Really. I don’t have scientific data, but if someone lends me chaps, I’ll get some for you just to prove it.
Sorry it took me a while to get back to this. My writer’s block suddenly, and magically lifted. I just finished writing what I think to be a pretty solid theory for a paper with Professor R.F.B. (reason for being at this school, or RFB for short). I need to go back to it, but also needed a break to get some perspective on it as well. You know what I’m say’n?
Alright, in this discussion over at Law and Letters, Anomie says she doesn’t like the idea of the backstage because:
1. Backstage as when you stop managing your impression to others: doesn’t exist because we are always managing our impressions, even to ourselves. Even when alone, we have an internalized other we’re acting towards–a peanut gallery in our heads (It’s really bugging me that I can’t find the citation for this idea. I didn’t make it up on my own). That’s why so few people are comfortable walking around naked in their own homes. Or won’t sing, even when alone. Or control their daydreams.
2. Backstage as when you can be your true self: we have no true self. We are socialized into being and constrained by the etiquettes, morals, and norms that we have internalized. The self is fluid and varies with time and space.
I have no idea who the peanut gallery person is. Sounds pretty generalized other though. So, I’m not contesting it. I, actually, think Goffman would agree. Even when we are backstage in our teams, he argued that we were still managing impressions (in terms of trying to show we were competent to pull off our roles in the front stage). I don’t think the backstage means that you stop managing your impressions the way you think I mean. The difference is that I think that even if we are always managing impression, even to ourselves, we deceive ourselves into thinking that we are not. In general, besides us crazy self and identity people, we think that we do have an authentic self AND I think people generally think that they have a fairly unified self–even if they recognize they have conflicting identities. Telling secrets, seeing each other in pain, sharing inside jokes — those all seem authentic to us. And we believe, to a large extent, that they are. So, fairytale? Perhaps. But, “If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences.” Yes?
Also, I’m really not sure if I like the whole idea that we do have multiple selves which are fluid and changing. But, perhaps it’s because I’m a graduate student with no real life, and have about 5 roles to my name, instead of the many, many, many roles most normal well adjusted people have.
In other backstaginess, in the same discussion I say to Belle:
Well, and the irony of it all, is that even being pseudonymous is not really being fully backstage. I am managing the impression you develop of me by controlling what I say so you can’t figure out who I am. There are times that I include a detail, think that maybe it is too much, and so go back and delete it. Because of that very concern. Truly, how is that backstage? And yet, another post I had planned.
An example detail? I had originally written in a post that I had a fellowship this summer. I have no idea how I thought that would track to me, but somehow did.
Later, Belle’s advice to me is that if I want to stay backstage then I have to remain pseudonymous. Well, I think after the scatterplot effect died, I’m back to my five readers — all of whom know who I am, either through mad detective skills or being forced to work with me relentlessly on paper after paper (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE). I did indicate earlier that I would comment on what deciding just to be non-googable meant for my backstage. Here are the implications I think it has:
- I will be much more careful about not mentioning anything bad about the university I am in.
- I will not be mentioning any sociologists or other academics with whom I have problems (I don’t think I woulda done that before, anyway).
I think that’s about it. So, most of you know my name. What does that get you? You can google me. You can find my vitae, find a picture of me and see I have a gap between my two front teeth, find some newsletter things I’ve written, find out that I’ve reviewed for a journal (all of one time), find my ONE current publication on which I’m fourth author, and see that I support statistics. That’s it. Really, what does it tell you about me? Much less than you learn by reading this blog and my comments on yours. So, really, I think not having to worry about letting something slip will actually allow you more into my backstage, fictional or not.
I will still care about getting comments. I will still be slightly obsessed with my statistics. I will still try to be witty and funny, probably beyond my capabilities. I will still be scared shitless to meet all of you f-t-f, besides those of you who know me already. I will still write non-serious posts and think to myself, “it’s probably time for a serious one.” And, no matter what, I will STILL post sans pants. But, assless chaps I will not do… even though I still am drawn to these.
UPDATE: And, another reason to love blogging and worry about the backstage was posted by shakha at scatterplot here. Read the story, seriously.
In response to Anomie’s question found in response to this post, and a discussion between Belle and I in the comments on her post here, I wanted to clarify how I am utilizing the term backstage. Basically, I’m going to offer a synopsis of Goffman from Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. So, for those that you have read this, skip to the last paragraph.
Goffman’s main concern is to explain what occurs when individuals “co-operate in staging a single routine” through teamwork (1959: 79). A team has special characteristics in that they rely upon one another not to disrupt the performance. Team members also have “the privilege of familiarity” in that team members cannot keep up all aspects of a front when not in the presence of the audience (ibid: 83). Furthermore, as all team members need to agree upon the same definition of the situation, the definition developed will necessarily be less complex and full (to gain more agreement) and, even so, dissent will often occur over the definition chosen. Finally, being in a team requires different roles (such as a director who can act to sanction members who are not upholding the agreed upon definition) and a more complex environment. For example, because of the increase in complexity there will be a need for an area where the team can practice their act, sanction members, and voice dissent. None of these activities can take place in the front because it may again strike an “off note key” (ibid: 52).
The need for a more complex environment introduces the concept of regions, which are “any place that is bounded to some degree by barriers to perception” (ibid: 106). There is a front region (front stage), the place where the actual performance occurs, and a back region (backstage), where planning occurs. Behaviors in these regions are constrained by the motivation of actors to maintain the definition of the situation. When in the front region (co-present with the audience), the team members need to comport themselves with politeness (how the team member treats the audience during interaction) and with decorum (how they act when in the “visual or aural range of the audience” but are not actually interacting with the audience (ibid: 107)). When in the back region (or backstage) the team members “knowingly contradict” the “impression fostered by the performance” (ibid: 112).
Although team members are more relaxed about impression management in the backstage, they are still concerned with maintaining a different definition of the situation. In this case, they are attempting to convince their team members that they are capable of upholding the definition of the situation while in the front region. At the same time, it is possible that front stage performance becomes so embedded within the individual that they will maintain front stage behavior when backstage. This is “the cycle of disbelief-to-belief” which acts to convince a person they are who they pretend to be (ibid: 20).
In general, I am utilizing the term backstage to refer to anywhere that we (I) are not actively trying to manage impressions. Or, at very least, are attempting to give others a more balanced view of who we believe we are (as, even in these “teams” you still try to manage some impressions, says Goffman). When you are on stage, you want someone to love you (or accept you as presented) for your perfection (in the role or act). When you are not, you want someone to love you for your perfection and how perfect your flaws are (says me, not Goffman). I do think that when we are in our backstages (and those others we let in with us), do get more glimpses into an unguarded self–what Goffman would call sincere. How true this unguarded self is, I do not know. I am truly caught by the idea that we may have a stage even for ourselves, and think that’s generally true. But, I also believe that even if this is the case, in general we have an idea of who we are (as erroneous as this maybe) and want to let certain others in to this (to some degree). This is the idea of the authentic self.
In my very first post, I describe why I started a blog, because I wanted a backstage to put down my stupid ideas and get others to comment on them. So far, it is questionable if either of these goals have been met. But, it was in this first post that Anomie commented:
I think the whole backstage story is one of those lies the adults tell little kids so they feel there really are magical places in the world.
There is no backstage.
I have promised several times throughout my blog to address this, but haven’t yet. This is first in a series of addressing this. I am going to address this in parts, because I think some of my posts tend to run too long. So, to begin this, I offer you a clip from one of my favorite movies (again, starring Robin Williams… no surprise there from me), Good Will Hunting:
Those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that I only knew about. That’s what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me too. She knew all my little peccadilloes. People call these things imperfections, but they’re not. Oh, that’s the good stuff. Then we get to choose who we let into our weird little worlds.
I have an old friend from high school who rewrites all of his letters before he sends them out… rewrites them if there is a single mistake. Why? Because he wanted his letters, those representations of himself, to be perfect. When I met one of his friends from college, we teased him about this. He got very upset that I told her about this little peccadillo. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I was letting her in on part of his backstage that I had been privileged to and she had not. From my position, I was sharing how great he was (because these oddnesses I do think are what make us wonderful). From his, I was betraying his trust. Now that I understand this, I feel bad about this when I reflect on it all these years later. In fact, I even emailed him to make sure that it was okay to share this story. Again, showing that there is some type of backstage between him and I in our friendship. I felt the need to communicate with him to clarify what was backstage and what was not.
On a related, side note, I’m wondering if we sometimes “slip up” and give away backstage information on our loved ones to make claims on them to others. “See, look what I know about X.”
In my marriage, this is a problem that Blue and I have sometimes. He likes to tease me with our friends, but in doing so, sometimes he lets slip details about my backstage. Things that I was not wanting to share with those particular people at that time. It reminds me of that Mad About You episode where Jamie and Paul are at a party (evidently there is a similar one for Seinfeld). They have a system worked out to indicate to the other how to move through the interaction. Signs for “Save me, this person is boring” or “It’s time to go!” Blue and I have some of those codes too. Paul violates the backstage when he shares the signals with someone else at the party in order to impress her. Later, Jamie uses the “OMG, Save me, this person is boring” signal while talking to this woman.
I think marriage (and being in a couple in general) is one example where there is a clear “team” and a clear “stage” and “backstage.”
Here’s a great post that has people writing in about their signals. Do you guys have these with your partners?
Filed under: dramaturgy | Tags: backstage, comment plea, dramaturgy, introduction
I went to a concert last night. It was the type of music that mostly appeals to those a little further along in life than I. In fact, I was probably one of the three youngest people in the crowd. (In statistical terms, I image the mean age was about 62 with a standard deviation of 2.3 years.) The venue was fairly small, although it has been famous in its day.
When you walk into the venue, straight in front of you is a bar. To your right is the sound booth and steps that are shrouded by curtains. To your left you find a ring of chairs and a stage. The stage was simply that–a small stage, no curtains, no place to enter (except through the crowd).
The music was fine. I enjoyed it. The audience seemed mostly comatose, except when the musicians told some long winded story about how they developed a song–or made a joke about having a “senior moment.” Intermission was interesting. With nowhere to go (besides to disappear behind the curtained stairwell that was 25 feet from the stage), they mostly walked around and talked to the crowd. The fiddle player drank wine. The guitarist sat behind a table and tried to sell “combination spaghetti strainers and back scratchers” along with the mandated CDs.
It was the end of the show that was most interesting. The band heartily thanked the audience and ran off stage to a standing ovation. The band stopped short of going behind the curtain, turned, looked at each other, and then ran back on stage. It was an encore!
I could not stop laughing for a few minutes. It was one of the most ridiculous displays I had ever seen! They ran off to simply run back on. But as I struggled to not laugh audibly (I’m sure both the husband and the surrounding audience would not have approved of me chortling over their “encore” love song), I realized what had just happened. THEY HAD NO BACKSTAGE.
It was Goffman, in his Presentation of Everyday Life, that first argued for the importance of a backstage, or:
“a place, relative to a given performance, where the impression fostered by the performance is knowingly contradicted as a matter of course” (112).
The backstage is necessary so that we can keep the audience believing the performances that occur in front of them. It is in the backstage that we fix costumes or take them off. It’s where we practice our roles. This is so the front stage can be reserved only for impression management techniques–trying to come of in a particular way to our audiences.
The musicians had no backstage. I suppose they could have uncomfortably filed up the stairs behind that curtain (which they had to do at the end of the show), and then run back down them when we refused to stop our applause. But, short of that, their only choice was to run out behind the audience, huddle, turn around, and run back up–which is what they did. As the audience, we expect the encore–we demand it. If they had just thanked the audience and left, we would have felt cheated out of our “extra” song. In the ritual to indicate that the show was indeed over, they needed to come back up, play one more and then exit for good.
We all have a myriad of front stages and backstages. As academics (and graduate students), we may have more than most. But, also as academics, we often lack what those musicians had–others to huddle with in our pretend backstages. Even when we have others vet our articles, we are still often concerned with what they will think of your early draft. When we are in seminars (I am speaking of graduate students, but I suppose professors may feel the same way), we are concerned with how our ideas will sound and protective of what others think of us. What all this means is that even when we are supposed to be in some sort of backstage–a protected area where we can admit that we need help, or even that we have no clue what Lacan (per example) is trying to say–it is often, in reality, a front stage. We are still working on our impression management in terms of what professors and other students think of us.
I NEED a backstage DAMMIT! I want an area to talk about the ideas I have, the questions I have, and get feedback from others. In some ways, I imagine that this backstage will be about as private as the musicians’ was (as anonymous as I try to be, I’m sure some people will figure out who I am).
So, if you are interested in sociological (or even, at times, psychological) social psychology, the trials of graduate school (and soon I hope, I hope, I hope the job market), and weird research ideas–this blog is for you.
My main hope is that you will comment and comment often. I hope we can start a conversation (and not just about what the heck Lacan is saying) about many MANY research ideas which seem to come from absolutely nowhere–or insanity.
