Canto CCCLVIII: Gracias, Conference of Ford Fellows, and Goodbye

Gentle cabrones:

There are many grants and fellowships for academics that are huge news in their world, that the rest of us know about in name only, if at all. Fulbright scholarship. Rhodes scholar. MacArthur genius grant may be the most famous, even though it’s technically not exclusively for academics. Knight Wallace and Nieman fellowships for journalists. And so on.

One of those was the Ford fellowship. Even me, who has many academic friends, and got a master’s degree, had little idea about what it was. I knew it was prestigious, and that it was administered by the Ford Foundation, which alt-losers hate because it funds a lot of community groups — but that was about it. If I knew any Ford fellows, they weren’t telling me or bragging about it, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it meant to be one — and then I got to know one.

Lee Anne Martínez is a biology professor at Colorado State University, Pueblo — her specialty is insects that live in rivers, but hers is an incredible career that continues. She is my third cousin, actually, part of the great cargaderense diaspora — we share the same great-great grandfather, Victoriano Miranda, except her ancestors settled in the Pomona Valley after the Mexican Revolution, while my mami didn’t come to United States until the 1960s and ended up, of course, in Anacrime. 

Profe Lee Anne is part of the Guti Gang, a regular on my Tuesday night IG desmadre where we know here as drmartinez101. Super kind, super smart – she goes to a lot of the big events that I hold in SoCal even though she’s coming from Colorado while some fookin’ ingrate “fans” can’t even go down Bristol Street.

I digress.

A couple of years ago, Profe Lee Anne said she was gonna try to get me to the Conference of Ford Fellows so I could moderate a panel. I’m always up for a conference, because I find them so fascinating – I would love to write a book about the conference industry, because EVERY profession has one. But the publishing industry has pegged me as a Latino writer, so it ain’t happening.

I couldn’t make it last year, but I was able to attend the Conference of Ford Fellows last weekend – but I honestly didn’t know what I was getting into when I agreed. I knew it was prestigious, and it was going to be in Washington DC, but that was about it.

So when I got into my hotel room last Thursday, I did my customary crash course in whatever I am supposed to do.

The Ford Fellowship was set up in the late 1960s specifically to diversify academia, at a time where the ivory tower looked like a bunch of Mark Van Dorens. Profe Lee Anne was a recipient, and had always been involved in mentoring the next generation. She wanted me to moderate a panel on how scholars can get their work out of their academic bubble.

Sure!

The conference was at the National Academy of Sciences building, another thing that I was vaguely familiar with – they’re the ones who award medals to scientists, right? I felt the Conference of Ford Fellows’ vibe right off the proverbial bat. The energy was like that of a boisterous family reunion, with people ranging from mid-20s to late 60s mixing and laughing as we grabbed a quick bagel breakfast. All Ford fellows, all a part of a community, everyone with name tags featuring their names, university affiliation, and what kind of a fellow they were — post-doc? Pre-doc? Something else?

There were hugs, and there were lamentations. This Conference of Ford Fellows would be the last one.

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No one was publicly sad or upset. Privately, though, the questioned was whispered again and again, when it wasn’t outright discussed: Why end something great?

I walked the National Academy of Sciences’ halls and galleries, which had photos of Black and women scientists paired with short but thorough captions. We then went into the auditorium, where Profe Lee Anne and her co-organizers offered opening remarks praising all the old and new Fordians/Fordies (I heard both terms!).

The opening keynote was by Princeton professor Ruha Benjamin, who gave a rousing speech challenging people to let their imaginations be bold instead of reasonable – I make it sound clichéd, but Benjamin’s speech absolutely wasn’t. She was hilarious, she was smart, she knew how to speak, and she was unafraid to critique herself: the cover for her recent book Imagination: A Manifesto was originally created via AI, until she realized that the finished product blatantly ripped off the work of an artist, at which point Ruha commissioned a living, breathing artist to do it instead.

She was the type of public intellectual that media needs to call on more. How to do that? It was my turn.

I began with my own brief remarks. “Hello, my name is Gustavo Arellano – and I’m a failed academic,” I said to laughter from the audience of about 200. I gave them my story – how I got my master’s degree in Latin American studies at UCLA, complete with an obligatory shoutout to the many Bruins in the audience. Why I decided to leave academia: I wanted my ideas read by as many people as possible, and it wasn’t going to happen in scholarly journals (there’s another reason that I’ll disclose in a canto once a certain person dies).

I acknowledged that academia is far better today in disseminating its ideas to the public, but that everyone could do more. I then talked about how a great example of this was ethnic studies profe Genevieve Carpio from UCLA, who I have interviewed for an upcoming project about the future of Los Angeles and who is doing important work on placemaking. I had found out the night before that she had just been deemed a Ford senior fellow, so I shouted out Profe Genevieve, and she stood up and waved and everyone rightfully applauded.

I explained how I didn’t know what a Ford fellowship was until coming to this conference, and how I already found it fascinating, and was disappointed that it was ending. I’m a good guest, so I wasn’t going to get into the why – but I did point out that this should be a national story, but I had read nothing from the press. What had I read recently about the Ford Foundation? A story in the New York Post essentially calling it and its benefactors anti-American.

I challenged them to take control of their shared and personal narratives, then went onto my panel. The lineup: Beronda L. Montgomery, a biology professor and dean at Grinnell College. Liza Black, Indiana University history professor. Koritha Mitchell, American literature professor at Boston College after a while at Ohio State. Look them all up: their scholarship, public presence and wit is IT. I was like a golf tee as they swung their was to great answers.

At lunch, I ran into academics from across the country who knew people I knew. This person knew MacArthur genius winner and compa Josh Kun. That person knew her doctorate advisor, my comadre and MacArthur genius winner Natalia Molina. University of Wisconsin profe Alfonso Morales knows my comadre, University of Wisconsin profe Carolina Sarmiento, and we both sent selfies of ourselves at the same time to her — except I spilled my lunch while I was doing it.

And then I ran into Alvaro Huerta, joint professor of Urban & Region Planning and Ethnic & Women’s Studies at Cal Poly Pomona,. Proud Eastsider. Brilliant and profane and hilarious. At one point during another panel during the question portion, he said what a tragedy it was that the Ford fellowship was ending, especially because they represented academia at its most important and brilliant — and he would know, since he used to read applications, and only three percent of them are successful.

After those opening panels, a bunch of smaller seminars were spread around the National Academy of Sciences building. I attended one about how to get your dissertation published into a book, because I love to read academic books. That one had a good crowd, but the one about getting a job outside academia was slammed.

Academia, like almost every profession, seems unsustainable and people are scared.

Alvaro and I walked back to our hotel, and we admired the DC scene, especially the architecturally stunning National Museum of African American History and Culture, which was busy and lined with food trucks in front and clothes hawkers on the side. I was on the lookout for a Honduran food truck, but it wasn’t open so we instead retired to the JW Marriott bar, which made a damn good Od-Fashioned. We instead enjoyed dinner with Profe Lee Anne and two other Ford fellows: Metropolitan State University of Denver Faculty Director of Undergraduate Research Kristy L. Duran, and Cal State Northridge Chicana and Chicano Studies profe Xóchitl M. Flores-Marcial. Good food, better drinks, and awesome company. I joked to them that this was so nice and relaxing – at a journalist convention, we would just be complaining and get drunk.

I came a little bit late to the Ford fellows conference on Saturday because I had to write my Hook canto from the previous week — but I made it in time for a great lecture on Puerto Rican Spanish. That day was more specific for academics, anyways. There were discussions about how to write your dissertation, how to get it published, and all of that, so I skipped out on most of that and went back to the hotel. DC was hot and humid, but I had the luck of having to walk down the National Mall to get back to my hotel (I shall save my thoughts for a Fourth of July columna).

I stayed in my room for a couple of hours, catching up on work, then dressed up in a white Oaxacan shirt for the Conference of Ford Fellows banquet. I expected a rubber chicken dinner doused with heartfelt but boring speeches.

Not even CLOSE. 

It was held in the National Building Museum, which I’m still trying to figure out what it is — but the interior was humongous, with an architectural scheme straight outta the Alhambra down to the arches, natural light and a ceiling going up at least four stories. There were tables of all types — big, circular ones and standup ones and benches, the better to encourage visits. Even better, however, were the poster boards that ringed the banquet floor.

I learned that one of the traditions of the Ford Fellows conference is that fellows can present their research to anyone who might want to listen via a poster board. It makes sense, because a conference is above all a networking opportunity. Academics are always on the look for grants and jobs and tenures – and after they get that, it’s about getting to your dream campus.

The displays looked straight outta a high school science fair, which it basically was except dialed to Mega-Genius Hustler. The young scholars stood by their poster boards — just one per person, packed with details like a Mort Drucker panel. They waited for someone to pass by, then began their short lectures.

There were studies on suicide rate among young Black people, and salamanders, and carcerel trauma, and disease and chemical reactions and son jarocho in the Bay Area, and voting patterns in the Navajo Nation. I first approached Iván González-Soto, who defended his dissertation this week at the Universty of California, Merced. He had turned it —a study on the Imperial Valley’s water wars — into a graphic novel. It wasn’t just an amazing idea: his story pacing was perfect, his art retrechingón.

“Wow, I would like to take your class,” someone said, and we all agreed. Profe Iván — congrats, but you still haven’t emailed me about Nericcio. Hit me up!

I challenged myself to engage with a subject that I usually wouldn’t care for, so I went up to Roman Gallardo, who is at the University of Chicago’s business school. He and others did a study on zero-sum beliefs — the idea that in an environment of finite resources, people think they win by taking away opportunities from others. His family is from Jalisco, and he grew up in Southern California, and he explained his project so well that we were able to ponder whether a Kobe or Jordan killer mentality fosters a better winning environment than one of friendly rivals ala Magic and Larry.

Did I forget to mention the dance floor? People walked in with a DJ spinning New Wave classics, which didn’t get anyone moving because this was mostly a Gen Z crowd, not Gen X. But once he started putting on the Oro Sólido and Aventura and “Suavemente” and hip hop, the dancing was ON. Did I mention everyone was dressed to party?

I looked around — it was like the smartest quinceañera ever, down to the photo booths (yes, there were two) and churro station. The young scholars were doing line and circle dances, joined in by some middle-aged scholars who otherwise mostly feasted on beef tenderloin and shish kebabs. The more senior scholars stay seated and looked through photo albums of conferences past.

Me? I was always the nerd cousin, and I’m now the nerd uncle. I floated around to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, jotting down notes on my iPhone for this canto before I left with four macarons in my hands.

And as I left these young, diverse academics networking with each other, and dancing and eating, and laughing and posing for photos with their cohorts, I felt an optimism I hadn’t felt in a while. These young scholars were taking time to enjoy themselves, in literal fellowship, before going back to their campuses to teach the next generation while continuing their own work. The Ford fellowship was designed to nurture this world of overachievers, and the world is better for it.

Why was this ending? Where was the national media? Education media? Any media except this canto, as far as I can tell? The official reason is that the Ford Foundation wants to support more grassroots efforts, but that’s bullshit because they already do — and why would anyone want academia to revert back to what it was?

Gracias again, Profe Lee Anne. I hope the youngsters who went take you up on your invitation to join the Society of Senior Ford Fellows. This intellectual party must continue, Ford Foundation be damned.

**

Enough rambling. This was the semana that was:

IMAGE OF THE WEEK: INCREDIBLE Oreo-flavored Choco taco from Tocumbo Ice Cream in Anacrime. I always order something from them when I go visit my parents’ home, but had never seen this one before — FUUUUUUCK.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.” — Mel Brooks

LISTENING: “What a Diff’rence a Day Makes,” Andy Russell. And you thought Ritchie Valens had to gaba his name — this 1940s crooner from Boyle Heights was born Andrés Rágano. Good voice, although he was trying to be Bing too much — and NO ONE can do Bing.

READING: “So Far From Paris or Santa Fe”: Samantha Dunn is an editor with the Orange County Register’s parent company, a damn good writer, and was SHOCKED when we ran into each other some months back and I told her I had been to Las Vegas, New Mexico, where she lived as a teen. She told me she was working on an essay about those days, and I publicly called her out during the Orange County Press Club awards for not sharing that essay the way she said she would, and she emailed it to me a few days later. What a read — I could see the Continental Divide and taste the flour tortillas and cinnamon rolls from Charlie’s Spic ‘n’ Span.

BUY MY NEW CO-BOOK! People’s Guide to Orange County tells an alternative history of OC through the scholarship and reporting of myself, Elaine Lewinnek, and Thuy Vo Dang. There’ll be signings all year — in meanwhile, buy your copy TODAY. And, yes: I’ll autograph it!

Gustavo Events  

July 12, 3:30 p.m.: I’ll be on a panel during the National Association of Hispanic Journalists’ annual convention on book bans at the Loews Hollywood Hotel, 1755 Highland Ave., Los Angeles. Gonna cost ya, so register here.

July 13, 9 a.m.: Me and my co-authors of A People’s Guide to Orange County will be giving a tour of spots in downtown SanTana! We start at Alta Baja Market, 201 E. Fourth St., Ste. 101, SanTana — it’s $20, so buy your tickets here!

July 20, 9 a.m.: Me and my co-authors of A People’s Guide to Orange County will be doing our first-ever tour of Anacrime! It’s $20, so buy your tickets here — not giving out an address for our starting because I don’t want Curt Pringle to crash it hahahaha

July 27, 4 p.m.: I’ll be in conversation with author Alex Espinoza about his brilliant new novel, The Sons of El Rey, at Libromobile, 1180 S. Bristol St., SanTana. Lecture, FREE; books, BARATO.

Gustavo in the News

“Palm Springs App Covers Almost Everything”: A columnist for the Four Seasons Breeze, a monthly magazine for residents of the Four Seasons at Beaumont in the California desert city, has a random plug of me!

“Latina and Latino Leaders React to CNN Debate”: Latino Rebels founder Julio Ricardo Varela has a new newsletter out (think of a better name than The Latino Newsletter, tho), and plugs one of my Biden-Trump debate tweets.

“OC World”: A snippet of an interview I did for the PBS show, but…

“Ever-changing Media Landscape of Orange County“: …stay for the bigger conversation about the subject at hand (I hope they kept the part where I rolled my eyes as Rick Reiff railed about coverage of a trans surfer)

“How to Use Latino in a Sentence”: I haven’t cracked Merriam-Webster’s “Word of the Day” newsletter/podcast just yet, but I’ll take this citation in the meanwhile.

“Los Angeles Times Columnist Gustavo Arellano is invited to talk about Journalism”: The Puma Press, student newspaper of Northridge Academy High School, does a short dispatch about a speech I gave there last month.

“L.A.’s next great sandwich shop is in Santa Monica”: A Los Angeles Times newsletter you should subscribe to shouts out a columna of mine.

Gustavo Stories 

“Grítale a Guti”: Latest edition of my Tuesday night IG Live free-for-all.

“OC trans community struggles with housing injustice”: My latest KCRW “Orange County Line” commentary talks about a pioneering study with disturbing findings.

"Alta Live: Ask a Californian”: Me and my co-columnista Stacey Grenrock Woods do a live version of it — half an hour was too short!

“Ask a Californian: California Plays Itself”: My latest “Ask a Californian” co-columna takes on weak-salsa surfer “gangs,” among other topics. KEY QUOTE: “They can be armed only with mad-dogger sunglasses and chants of “Hey, foo, you a surfer?” and get time shaved off their parole for every Lunada Bay Boy that the cholo beach brigade scares off.

“Manuel Pastor: Activist scholar bringing the streets to the ivory tower”: My latest L.A. Times columna talks about the legendary USC profe. KEY QUOTE: ““When people ask me why I love Los Angeles, I always answer it’s because it’s got the world’s biggest problems,” the 68-year-old said”

“Is Kevin de León’s push to honor Black L.A. history heartfelt, or cynical?”: My next-latest L.A. Times columna starts in Pershing Park in DC and ends in Pershing Square in L.A. KEY QUOTE: “His move to honor Mason, while ultimately righteous, comes off as politically manipulative.”

“Three motorcyclists killed in fiery chain-reaction crash on I-5 near Camp Pendleton”: My latest L.A. Times co-story deals with a terrible crash that I happened to get stuck in with my wifey and a guest. KEY QUOTE: “After several hours stalled in traffic, some drivers made illegal U-turns on the freeway and crossed over the median to get onto the northbound side of the freeway.”

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