During the school semester, I try to read at least one book aside from the numerous assigned readings for my classes. This semester I’ve been working on Manning Marable’s biography of Malcolm X (Malcolm X: a Life of Reinvention). Listening to Ogbar speak on his book, Hip Hop Revolution, and subsequently examining hip hop, coincides brilliantly with Marable’s book and his critical examination of Malcolm X. The questions Ogbar raises about authenticity/”realness” and the ways in which hip hop artists adhere to “certain ideals—whether real or imagined” parallels the conflicting responses to the image of Malcom X by the white public and the African American community. In my opinion, images that reflect and/or attempt to define what it means to be Black in America (or, in this context, what it means to a Black male in America) must allow and incorporate many voices. Thus, as the “contested, competitive voices” of male rappers are using art as a medium for which they can construct or reconstruct images of Blackness (and, arguably, black masculinity), they are ultimately responding to and reflecting upon their contextual reality. Ogbar’s discussion on the cover of his book—the DJ Lord album cover—further explores these constructed images in hip hop and establishes their relation to Blackness and Black masculinity. Interestingly, Ogbar references an image of DJ Lord referencing an image of Malcolm X. In Lord’s image, both a reference to and interpretation of the iconic picture of X, he is holding a turn-table (instead of a rifle) and connecting his music and its purpose with, presumably, Black liberation and resistance. As X is holding a rifle for (physical) protection, Lord and other DJs, rappers, and hip hop artists are using their music (holding their turn-tables) for (psychological) protection against racial injustice.
From William Wells Brown to M-1, there is a rich tradition (some would argue an obligation) of using literature and music to not only speak-out against racial injustice but call the African American community to action. However, what is so fascinating to me (and, in my opinion, separates hip-hop and African American literature from other literary and musical genres) is the expectation for Black art to depict a communal/collective image of Blackness. In the context of hip hop, it is depicted via one’s authenticity or how one “keeps it real” (though different rappers have “different understandings of what ‘keeping it real’ means”). As Ogbar points out, the question surrounding Black identity and representation in Black art is not new. It was discussed by Black intellectuals and artists in 1926: how is the Black wo/man to be portrayed in Black art? Should Black art, literature, and music embody individualistic expression or a collective, group expression? Can it do both? In 2012, this question is quite relevant and reveals itself over and over again in public discourse on hip hop and its so-called “negative effects” on Black youth. For me, this is so problematic because it unmistakably simplifies notions of Blackness. During the Q&A, an audience member asks Ogbar, “How does one reconcile 50-Cent and Talib Kweli?” and Ogbar responds that hip hop allows both 50 Cent and Kweli to coexist within the same realm. One does not, and should not, have to have an “either-or” [false dilemma] mentality (read: such a question implies an over-simplified understanding of what it means to be Black in America).
Yet, the question comes up over and over again and it seems to only apply to Black art and artists. I am so uncomfortable when—particularly in the context of examining one’s artistic purpose, identity and expression— certain images (or notions of “real”) are expected/allowed to be the only representation or embodiment of Blackness. This “either-or” fallacy is not limited to [mis]representations of hip hop. It’s often applied when discussing Black film/theater and African American filmmakers (i.e. Spike Lee and Tyler Perry) and African American comedians (i.e. Steve Harvey and Dave Chappelle). One can (and should) critically examine and call into question certain characteristics of “ganster rap” or Tyler Perry’s Madea films because certain elements are extremely problematic. Yet, it’s overwhelmingly frustrating when people dismiss rappers like 50-Cent and Young Jeezy as “buffoons pandering to racial stereotypes” because they (50 and Jeezy) do not adhere to Dubois’s claim that “all art is propaganda and ever must be.” As well, it’s equally frustrating when the media and critics of hip hop, like Bill Cosby, only focus on “ganster” or “club” rap—caricatured as materialistic, violent, misogynistic, and homophobic—as a general representation of African American youth. Nothing annoys me more than arguments that harshly critique hip hop yet fail to recognize that prominent themes in hip hop are a direct reflection of [white] America’s obsession with materialism/consumerism, violence, misogyny, and homophobia.
Monday, April 30, 2012
What Have I Learned?
by Teneka Hudson
In reflection of this semester, I have learned many lessons that I truly believe will carry me far in the life and career ahead of me. I am a student that has been out of school for more than 20 years and decided to go back to school after being “stuck” in a position for many years. My employer is more concerned with the amount of education more so than experience. My AAAS experience has truly given me knowledge power. To learn in depth history about blacks, how they came to America and how they were treated as slaves gives me power to overcome obstacles that seem large but in fact are small. The history of the black race, I believe is even deeper than one semester of information. There is so much that is yet to be told and unfolded in order to help our society understand the “Why” factor about blacks.
There are a lot of black men that are locked up. They do not understand the impact that this has on the families that are missing a son, brother, dad or even granddad that has been taken away from their families to sit in jail every day and miss out on life’s precious moments. There was a story of a black male in jail here in Memphis. He was able to get cell phones, food and drugs. He was so proud of it, that he decided to record himself of video and publicize on Facebook for all to see that he was having a great time in jail. There is definitely something wrong with this picture. He made jail seem like a great place to be. When in fact, he has lost all the rights he had to be a man for his family and for our society. It deeply saddens me to think that he feels that he is in a good place in his life. What ever happened to black pride and strong heritage?
I feel that there should be some type of AAAS class offered to these men in jail. They need to know more about their history. They are lost souls that do not know their true purpose in life. Instead of watching TV, they should be allowed to watch some of the presentations that were listed under our contents section in ecourseware. They need to be informed. They need guidance and wisdom. They need to know that there is more to life that being told what to do all day everyday of their time served. Jail is a serious matter and it is no place to party and advertise for children to see. The video that was placed on Facebook, gives our young black men a sense of hopelessness. They are given misleading information in telling them that jail is a cool place to hang out and smoke dope. This is so far from the truth. How is it possible for these guys to have so much? Is this a way of training their minds to think that life is much easier when you’re in prison. I blame the authorities for allowing so much fun to occur behind bars. They are giving our black men exactly what they want. They are given false hope in telling them that, if you do something bad enough to go to jail then you can go to jail and have a great time. There is something definitely wrong with this picture. There should be some higher powers that need to step in and make some serious changes to our jail facilities.
The question was asked how we can get more people to take the AAAS class when there are so many black people that need this education. I feel that this class would definitely be a good start to making our black race a stronger race in terms of knowing a deeper clarity on the history of black Americans.
I have learned a lot in this class, and I plan to help anyone along the way that is looking for an insight on the blacks and whites that live in today’s society.
In reflection of this semester, I have learned many lessons that I truly believe will carry me far in the life and career ahead of me. I am a student that has been out of school for more than 20 years and decided to go back to school after being “stuck” in a position for many years. My employer is more concerned with the amount of education more so than experience. My AAAS experience has truly given me knowledge power. To learn in depth history about blacks, how they came to America and how they were treated as slaves gives me power to overcome obstacles that seem large but in fact are small. The history of the black race, I believe is even deeper than one semester of information. There is so much that is yet to be told and unfolded in order to help our society understand the “Why” factor about blacks.
There are a lot of black men that are locked up. They do not understand the impact that this has on the families that are missing a son, brother, dad or even granddad that has been taken away from their families to sit in jail every day and miss out on life’s precious moments. There was a story of a black male in jail here in Memphis. He was able to get cell phones, food and drugs. He was so proud of it, that he decided to record himself of video and publicize on Facebook for all to see that he was having a great time in jail. There is definitely something wrong with this picture. He made jail seem like a great place to be. When in fact, he has lost all the rights he had to be a man for his family and for our society. It deeply saddens me to think that he feels that he is in a good place in his life. What ever happened to black pride and strong heritage?
I feel that there should be some type of AAAS class offered to these men in jail. They need to know more about their history. They are lost souls that do not know their true purpose in life. Instead of watching TV, they should be allowed to watch some of the presentations that were listed under our contents section in ecourseware. They need to be informed. They need guidance and wisdom. They need to know that there is more to life that being told what to do all day everyday of their time served. Jail is a serious matter and it is no place to party and advertise for children to see. The video that was placed on Facebook, gives our young black men a sense of hopelessness. They are given misleading information in telling them that jail is a cool place to hang out and smoke dope. This is so far from the truth. How is it possible for these guys to have so much? Is this a way of training their minds to think that life is much easier when you’re in prison. I blame the authorities for allowing so much fun to occur behind bars. They are giving our black men exactly what they want. They are given false hope in telling them that, if you do something bad enough to go to jail then you can go to jail and have a great time. There is something definitely wrong with this picture. There should be some higher powers that need to step in and make some serious changes to our jail facilities.
The question was asked how we can get more people to take the AAAS class when there are so many black people that need this education. I feel that this class would definitely be a good start to making our black race a stronger race in terms of knowing a deeper clarity on the history of black Americans.
I have learned a lot in this class, and I plan to help anyone along the way that is looking for an insight on the blacks and whites that live in today’s society.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Words of Wis(e)dom: Thoughts on Tim Wise’s lecture
One of my favorite aspects of (Tim) Wise’s lecture is when he, like many before him, exposes the contradictions of white America’s “rugged-individualistic” psyche. He details how the United States government has “regularly and consistently intervened on behalf of white America to create wealth” through the Homestead Act in the 1860s and through two housing programs in the 1930s-60s (the Federal Housing Administration and Veterans Home programs). But, it’s interesting how language helps define what constitutes legitimate government intervention in the minds of white America. The way he highlights the role of race and language in constructing these particular images and postitive/negative associations is beyond fascinating (“welfare” versus “nation-building”)—language so subtle, yet profound and extremely effective. I have a great-aunt who periodically goes on rants about welfare and “laziness”; interestingly, she is on “government assistance” (she will quickly correct you: she is not welfare!!!) and completely separates herself and her economic and social situation from those “lazy people” on welfare. The power and effectiveness of race and political rhetoric and language is astounding.
Another brilliant point is Wise’s response to some people’s complaints concerning American slavery and its legacy on the present (“Slavery was a long time ago; get over it”). The most common reaction from [white] individuals, after discovering that I am an African and African American Studies major, is: “Why do you want to learn about their history?” And some ask with genuine sincerity, while others inquire with utter confusion. Yet, regardless of one’s intention when asking such a question, the implication is quite clear (and disturbing): African American history remains on the margins of the collective “American experience” narrative. Usually, the conversation then turns to the topic of slavery, and, without a doubt, the “When are they going to get over it?” comment manages to slip out. And, it’s such a strange, weird question. Tim Wise’s response to such rhetoric is so brilliant and not just because it humors me to imagine the look of outrage and horror on the faces of “Tea Partiers” and Conservative or (as Sarah Palin would say) “real” Americans if confronted with such a response.
Wise, then, accurately asserts that we, as a society, love the past “when it makes us feel good” (although I’m unsure how war and American militarism could make anyone feel “good”). But, yes, perhaps that is true—however, I don’t think it fully explains why some white Americans quickly brush off slavery and cling to notions of patriotism (i.e. vehemently celebrating the 4th of July holiday). Loosely using hooks’ “domination ideology” and theories helps me make sense of it: “Western culture perpetuates myths of domination.” When using and applying this idea to white Americans’ reverence towards the 4th of July holiday, it makes sense to me: it becomes a way for some white Americans to re-imagine themselves as powerful and dominating, and that they, too, share the glory of those who “fought for independence.” Of course, this notion is continuously and consistently perpetuated by American culture, such as the media, social and political institutions, and so on. The 4th of July reflects a collective experience and a collective “American” narrative for some white Americans. Yet, the same white Americans brush off the shared, collective experience of American slavery (a “peculiar institution” of white domination). American slavery is their (African Americans) history. But, I’m not satisfied with thinking that it is because white Americans feel “guilty” about slavery and therefore want to forget about it. That completely ignores the large numbers of white Americans who, consistently, vote against their interests by giving into racial paranoia and fears. That, to me, does not express guilt; on the contrary, it reveals an ever-present determination to maintain white supremacy and further guarantee its presence in American society.
Another brilliant point is Wise’s response to some people’s complaints concerning American slavery and its legacy on the present (“Slavery was a long time ago; get over it”). The most common reaction from [white] individuals, after discovering that I am an African and African American Studies major, is: “Why do you want to learn about their history?” And some ask with genuine sincerity, while others inquire with utter confusion. Yet, regardless of one’s intention when asking such a question, the implication is quite clear (and disturbing): African American history remains on the margins of the collective “American experience” narrative. Usually, the conversation then turns to the topic of slavery, and, without a doubt, the “When are they going to get over it?” comment manages to slip out. And, it’s such a strange, weird question. Tim Wise’s response to such rhetoric is so brilliant and not just because it humors me to imagine the look of outrage and horror on the faces of “Tea Partiers” and Conservative or (as Sarah Palin would say) “real” Americans if confronted with such a response.
Wise, then, accurately asserts that we, as a society, love the past “when it makes us feel good” (although I’m unsure how war and American militarism could make anyone feel “good”). But, yes, perhaps that is true—however, I don’t think it fully explains why some white Americans quickly brush off slavery and cling to notions of patriotism (i.e. vehemently celebrating the 4th of July holiday). Loosely using hooks’ “domination ideology” and theories helps me make sense of it: “Western culture perpetuates myths of domination.” When using and applying this idea to white Americans’ reverence towards the 4th of July holiday, it makes sense to me: it becomes a way for some white Americans to re-imagine themselves as powerful and dominating, and that they, too, share the glory of those who “fought for independence.” Of course, this notion is continuously and consistently perpetuated by American culture, such as the media, social and political institutions, and so on. The 4th of July reflects a collective experience and a collective “American” narrative for some white Americans. Yet, the same white Americans brush off the shared, collective experience of American slavery (a “peculiar institution” of white domination). American slavery is their (African Americans) history. But, I’m not satisfied with thinking that it is because white Americans feel “guilty” about slavery and therefore want to forget about it. That completely ignores the large numbers of white Americans who, consistently, vote against their interests by giving into racial paranoia and fears. That, to me, does not express guilt; on the contrary, it reveals an ever-present determination to maintain white supremacy and further guarantee its presence in American society.
Racism Hides in Plain Sight
By: Kahmeya Lewis
Many black Americans believe racism is basically non-existent because it has never directly happened to them. Because of laws and fear of prosecution, racism has gone into the shadows and underground. Racism waits in the darkness as an unsuspecting black Americans crosses its path and pounces. I believe many black Americans have basically dropped the ball, we have become complacent and lazy about civil rights.
Black Americans basic rights are no longer discriminated against, when you eat where you like without opposition, live where you can afford, and racially date or marry whoever we choose. We have become a culture of individualist; no one ever believes they will be discriminated against until it happens to them directly. As we watch the news and see a young black male shot and killed over his race, we don’t believe it will happen to us, we believe somehow this was an isolated incident. I myself have also been guilty of this. I knew racism existed but for some reason I didn’t think it existed where I lived. I was brought up in a basically white neighborhood and went to a predominantly white school; everyone was open and friendly to everyone. In my naïve mind I believed those people that were discriminated against lived in the wrong place, but my outlook changed at 17.
In high school I played volleyball, most of my teammates were white; I was one of the two blacks on the team. We travelled to Parma to play against them at their school; we were promptly kicking their butts and high fiving each time they were unable to return a play. During the moment of triumph and complete domination over their team, I heard something in my left ear that I couldn’t believe was true. I heard, “Nigger Lovers”…..”Niggers”
In disbelief I turned toward the sound of the voices of hate, in an instant before seeing who was saying such ugliness I believed it must be kids. To my surprise it wasn’t kids at all, it was adults. I was shocked and confused, my eyes zeroed in on an old lady that look like someone’s sweet old grandmother who would be in the kitchen making pies, shouting “NIGGERS” Her face was angry and distorted with hate, I felt ashamed and sad for her. I looked across the net to the home team; they seemed to be in shock also. At the time there were no blacks in this school and everyone knew Parma did not want blacks there. But I never imagined people had such hate in them and over what? Because my skin is darker and that means I’m not good enough? I remember riding the bus back to school and everyone was in silence, it wasn’t the usually laughing and joking. Once we arrived at school my mother was waiting for me in the car, once I got in I told her what had happened. My mother told me, “The word nigger means an ignorant person, so clearly they were the niggers not you” It was that day I think I was introduced to the real world, the difference made strictly on race, and the anger and hatred that existed.
Many black Americans believe racism is basically non-existent because it has never directly happened to them. Because of laws and fear of prosecution, racism has gone into the shadows and underground. Racism waits in the darkness as an unsuspecting black Americans crosses its path and pounces. I believe many black Americans have basically dropped the ball, we have become complacent and lazy about civil rights.
Black Americans basic rights are no longer discriminated against, when you eat where you like without opposition, live where you can afford, and racially date or marry whoever we choose. We have become a culture of individualist; no one ever believes they will be discriminated against until it happens to them directly. As we watch the news and see a young black male shot and killed over his race, we don’t believe it will happen to us, we believe somehow this was an isolated incident. I myself have also been guilty of this. I knew racism existed but for some reason I didn’t think it existed where I lived. I was brought up in a basically white neighborhood and went to a predominantly white school; everyone was open and friendly to everyone. In my naïve mind I believed those people that were discriminated against lived in the wrong place, but my outlook changed at 17.
In high school I played volleyball, most of my teammates were white; I was one of the two blacks on the team. We travelled to Parma to play against them at their school; we were promptly kicking their butts and high fiving each time they were unable to return a play. During the moment of triumph and complete domination over their team, I heard something in my left ear that I couldn’t believe was true. I heard, “Nigger Lovers”…..”Niggers”
In disbelief I turned toward the sound of the voices of hate, in an instant before seeing who was saying such ugliness I believed it must be kids. To my surprise it wasn’t kids at all, it was adults. I was shocked and confused, my eyes zeroed in on an old lady that look like someone’s sweet old grandmother who would be in the kitchen making pies, shouting “NIGGERS” Her face was angry and distorted with hate, I felt ashamed and sad for her. I looked across the net to the home team; they seemed to be in shock also. At the time there were no blacks in this school and everyone knew Parma did not want blacks there. But I never imagined people had such hate in them and over what? Because my skin is darker and that means I’m not good enough? I remember riding the bus back to school and everyone was in silence, it wasn’t the usually laughing and joking. Once we arrived at school my mother was waiting for me in the car, once I got in I told her what had happened. My mother told me, “The word nigger means an ignorant person, so clearly they were the niggers not you” It was that day I think I was introduced to the real world, the difference made strictly on race, and the anger and hatred that existed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)