"I Have English" is an experimental attempt to commingle theory, memoir, criticism, what some call autotheory and others call autoethnography. Or it is a rage essay about Whiteness, racism, and other assorted oppressions that beset Brown and Black female bodies in the United States? Or it is a thought experiment about one person's embattled relationship with English, the language in which she thinks, lives, dreams, loves, and hates? Or it could also be a meditation on longing, belonging, and nostalgia, the predictable thematics that are always readily available for immigrants to perform. Or the essay is a cliché. What it is, what it feels like is a series of prose, poetic, storied, and entangled thoughts about having, possessing a colonial linguistics object, but never fully owning it.

In this research methods essay, we describe Interactive Management Research (IMR), a participatory action research methodology with extensive applications in organizational settings but new to organizational communication research. IMR offers possibilities as a participant-centered methodology that is particularly well suited for complex organizational design situations requiring a systems perspective. We detail two versions of IMR, an interview-based method (IMRi) and a group-based method (IMRg), using a case study of each method to illustrate their application to organizational communication research. We believe IMR is an approach to participatory action research that can provide unique insights into the systems thinking and communication that shapes organizations and organizing.

In March 2020 when the pandemic began, I found myself walking and scribbling in my notebook around the hills, country roads, and backroads of the Appalachian college town where I live and work. In the absence of human presence, I turned my attention to the nonhuman and the inanimate. Ultimately, my scribbles about these things took poetic form. I present here four poems and some notes on their emergence. They are a voice for the “tiny thoughts” that can occur around profound change or simply in the every day. I share them as my miniscule experience of long and short pandemic days, weeks, and months.

Research Article| January 11 2021 The Second Shift as Epistemological Bonus Devika Chawla Devika Chawla Devika Chawla is a professor in the School of Communication Studies at Ohio University. She teaches and writes on matters of migration, affect, material culture, and family life. She has published multiple essays and books including Home, Uprooted: Oral Histories of India’s Partition (Fordham University Press, 2014). She is the editor-in-chief of the University of California Press journal Departures in Critical Qualitative Research. Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar Journal of Autoethnography (2021) 2 (1): 128–135. https://doi.org/10.1525/joae.2021.2.1.128 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Peer Review Share Icon Share Twitter LinkedIn Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Devika Chawla; The Second Shift as Epistemological Bonus. Journal of Autoethnography 11 January 2021; 2 (1): 128–135. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/joae.2021.2.1.128 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search Dropdown Menu toolbar search search input Search input auto suggest filter your search All ContentJournal of Autoethnography Search In 2004, when I first entered the ranks of tenure-track faculty, I knew there were three tasks that I was expected to perform as a central part of my job: teaching, research, and service. To be clear, this is the expectation of work from tenure-track faculty—only the percentage of time spent on each area differs across institutions. Since I was hired into a PhD granting program, I was fully aware that publishing was critical to my tenure and promotion. As many of us do, I began the process of translating my dissertation work into essays and articles with the penultimate goal of returning to my field and conducting more fieldwork for a book (that I did not write). My dissertation explored, via life history interviews and ethnographic fieldwork, the identity experiences of women in urban Hindu arranged marriages. My publishing goal was to parcel it out in articles to various... You do not currently have access to this content.

Research Article| January 11 2021 Diversity Work as Second Shift Devika Chawla Devika Chawla Devika Chawla is a professor in the School of Communication Studies at Ohio University. She teaches and writes on matters of migration, affect, material culture, and family life. She has published multiple essays and books, including Home, Uprooted: Oral Histories of India’s Partition (Fordham University Press, 2014). She is the editor-in-chief of the University of California Press journal, Departures in Critical Qualitative Research. Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar Journal of Autoethnography (2021) 2 (1): 103–105. https://doi.org/10.1525/joae.2021.2.1.103 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Peer Review Share Icon Share Twitter LinkedIn Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Devika Chawla; Diversity Work as Second Shift. Journal of Autoethnography 11 January 2021; 2 (1): 103–105. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/joae.2021.2.1.103 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search Dropdown Menu toolbar search search input Search input auto suggest filter your search All ContentJournal of Autoethnography Search If you follow intellectual trends in popular and academic Western feminism(s) about the labor that women perform in the home, then the phrase the second shift is almost pro forma. It was popularized and entered general parlance after the 1989 book by the same name published by Arlie Hochschild1 whose rigorous interview study with fifty married couples led her to coin this phrase. The second shift stands for the unaccounted and unpaid labor that women perform in the home after a day’s work in the formal workforce. The study came out in the period between first- and second-wave feminism in the United States. In brief, first-wave feminism was about securing the right of women to vote; it was succeeded by the economically oriented second wave, followed by the culturally oriented third wave. Hochschild’s study sits comfortably within second-wave feminism, which waned in the 1980s. If you are reading this... You do not currently have access to this content.

A found object might bring sorrow or delight, but a lost object presents a question mark. Its absence can feel like a cleave, a permanent one, in our memory. Absences inevitably lead us to quests. In this personal essay, which is linked with a larger writing project on family and material memory, I search for the contents of an “essay” written by me when I was ten years old, on the very day that India’s Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated. In searching for this lost object, I excavate and access childhood memories that were forgotten or, perhaps, lay dormant waiting to be awakened. The essay remains unfound (lost), but in looking for it, this essay that you are reading here, emerges, showing me why the object, the essay must remain lost, so that a forgotten moment of my childhood can live.

I welcome our readers to the first issue of Volume 9 of Departures in Critical Qualitative Research ( DCQR ). In many ways, this issue is a continuation—both directly and indirectly—of our “Merit, Whiteness, and Privilege” special issue ( DCQR 8.4). The special issue came about as a response to a controversial summer vis-a-vis inclusion, diversity, and nonwhite/minoritized representation in communication studies, the field that is my home. We received upward of 35 submissions for the issue, which was rigorously coedited by Amardo Rodriguez, Mohan J. Dutta, and Elizabeth F. Desnoyers-Colas. This was a substantial number of submissions given that I invited the three coeditors in the middle of the ongoing controversy, thereby making the length of time between the call for papers and the submission date less than three weeks. Although we were able to feature about half of the peer-reviewed essays that we received in DCQR 8.4, at the close of the …

Editorial| May 01 2020 An Extra-Ordinary Critical Intervention Forum Devika Chawla Devika Chawla Devika Chawla is Professor in the School of Communication Studies at Ohio University. Correspondence to: Devika Chawla, School of Communication Studies, 431 Schoonover Center, Ohio University, Athens, OH 45701, USA. Email: chawla@ohio.edu. Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar Departures in Critical Qualitative Research (2020) 9 (2): 120–121. https://doi.org/10.1525/dcqr.2020.9.2.120 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Peer Review Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn MailTo Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Devika Chawla; An Extra-Ordinary Critical Intervention Forum. Departures in Critical Qualitative Research 1 May 2020; 9 (2): 120–121. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/dcqr.2020.9.2.120 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search Dropdown Menu toolbar search search input Search input auto suggest filter your search All ContentDepartures in Critical Qualitative Research Search In summer 2019, the field of communication studies imploded, owing largely to a controversy surrounding the yearly Distinguished Scholar Award presented by the National Communication Association (NCA). Of the 80 awardees from the past three decades, only one was an academic of color. My field was a few decades delayed in its rage over this obvious display of structural racism and bigotry, but the rage was overwhelmingly welcomed. As a card-carrying member, I offered to open one issue of Departures in Critical Qualitative Research (DCQR) for a special issue on “Merit, Whiteness, and Privilege” in communication studies and related disciplines. Thanks to the concerted efforts of three guest editors and the editorial team, we showcased a thought-provoking, radical, and rigorous special issue (DCQR 8.4). We received so many thoughtful contributions that we decided to run a partial issue on the same subject in the subsequent issue (... You do not currently have access to this content.

I have a particular intimacy with borders. An intimacy that I inherited, but did not seek. My family history is a history of belonging and unbelonging across borders. In August 1947, my grandparents, generationally rooted to the Deraghazikhan region of Pakistan, suddenly found that their country was no longer theirs. I want to imagine what that might have felt like. You wake up one morning and find that your country is free of almost 200 years of British rule, but this freedom is accompanied by the political splicing of the country into two nation-states—secular India and the Islamic state of Pakistan. This is the geopolitical event that came to be known as the batwara (in Hindustani) and Partition (in English). My Hindu grandparents found themselves on the wrong side of the divide. For many months, my grandfather resisted crossing that border into India. He waited in the hope that the communal riots that accompanied Partition would subside. He waited for life to return to normal in Quetta—the city where my family lived, the city where my father and his two siblings were born, the city that was home. But the split was final, and in September 1947, my grandfather boarded a train and crossed the border into India, becoming at once—migrant, immigrant, refugee—in his own country. My sibling, cousins, and I are the first generation of the family to be born on the Indian side of the border. I don't remember not knowing that we were from Pakistan. I knew we were from Quetta even before I could talk (or so my mother tells …

Can there be a decolonial autoethnography? If so, what could such an autoethnography look, sound, and feel like? If the possibility of decolonizing this mode of knowing does not exist, then what are the impediments-discursive, material, political, social-that disallow a move to decolonized autoethnographic work? Where would decolonization take us? What does it mean to write the self in and out of colonial historical frameworks? In this special issue, we bring to life such conversations through nine essays and a postscript that perform, ruminate, narrate with a thoughtful tenderness some versions of decolonized and postcolonial autoethnography. The essays illustrate the form that emerges when the colonial and postcolonial (both past and present) are taken as central concerns in autoethnographic writing.

The character in Abu Bakr Khall’s novel, African Titanics, describes the world of illegal African migrants as they take their risky journeys to Europe. Sadly, the character’s above description of his journey echoes the feelings of uncertainty and unpredictability many of our own immigrant students have told us they face. And it is not hard to understand why. The current climate in which the university finds itself is dominated by laws, policies, and political discourse that dehumanize certain students (Blow, 2016; Giroux, 2016; Kellner, 2016; Maker, 2016). Many of our students are “othered” in today’s America by virtue of their economic class, ethnicity, and sexuality; however, immigrants, and particularly Muslim immigrants, are at specific risk from both the policies and discourses of the current administration. It would be naïve to think that our current historic moment is unique, though. Speaking in 1931, United States Secretary of Labor William A. Doak expressed a similar sentiment: “My conviction is that by strict limitation and a wise selection of immigration, we can make America stronger in every way, hastening the day when our population shall be more homogenous” (Watkins, 2000). In short, historically and today, the crafted identities in the international refugee and the American immigration regimes hinder recognition of the basic rights and humanity of migrants, thus institutionalizing oppression through supporting programs that prevent global mobility and serve to reinforce racism at home. This external racism of our immigration policies mirrors the internal one by naturalizing socially constituted subject positions that foster fear and hatred of the “other,” thus emboldening exclusionary politics. This is not an abstract issue for the academy. Since Trump’s election in November 2016, institutions of higher education have been struggling to deal with the surge in political, legal, and interpersonal threats toward immigrant students (Alexander, 2016;

Bodies travel. Bodies travel geographies. Bodies perform geographies. Geopolitical migrations are the subject of much writing, performing, and debate in contemporary scholarship. In this piece, I trace the migration of an affect that sits in the liminal space between the body and the stories it tells. The smile. I ask: How does a smile migrate? What does habitat and geography have to do with this mundane expression brought onto the body as an "ordinary affect?" How does the gendered female body learn to (un)smile across complex histories, colonial legacies, and fractured geographies?

This entry provides an extended description of the meaning and forms of ethnography. It begins with a survey of definitions of the word ethnography and how it has been disparately defined across fields. Following this, a brief history of the ethnographic enterprise is charted from the late nineteenth century to the present day. Subsequently, we discuss ethnographic methods by identifying, fieldwork, participant observation, field notes, and interviewing as some of the key tools used in ethnographic research. We conclude with a discussion of five modes of ethnographic research and writing: interpretive ethnography; critical ethnography; performance ethnography; feminist ethnography; and autoethnography.

Abstract This entry offers a general understanding of the meanings of Other in contemporary social and cultural thought. It provides a brief genealogy of Othering in the Western world, looking at the different ways that human beings have been “Othered” and how “Othering” as a process has been transformed over different historical periods—by the Greeks and Romans, by medieval thinkers, by Renaissance and Enlightenment travelers and philosophers—to how it has taken on a pejoratively political location in contemporaneous anthropological understandings of identity. The entry concludes with a discussion of different forms of racial and colonial Otherness, including a discussion of Orientalism as a form of abiding intellectual Otherness that has sustained colonial binaries.

List of Illustrations Acknowledgments 1. Beginnings-In Headnotes 2. Fieldwork-Homework 3. A Story Travels 4. Home Outside Home 5. Adrift-Reluctant Nomads 6. Hearth Crossings 7. Remnants 8. My Father, My Interlocutor Notes Bibliography Index

This is a memoir chapter about my relationship to walking, to my grandmother, Biji, and to movement and travel. It is a meditation on how walking was and is such an important part of my writing life. I engage the notion that in walking we traverse multiple—literal and figurative—landscapes, maps, histories, and memories. Ultimately, this is a chapter about learning to think and listen in rhythm with my body’s movements. It links my own migration to the United States, to my Biji’s refugee identity in ways that would have seemed impossible had I not composed this story about walking. A story that emerged in fits and starts as I walked with a small notebook on side roads and main roads of the small U.S. college-town where I live. Thinking, creating, composing, remembering—in walking.