Saturday, May 10, 2014

Digital Cultural Heritage Collections: A Postcolonial Account of the Mukurtu Content Management System

Over recent decades, archival theorists have examined the practices of preservation and access of community and cultural heritage collections. Archivists have grappled with the varying, culture-specific interests of Indigenous communities, which may include multiple levels of access, protocols for appropriate use and handling, and issues around rights management. Established archival structures have struggled to develop systems to meet the concerns of communities whose cultural heritage materials are being preserved in archives and museums.

In 2007, development began on a free and open source content management system (powered by Drupal) named Mukurtu – a Warumungu word meaning “dilly bag” and conceptualized as a safe keeping place for cultural knowledge. Mukurtu was built in response to the specific archival needs of the Warumungu Aboriginal community in the Central Australian town of Tennant Creek based on the expressed needs of the community as they sought solutions for preservation of their cultural materials in accordance with their social and cultural systems. As a system focused on the needs of the community whose heritage is being digitally represented, Mukurtu locates itself in the historical, political, and technological intersections addressed by Postcolonial Science and Technology Studies (PCSTS). In this context, the development of Mukurtu is interpreted as a postcolonial attempt at information technology as it deliberately incorporates the communities it was built to represent.

Mukurtu as a Postcolonial Project
A central theme in PCSTS focuses on taking the standpoints of the peoples in non-European cultures and starting off with issues arising in their specific contexts, as opposed to dominant frameworks, in development and research. These projects begin with the experiences and voices of non-European cultures; the contexts in which they are situated; and find resources in collective statements and calls to action by the people themselves. Based on the history of Mukurtu, the system was developed explicitly from the standpoints of the Indigenous communities. The Mukurtu tool is defined as an ambitious project to address a broad range of community users, while being responsive to shifting content management trends and respectfully recognizing that indigenous communities have the understanding of how to manage and care for their cultural materials. Mukurtu’s mission states:


“Mukurtu (MOOK-oo-too) is a grassroots project aiming to empower communities to manage, share and exchange their digital heritage in culturally relevant and ethically-minded ways. We are committed to maintaining an open, community-driven approach to Mukurtu’s continued development. Our first priority is to help build a platform the fosters relationships of respect and trust.


In order to realize their mission, the Mukurtu content management system’s features include:

Cultural protocols – allows users to determine granular levels of access to digital heritage content based on specific cultural needs. Sharing protocols make it possible to define a range of access levels from open to strictly controlled for groups and individual members of the community.

Traditional knowledge (TK) labels and licenses – the TK license options for Indigenous creators, custodians and beneficiaries to manage their community-owned and generated cultural content with third-parties and external community users. TK labels recognize and have been designed for large amounts of culturally sensitive materials that are in the public domain and provide additional or missing information to help users make informed decisions about the best and most appropriate way of using materials.

Mukurtu Mobile – a way to capture events and stories when users and creators are on the field. Stories can be collected offline then uploaded to the Mukurtu archive later. 

Roundtrip – facilitates the exchange and enhancement of metadata between collecting institutions and communities through importing and exporting capabilities.




Through their development, mission, and features, Mukurtu endeavors to be a site for ongoing dialogue about sharing, making and reproducing materials and knowledge. Ultimately, the goal is to build trusting relationships between the communities and repositories by empowering the communities to manage, preserve, protect, and share their cultural heritage and traditional knowledge using their own social models. The model of PCSTS makes clear that “we must move beyond inclusion to the even more radical project of taking seriously in our own thinking the standpoint of the peoples of other cultures”. Creating Mukurtu from the standpoint of the community it aims to represent brings their voices to the forefront and exposes the ways in which indigenous groups have been made invisible by traditional digital cultural heritage collections systems development.


References
Information about Mukurtu may be accessed at http://www.mukurtu.org/#community

Harding, Sandra. "Postcolonial Science and Technology Studies: Are There Multiple Sciences." In Sciences from Below (Durham: Duke University Press, 2008).





Friday, May 2, 2014

‘Who Owns Culture?’ The Complexities of Cultural Property In the Battle Over The Parthenon Marbles

“The sea-ruling Britannia snatched the last spoils of Greece, that was in the throes of death.” – Lord Byron

“The British say they have saved the Marbles. Well, thank you very much. Now give them back.” – Melina Mercouri, Greek Minister for Culture, 1981-1989/ 1993-1994

"The request for the restitution of the Parthenon Marbles is not made by the Greek government in the name of the Greek nation or of Greek history. It is made in the name of the cultural heritage of the world and with the voice of the mutilated monument itself, that cries out for its marbles to be returned." - Evangelos Venizelos, Greek Minister for Culture, 1996-1999/ 2000-2004

For over 150 years, the marbles of Greece's Parthenon have been situated in the British Museum. Known as the Parthenon or Elgin Marbles, they continue to be the focal point of an ongoing debate about the ownership and display of cultural artifacts, often acquired from the developing world by imperial powers in the 18th and 19th centuries, and now displayed in Western museums. The British Museum’s charter implies that the institution cannot legally return items from its collection: “The Trustees of The British Museum hold its collections in perpetuity by virtue of the power vested in them by The British Museum Act (1963)”. Yet the debate rages: should cultural property such as the Parthenon Marbles be returned to its country of origin? And, more broadly: who has “rightful” ownership of cultural property? Is it “universal” cultural institutions or nation states?



 A large sign which marks the ancient city of Tyre in Lebanon as protected cultural property according to the 1954 Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict. 

The debate, then, broadly positions an internationalist perspective on the ownership of cultural property against a vision of cultural property as national cultural patrimony. The concept of national cultural patrimony views cultural objects produced, or first discovered, within a state as belonging to that state based on special relationship between that state’s people and their cultural artefacts (Thomason, 1990). All cultural heritage found within the borders of a modern nation-state is defined as its cultural patrimony. More importantly, cultural patrimony is understood to comprise both the artifacts produced by a particular living culture, and those produced by past cultures to which modern nation-states consider themselves heirs. The debate surrounding universal museums is centered on this claim to the products of antiquity. And cultural nationalism, in short, demands the repatriation of cultural patrimony “wrongly” located in universal collections (Bell III, 2010).

Critics of the nationalist approach, on the other hand, see access to cultural property as a universal human right, arguing that, in our “global age”, we cannot rely on outdated constructs like the nation-state to dictate the rules of cultural property (Kimmelman, 2010). Major proponents of the internationalist argument are thus encyclopedic or universal museums – like the Met, the Louvre and the British Museum – which see themselves as truly cosmopolitan institutions, promoting tolerance, understanding, and a shared sense of history, while opening visitors’ eyes and minds to the wide diversity of world culture and the stunning art that –in their eyes - is our common heritage (Cuno, 2011). 

With the diversity of art in their collections, encyclopedic museums thus argue against a narrow definition of culture (Cuno, 2011). Instead, they urge their visitors to view cultural heritage as transcending political boundaries. Cultural property — paintings, artifacts, music, or dance — transcends the cultures and people that create them, intertwining the histories of different peoples. For example, in relation to the Parthenon Marbles the British Museum writes:

“The sculptures from the Parthenon have come to act as a focus for Western European culture and civilisation, and have found a home in a museum that grew out of the eighteenth-century 'Enlightenment', with its emphasis on developing a shared common culture that goes beyond national boundaries.” (The British Museum website)


The British Museum. Link to source.

Cultural internationalism, thus, considers cultural heritage as belonging to all people, but “owned” by no one person or nation. It is essentially shorthand for the proposition that everyone has an interest in the preservation and enjoyment of cultural property, wherever it is situated, from whatever cultural or geographic source it derives (Merryman, 2005). This perspective, therefore, defends the continued right of universal museums to acquire, hold, preserve and display the common cultural heritage of mankind, in trust for all people of current and future generations. When art and culture are strictly attached to a nation, universal museums argue, we lose the cross-culture ties that bind many different peoples together.

At the heart of both the internationalist argument and the debate over the Parthenon Marbles, lies the idea of conservation or safeguarding from potential destruction and abuse. Many commentators have pointed out that Elgin’s “purchase” of the marbles was indeed motivated by the real risk to their survival. In fact, British journalist Richard Dorment has argued in a 2009 piece for the Telegraph, that “Greeks should erect a statue of Lord Elgin near the Parthenon to express their nation's gratitude to him for saving the Marbles”. According to Dorment, the Parthenon wouldn’t have made it into the 21st century given its history of plunder and exploitation. And indeed, over the past centuries the Parthenon has been shaken by earthquakes, ravaged by fire, turned into a church and then a mosque, bombarded and quarried for building materials (Jenkins, 2007). Yet Greece has been an independent – and relatively peaceful – nation since 1829, which means that this initial act of protection has been completed for the past 185 years.

New Acropolis Museum, Athens
Credit: ©Peter Mauss/Esto

Why then do the Brits refuse to return the marbles? It is often argued that, unlike other artifacts that have been successfully repatriated in the past, the marbles have come to play a dominant role in Britain’s own cultural history. As Anthony Snodgrass (2004) has pointed out, following their arrival in London, the sculptures were heavily celebrated and imitated by British artists, critics and poets. Over the next two centuries, they also became a subject of detailed scholarly research by British art historians and archaeologists. For the British Museum and especially for its Greek and Roman Department, this has embedded them too deeply in the British scholarly and cultural consciousness for them ever to be uprooted (ibid.). One may detect faint shades of Edward Said's Orientalism (2003) here: the propriety of knowledge acts as a legitimation for possession, in this case no longer territorial, but physical all the same.

Nevertheless, as long as the objects remain at the British Museum, they represent enduring symbols of colonial injustice, as Elgin never obtained permission to remove the marbles from Greece, but rather the temporary occupational government at the time - the Ottoman Empire. Michelle Caswell’s (2011) powerful argument for the return of the Iraqi Baath Party records to their “birthplace”, illustrates this point. As Caswell (ibid.) points out, in this contemporary act of “cultural salvation” which saw the aforementioned records seized during the 2003 US invasion of Iraq and subsequently transferred to Stanford University, the power inequalities inherent in their acquisition have been completely overlooked. In a similar manner the British government has been avoiding questions about unequal power distributions, opting rather to reinforce narratives about the unique educational value of encyclopaedic collections.


'The British Museum: the Zoological Gallery, crowded', Wellcome Library, CC BY-NC

By preserving and displaying objects whose origins lie across the world and in different time periods, the argument goes, universal museums provide access to the great diversity of the world’s artistic and cultural production. At last year’s World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, for example, a panel that included the directors of the British Museum, the Hermitage, the Metropolitan Museum of New York, and the International Council of Museums argued that national governments that restrict trade in their self-defined cultural heritage, were “denying their citizens to cultural objects from different parts of the world, perpetuating dangerous stereotypes of foreign peoples and foreign cultures, and working against the promise of encyclopedic museums to promote the understanding of and respect for difference in the world” (Cuno, 2013).

However, interest in and ownership of cultural property is much less dictated by ideals about connectedness and cross-cultural engagement, than it is by underlying economic interests, as Caswell (2011) points out.  From that perspective, digital repatriation suggestions that are becoming increasingly prominent in the aforementioned educational narrative must be viewed with suspicion. As cultural institutions are reconfiguring their identity in light of technological change, arguments in favor of digital repatriation could be reversed to question the materiality of the museum space and its collections. After all, if digital 3D copies of the Parthenon Marbles – and digitized cultural property in general - really are viable alternatives to the “real thing”, then why not use digital copies to promote museums’ educational vision and mission while returning the actual physical artefacts to their place of origin, where their absence is most deeply felt?

References

Bell III, M. (2010, November 2). Who’s Right? Repatriation of Cultural Property. IIP Digital. Available at <http://iipdigital.usembassy.gov/st/english/publication/2010/10/20101022140412aidan0.7519953.html#axzz2zlUltTaq>

The British Museum (n.d.). The Parthenon sculptures: stewardship. Available at < https://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/article_index/p/the_parthenon_stewardship.aspx>

Caswell, M. (2011). " Thank You Very Much, Now Give Them Back": Cultural Property and the Fight over the Iraqi Baath Party Records. American Archivist,74(1), 211-240.

Cuno, J. (2011). Museums Matter: In Praise of the Encyclopedic Museum. University of Chicago Press.

Cuno, J. (2013, January 30). The Arts on the World Economic Stage—Notes from Davos. The Getty Iris. Available at <http://blogs.getty.edu/iris/the-arts-on-the-world-economic-stage-notes-from-davos/>

Jenkins, I. D. (2007). The Parthenon Sculptures. Harvard University Press.

Kimmelman, M. (2010, May 5). Who Draws the Borders of Culture?. New York Times. Available at < http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/09/arts/09abroad.html?pagewanted=all>

Merryman, J. H. (2005). Cultural property internationalism. International Journal of Cultural Property, 12(01), 11-39.

Said, E. (2003). Orientalism: Western conceptions of the Orient. Penguin Books Limited.

Snodgrass, A. (2004). What do the Parthenon Sculptures embody? Working Papers in Art and Design. Available at https://www.herts.ac.uk/__data/assets/pdf_file/0015/12345/WPIAAD_vol3_snodgrass.pdf

Thomason, D. N. (1990). Rolling Back History: The United Nations General Assembly and the Right to Cultural Property. Case Western Reserve Journal of International Law, 22 (47).

Zeman, A. (2012). A Game Changer? The Complexities of Cultural Heritage in the Debate Over the Elgin Marbles. Senior Capstone Projects. Paper 67. Available at <http://digitalwindow.vassar.edu/senior_capstone/67>

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Creating and Sustaining the Other in Lesbian Pulp Fiction by Marika Cifor

In his groundbreaking text Orientalism (1979) literary and critical theorist Edward Said analyzes the lengthy tradition of what he terms “Orientalism” by the “West,” namely the British, French, and Americans. Orientalism serves as “a way of coming to terms with the Orient,” one that is based on the “special place” of the Orient in European/Western experience(s).[1] The Orient occupies this “special place” not only because of its (imagined) location adjacent geographically to Europe, but also as “the place of Europe's greatest and richest and oldest colonies, the source of its civilizations and languages, its cultural contestant, and one of its deepest and most recurring images of the Other.”[2] Said argues that “the Orient has helped to define Europe (or the West) as its contrasting image, idea, personality, [and] experience.”[3] The Orient is not just a figment of European imagination, it “is an integral part of European material civilization and culture.”[4] Orientalism as a mode of discourse expresses and represents that integral part culturally and ideologically with “supporting institutions, vocabulary, scholarship, imagery, doctrines, [and] even colonial bureaucracies and colonial styles.”[5] Said is particularly interested in the question of how Orientalism is involved in writing, thinking, and acting on the Orient and how European culture developed and sustained strength and identity by creating itself in opposition to the Orient.[6]  One of the most influential concepts to emerge from Said’s text is that of “othering,” the process by which one creates and sustains a dichotomy between one’s self and the Other(s). As Said writes,
For Orientalism was ultimately a political vision of reality whose structure promoted the difference between the familiar (Europe, the West, “us”) and the strange (the Orient, the East, “them”). This vision in a sense created and then served the two worlds thus conceived. Orientals lived in their world, “we” lived in ours. The vision and material reality propped each other up, kept each other going.[7]
The dichotomy examined by Said is that of the self with a particular Western (Occidental) identity and the Other, the Orient and the Oriental.
           
Said’s work has been applied to information studies concerns by scholars including Michelle Caswell in her work on approaches to cultural property in the controversy of the Iraqi Baath Party Records and Beverly Butler in her work on “othering the archive” in context of Palestinian cultural politics and memory-work. Drawing inspiration from these projects this post uses Said’s work as a critical theoretical framework to explore the significance of othering in lesbian pulp novels.[8] Much like the process of othering in the context of Orientalism, I argue that the creation and representation of the Other in the pulps, namely the lesbian, has far less do with the lesbian or lesbianism than it does with the “self,” the producer, consumer, and mainstream society and its norms in mid-twentieth century America. By looking particularly at the creation, maintenance, and promotion of the sexual and sometimes racial Other in the pulps the importance of Said’s contributions will be exposed.

Lesbian pulp fiction is known for its voyeuristic appeal, heavy-handed prose, stock characters, and predictable narratives. It is a genre defined by its form, production, distribution, content, and historical context. Between 1950 and 1967 over five hundred lesbian pulps were published.[9] Named for the cheap paper they were mass-produced on they were small, with soft paper covers, colorfully dyed edges, and vibrant cover illustrations. They were sold widely and successfully in corner drugstores, chain stores, at newsstands, and bus and train depots across the US.[10] The majority of the pulps can be classified as “virile adventures,” sensationalized romps featuring a male protagonist and told from a male point of view with underdeveloped female characters and many sex scenes.[11] There are many conventions of the genre including their prosaic writing style, frequent depictions of sex, and a tendency towards sensationalism. In addition there were a number of other subgenres including faux non-fiction exposés of the pseudo-scientific persuasion, reissues of earlier lesbian fiction with pulp style covers in paperback, and pulps that offered more positive representation of lesbians and more women-centered stories.[12] Most of the pulps were probably written by men, however some of them were written by women, and some of them were lesbians.[13] For my purposes here the unique sexual and racial content they offered in service of creating and sustaining the Other “to an extent and with a kind of detail” particularly about homosexuality, interracial relationships, and colonialist impulses makes them key sources for examining identities and knowledge production.[14]

Examining the production of the category of sexuality in the narrative, rhetorical and affective context of the pulps may seem an obvious choice. However the category of sexuality as articulated in the pulps is particularly messy. There is often a clearly articulated desire on the part of the authors (and we can presume the publishers) to explain the “deviant” sexualities of the characters by extension of lesbians in real life. Understanding the prevalence and causes of lesbianism served a variety of purposes: as a vehicle for erotically charged stories; as a way to police gender and sexual norms; as a form of control in an uncertain world; as an anthropological exploration of contemporary subcultures; to satisfy curiosity; to raise awareness of the interests, rights and presence of these women; and as a way to sell books. As Said wrote, knowledge of the Other “is what makes their management easy and profitable; knowledge gives power, more power requires more knowledge, and so on in an increasingly profitable dialectic of information and control.”[15]  The representations of the Other in pulps as a means of educating the public about sexual deviance and the idea that increased awareness might protect young girls and women from these dangerous lifestyles is a clear reflection of Said’s statement. “Dr. Benjamin Morse” in The Lesbian (1961) emphasized the potential fragility and susceptibility of young girls, “who when placed in a situation which turns her toward lesbianism,” such as single-gender institutions, can hardly be blamed for following that direction.[16] It is only through such an education that he believed that the “problem” of lesbianism could be addressed arguing that “a staggering number of girls…wind up living the lives of lesbians because they were unaware of the precise nature of the problem.”[17] Women’s sexuality in this argument always holds the potential for danger and deviance reflecting larger cultural anxieties. Lesbian sexuality was represented not only as Other, but as a dangerous force that destabilized American society by disrupting gender norms. From the first lesbian pulp onward the sexual identities of women were usually reduced to two types of lesbians: “real lesbians,” masculinized in their appearance and/or behavior fated by their immutable sexualities to stand outside of “normal society,” and feminine women, who temporarily engage in lesbian relationships, but who can always be redeemed to heterosexuality.[18] The latter type are often naïve, younger, and very beautiful women who fall under the influence of an older “real” lesbian. In That Other Hunger (1961) Fran, a real lesbian, describes her lover Sally as the kind of girl who if she “had stayed in her home town” would “probably be some guy’s contented and devoted wife right now.”[19]  Grinning to herself she thinks, “[e]xcept for a slight matter of gender that’s what Sally was” to her.[20] In this brief discussion, Sally is portrayed as an accidental lesbian, someone who conforms to gender roles and expectations that have been misdirected into a gay marriage. This example demonstrates how the othering of lesbians in the pulps is a deeply complicated and conflicted process.  The masculine lesbian is always irredeemably the Other, but the feminine lesbian is a messy figure that unlike Said’s Oriential or the masculine lesbian has the potential to be remade into the “self.” Sexuality in the pulps thus proves and complicates the process and our understandings of othering.



The creation and maintenance of the racial Other in the lesbian pulps also make important contributions to understanding the writing, thinking, and acting on race taking place in this period. The pulps were most definitely a cultural production of Cold War racial norms, but also in turn produced knowledge about race for their large readership. White Americans at midcentury were strongly encouraged to identify with their racial position—whiteness, generally speaking, was not a troublesome identity category for them and did not carry the complex burdens of shame or sorrowfulness.[21] Much like earlier colonial renderings race in the pulps was a consumer spectacle that was packaged, marketed, and distributed to readers. Even when race, particularly that of whiteness, was not explicitly mentioned it was always present in the pulps just below the surface; often race was coded in references to the racialized geographies of cities like New York.[22] Racialized Others were produced as spectacle in the pulps when they appeared at all, voyeuristic representations of race meant to secure and reassure the white male reader that dominant cultural structures will be reasserted in the end. A prime example is Randy Salem’s Man among Women (1960), set in the Bahamas. Not only race, but also sensationalized visions of colonialism are produced in the story of a group of white lesbian friends, including the main female characters, who are planning an all-lesbian resort in a tropical “closed town” only for the very rich and the very white.[23]  The Indigenous Bahamians, be they the maid, policeman, or hotel manager, are portrayed as “subservient, docile, [and] feminized” as well as “alien and eroticized.”[24] In a scene set in a lesbian bar the central voyeuristic spectacle is centers on eroticized native, brown bodies, rather than its typical focus on the white lesbians. Salem describes in vivid detail the scene of four “Negroes” with bongos and other instruments accompanying a “barefooted Negress” who “pad[s]” out into the spotlight and dances with “thighs flexed, ribs heaving and breasts hanging naked. Her stark white eyeballs rolled upward as her frenzy mounted.”[25] The Indigenous Bahamians are thus othered, portrayed in line staunchly with racist, sexist, and colonialist imagery. In a less explicit, if no less prominent, allusion to the category of race in Lesbian for Hire (1967) Roger Blake describes the crowd in a lesbian bar: “A big Negro woman sits arm-in-arm with a dainty and feminine Oriental. A Jewish girl from Brooklyn does a dance that looks more like an upright mutual body massage with the kinky daughter of an Arab diplomat. A syrupy voiced honey-blonde from the Deep South gropes beneath the table to caress the naked thighs of a dark skinned Puerto Rican mulatto.”[26] These “sisters of the Third Sex” do not replicate the “segregation or discrimination” of the outside world in the “atmosphere of Sappho’s Lesbos.”[27] The interracial relationships he noted in the bar serve as a point of both othering and titillation, eroticizing the deviance and exoticism of the racial and sexual Other.  Whether hinging on categories of sexuality or race the lesbian pulp novels demonstrably say more about the “self,” not only the producers and consumers of the pulps, but mainstream heteronormative culture in mid-century America. 

References

Blake, Roger. Lesbian For Hire: A Study of Female Homosexual Prostitute. Cleveland: Century Books, 1967.

Britain, Sloane. That Other Hunger. New York: Tower Publications, 1961.

Butler, Beverley. “‘Othering’ the archive—from exile to inclusion and heritage diginity =: the case of Palestinian archival memory.” Archival Science 9 (2009): 57-69.

Carter, Julian. “Gay Marriage and Pulp Fiction: Homonormativity, Disidentification, and Affect in Ann Bannon’s Lesbian Novels.” GLQ 15, No. 4 (2009): 583-609.

Caswell, Michelle. “ ‘Thank You Very Much, Now Give Them Back’: Cultural Property and the Fight over the Iraqi Baath Party Records.” American Archivist 74 (Spring/Summer 2011): 211-240.

Keller, Yvonne. “Pulp Politics: Strategies of the Vision in Pro-Lesbian Pulp Novels, 1955-1965.” In Patricia Juliana Smith, Ed. The Queer Sixties. New York: Routledge, 1999: 1-25.

---““Was It Right to Love Her Brother’s Wife So Passionately?”: Lesbian Pulp Novels and U.S. Lesbian Identity, 1950-1965. American Quarterly 57, No. 2 (June 2005): 385-410.

Meeker, Martin. “A Queer and Contested Medium: The Emergence of Representational Politics in the “Golden Age” of Lesbian Paperbacks, 1955-1963.” Journal of Women’s History 17, No.. 1 (Spring 2005): 165-188.

Morse, Benjamin. The Lesbian: A Frank Study of Those Who Turn to Their Own Sex for Love. Derby, CT: Monarch Books, Inc., 1961.

Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Vintage Books, 1979.

Smith, Patricia Juliana, Ed. The Queer Sixties. New York: Routledge, 1999.


[1] Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1979), 1.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid., 1-2.
[4] Ibid., 2.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid., 3.
[7] Ibid., 43-44.
[8] Beverley Butler, “‘Othering’ the archive—from exile to inclusion and heritage dignity: the case of Palestinian archival memory,” Archival Science 9 (2009): 57-69; Michelle Caswell, “Thank You Very Much, Now Give Them Back’: Cultural Property and the Fight over the Iraqi Baath Party Records,” American Archivist 74 (Spring/Summer 2011): 211-240.
[9] Yvonne Keller, “‘Was It Right to Love Her Brother’s Wife So Passionately?”: Lesbian Pulp Novels and U.S. Lesbian Identity, 1950-1965,”  American Quarterly 57, No. 2 (June 2005): 388.
[10] Martin Meeker, “A Queer and Contested Medium: The Emergence of Representational Politics in the “Golden Age” of Lesbian Paperbacks, 1955-1963,” Journal of Women’s History 17, No. 1 (Spring 2005): 167.
[11] Keller, ““Was It Right to Love Her Brother’s Wife So Passionately?,” 390.
[12] Ibid., 390. I recommend taking a look at the classification system that a lesbian reviewers at the Ladder developed as described by Meeker for further information on reception and types. 
[13] It is impossible to identify all of the authors of the pulps as most published under pseudonyms. It is only those who have outed themselves or been outed by fans and researcher that are known.
[14] Meeker, 167-168.
[15] Said, 36.
[16] Benjamin Morse, The Lesbian: A Frank Study of Those Who Turn to Their Own Sex for Love (Derby, CT: Monarch Books, Inc., 1961), 141.
[17] Ibid., 140-141.
[18] Keller, ““Was It Right to Love Her Brother’s Wife So Passionately?,” 389.
[19] Sloan Britain, That Other Hunger (New York: Tower Publications, 1961), 108.
[20] Ibid.
[21] Julian Carter, “Gay Marriage and Pulp Fiction: Homonormativity, Disidentification, and Affect in Ann Bannon’s Lesbian Novels,” GLQ 15, No. 4 (2009): 589.
[22] Ibid., 598.
[23] Yvonne Keller, “Pulp Politics: Strategies of the Vision in Pro-Lesbian Pulp Novels, 1955-1965,” in Patricia Juliana Smith, Ed. The Queer Sixties (New York: Routledge, 1999), 11.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Ibid.
[26]  Roger Blake, Lesbian For Hire: A Study of Female Homosexual Prostitute (Cleveland: Century Books, 1967), 64.
[27] Ibid., 64-65.