than I have, as you can tell from the links. But the point is, it's something we think about here on The Blog.

I read something yesterday that made me think a lot about what I mean when I say "the user."

In Chapter 2 of The Power To Name, Hope A. Olson writes about classification systems as envisioned by both Melvil Dewey and Charles A. Cutter. In the section about Cutter, Olson points out that Cutter believed that different types of libraries have different purposes. That is, one uses a research library in a different way than a public library. It is for this reason, Cutter asserts, that different words may be used to describe the same topic and the type of library governs which words get used. In Olson's (and Cutter's) example, a public library might choose to organize all of it's material on butterflies under the heading of butterflies while a research library might choose to organize that same material under the heading of lepidoptera.

Olson pushes back against this notion, writing:

In reality, libraries do not have homogeneous users, but the conception of a single public presumes that they do (42)

It is easy for me to accept Olson's assertion that library users aren't a homogeneous group. Our users represent different socioeconomic groups, different races, different sexual orientations, different gender identities and expressions. They have differing levels of ability. As a result of this diversity, library users have both different information needs and different levels of information literacy.

In theory, I recognize this. But I am guilty of writing about "the user" as if there is a single type of person who uses the library. I talk about being user-center and "putting the user first." But what (or, rather, who) do I mean when I talk about "the user."

If, after reflection, I am honest with myself, I probably mean a user who is like me: white, able-bodied, cis gender. I probably mean someone who is middle class. I probably mean someone who is college educated.

I think that we bring our privilege and our baggage to work with us. And as a result, I think it isn't exactly fair to suggest that the library is neutral. But part of building the Unified Library Scene is to acknowledge that and figure out how to at least be more inclusive in a way that respects the experiences of the people who come to our libraries looking for information that has the capacity to transform their lives in radical ways.

Maybe instead of talking about being "putting the user first," we (well, I) should talk about "putting users first." It won't solve the problem entirely, but I feel like acknowledging that there is no such thing as a typical user is a good start.

Stay positive,
Erin

Friday Jams! (05/29/2015)

Rachel:

I love a good minor chord progression. Remember this one? It was the first single from this band and this album and it bombed because the A&R man made the mistake of putting good music on the radio. And then they got famous with joke songs. Quite sad, actually.

Erin:
The new Indigo Girls album is streaming over at Garden & Gun. With few exceptions, I much prefer Amy's songs over Emily's songs. This thought lead me down a weird rabbit hole that ended with me revisiting the eponymous Mount Moriah album. My brain is weird.

Anyway, I heard Mount Moriah, open for Craig Finn when I saw him touring behind his solo album and they were amazing. They've put out more stuff since they released that eponymous album, but that album has some of my favorite of their songs. I dug up this live version of the opening track, Lament, to share with you. It's not really a jaunty Friday jams tune, but you'll be tapping your feet and I guarantee you'll have it in your head for days.

Every Mentee their Mentor, Every Mentor their Mentee

When Erin wrote last about the Spectrum Scholar Mentor Program, I thought to myself, "why, I might be a good candidate for that, I enjoy mentoring people, this is something I care about." So I clicked on over and started to look at the form. As I examined the form, I also examined myself, and before I clicked submit, I realized that this isn't something that I can do. It isn't the best use of me, my time, and my emotional energy.

There are people (possibly you!) who are well suited for certain tasks, like being involved in a formal mentoring program. For me, I just knew that a formal program wouldn't be the best fit for me professionally OR emotionally. It's just not a situation where I am able to feel the comfort necessary to develop a good and open relationship that is an integral part of a great mentor/mentee relationship.

But it isn't that I don't value those programs. I think it is essential that we create space for them and value the work that people put in as mentors and as mentees because developing excellent professionals is a good idea for our profession.

It also isn't that I don't value mentoring. Mentoring is very important to me and I feel a strong obligation to develop mentor relationships with early career professionals and with peers (heya erin.) I especially value the role that twitter has played in helping me connect with early career professionals who have similar interests to mine. The #critlib chat, for instance, has been a way to find not only others interested in critical pedagogy, but also queer librarians with whom I can organically establish mentoring relationships (this goes both ways, of course.)

Talking baseball with some librarian (or anyone) is part of being my authentic self on twitter and it leads to the kind of relationships that I can't develop in a formal setting. (Maybe others can, I cannot.) Twitter is a place where the relationship can start with library talk or start somewhere else, but it feels very real to me and much safer than a formal structured mentoring program. So when I talk with early career professionals, first generation professionals, or others without the kind of privilege I have I can be honest with them and up front. I can find people with whom I feel safe talking about the privilege I don't have as well. I feel much more comfortable being a queer librarian on twitter than I do in most other professional setting, and twitter starts relationships that end up being in gchat or email or real life, all of which can be even safer places to have deep and honest conversations.


Informal mentoring is probably the most important thing that I do as professional. Not in that I take every individual action after grave deliberation, but that I know how much these relationships have done for me and how much it must do for others. I take that very seriously and I want to be my best for those who think they've got something to learn for me as well as those who have something to teach me. I hope we can continue learning and teaching together for a long time. That's the Unified Library Scene.

Keep Rockin'
Rachel

All you do to me is talk talk

I joined Twitter in 2008. I was going to Bonnaroo and I wanted a way to document and share my experiences with other people. Over the course of the past seven years, Twitter has connected me to a network of my peers, many of whom have become mentors and friends. While it's true that Twitter can be a vapid wasteland of memes and selfies, it also has a valuable place in Libraryland.

Twitter democratizes conversations in librarianship, which is why I think it's become so beloved by those who use it. It allows people from various places in the organizational chart at libraries of varying sizes to converse with each other in a way that doesn't really happen organically in real life. But even as Twitter has become a widely adopted tool, I think there is still pushback from administrators against active participation on Twitter.

A couple of jobs ago, I taught a class on using Twitter as a professional development tool. In preparing for this class, I wanted to understand the theory behind the phenomenon I was seeing play out in front of me and as a result, I learned a little bit about educational theory.

There are two concepts in education upon which I think Library Twitter rests: personal learning networks and personal learning environments. Personal learning environments help you take control or what (and how) you learn by allowing you set the goals and control the process. Personal learning networks are the networks of people you interact with in your personal learning environment. These people may be people you actually know, but they might not. You learn new things through relationships in your learning network and, as a result, come closer to achieving your learning goals.

Personal learning networks are built on the the educational theory of connectivism, which emphasizes the role of a social and cultural context to learning. In a 2005 article, George Siemens writes:

Connectivism is the integration of principles explored by chaos, network, and complexity and self-organization theories. Learning is a process that occurs within nebulous environments of shifting core elements – not entirely under the control of the individual. Learning (defined as actionable knowledge) can reside outside of ourselves (within an organization or a database), is focused on connecting specialized information sets, and the connections that enable us to learn more are more important than our current state of knowing.

One of Twitter's greatest strengths is hashtag chats. It's from 2012, but this Adweek article gives you the basics on what a hashtag chat is and how to join one. Over the course of the last couple of years, a bunch of hashtag chats have popped up on Twitter. Some that you might be interested in checking out include #libchat (and #uklibchat), #critlib, and #mashcat. These chats, along with others I haven't named, have allowed librarians with similar interests from different parts of the world to come together to discuss issues and learn from each other. #critlib even held an unconference in Portland at the end of March before ACRL.

Another of Twitter's strengths is creating a "back channel" during conferences. This recent article from Profhacker talks about what a conference back channel is and how to cultivate it. ALA has done a lot to encourage the cultivation of the conference back channel. Many conference sessions have hashtags. And ALA routinely has badge ribbons for people to share their Twitter handles with other conference attendees. The conference back channel is really valuable for people whose budgets don't allow them to attend all the conferences they'd like to. But it's also valuable to stimulating conversation that doesn't happen during conference sessions.

But what Twitter might be best at is making personal connections between people with similar interests that lead to really cool things happening. I met Rachel on Twitter a couple of years ago and we decided to start a blog together when we realized that we had similar feelings about librarianship. We'd been writing the blog for about seven months before we met in March 2015 at ACRL in Portland.

On a personal note, my life is so much richer from all of the things I've gained from being part of Library Twitter. I've interacted with people I consider heroes, found mentors, and made friendships I'll cherish long after Twitter becomes obsolete. My goal is to give back to the community even a fraction of what it's given me.

Stay positive,
Erin
(@erinaleach)