Am I that Name?
As an undergraduate, I didn’t know who I wanted to be, who I wanted to become. True to form (or was it content?), I was an Interdisciplinary Studies major. This designation-this name-was a placeholder for the undecided, the emergent, the possible (and not, as I assured my parents, a flimsy legitimizing discourse that covered over underachievement, failure, and lack of choice). This name was a space of waitingfor something to come together, for something to happen. My scholarly interests were spaces where waiting takes place in language-in politics, in journalistic portraits, in story and verse. These were spaces where possibility is made in writing, though not in some utopian, fixed sense of an inscription that makes something tangible or something real; object and objectified. They were spaces of possibility where “actual lines of potential that a something coming together calls to mind and sets in motion” (Stewart, 2007, p. 3). Mine was a waiting in language as “becoming, difference, encounter, motion, creativity” (LeVan, 2007, p. 50). Process, rather than product, to use the cliché, though I didn’t know it then. I was waiting.