As I take a deep breath in, my nose tingles with the acrid and tangy scent of acetone, my latex gloves stick to my fingers and a mirage of gel polish paints flash across my table. As I look at my surroundings, and the client in front of me, my mind, heart, and body are at peace.

A few years back, in covid, I coped by channeling the overwhelming amount of artistic fervor humming inside of me into one project to another. I taught myself to crochet and knit and spent hours upon hours sewing at my treasured sewing machine. In these moments, I was at my happiest, but once returning to school, instead of nurturing the loud and proud artist inside of me, I told myself I had to silence my creative voice to assimilate back into my old crowd of friends. I was eager to return into normalcy, but I found that I had forgotten how to fit back in while still being true to myself. I put my heart and soul into the art that I made and because of that, I placed enormous amounts of personal value on my work. When I hid that part of my identity in school, a large chunk of my self-worth died inside. Little did I know the toll this would take on my body as a whole. By my sophomore year, I was deeply unhappy, by neglecting the most important part of who I am, I found myself slipping into a depressive state. Instead of a gleeful artist taking charge of her life, I had suffocated my truest identity. By the end of that year, I knew something drastic had to change. I asked myself; “Is trying to fit in more important than being happy?” The answer was no. So, I started my own business.

I put aside my pride and launched a nail studio knowing that my creativity went well beyond knitting and sewing. I wanted to display my artistic skills and venture into a new field that I wasn’t familiar with. Instead of basic manicures, I marketed myself as an intricate nail art specialist. As I focused my energy into starting a nail salon, I took a step back from my friendships where I no longer felt accepted and I poured my heart and soul into being who I was meant to be, an artist. What started as getting 2-3 clients a month, snowballed into 10 a week, and before I knew it my salon; Studio De Sol, was fostering a community of sisterhood, self-care and unlikely friendships that would change my life.

As my clientele grew, so did my confidence. Over the course of the first year, I had women and girls from all walks of life share their stories with me. As I listened to each tale, I started to feel less alone. I found a niche of people who valued art to the point where they wanted to live in it and wear it on their nails every day. These women unknowingly hugged my inner artist and helped her blossom. The hundreds of different women and girls I have serviced have all changed me for the better. Through my work, I found a group of girls who started as clients and are now my best friends. Not only do they see me for who I am, they embrace it. These like-minded fellow artists who are unabashedly themselves have helped me realize that life is so much more than feeling numb while trying to be someone I’m not. So now, as these wonderful, different and unique women speak their words of gratitude to me as I finish polishing their hands, I have started to thank them back. As earnestly as I can, because they have taught me the truth of self-love, friendship, and most importantly, the power of creativity.

When it comes to philosophical debates and metaphysical ideas, theorists and common people alike are constantly caught in a never ending “chasing of tails,” to find a concrete answer. Like many before me, I have struggled to grasp the concept of agency, as I was a firm believer that humans possess it from birth and that was the bottom line. But, as this assignment has progressed, I have made myself a perfect example of losing the agency that I staunchly thought I possessed. Before reading Sidone Smith and Julia Watsons summaries on great theorists’ opinions of agency, I held the fixed belief that every individual has complete bodily autonomy and is in full control of every one of their actions. After PowerPoints, class discussions and deep analyzing of the text, the answer was no longer so clear. I began to realize, that an external force (my education system and peers) had just coerced me to think differently, and free-wills façade began to crack. With my mind jumping between wanting to stick to my original beliefs and the ever-pressing realization that agency is not real, I found myself in strong agreement with the claims of Louis Althusser.

Louis Althusser believes that we are “subjects,” and subjects are subjected to societies false concept of free will. Through institutions, we are influenced to believe we have free will when in reality, these institutions are coercing us to conform to certain behaviors, beliefs, and identities. These institutions are families, educational facilities and government although there are slightly less coercive institutions like social services and military. His claim is that agency is an illusion, a kind thought that makes humans feel better about themselves. To make people believe that we are not just another cog on a machine of clones to make the world go round. But, as humans, it is more or less a compulsory response to blindly follow influence and be practically obedient. Althusser’s claim rests upon the fact that humans follow herd mentality whether it is a conscious or a sub-conscious action, and it is impossible to close our minds off to outside opinions. From Louis Althusser’s 1970 essay titled “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses (Notes Towards an Investigation),” he writes on page 116, “All ideology hails or interpellates concrete individuals as concrete subjects.”  What I believe Althusser means by this, is that the practices and beliefs inherent to ideology produce a false sense of identity. Our conscious experience of the world and sense of individual personhood is always bound up in effects of the social institutions that have raised and educated us. We simply have no choice to the situation and belief systems that we are born and raised into, and the malleability of the human brain makes these circumstances wildly impossible to not interpolate who we are and what decisions we make.

As I read on, absorbing Sidone Smith and Julia Watsons words, I found myself further persuaded to oppose agency. In stark contrast to Althusser’s ideas, many theorists struggle to let go of agency. They refuse accept that we do not possess free will. One of these blind followers is Michel de Certeau, a French priest and philosopher who argued that despite external constraints, people exercise their free will by creatively engaging with their environments and with natural born “tactics.” He believed we use these “tactics” to assert autonomy and meaning in our lives. While this perspective does highlight the interplay between individual agency and social power, it fails to demonstrate how humans subvert influence. Humans only have a limited amount of mental power that can be asserted to resist persuasion and, even so, that power is often fixed on other pressing matters. We often do not question where our ideas and morals come from, they are simply there. This leads back to the belief that I share with Althusser; we are sub-consciously swayed by cultural and social influence whether we like to admit it or not. By expanding our education, adapting to a religion, or simply meeting new people with different ideas, we are constantly bombarded by coercion to our thoughts.  

On my journey of research, I have found myself in firm agreement with Louis Althusser. Free will is a false promise. I do not think for myself, I meld and mesh the ideas of those before me, a cyclical pattern that cannot be broken. As a subject in this world, I am merely a lone figure who sways to the views of my surroundings, I and every citizen of this world, sub-conscious followers to Althusser’s theories.  This is something that

While I can stand firm in my own beliefs surrounding agency, many people will have differing opinions than my own.

Citation:

Smith, Sidonie and Julia Watson. “Reading Autobiography: A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives.” Contexts for Inquiry. Edited by Amanda Hobmeier et al, Bedford St. Martin’s, 2014.

How free are we? Louis Althusser on Ideology & Subjectivity. TheCollector. (2024, October 2). https://www.thecollector.com/louis-althusser-ideology-subjectivity/

When it comes to philosophical debates and metaphysical ideas, theorists and everyday individuals alike often find themselves caught in a never-ending cycle of seeking concrete answers. The concept of agency is a particularly contentious issue, one that has challenged my own beliefs. I once staunchly believed that every person possesses agency from birth, a non-negotiable truth about human autonomy. However, as I engaged with the writings of theorists like Louis Althusser, Sidonie Smith, and Julia Watson, alongside texts like Brooke Gladstone’s The Matrix in Me and Kay Ryan’s “Houdini,” my understanding of agency began to shift. The concept of free will, once seemingly absolute, now appears as a constructed façade shaped by external influences.

Theorist Louis Althusser believes that we are “subjects,” and subjects are subjected to societies false concept of free will. Through institutions, we are influenced to believe we have free will when in reality, these institutions are coercing us to conform to certain behaviors, beliefs, and identities. These institutions are families, educational facilities and government although there are slightly less coercive institutions like social services and military. His claim is that agency is an illusion, a kind thought that makes humans feel better about themselves. To make people believe that we are not just another cog on a machine of clones to make the world go round. But, as humans, it is more or less a compulsory response to blindly follow influence and be practically obedient. Althusser’s claim rests upon the fact that humans follow herd mentality whether it is a conscious or a sub-conscious action, and it is impossible to close our minds off to outside opinions. From Louis Althusser’s 1970 essay titled “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses (Notes Towards an Investigation),” he writes on page 116, “All ideology hails or interpellates concrete individuals as concrete subjects.”  What I believe Althusser means by this, is that the practices and beliefs inherent to ideology produce a false sense of identity. Our conscious experience of the world and sense of individual personhood is always bound up in effects of the social institutions that have raised and educated us. We simply have no choice to the situation and belief systems that we are born and raised into, and the malleability of the human brain makes these circumstances wildly impossible to not interpolate who we are and what decisions we make. In my own life, I can see Althusser’s theory at work. My education system has played a significant role in shaping my beliefs, persuading me to reconsider my views on agency. As I engaged with Althusser’s ideas, I realized that my previous belief in complete autonomy was itself a product of ideological influence. This process of reflection exemplifies Althusser’s claim that individuals cannot escape the social and cultural contexts that shape their identities and choices.

Reinforcing Althusser’s claims, Robert Sapolsky’s article “We Don’t Have Free Will” introduces a scientific perspective on agency. Sapolsky argues that human behavior is entirely determined by biology and environmental factors, leaving no room for free will. He draws on findings from neuroscience to explain how our thoughts and actions are governed by unconscious processes in the brain. Sapolsky writes, “Free will is a figment of our imagination, and everything about our behavior is the result of the machinery of our brains.” This perspective aligns with Althusser’s notion of ideological interpellation, as both theories emphasize the external forces that shape human behavior. However, Sapolsky takes this argument further by suggesting that even the brain’s internal workings are beyond our control, driven by genetic predispositions and environmental stimuli. His view underscores the limitations of human autonomy, presenting free will as an illusion constructed by our desire for agency.

Opposing Althusser’s ideas, Michel de Certeau offers a contrasting perspective that initially challenged my newfound skepticism. De Certeau argues that individuals retain some degree of agency through “tactics,” or creative strategies for navigating and subverting the constraints imposed by social systems. For example, in his work The Practice of Everyday Life, de Certeau suggests that people find ways to assert autonomy in small, everyday acts. However, while de Certeau’s perspective highlights the interplay between agency and external constraints, it ultimately fails to account for the pervasive influence of ideology. Further picking apart de Certeau, Althusser argues that even acts of resistance are often shaped by the same ideological forces they seek to oppose. For instance, the decision to adopt a countercultural identity or reject societal norms is often informed by alternative ideologies that are themselves products of institutional influence. This reinforces the idea that free will is, at best, a limited construct.

Similar to Robert Sapolsky, Brooke Gladstone’s The Matrix in Me provides a scientific perspective on the debate over agency, reinforcing the idea that free will is an illusion. Gladstone draws on research in neuroscience to argue that much of what we perceive as conscious decision-making is actually driven by unconscious processes. She compares the human brain to a computer, programmed by genetics, upbringing, and external stimuli. This view aligns with Althusser’s claim that individuals are shaped by ideological systems, suggesting that even our thoughts and preferences are products of conditioning rather than genuine autonomy. Gladstone’s argument is particularly compelling because it bridges the gap between philosophy and science. Her discussion of cognitive biases and the brain’s susceptibility to external influence underscores the limitations of human agency. For instance, she cites studies showing that people often rationalize decisions after the fact, convincing themselves that their choices were deliberate when they were actually automatic responses to external stimuli.

While previous sources tap into a scientific lens, Ted Chiang’s short story “What’s Expected of Us” offers a speculative fiction perspective on the illusion of free will, using the concept of a futuristic device called the Predictor. The device lights up one second before a person presses a button, demonstrating that the action has already been determined. Chiang uses this scenario to explore the psychological consequences of determinism, illustrating how people lose motivation when they realize their actions are predetermined. Chiang’s story resonates with Althusser’s theory by highlighting the tension between our desire for agency and the reality of external control. The Predictor, much like ideological systems, exposes the limits of human autonomy, forcing individuals to confront the fact that their choices are not entirely their own. This aligns with Sapolsky’s argument that our actions are governed by forces beyond our control, whether biological, ideological, or both.

Adding another literary dimension to the conversation, Kay Ryan’s poem “Houdini”, using the metaphor of the famous escape artist to explore the human desire for freedom. The poem suggests that, like Houdini, we are constantly seeking to break free from constraints, only to find ourselves bound by new limitations. Ryan writes, “He is the king / of escaping / without ever leaving.” This line captures the paradox of agency: even when we believe we have escaped external influence, we remain trapped within the structures that shape our thoughts and actions. Ryan’s poem resonates with Althusser’s theory by highlighting the cyclical nature of human behavior. Our attempts to assert independence often lead us back to the same patterns of influence and conformity. This literary perspective adds emotional depth to the philosophical and scientific arguments, illustrating the existential struggle to reconcile our desire for agency with the reality of our limitations.

Through the perspectives of Althusser, de Certeau, Gladstone, and Ryan, it becomes clear that agency is not an inherent quality but a constructed illusion. While de Certeau’s idea of “tactics” offers a glimmer of hope for autonomy, the pervasive influence of ideology and unconscious processes ultimately undermines the notion of free will. This realization has profound implications for how we understand ourselves and our place in the world. Rather than clinging to the illusion of agency, we can embrace a more nuanced view of human behavior, acknowledging the role of external forces in shaping our identities and choices. By doing so, we can begin to navigate the complex interplay between individual autonomy and societal influence with greater awareness and intention.

Works Cited:

Althusser, Louis. “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses (Notes Towards an Investigation).” Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essays, translated by Ben Brewster, Monthly Review Press, 1971, pp. 85–126.

Chiang, Ted. “What’s Expected of Us.” Nature, vol. 436, no. 7050, 2005, p. 150.

Gladstone, Brooke. The Matrix in Me. W.W. Norton, 2024.

Ryan, Kay. “Houdini.” The Best of It: New and Selected Poems, Grove Press, 2010.

Sapolsky, Robert. “We Don’t Have Free Will.” Los Angeles Times, 17 Sept. 2023, www.latimes.com.

Smith, Sidonie, and Julia Watson. Reading Autobiography: A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives. Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2014.

“How Free Are We? Louis Althusser on Ideology & Subjectivity.” The Collector, 2 Oct. 2024, www.thecollector.com/louis-althusser-ideology-subjectivity/.

In “The Cave,” Paul Tran creates meaning through the use of vivid figurative language and powerful literary devices to explore the journey of self-discovery, transformation and the pursuit of knowledge. The central metaphor of the “mouth” and the “idea” invites the reader into a journey of both physical and mental exploration. The idea of entering the “mouth” suggests the act of stepping into an unknown or mysterious space, and the “idea” itself becomes an active force driving the speaker deeper into this journey. The description of light and language following “two wolves- panting, hearing themselves panting” uses personification to emphasize the relentless nature of the search, with light and language also representing the boundaries of understanding that are pursued but also limited. This creates a sense of tension between the known and the unknown, suggesting that true understanding or meaning exists beyond conventional tools of comprehension.

                As the journey progresses, the speaker discovers objects and images on the walls such as “ocher-stained shells” and “bird bones,” which invoke the deep connection between past and present. History and self. The imagery of these animals- “cows. Bulls. Bison. Deer. Horses”- draws upon cave paintings, symbolizing a primal connection to nature and the cycles of life and death. The wildness of the animals seems to come alive, moving with the speaker, reinforcing the idea between living history and the fluidity between past and present. The repetition of “Keep going,” serves as both encouragement and a command, propelling the speaker to delve deeper into the mystery of the cave, while the phrase, “outside was another idea” suggests that the journey, once started only leads to the creation of new perspectives and realizations.

Ultimately, the poem seems to convey the message that pursuit of deeper meaning and understanding, though overwhelming and possibly challenging, is a transformative process that reshapes ones view of the world and oneself. The journey becomes infinite as each new idea leads to yet another, showing that true knowledge is not a destination but, an ongoing quest.

Item descrWe should always be wary of posthumous publications, as it is likely the author held the work back for one reason or another.  Seldom are things simply lost to time.  But the hunger for more work from our departed authors of legend almost always overrules these reservations. Langston Hughes’s 1961 piece called “7 People Dancing” is one of these stories. Never published by choice, 7 people dancing is a modernist piece that shares a tale of homosexuality, interracial sex and black poverty juxtaposed to white affluence. As readers, we are often schooled to separate a story from its author to ultimately judge the essence of the work on its own but, in this case, one can’t help but notice similarities here between key aspects of Hughes’s personal life and the characters in the narrative. This tale gives us a unique perspective on Hughes’s view of Harlem (where the story is set) in a time where race and sexuality were at war with the world. His experience as a gay black man creates a deeply personal connection to the characters of the story and words exude sympathy for the players in his tale. Yet, there is a near-bitterness intertwined in his descriptions that possibly align with internalized shame drawn from parallels in his own life. While Langston stayed sexually closeted until the day he died, his identity as a gay man was no secret to many groups that closely followed his work. Although written in 1961, the story was extremely ahead of its time, amid race riots, illegal interracial relationships, and absolute unacceptance to queer identities, it is not surprising that this story never made it past Hughes’s private collection. When examining the story through Lois Tysons lens of gender and queer studies and African American Criticism, a deeply resistant and resilient tone emerges in the text as readers are brought into a recreation of Harlem where both sexuality and race had rigid expectations.                             

Using Lois Tysons African American criticism lens, “7 People Dancing” can be analyzed as a narrative that critiques racial inequalities and explores the complexities of Black identity within a larger, white-dominated society. Through the interactions at the dance, Hughes reflects on how social stratification and racial tensions affect the lives of Black people, while also highlighting their resilience. Tysons approach helps us see that the dance is not just a form of celebration but also an act of cultural assertion, a reminder that even in the face of systemic oppression, Black individuals carve out spaces to express themselves, resist erasure, and assert their personal identities. Through the lens of African American criticism, the story’s exploration of interactions between black and white characters reveals how racial tension is woven into the fabric of American social life. While the characters in the story are united in their shared space (the dance floor), their racial and social divisions cannot be easily buried. The single white girl at the party, Joan, asserts her white affluence in a subtle but stinging way. On pg.5, a black man confesses to his date, (a black woman) that he does not have more money to spend. Before his date can reply, Joan interjects, saying; “Oh, but I do.” Tyson’s theory would interpret these dynamics as revealing the persistent nature of racial division. Even in moments of communal celebration (like the dance), racial inequality and the disparity between black poverty and white affluence remains a defining and separating factor in this story. The lens often points to how black characters assert their own cultural identity in the face of white dominance and in the story, Hughes portrays dance as a form of cultural expression that transcends racial boundaries. However, the act of dancing also functions as a means of resistance and empowerment for the black characters. To me, this dance becomes a metaphor for the resilience of African American culture, where dance represents both personal and collective identity, despite the larger structures of oppression that seek to silence them.

Viewing the story through a gender and queer lens illuminates a single character, Marcel. While the story does not explicitly confirm Marcels sexuality, his description as a “fairy” and his interactions with other dancers- particularly his intimacy and closeness he shares with characters regardless of gender- suggests he may be gay. Langston is highly critical in the way he describes Marcel, “He was not good looking- too fanciful to be masculine and too grotesque to be feminine” (pg.2). This may be a parallel to how Hughes viewed himself as many scholars have pointed to the fact that this story may be an internal reflection of how he carried himself through life. Later in the story, is a description of a couple, a man and woman, whom Marcel was observing. “He liked her. She did not like him. Marcel liked him. He did not and could not like Marcel.” Through Marcel, Hughes critiques the rigid gender and sexual categories that restrict his human connection, showing that desire, affection, and rejection can be more expansive and fluid than conventional norms at the time allowed. Hughes crafts a nuanced portrayal of identity and desire that challenges rigid gender roles and heteronormative expectations. Marcels story is a testament of the transformative power of self-expression and subversion of sexual norms. His pursuit of self-liberation underscores the complexities of his human identity and the identities of those around him, echoing the core principles of queer theory and belief in the freedom to define oneself.

Julia Watson’s poetry weaves a deep connection between the human experience and the natural world, using nature as both a literal setting and a symbolic framework where larger themes of existence, identity, and transcendence are explored. In examining her work, it becomes clear that Watson's poetry reflects her keen attention to the minutiae of nature and how it mirrors human emotional and existential states. Nature is not simply an external environment for Watson, but a space in which human life is intertwined, often suggesting a harmonious, yet complex relationship between humans and their surroundings. After reviewing Watsons work, three poems; "The Mountain Between Us," "The Quiet Earth," and "Leaf Fall" all employ nature as a motif, and her use of imagery and symbolism enrich the meaning of her work. Additionally, we will explore how Watson’s personal experiences and philosophical reflections on nature inform these poetic elements, giving her work a distinctive voice within contemporary poetry.

In many of Watson's works, nature operates as more than just a background, it becomes an active participant in the exploration of existential questions. For instance, in "The Mountain Between Us," the towering peaks of the mountain symbolize both the physical and emotional barriers between the speaker and their sense of self. Watson writes:

“The mountain cuts the sky,
a jagged silence stretching,
untouched by words or time.”

The mountain, with its silent, imposing presence, reflects the isolation the speaker feels, a gap between the self and the universe that cannot be bridged. This imagery of the mountain as an unyielding force mirrors the human struggle to understand one’s place in the world, a theme Watson frequently explores in her poetry. The mountain is not just a literal obstacle; it represents the internal barriers that the speaker must confront in their journey toward understanding and self-realization.

Similarly, in "The Quiet Earth," Watson explores the relationship between human existence and the natural world by juxtaposing the vast, empty spaces of the earth with the fleeting nature of human life. The earth’s stillness reflects the speaker's introspection, while also suggesting a kind of eternal, indifferent force in contrast to the ephemeral quality of human emotion. The poem contains the line:

“The earth hums softly beneath,
its pulse steady, indifferent to the rushing lives above.”

Here, the steady rhythm of the earth symbolizes the permanence of nature, while the human "rushing lives" seem insignificant in comparison. Through this, Watson reflects on humanity’s transient nature, positioning humans as both part of nature and yet, in some ways, distant from it in their quest for meaning.

Watson’s use of nature as a symbol is deeply emotional, often evoking feelings of nostalgia, longing, and awe. In "Leaf Fall," for example, Watson uses the imagery of falling leaves to symbolize the cyclical nature of life and death. The falling leaves become a metaphor for the passage of time, and through this, Watson examines human mortality and the acceptance of the inevitable. The poem reads:

“Each leaf spins slowly, a fragile descent
into earth, into the quiet return.”

This imagery of leaves falling, delicate and inevitable, embodies both the fragility and the inevitability of life’s progression. The leaves' return to the earth suggests a cycle of renewal and the possibility of life continuing beyond death. The imagery here, combined with the subtle diction of "fragile descent," brings an emotional depth to the natural process, suggesting that death, like nature, is not something to fear, but something to understand and accept.

Watson’s mastery of imagery and symbolism serves as the primary vehicles for the exploration of her themes. Her vivid depictions of the natural world invite readers to pause and consider the larger existential questions she grapples with. Through nature, Watson not only examines life’s fragility but also its interconnection. By incorporating natural imagery in such a profound way, she creates poems that resonate on a personal level with readers, evoking their own reflections on identity, mortality, and place in the world.

Her use of detailed, sensory imagery enhances the emotional resonance of the poems. In "The Mountain Between Us," the stark descriptions of the mountain landscape not only evoke physical isolation but also mirror the emotional isolation of the speaker. The poem’s syntax and structure—often broken and fragmented—reflect this inner fragmentation, enhancing the feeling of being disconnected. This technique makes the reader feel the weight of the speaker’s isolation, creating a powerful connection between the emotional and natural worlds.

Julia Watson’s personal experiences, particularly her childhood spent in rural environments, have greatly influenced her poetic focus on nature. Growing up in an area where the rhythms of the land shaped daily life, Watson developed an intimate relationship with the natural world, which is evident in her work. Her reflections on nature are not merely artistic choices but stem from her own beliefs in the interconnectedness of all living things and the inherent wisdom of the natural world. In interviews, Watson has expressed how her time spent in natural spaces offers her both solace and clarity, themes that she translates into her poetry.

Watson’s philosophical views also shape her poetic approach. As an advocate for environmental preservation and a deep believer in the healing power of nature, her works reflect a reverence for the earth and an acknowledgment of its role in shaping human consciousness. Her exploration of life and death through nature is not a nihilistic view but one that encourages understanding and acceptance of the natural cycle, fostering a sense of peace in the face of life’s uncertainties.

Julia Watson’s poetry offers a profound exploration of the human condition through the lens of nature. By using vivid imagery and symbolism, Watson elevates nature to a realm where existential questions about identity, time, and mortality can be examined. In poems like "The Mountain Between Us," "The Quiet Earth," and "Leaf Fall," she intertwines the human experience with the cycles of nature, creating works that resonate deeply with readers. Watson’s personal connection to the natural world and her philosophical beliefs inform her poetry, making it not only a literary craft but also a deeply personal and reflective exploration of existence. Through her work, Watson invites us to recognize the ways in which nature can both shape and mirror our own lives, offering a space for introspection, connection, and understanding.