My research approach is based on analyzing things that are seen as ubiquitous and ordinary, but slowly peeling away their “naturalness” to reveal the history of power and struggle that is regularly obscured. I did this with my first book, Monetary Authorities, which, through the optic of the monetary and banking system under US colonial rule, explored the relations and tensions within racial and colonial capitalism in the Philippines. Relatedly, my current research, tentatively titled “Subsidence: Surfacing Life in a Sinking City,” is an infrastructural and infrapoltical history of the megapolis of Manila in the neocolonial era. I am interested in the ways the state, corporations, and communities grapple with the ongoing climate disaster. It is, in the end, a critique of capitalist growth and the violence it inflicts on human and other-than-human worlds.

Sitting down and having a set schedule for scholarship is extremely important. It is a form of concrete labor, and setting time to write, reading to read, and thinking to think is crucial. There is no big “a-ha moment” when inspiration strikes, rather, it is the process of reading and writing that produces fruitful thoughts.

The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon, Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments by Saidiya Hartman, Open Veins of Latin America by Eduardo Galeano, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa by Walter Rodney, and the essays of June Jordan.

These works, to me, are so very convincing and, I think, stylistically inspiring. They are all very different kinds of writers, but all, I believe, are passionately materialist. These writers have helped me ask questions about micro and macro relations of power differently, but also provide blueprints in articulating the exploration of these questions in compelling ways.

First and foremost is to believe in people power, and to engage with people to collectively bring about greater liberation and collective decision-making. As a younger scholar, circumstances forced me to think about the job market and securing a tenure track position. These are valid concerns. But I also think that other things—like understanding the meaning and matter of what you write and teach beyond the narrow confines of academia—are perhaps more important, especially if one wants to stay committed to good scholarship. Now I want to be able to teach what I research and write for a broader audience. I also want to stylistically expand to reach different non-scholar communities.

When I learned of my friend Chris J. Grorud’s passing in 2016. Chris was one of my closest friends during graduate school at the University of Washington. He was a brilliant and singular thinker who, despite having a prickly personality, could get along with many. He was an Indonesianist who loved Indonesia and its people and truly believed in merdeka (its pasts and its futures). Every time we hung out and talked, I would learn something new about Indonesia and Southeast Asia more generally. When he passed away, he left a yawning gap in my relation to Southeast Asian studies, and it is because of his memory and impact on me that I continue to keep repairing my relation to the scholarly field of Southeast Asian studies. 

I chose to apply to CSEAS because of Caroline Hau. Since graduate school, I have had a deep respect for her and her intellectual work. Hau is a singular scholar. She is a nimble thinker and an elegant writer. Hau-sensei’s writing on nationalism, radicalism, ethnicity, class, and especially her unflinching critique of who deploys violence, no matter the source, has been extremely helpful for my own way of thinking about Philippine history. She is also a very supportive and generous mentor and is very quick to suggest others’ works that may be of interest or resonant with one’s own. In addition, the collection in the CSEAS library is fantastic. In addition to the special collections, I have loved just wandering the stacks and picking up random books on Singapore or Aotearoa—it is such a fun place to geek out!

 (November 2024)