Have you ever found yourself at the crossroads of curiosity and academia, yearning for a space that marries both? A space where the hues of the Middle East’s complex history intermingle with the sharp, analytical tools of contemporary cultural studies? Welcome to our seminar’s digital alcove, where we set out for a trip that transcends the traditional boundaries of the classroom, spilling over into the bustling cafés of intellectual discourse.

organizational musings
Our seminar, “From Campus to Cafés: Writing the Middle East for Your Daily Read,” is not just another course. It’s a space of exploration, a canvas upon which we paint our understanding of the Middle East. Our Mondays, from 2:15 PM to 3:45 PM, are reserved for this intellectual dance. But what, you might ask, are the steps to this dance?
Our course is structured to break down the barriers of academia, allowing us to write for a broader audience. We aim to translate our academic insights into narratives that resonate, using ethical research practices and persuasive writing techniques. And as we journey together, we’ll engage in peer reviews and collaborative learning, refining our perspectives and honing our craft.
But what is a journey without milestones? Our course is punctuated with assignments that challenge and inspire. From identifying potential topics for our final papers to framing motivating problems, our tasks are designed to keep us on our toes. And for those who thrive on deadlines, fret not! Our tasks come with their own set of deadlines, ensuring we stay on track.
a note on tolerance
In this space, we champion open-mindedness and embrace the ambiguities that come with diverse perspectives. However, let me be clear: we have zero tolerance for any form of discrimination. Respect and inclusivity are the pillars upon which our learning community stands.
mapping our knowledge
In our first session (see the presentation here), we embarked on a task of personal and peer knowledge mapping. Each student delved deep, introspecting on their expertise, writing experiences, and aspirations. We then came together, forming a network of knowledge and interests. From the anthropology of MENA to the nuances of computational linguistics, our map was a testament to the diverse expertise and interests that each one of us brings to the table.

the blog: our digital alcove
Our seminar’s blog, Keine Disziplin – No Discipline, is not just a platform. It’s a living, breathing entity that captures our reflections, our learnings, and our aspirations. It’s where we engage in discussions, share our insights, and strive for continuous learning.
As we navigate the vast expanse of the Middle East’s history and culture, I invite you to join us. Engage with us, challenge us. After all, in the words of a modern Westerosi philosopher, “The things we do for knowledge.”
P.S. Remember, as we traverse this academic landscape, our guiding principle remains: always question, always explore, and always stay curious.
OpenEdition schlägt Ihnen vor, diesen Beitrag wie folgt zu zitieren:
Victoria Mummelthei (17. Oktober 2023). writing seminar, commentary on session #1: introduction. Keine Disziplin – No Discipline. Abgerufen am 9. März 2026 von https://doi.org/10.58079/13jnp


Hearing of the task on Monday, an immediate thought of this article I came accross during my bachelor took over. I recalled the sheer wonder at the words Ariella Aïsha Azoulay sturng together to paint the images of othering in the process of (and as a result of) colonialization. With a title such as ‘Unlearning Our Settler Colonial Tongues’ comes the shiver of thought that our language, our organ of expression has been tamed and shaped into one capable of furthuring the colonial project.
https://journal.culanth.org/index.php/ca/article/view/3860/431
I chose Zengin’s article as an example because I find it interesting that state politics over the body continues even after the one’s death ( this is relatively more prevalent in the Middle East).
Necropolitics has always been interesting to me because I grew up in Turkey, a country where death can be very political. Zengin, show insights about Sibel’s death who was a trans woman living in Turkey. Since in Turkey, after death, the body is handed over to people related by blood and most trans people are rejected by their assigned families, trans deaths raise a big unknown: burial procedure. At the same time, because state policy defines family only by blood ties, trans people’s bodies are often buried in orphan cemetries. In addition, the approach of imams and Islamic institutions brings gender into question since the after death rituals in islam mainly divided according to one’s gender.
Although there is a misconception about death states for the end of life, it is actually an important indicator of how death and dead bodies can also produce politics. This article is also benefial to emphasize how Turkish state’s Islamic structure and the concept of family are interwined. On the other hand, it also shows that queers in Turkey carry a political baggage even after their death.
Thank you for sharing this piece Gülru 🙂 and opening the door into a realm of politics newer to me.
I found your commentary striking and immediately headed to read it. Reading you and the article I realize the inexistance of my thoughts surrounding what the article refers to as the ‘transgressive death’ and Necropolitics. Though the idea of death comes naturally to me, the technicalities of it seldom do. The western rituals surrounding death terrify me in its normalized attempt of formaldahyding, immortalizing the body. Reading of the erasure of life of a trans woman in the Islamic (and in this case Turkish as well) death procedure shows the depth of the stronghold of dehumanizing the trans body and life.
The reality of orphan cemeteries and the population of trans and queer bodies that must populate them is twisted and quite beautiful in the idea of a place filled with people who lived outside of normativity. It is the lack of recognition of the place and its transgressive bodies that reders the thought forlorn and sad, leaving me wondering of the difference of scenery in an oprhan cemetery in comparison to a familial one.