“I think he decided very young to write his own life story. I think he decided that he would not be ever disempowered. Not his race, not his place, not the expectations of others whether positive or negative would strip from him the power to write his own story” (“Muhammad Ali funeral”, 2016).
Bill ClintonPoet. Conscientious objector. Grammy Award nominee. Muslim. Black rights icon. Three-time World Heavyweight Champion. Few public figures better represent the complexity and fluidity of identity than the late Muhammad Ali. After all, what more powerful example of an active bid for self-authored identity can we find than Ali’s roar of “I am the greatest”?
Time after time, the heavyweight legend cast off the identities imposed on him by institutions and by American society at large, refusing to adopt the “kinds of being” assigned to a young black fighter born in Jim Crow-era Kentucky (Gee, 2000, p. 110). Ali outlined the limits of these ascribed discourses, remembering, “They don’t look at fighters to have brains. They don’t look at fighters to be businessmen, or human, or intelligent” (Remnick, 2016). Rather than inhabit the position that was prepared for him, Ali engaged in a singular performative combination marked by lyricism, quick wit, and an unflappable strength of conviction (Gee, 2000, p. 109).
But then, too, Ali’s story also shows the force of outside voices, the ways in which identity as a social performance reflects and relies on the recognition of others. The shifting interpretation of Ali as a public figure over the course of his 19 year career – from a “loudmouth braggart” and anti-war traitor to an honored advocate of civil rights and religious freedoms – reflects a change in America and its underlying cultural interpretive system (Fatsis, 2016) (Gee, 2000, p. 107). Even in the case of one of the most basic markers of self – a name – we can see the power of institutional discourse to confirm or challenge identity. Born Cassius Clay, the boxer changed his name to Muhammad Ali in 1964, marking his conversion to Islam and casting off what he called his “slave name”. It wasn’t until the early 1970s, though, that newspapers like the New York Times began to use this chosen name in their reporting (Mather, 2016). A powerful sign of a contested identity indeed.
Through the power of his rhetoric and his undeniable delivery on that rhetoric, Ali created a new Discourse or “way of being” that signified his individual calling, his achievement of self (Gee, 2000, p. 110). But while the negotiation of this Discourse might be understood as an individual accomplishment, Ali’s enduring legacy lies in its broader transformative social reach. Ali’s successful negotiation of his identity helped to give rise to positive discursive recognition for other young black men who perform charisma, confidence, or defiance.
Even this cursory look at the legacy of “The Greatest” can reveal the potentials and perils of performing identity as a way of achieving recognition, what Gee calls a central task in our postmodern world (Gee, 2000, p. 112). In a digital landscape in which media exposure, multitasking, and social networking are on the rise for American 8-18 year olds, outside voices are amplified (Pea et al., 2012, p. 328). We might do well to teach young people the power of persistence in self-authorship through the model of Muhammad Ali. Pedagogy in the postmodern era requires attention to the ways in which our networked digital world has amplified both the external voices to which our learners are tethered as well as the public channels through which they can create, negotiate, and contest their burgeoning identities (Turkle, 2008).
In his public life, Ali questioned the how of “nature”, identity, and institution: “How do you use your blackness both for and against? How is it helping? How might it hurt? How is our own blackness being turned against us?” (Morris, 2016).
In our pedagogy, so too must we question:
How does the structure and content of my class as part of a larger institution create, sustain, or impose identities for my learners?
How do I support or challenge learners’ bids for self-constructed identity?
How do the identities my learners create in the informal space align with those recognized in my class?
How is it helping? How might it hurt?
Sources
Gee, J. P. (2000/2001). Identity as an analytic lens for research in education. Review of Research in Education, 25, 99-111 and 119 – 121
Fatsis, S. (2016, June ). The sports writer who hated Muhammad Ali. Slate. Retrieved from http://www.slate.com
Mather, V. (2016, June 9). In the ring he was Ali, but in the newspapers he was still Clay. The New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com
Morris, W. (2016, June 4). Muhammad Ali evolved from a blockbuster fighter to a country’s conscience. The New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com
Muhammad Ali funeral: Rousing farewell at Louisville memorial. (2016, June 10). BBC. Retrieved from http://www.bbc.com
Pea, R., Nass, C., Meheula, L., Rance, M., Kumar, A., Bamford, H., Nass, M., Simha, A., Stillerman, B., Yang, S., & Zhou, M. (2012). Media use, face-to-face communication, media multitasking, and social well-being among 8- to 12-year-old girls. Developmental psychology. Advance online publication. doi: 10.1037/a0027030.
Remnick, D. (2016, June 4). The outsized life of Muhammad Ali. The New Yorker. Retrieved from http://www.newyorker.com
Turkle, S. (2008). Always-on/always-on-you: The tethered self. In J. E. Katz (Ed.), Handbook of mobile communication studies (pp. 121-137). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Retrieved from http://web.mit.edu/sturkle/www/pdfsforstwebpage/ST_Always%20On.pdf.