may forge interdisciplinary work.
19 During the session two things became clear to me: that the journey of interdisciplinary students (as my
own was) will most likely be in the reverse direction and that none of us
really felt 'at home' in our putative homes. Most of us who are feminists
forging interdisciplinary scholarship and pedagogy, I imagine, find it
more the case that 'home' is a place of profound estrangement and considerable danger. A place where our work is systematically disproportionate and undervalued, where kinship is a battle we rarely win and our
custodianship of teaching and learning can be as much a bitter as a joyous issue. Indeed, the metaphor of 'home', if we consider the conventional sexual politics of home, is unfortunately appropriate. Unlike Dorothy, home is not my haven or my destination when I click my heels
and travel hopefully. Yet when I, as a teacher, hold out visions of Ithaca or
Oz (those oases of pretended family), I share with students, indeed impose upon them, my problems with discipline, my difficulties with direction, and the dangers of strangeness at 'home'.
The stranger who comes home
does not make [her]self at home
but makes home strange20
I figure that if 'home' makes me a stranger, making 'home' strange is
the least I can do.
1. For several years, this has been my memory of the opening lines of Cavafy
poem, ' Ithaca' ( 1976). It came as a shock to me to rediscover recently that what Cavafy actually wrote was: 'When you start on your journey to Ithaca, / then
pray that the road is long, / full of adventure, full of knowledge. / Do not fear
the Lestrygonians / and the Cyclops and the angry Poseidon, / You will never
meet such as these on your path / if your thoughts remain lofty . . .'.
Friedson ( 1970), in his analysis of medicine as a case study, posited defensive
elitism as a defining characteristic of professions.
The 'project of memory against forgetting' is set out as part of the 1955 Freedom Charter of the African National Congress.
hooks ( 1991: 49). I am particularly moved by the discussion in the chapter, 'Choosing the Margin as a Space of Radical Openness', which raises the questions
simultaneously of language and silence, openness and closure, home and exile--
the 'zoning', as I discuss in this chapter, of speech.
It is probably not surprising that growing up as a nice jewish girl in the heyday of the Women's Liberation and Civil Rights moments in the United States, I
developed an almost mystical faith in education as the road to liberation, the necessary condition for an anti-oppressive and democratic society, the roses with the