Savage Minds is dead!Long live anthro{dendum}!

This will be the last post on the domain, but the site will live on.It will live on both at this address ( where there will be a permanent archive of our twelve years of blogging and discussion.It will also gain new life as all your favorite Savage Minds bloggers move over to the new

Two important notes about the switch:

Note #1: Our social media links will also change.Check the new site for the updated Facebook and Twitter accounts.And if you are subscribed to receive updates about this site via email or RSS, you will need to re-subscribe on the new site.

Note #2: There will be no new posts here after today, but comments will remain open for another 30 days (or 30 days from the publication date of a post, whichever comes first) so that people have a chance to wrap up any ongoing conversations before we shut things down.

Thank you all for your support over the years, and we look forward to many more years together over atanthro{dendum}!

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British “explorer” Benedict Allen made news recently bybeing rescued from a failed attempt to cross the central mountain range of Papua New Guinea and paddle downs stream to the coast。While most of the world was alternately amused and thrilled to hear of Allen’s failed exploits, those of us who have lived in Papua New Guinea were struck by Allen’s invocation of uncontacted tribes and primordial jungles.To be honest, this sort of thing does more to convince me that it is Allen, not Papua New Guineans, who is out of touch with the modern world.Others have claimed that Allen’s failed walk isrooted in racismandbad for the Papua New Guineans who hosted him。As a historian and anthropologist who lived for two years in Porgera (about 20 miles from where Allen was eventually rescued) I want to weigh in here with another criticism of Allen: Although he claims to be be the first person to cross Papua New Guinea’s central ranges, he is not.His accounts of his amazing feats not only downplay the achievements of Papua New Guineans, they ignore — or perhaps were made in ignorance of — the actual explorers, both white and Papua New Guinean, who have so long ago accomplished what he claims to have done first.

This most recent failed walk repeats a path he took in the late 1980s, which he describes in his bookThe Proving Grounds。In it, he is flown into the upper reaches of the Sepik, crosses the central ranges, and then ends up on the shores of the Lagaip, and then returns to Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea.It’s hard to judge, but I reckon the total distance is about 50 kilometers as the crow flies.But that doesn’t really give you a sense of how onerous this walk is.On his website Allen claims that this walk was “the first recorded crossing of the Central Mountain Ranges of PNG”.This is incredibly tough terrain, and he should be congratulated for managing to do it.But he was not the first.Not by a longshot.188. Bet. Com

Three Places to Avoid if You’re New to Anthropology

If you’re just starting out in anthropology, let me do you a favor.I want to point out three items that areNOTresources for learning more about anthropology, though they may seem like it at first glance.

1.Anthropologie.This is obvious for many of our readers: Anthropologie is a clothing and home décor retailer in the United States, UK, Germany, and France – not a store where you can find the course readings or cool skull things for your office.In fact, there is no clear connection between what Anthropologie sells and what anthropology is.I’ve heard stories of anthropologists shopping at Anthropologie who have tried to strike up conversation with employees about anthropology, only to be met with blank stares.Furthermore, Anthropologie’sridiculously high prices for frivolous productsare totally counter to anthropology’s long relationship with social justice and political economy.Instead: If you need anthropology-related goods, try patronizing your local bookstore or buy from the local artists wherever you do your research.188bet官网备用网址

(资本主义白人优越主义叫的结束opatriarchal hate-full order of) the world, a survival guide:

This piece originally appeared as a TwitteressayI published on November 4, 2017.I am re-posting it here with minimal edits to improve clarity and formatting.

fossilized fish and plants at the Peabody Museum, New Haven

One: find your beloveds.Find your beautiful soul-kin.Check in with them every day.Tell them they matter.Weather storms together, like schools of fish in rough seas.

Two: Manifest care however you can, to whatever extent is possible in your given circumstances.Choose care.Choose tenderness.Admit to yourself when you are enacting care in name only.Regroup.Restore.Breathe.Ask for help if you can, in your circumstances.


188 体育 世界杯

I never thought I would be guest-blogging for an internet publication whose name was (once) a racial slur directed at me and my ancestors.多年以来,“中 - 博客 - 前身为知名-AS-野人的头脑,” Anthrodendum,已在约人类学讨论鼓励公众参与,但它直到最近才疏远了非常人在人这个领域建立 - 由于 to the desire to cling to an unfortunate name.

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Othered by Anthropology: Being a Student of Color in Anglo-cized Academia

[Anthrodendum welcomes guest blogger Savannah Martin.]


During a roundtable at one of my first non-biological anthropology conferences, I was drowned in the creeping feeling of “otherness” that until that point in my graduate studies had only been an insidious “drip, drip drip,” of “you don’t really belong here.”


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An invited post by: Yana Stainova








在委内瑞拉,我遇到谁了音乐的魅力严肃的音乐家:这是思想和精神状态,他们有意识地朝向往。其中之一是卡洛斯,一个十八岁的音乐家。我要求采访他,因为他的出场站了出来,我在演唱会:当卡洛斯出场,他在他的左手举起仪器非常高,他的脸颊靠着仪器仿佛一个枕头。他闭上了眼睛。笑了。188 support-cn

#MeToo: A Crescendo in the Discourse about Sexual Harassment, Fieldwork, and the Academy (Part 2)





#MeToo: A Crescendo in the Discourse about Sexual Harassment, Fieldwork, and the Academy (Part 1)

Anthrodendum welcomes guest blogger Bianca C.Williams.

周日的晚上,10月15日,我看到女人在我的社交媒体时间表勇敢并且易受分享他们的性侵犯和性骚扰的故事作为集体对话的一部分标记#MeToo。我贡献了自己的# MeToo文章读完 initial three shares by friends, writing that I did not think I knew a woman who had not experienced some form of sexualized violence.Within two hours, hundreds of my friends, colleagues, and former students had added their voices to the orchestra of rage, sadness, disappointment, indignation, frustration, and stoic resolve accompanying #MeToo.I experienced it like it was an atmosphere-piercing, discursive crescendo.As a Black feminist anthropologist who studies, teaches, and experiences the intricate ways patriarchy, misogyny, and misogynoir shape our educational institutions and lives, you would think I wouldn’t have been surprised by the sheer vastness of the stories this hashtag brought to the digital surface.But I was.And I simultaneously wasn’t.I knew the boundless reach of sexualized violence, and yet seeing its pervasiveness in the most-heartbreaking narratives of those in my communities made it more real.And then to see a few men in my timeline express shock, disbelief, and dismissive sentiments—as if they haven’t been listening to us for decades, generations—made me angry.However, it was the silence from the majority that made me livid.But isn’t silence part of how oppression works?

I went to sleep.And then I woke in the middle of the night in a fright, uncomfortable with my post so clearly being visible online.Initially, I posted my #MeToo in solidarity with my sistas and sibs who wanted to share their stories, and to support those in community who were hesitant because they thought they were the only ones.But as I thought about the stories of rape and sexual assault of those closest to me, I wondered if my “tame” encounters with sexualized violence evencounted我n comparison to theirs.I took my post down, giving myself permission to be unsure and unresolved.I’m usually pretty transparent, even in a profession that values obscurity and inaccessibility as intellect.I attempt to practiceradical honesty我n discussions, writing, and teaching, believing that narrative as truth-telling is a form of resistance.But for the first time in a while, leaning into the truth didn’t feel right.Not yet.[1]All I could do was lay there in my bed, wondering if the experiences of unwelcome attention;touching;uncomfortable conversations filled with sexual innuendo were enough to validate my public #MeToo.That might seem foolish, but again, isn’t this how oppression works?Isn’t it a force that would ask one to quantify and qualify one’s pain, wondering if it is “bad” enough to count as sexual assault?[2]



Here we go again.If you’re a member of the American Anthropological Association, you should have received an email this past week (10/17) about avoiding copyright infringement.The message was concise and right to the point: A bunch of members are in violation of their author agreements, and the AAA wants you to take your papers down.Here’s the message in case you missed it:

Basically, the AAA is saying that that more than 1,000 AAA copyrighted articles are in violation of copyright because they have been posted on ResearchGate and news is not super shocking, since many of us who publish aren’t particularly informed about the author agreements we sign, let alone how the publishing process works.We just sign those agreements in the rush to publish before we perish…and then sometimes post stuff on commercial sites to make our content “accessible” to the world.Awesome, right?Not so much.This is ultimately to our own detriment.

To quote the Library Loon (as I have before on this site), “The great mass of those who publish in the scholarly literature are pig-ignorant about how scholarly publishing works.” Ouch.But it’s pretty true.How many of you pay close attention to the author agreements you sign?If you did, we might not be having this conversation.Why, you ask?Because you likely signed away your rights, willingly.So when Wiley (or Elsevier, etc) demands that you take your paper down from, they’re just exercising the power you handed to them.AsRex once wrote here on Savage Minds, “if most people realized the way they had signed away their rights to publishers, the open access movement would double or triple in size overnight.”*118金宝博娱乐城

The Automation and Privatization of Community Knowledge

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about community, who we are as a community, what keeps us connected and together, and how community knowledge is stored and distributed.As an anthropologist, my research focuses in part on automation and algorithmic impact on society, in particular, on our relationships and how we maintain them towards common cooperative goals.As such, when technology begins to change our relationship to our local locale (as it has been doing increasingly over time with each new capability), I pay attention to how this changes our physical and social structures, and our relationships to them and to each other.

Recently, Apple Computer, Inc.有品牌的概念c的私有化ommons, by renaming the retail Apple stores as “Town Squares“[1].In Apple’s definition, these “Town Squares” are where people will gather, talk, share ideas, and watch movies, all within Apple’s carefully curated, minimalist designed, chrome and glass boxes.In this scenario, Apple’s “Town Square” is tidy, spartan, and most critically, privatized.This isn’t new behavior, however, what is new is the context within which Apple is able to do this, from both inside of shopping malls, and from retail locations on Main Streets.Applin (2016) observed thatprivate companies are collecting and replicating communitythrough their networks and communications records [2].Madrigal (2017)observesthat “the company has made the perfect physical metaphor for the problem the internet poses to democracy” [3].This article provides a discussion of what happens and what we forfeit in these hybrid gathering places between Internet usage and privately owned spaces;and how these hybrid spaces have become enabled in the first place.


Explaining Ethnography in the Field: A Conversation between Pasang Yangjee Sherpa and Carole McGranahan

What is ethnography?In anthropology, ethnography is both something to know and a way of knowing.It is an orientation or epistemology, a type of writing, and also a methodology.As a method, ethnography is an embodied, empirical, and experiential field-based way of knowing centered around participant-observation.This is obvious to anthropologists as it has been our central method for the last century.However, what ethnography is, how it works, and the unique specificity of ethnographic data is not always clear to outsiders, whether they are other researchers, officials, or members of the communities with whom we are working.Why is this, and how do we explain ethnography and its value when we are in the field?In April, we started a conversation about this in person at a conference at Cornell University, emailed back and forth over the summer, and concluded the conversation this month at a conference at the University of Colorado.We cover topics including the context of research, questions of technology, IRBs, being a native anthropologist, the usefulness of ethnography and stories, and ethnographic research as a unique sort of data.


Carole:What constitutes the field always differs by scholar.Who we are in dialogue with, where, and why depends on one’s research project.However, no matter where we are or who we are, explaining our research topic and method is critical.In your research, with whom are you discussing ethnography as method, and how do you explain it?

Pasang:In my research, I discuss ethnography as method with village residents, diaspora communities, government officials, NGO officials, scientists, youth leaders, students, policy makers, technocrats, and conservation practitioners.These categories often overlap.188bet官网备用网址

Paying with Our Faces: Apple’s FaceID

In early September, Apple Computer, Inc.launched their new iPhone and with it, FaceID, software that uses facial-recognition as an authentication for unlocking the iPhone.The mass global deployment of facial-recognition in society is an issue worthy of public debate.Apple, as a private company, has now chosen to deploy facial-recognition technology to millions of users, worldwide, without any public debate of ethics, ethics oversight, regulation, public input, or discourse.Facial-recognition technology can be flawed and peculiarly biased and the deployment of FaceID worldwide sets an alarming precedent for what private technology companies are at liberty to do within society.

One of the disturbing issues with the press coverage of FaceID during the week of Apple’s announcement, was the limited criticism of what it means for Apple to deploy FaceID, and those who will follow Apple and deploy their own versions.What does it mean to digitize our faces and use the facsimile of our main human identifier (aside from our voices) as a proxy for our human selves, and to pay Apple nearly $1000 do so?


Resources for Understanding Race After Charlottesville

In this time of fake news and alternative facts coming from the White House as well as some media, what can we as scholars contribute to challenge this?

In this time of amplified racist hate and violence, whether it is anti-Black, anti-Muslim, or directed at any group, what can we as scholars contribute to challenge this?

In this time of newly public white supremacy in the USA, what can we as scholars contribute to challenge this?

Today, Monday, September 18, 2017 is devoted toUnderstanding Race After Charlottesville。Four professional organizations—the American Anthropological Association, the American Historical Association, the American Sociological Association, and the Society for Applied Anthropology—are each encouraging and holding events leading up to and following after this day.Here at Anthrodendum, we are collecting resources from this event to share, as well as offering others relevant in this political moment.自2016年总统竞选,anthropologists have been busy trying to interpret where we are and how we got here—and collectively thinking about how to research, write, and teach in this moment.188bet官网备用网址

Remembering the Mexican Revolution with Aunt Julia

Growing up in Austin, Texas, Diez y Seis — Mexican Independence Day — always seemed to hold an official, albeit minor, status in the state capitol.This was not a holiday that we observed in my family in any formal capacity.Much likeCinco de Mayowe might find ourselves at a Mexican restaurant that night just by happenstance.After all we ate Mexican all the time!As we waited for our enchiladas I would proclaim, “Today is Deiz y Seis,” as if realizing that the Longhorns were on TV.Unlike the Fourth of July, it never warranted parades of children on decorated bicycles and riding lawnmowers.More than likely it would be a human interest story at the end of the local nightly news.

While a student, and at the encouragement of my mother, I recruited my grandmother to help me collectghost storiesfrom her oldest sister, Julia, the most renowned storyteller and tamale maker in my family.In addition to learning a little bit about linguistics and a lot about transcribing interviews I also heard for the first time the tale of how her family came to Texas from Torreón, Coahuila.In honor of Diez y Seis and with all due respect to the still precarious status of immigrants and refugees in the United States I am retelling it to you today.

Special thanks are due to my mom Janis, Grandma Pauline, and Aunt Julia who guided me to that kitchen in south central Austin, January 1997, where I first heard this tale.I had to exercise a little poetic license to weave that conversation into a single narrative but its really Julia’s story.Believe me, when its family holding you to account you’re going to do your best to tell the tale right!