Exploring Athens Public Library as a Public Space

Activity Board

Art of a local artist

The front of the library

Train table

Story time :)

 Story time at Athens Public Library on Tuesday mornings have become a sort of tradition in our home.  Getting their an half hour early to play with the trains and pick out books for the week, Aryia, my fourteen month old, knows exactly where to go.  As soon as we cross the parking lot and enter the main area of the library, she squirms and squiggles until I put her down so she can make her way to the children’s area. 

Until our discussions of public space in Social Geographies, I had never really  considered the use and control of libraries, let alone Athens Public Library.  Since Aryia and I have made good use of the library, I thought it fitting to explore this space a little further. 

I start my assessment of Athens Public library as a representation of space with looking at its mission statement, which reads, “Athens County Public Libraries:  community resources for information and entertainment with friendly service and welcoming spaces.” 

Exploring the library to see how this mission statement is planned out, I notice a couple of different things.  The Athens website asserts that the library maintains a collection of about 300,000 items and has subscriptions to about 130 magazines and newspapers.  The website also has available resources for users (e.g. online book clubs, audio books, digital library, etc.) and provides a link to county and community resources.  (http://search.myacpl.org/cgi-bin/koha/opac-main.pl?logout.x=1) In addition to various reading materials, DVDs, music, and audiobooks, the library has recently started a bicycle-borrowing program and also provides computers available for patron use for 2hr. time slots.  This all speaks to ways in which the library plans for community resources. 

In terms of friendly service and welcoming spaces, the library represents this in a number of ways.  The actual physical space of the library is open, spacious, and well lit.  When you go into the library, the first thing you encounter is the service desk with librarians often welcoming you in.  They also have a children’s area filled not only with a variety of children’s book, but an open area where children can run and play.  This area is decorated with vibrant pictures and has a cupboard filled with toys, a train table, and art material available for kids.  Every so often, the library also has different art of local artists on display and a number of events and activities are advertised on their information board.  With the layout of the library, the atmosphere created at the children’s area, the artwork, and the variety of programs and events held at the library, you get the feeling that this library was created for all sorts of groups within the Athens community.  In addition, the fact that the Athens library has a number of rooms that people can use, free of charge, for different meetings (e.g. Spanish conversational groups, Birth Circle, Civil war round table, Yoga for 50+, etc.) speaks to the representation of space as one to be utilized by the whole community.   

The board of directors and library staff are responsible for control and the enforcement of control in the library.  The board of directors, chosen by the Nelsonville school district, which houses the main library of the Athens County Public Libraries, are responsible for the policies of the libraries, whereas library staff are responsible for enforcing these policies.

When considering the library’s representational space, it seems that the use of the library works well with the planned use of space.  In an interview with Marilyn Zwayer, the library’s branch manager, she asserts, “the library has a cross section of users.  We have retired individuals who enjoy doing puzzles and are steady users of the library, we have families with young children who faithfully come in for story time, working people come in and pick up books, and college students use the space to study and connect online.”  This section of users clearly speaks to a representational space supporting the purpose and design of the library. 

Although, for the most part, the representational space and representation of space work together, there are some areas in which the planned space has to be changed in order to better serve its users.  For example, although library policies require parents to be present when children obtain library cards, library staff in branch libraries that don’t have parents who come with their children to the library allow kids to bring the library application home for parents to sign.  In addition, Marilyn asserts that even though a residence address is required to obtain a library card, staff make exceptions for individuals who may not necessarily have a permanent place to stay.  In the Athens library, staff allow individuals who reside at My Sister’s Place, a domestic violence shelter, and Good works, a homeless shelter, to obtain a library card and rent out books. 

In considering the interaction between the representation of space and representational space of Athens Public Library, I cannot help but think of Linche’s article.  His argument that public space necessitates both freedom and regulation and that space is both planned and use, in which planned changes the use of space, and vice versa, is clearly depicted in the interactions of representational space and representation of space at Athens Public Library. 

When thinking of Athens library as a space for representation, two groups come to mind:  The elderly and nursing mothers.  Elderly people often restrict their movement and use of public space because the planned space often sends a message of unacceptance and does not fit their physical needs and interests.  Athens library appears to be an exception.  The physical space of the library, a one story building, is spacious, open, and easy to maneuver.  In addition, the library provides a number of different activities and events specifically catered towards elderly individuals.  For example, Yoga for 50+ meets every week at the library and other social activities, such as board game clubs and knitting groups meet regularly as well. 

As a nursing mother, there are few spaces in public that I feel comfortable breastfeeding.  Often, public spaces produce stares, glares, and/or awkward whispers.  Nursing at the library, however, is not the case.  Although it is not explicitly announced that mother’s are welcome to nurse in the library, the environment fostered allows for an acceptance of breastfeeding.  Many mothers, including myself, step out of the reading circle during story time to nurse hungry babies.  In addition, the La Leche League, a nonprofit volunteer organization who helps mothers breastfeed, meets monthly at the library as well. 

Cultural Artifacts of Homelessness

Artifact #1: US Government Definition of Homelessness 

"An individual who lacks a fixed, regular, and nighttime residence." (http://www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/text/42/11302)

Artifact #2:  National Alliance to End Homelessness definition 

"Homelessness occurs when people or households are unable to acquire and/or maintain housing they can afford."
(http://www.endhomelessness.org/pages/snapshot_of_homelessness)

Artifact #3:  CNN News clip:  A night in a Homeless Shelter

Artifact #4:  Raising Awareness of Homelessness in Austin, TX

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkc-CtG-Awg

Artifact #5:  National Coalition for the Homeless Campaign

Artifact #6:  The Soloist

Artifact #7:  Lyrics of What’s it Like by Everlast's first verse

We've all seen a man at the liquor store beggin' for your change

The hair on his face is dirty, dread-locked, and full of mange

He asks a man for what he could spare, with shame in his eyes

"Get a job, you fucking slob," is all he replies

God forbid, you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes

'Cause then you really might know what it's like to sing the blues

Artifact #8:  Simpsons – The day violence died

http://www.channel4.com/programmes/the-simpsons/episode-guide/series-7/episode-18

Artifact #9:  The Tommy Taylor Show:  Are Homeless People Really Homeless?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZqwXcAGwWM&list=PLF51D3736259BBEB7&index=5

Artifact #10: WTTE:  Ohio Pandhandler Uses Donations to Buy Giant Flat-Screen TV

According to the U.S. Housing and Urban Development Department, the United States had 633,782 people homeless on a given night in January 2012.  In a western powerhouse where wealth and waste are ever present, homelessness continues to be a significant concern.  So what is homelessness?  And what lenses do Americans view this concern?

In searching cultural artifacts for various portrayals of homelessness and homeless individuals, I found a number of common themes, one of the most popular being homelessness as not having a home, or roof over one’s head, and utilizing government or church programs for shelter.  Both the U.S. government and various nonprofit organizations define homelessness as not having adequate housing (artifact #1 and #2).  This is portrayed through various forms of media (artifact #6 and #8) and is often connected to living in a homeless shelter (artifact #3).

Another mainstream image and artifact closely tied to homelessness is that of an elderly gentleman, disheveled, pushing a cart or holding up a sign, and who is often considered “crazy”.  This frequently is the face and representative of homelessness, as seen in artifact #4 and #5’s campaigns to raise awareness, and is also one of the main representations of homelessness in movies, TV shows, and songs (artifact #6, #7, and #8).

Another portrayal of homelessness that is often circulated is the idea that homeless individuals are panhandlers who scam those they beg from.  As seen in the GEICO spoof  (article #9) and the new's clip (article #10), there is a perception that homeless individuals are not really in need and that helping them will only make you a victim to their scams. 

Although the above portrayals of homelessness are valid (a significant portion of the homeless population do not have adequate shelter and the majority of homeless individuals are single men), these portrayals do not encompass the whole story.  Homelessness is more than just ‘rooflessness’, as asserted by Moore (2003).  Its definition is more complex than not having a home and involves issues of detachment from society, social exclusion, and a lack of belonging and other meanings tied to home, such as privacy, security, and freedom.  In addition, homelessness consists of more than just single men, the visible homeless (May et. al., 2007).   This emphasis of single men often negates the voices of homeless women, youth, children, LGBTQ, and those who live couch to couch.

It is only when we move beyond the cultural artifacts that portray homelessness as ‘rooflessness’ and as an issue tied solely to single men, are we able to address more than a single aspect of homelessness.  It is only when we stop justifying our apathy towards the homeless by labeling them as panhandlers and scammers, are we able to begin constructive conversations of this issue.   And it is only when we transpose the theories of homelessness that look beyond ‘rooflesness’, and include those who are often the invisible homeless, in both policy and practice, are we able to begin to truly address homelessness.

Campaign:  The Voices of the Invisible

As discussed above, homelessness is a complex issue that involves more than just ‘rooflessness’ and impacts various individuals with differing needs.  Yet, too often, homelessness is addressed with only the visible homeless (single men) in mind and with solutions that target only one aspect of homelessness (rooflessness).  Our campaign, The Voices of the Invisible, strives to move beyond these mainstream portrayals of homelessness, challenging individuals to redefine their definition to include those whose voices are often not heard, whose faces and experiences in homelessness are often invisible.  These include women, children, youth, and LGBTQ, to name a few.  As May et al. (2007) asserts,

“The naming of a social problem is central to the responses that follow, and all such naming strategies work to exclude and to restrict.  In seeking to identify a redistributive social policy agenda, then, it is essential not only to recognise that women too suffer the exclusions of visible homelessness, but that the experience of street homelessness is different for women.” (p. 135)

A particularly invisible group of the homeless population is that of foster children.  Although having a roof over their head, many foster children often feel homeless.  Some move from placement to placement with their belongings carried in one black garbage bag.  Others feel ostracized and excluded, labeled as children with behavioral problems and having issues at home.  Still others, no matter how many placement homes they have lived in, never find a place they call home. 

According to the CRS Report for Congress (2007), 25% of foster youth experience homelessness and “youth ‘aging out’ of the foster care system experience homelessness at a greater rate than their counterparts in the general population, due, in part to family disconnectedness” (p. 31).  In California, 65% of youth emancipating out of the foster care system do not have a place to live (http://www.childrenunitingnations.org/who-we-are/foster-care-statistics/)

 and in 2011, 104,236 foster children were waiting to be adopted (http://www.acf.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/cb/waiting2011.pdf). 

When redefined to include people other than single men and issues beyond ‘rooflessness’, it is clear that the homelessness of foster children and youth is a significant concern.  Yet, despite these stark statistics, very little is done in policy and practice to address these challenges.  It is the hope of The Voices of the Invisible campaign that through campaign posters, advertisements, flyers, etc., we can raise awareness and educate people regarding this fragile population.  These campaign advertisements are meant to challenge definitions and give voice to those once silent.  In turn, we hope that this will ignite conversations and processes that acknowledge these groups in homeless policies, practices, and changes.     

Contained as a Container: My 9 Months of Pregnancy

My growing belly.

You know that pregnancy glow that everyone talks about?  The clear skin, voluptuous breasts, 

extra burst of energy?  Yah.  It’s not all that it is cracked up to be.  Sure, there are a couple of months where you feel re-energized and the acne which you’ve failed to cure with a hundred different ointments and face washes miraculously disappears.  And yes.  You finally think you have the boobs you’ve always wanted.  But in reality, those couple of months pale in comparison to the aches, fragility, leakage, out-of-placeness, and awkwardness that, to your dismay, seem a frequent companion during those nine months.  At least that’s how it was for me, anyway. 

 In her book, Bodies, Exploring Fluid Boundaries, Robyn Longhurst (2001) spends chapter three addressing pregnant bodies in public spaces.  She documents her research with 31 pregnant women in New Zealand over two years and discusses how “pregnant women are thought to threaten and disrupt a social system that requires them to remain confined to private space during pregnancy” (p. 33).  Subsequently, there is a need to contain and control these bodies.  As I read through the experiences and feelings of these pregnant women and digested Longhurst’s (2001) connection to embodiment, spaces, and social systems and acceptance, I couldn’t help but feel that these stories were mine.  That Longhurst (2001) was talking to me.  It took all my willpower not to highlight every sentence in solidarity.   And I probably would have if this wasn’t a borrowed copy.

As I wondered why I resonated so strongly with the stories in Longhurst’s (2001) chapter and her conceptualization of pregnant bodies in public spaces, I realized that it was because women were actually talking about their discomfort and alienation, not just with their own bodies, but with public spaces as well.  During my pregnancy, it seemed as though everyone talked about the novelty of being pregnant, the special moments shared with your unborn baby, the built up excitement and anticipation of finally meeting the little pea growing in your belly.  But not once do I recall a mother pulling me aside and expressing her frustrations of not being able to fit into certain spaces because of her growing belly, or the insecurity that came with getting bigger everywhere – thighs, hips, belly, breasts (In retrospect, I wonder if the silencing of these stories is related to the containment and control that comes with pregnant bodies).

So, since I am unable to highlight this copy of Longhurst’s (2001) book to my heart’s desire, I’ll express solidarity, and perhaps a bit of closure, by sharing my own story. 

Funny commercial portraying a pregnant body in a public space

I was excited about my pregnancy for about two weeks.  And then morning sickness hit.  Again, and again, and again.  Working an 8am-5pm job, with a three hour break in between, I thought I would be able to navigate, and ultimately hide, my morning sickness (I don’t think it helped that, at this time, my husband and I had not told anyone about my pregnancy).  With morning sickness striking at random times of the day, it made being in the public workspace a lot more difficult than I had expected.  There were awkward bathroom moments as I pretended that the person washing their hands did not hear me hurl my lunch, and also uncomfortable “I’m sorry” looks when a wave of nausea would interrupt a conversation.  I felt embarrassed about my situation and often found myself apologizing.  Longhurst (2001) asserts that bodies that threaten to vomit are not trusted to occupy public spaces such as work.  “The pregnant woman who enters public space risks ‘soiling’ herself and perhaps even others with matter produced by her body.  Her body threatens to contaminate and to pollute; her bodily ‘difference’ becomes evident in workplaces, and various other public spaces” (p. 45).  Although no one ever told me that this was the case, I felt this way, and as a result, I found myself withdrawing from work, not wasting even a second to socialize after work, and even calling in “sick” a number of times. 

After about the fourth month of pregnancy, my morning sickness disappeared and I found myself enjoying the sensations of pregnancy a little more.  But again, that did not last long.  As my belly and the rest of my body grew, I dreaded leaving the privacy and safety of my home.  Already lacking in the area of depth perception even before pregnancy, and being of petite stature, I was a blimp awkwardly moving through public spaces.  Add to it the dilemma of having to use the bathroom every five minutes and you have one of the most conspicuous corporeal markers I had ever experienced.  As a student, I found myself arriving fifteen minutes, sometimes even twenty minutes, early to class to ensure that no one was around as I gracelessly tried to fit between rows and guaranteeing a seat close to the door.  I felt that I, the 4’11” Filipina woman with a watermelon for a belly, did not fit (literally and metaphorically).  Mine was a body that did not belong in public space and, as Longhurst (2001) puts it, a body “whose boundary is constructed as unpredictable in public realms” (p. 65). 

A means of containment.

Yet, as much as I longed to stay at home (or at the mall because my pregnant body was accommodated there.  At some places, I had parking reserved just for me as an expectant mother!), I knew that if I wanted to graduate in a year, I would have to brave the public arena with my blimp of a body.  Not surprisingly, this came with certain consequences associated with what Longhurst (2001) describes as the containment of the pregnant body and the perception of that pregnant body as merely a container for the fetus.  I experienced these concepts of containment and container in two primary ways:  1) The construction of my pregnancy as a “condition” that required special care and 2) the belief that my belly was public space, and thus, susceptible to gazes and rubs. 

The ‘condition’ of pregnancy became more and more apparent the bigger I grew.  My husband, friends, family, health care provider, and strangers all began to treat me as though I was this fragile object that would burst at any moment.  Yes, I recognize that there are significant changes to a woman’s body that comes with pregnancy and I was very aware of the fragile being growing inside me.  But treating me, treating my body, as a condition needing special care made me feel inadequate and disabled in doing even the most mundane things (like picking up the keys I dropped on the floor).  As I mentioned in class, Hansen and Philo’s (2006) article regarding the embodiment of disabled bodies brought vivid memories of my experience of pregnancy, especially in public spaces.  Paralleling the discussion in their article, I not only found my pregnant body becoming more and more unacceptable socially the bigger I grew, but I also realized that the interactions I experienced in public spaces where significantly tied to viewing my pregnant body as a ‘condition’. 

The container of my beloved daughter,  Aryia :)

As viewed as a container that merely carried my unborn child, my bodily space was invaded constantly – whether through obvious stares or well-meaning old ladies coming up to me, asking if they could rub my belly.  To many, I no longer was Cristine Jeda D. Orillosa-Thurber.  Rather, I was the vessel that held that mysterious being that family and friend eagerly anticipated.  This was confirmed during many occasions when, rather than addressing me directly, friends and family would go directly to my belly, asking my baby when she would arrive or if she was giving me any grief. 

As a result of my interactions in social and public spaces, I resorted to confining myself to home more and more, the bigger I became.  I planned out my public interactions and, with my husband’s help, formulated exit strategies to awkward situations or unwanted touches.

Although only nine months of my life, pregnancy has given a new meaning to the term embodiment as it relates to identity and place.  Often seen as “matter out of place” and a source of abjection (Longhurst, 2011), pregnant bodies become both the source of “self” and “other”.  As with other pregnant women, I dealt with this boundary by constraining myself, as best I could, to the privacy of my home.  Hand in hand with this decision, the experiences and expectations of pregnant women in the public sphere have subsequently caused many, including myself, to confine themselves to the private sphere.  Ironic and interesting when you think of the meanings, embodiment, and identities of women already tied to the private sphere even before they ever experience the glowing (more like leaking) pregnant body.  

The Doctor's Office

I’ve always tried to avoid the doctor’s office.  By justifying I am young and healthy, I rarely make yearly check-ups and only schedule appointments if my pain tolerance reaches above a 7.  You see, aside from never really having enough money for the co-pay (note to self: Being a professional student will NOT pay the bills), I really dislike the doctor’s office and all the rules that come along with it - from the signing of paperwork that you never read because anything more than five minutes at the check-in counter will generate exaggerated sighs and whispers from others waiting to check-in, to the awkward gown that you hope to God you put on the right way.

Unfortunately, my avoidance of the doctor’s office has been halted.  Pregnancy and now, a one-year-old daughter will do that to you.  In the past 21 months of being pregnant, going through childbirth, and raising an infant, I think I have been to the doctor’s office more times than my high school and college years combined.   As there is no way around this (as least I feel there isn’t), I grit my teeth each time and pretend, for my daughter’s sake, that this is one of the most exciting places we get to visit that day.

With my daughter’s one-year checkup around the corner, I got to thinking, “Why do I wear a gown?  Why do I need to arrive 15 minutes early?  Why all these rules and what is their purpose?”  Deciding to put my education and student loans to good use, I utilized my Social Geographies class to explore this question further.

Rules:

The Waiting Room:

1.     “Arrive fifteen minutes early” [eti]

2.     “Health insurance is necessary” [con]

3.     “Don’t linger and chit chat at the check-in area” [eti]

4.     “Don’t ask other patients why they are visiting the doctor’s office” [eti]

5.     “Don’t clip your fingernails or do anything that you would normally do at home in your living room” [eti]

6.     “To be seen by the physician, you need to fill out paperwork” [con]

The Examination Room

1.    “Strip down to just the gown” [con]

2.     “Don’t question the doctor’s recommendations/orders” [con]

3.     “You don’t have the option to refuse to answer a physician’s question” [con]

4.     “Look but don’t touch” [eti/con]

5.    “The physician decides what the patient needs”  [con]

6.     “Don’t ask the physician/nurses any personal questions” [eti/con]

Adopting Cresswell’s (2004) straightforward definition of place, “a meaningful location” (p. 7), I made a list of rules attached to the doctor’s office, recognizing that rules are often what give spaces meaning and value.  As Wood and Beck (1994) put it, “Without the rules the home is not a home, it is a house, it is a sculpture of wood and nails, of plumbing and wiring, of wallpaper and carpet” (p. 1-2).

Thinking of issues that applied to me (the patient), I came up with rules that ultimately served two purposes: etiquette (eti) and control (con).  As Anderson’s (1987) example of Chinatown portrays, societal constructs and norms are often dependent on place and space and in which the rules (both spoken and unspoken) are mediums in which these constructs and norms are defined and sustained (Wood & Beck, 1994).  In the context of the doctor’s office, I see rules of etiquette as ways in which the “normative” is maintained.  In public places certain appearances and decorum are expected, hence, the rules of ”arriving fifteen minutes early” or “clipping your fingernails exclusively at home”.  In addition, only certain individuals with personal ties are privy to your personal information, thus, the rules of “abstaining from asking others about the reason of their visit” and “avoiding questioning physicians concerning their personal lives”.

The rules of control, on the other hand, are utilized to maintain certain power differentials tied to, amongst other things, class, race, and gender.   For example, the rules of “filling out paperwork” and the “requirement of health insurance” speak to the privileging of health care.  Only those who can afford health insurance and who can read, write, and understand a certain language, are able to receive health care with relative ease.   “Stripping down to a gown” and “accepting the doctor’s orders as law”, on the other hand, are rules used to maintain the power differential between the doctor and the patient. 

In thinking about the rules listed above, I came to the conclusion that these rules are solely for me (the patient) and as such, I (the patient), along with other patients, are the ones who suffer repercussions when rules are broken.  In contrast, physicians not only break these rules but also operate within a completely different set of rules.  Thus, even though I cannot ask my physicians about their families, they are able to probe into my life, asking very personal information.  Now please don’t misunderstand me here.  I realize that some of the rules maintained are because of patient assumptions and not because physicians necessarily want it that way.  I also recognize the need for certain information to be shared in this specific setting and I am not saying physicians are egotistical power mongrels plotting harm to their patients.  Rather, I am merely pointing out that it is the breaking of rules and operating within a different set of rules that unveil the power differentials and norms being maintained. 

These power differentials and norms in the doctor’s office made me think of another issue of healthcare I heard about from The Diane Rehm Show on National Public Radio.  Approximately a year ago, Diane Rehm had a show addressing unnecessary medical tests and procedures that rack up patients’ health care bills and ultimately do not improve care.  A panel of various physicians addressed this issue, speaking about the fear of litigation by physicians, the requests by patients for various tests, and also the money generating side of the issue.  What I found interesting was that this issue was strongly tied to power differentials, norms, and social constructs maintained at doctors’ offices.  In addition, I thought it significant that the solutions suggested by physicians required a change in current rules and assumptions. http://thedianerehmshow.org/shows/2012-04-09/cutting-back-unnecessary-medical-tests-and-procedures

And there you have it.  My two cents on do’s and don’ts of the doctor’s office and why they exist.  Although it clarifies my questions, I am not sure it convinces me to start liking doctor’s visits. 

REFERENCES:

Anderson, K. (1987).  "The Idea of Chinatow:  The power of place and instiutional practice in the making of a racial 
       category."  Annals of the American Geographers, 77(4):  580-598.

Cresswell, T. (2004).  Place:  A short Introduction.  Oxford:  Blackwell Publishing.  Pp. 1-12. 

Wood, D. and Beck, R. J. (1994).  Home Rules.  Baltiore, MD:  The John Hopkins University Press. Pp. 1-7, 13-23.

The Diane Rehm Show:  Cutting Back on Unnecessary Medical Tests and Procedures. Retrieved from  
       http://thedianerehmshow.org/shows/2012-04-09/cutting-back-unnecessary-medical-tests-and-procedures.