I aim to explore in what follows the terms khuntha, mukhannath, and khanith, and their associated identities, along with their linguistic characteristics and literary uses.*

Given the so-called “crisis” of higher education today, it is hardly a surprise that academic writing remains the preferred target of mainstream and alternative media.

One of the insights I took away from the recent MLA conference was the sheer difficulty both of communicating complicated information in a short amount of time when I went to panels, as well as the impossibility of absorbing such an overwhelming volume of information. A key tool that I felt was underutilized during the conference are graphics that could concisely communicate information relevant to literary study.

In a previous post under the title "A Language Emergency," I responded to a brief statement in which Marjorie Perloff noted the insularity of the "tedious discourse of self-reflection" in the United States, especially its results for how Americans are encouraged to learn languages.

Marjorie Perloff has written an insightful essay for the Chronicle of Higher Education about a "curious insularity" that she sees having appeared in the United States as a reaction to the decade of anxiety over 9/11. She wonders whether it is now time to "look outward," as events remind us that this country is neither alone among world powers nor self-sufficient. I would go further than Perloff. We face a language emergency.

It irks me that I was not more sensitive to Tagalog’s status as a dominant and dominating language until I’ve now returned to the Philippines as a literary scholar.

Babies are usually the stuff of private life, clichés, and endearing memories that we check out as we set foot on campus grounds. Yet babies are the greatest--and arguably the cutest--hermeneutic subjects.

Pornographic literature is dismissed as an oxymoron by many scholars because we expect ‘literature’ to imply form, while the endless repetition of unproblematic sex acts denies us the comforting format of beginning, middle, and end.

Dictation implies a separation between “me” and the writing itself. I had to re-imagine what the writing life would look like. Suddenly I was speaking my text to someone. I was externalizing a step of the process that had been so far silently kept within. We were now two in the room, and at the beginning there was no obvious agreement on what should be typed on the screen.