CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: Transcendence: A Positive Trans*, Non-Binary, and Genderqueer Fiction/Art Zine
Edited by Marilyn Roxie and Jacob Milnestein
Release Date: 1st Quarter/2nd Quarter 2013
As achievements in increased awareness of the spectrum of gender identities continue to be made, there is also a growing need for positive representation of trans*, non-binary, and genderqueer people in fiction and artwork; stories and images that can uplift and inspire those in the community, and enlighten our allies. The purpose of the Transcendence zine is to showcase the diversity of our identities and the varied ways in which we celebrate ourselves. We are currently seeking fiction and art submissions.
The zine will be also serve as an effort to generate interest for the anthology on the same topic we plan to release later on in 2013 - any submissions to the zine may be considered for the later anthology. The anthology, unlike the zine (which will be freely available online) will have a cost with all proceeds donated to a charity that works with the trans* community.
Fiction Guidelines: Short stories - 4,000 to 8,000 word length. All genres welcome - seeking magic realism and speculative fiction in particular. Science fiction, historical, fantasy, straight lit are all acceptable, although perhaps it might be easier to steer away from direct horror due to the positive nature of the anthology. Please feel free to contradict this if you desire, whether it is through the the most breathtaking and life-affirming ‘Final Girl’ scenario within the context of a tale that deals with affirmation regarding gender, or another subversive approach.
Art Guidelines: Art of uplifting nature (define positivity as you see fit) concerning trans*, non-binary, and/or genderqueer identity. The theme is entirely up to you. Art may be submitted along with or entirely independent of fiction piece.
Fiction submissions: Submit your fiction work according to guidelines with a short bio and, if available, link to your website / online portfolio to gqid@mail.com as a .doc or .rtf attachment. with the subject TRANSCENDENCE ZINE SUBMISSION. Please include your author name and title of the piece. Content of text files should be presented in 12 point Times New Roman with 1 inch margins
Art submissions: Submit your artwork according to guidelines with a short bio and, if available, link to your website / online portfolio to gqid@mail.com as a .jpg or .png attachment with the subject TRANSCENDENCE ZINE SUBMISSION. Please include your artist name and title of the piece, as well as any notes on medium or background information you may wish to include.
The deadline to submit is January 20th, 2013. Authors and editors will not receive monetary compensation for their zine contribution - this will be a free release.
In 2010, former troupe-mates Donald Glover and DC Pierson returned from Los Angeles to perform at The Creek and The Cave, in New York City. Glover was tossed a question from an audience member: What's it like working with Chevy Chase? In response, he described how Chase had delivered a 40-minute lecture to Saturday Night Live cast member Bobby Moynihan laying out the case for why Glover has to be homosexual, which he is not. "That's the only way a guy like Chevy Chase has of processing a black guy who looks like me, talks like me, dresses like me," said Glover on stage that night. "That's how alien I am to him."
There is good reason for Glover — for Black America as a whole — to seem alien. In the 2010-2011 season, there was only one black protagonist on broadcast television: the title role of The Cleveland Show, a black cartoon character voiced by Mike Henry, a white actor. But in the past year or so something has changed.
Baratunde Thurston wrote How To Be Black, which debuted early this year alongside Touré Neblett's Who's Afraid of Post-Blackness? and Patrice Evans' The Negropedia. Chris Rock anointed W. Kamau Bell as a successor of sorts, producing Bell's Totally Biased for FX, which just got renewed for a second season, joining the second season of Key & Peele, Comedy Central's promising replacement for the long-mourned savvy cult classic Chappelle's Show.
2012 is a year in which George Lucas has gone from the racist bungle of Jar-Jar Binks to executive producing Red Tails, a dramatization of the Tuskeegee Airmen. It's a year when the highest-paid entertainer in the country, period, is Tyler Perry and his extensive ouevre's never-ending mashup of Mama's Family and Waiting to Exhale. It's a year when Steel Magnolias is being remade with an all-black cast and some of the biggest hits on Broadway, Porgy & Bess and Clybourne Park, face race in brazen, poignant ways. It's a year when Cee Lo is making a sitcom for NBC, which is also developing a show starring Glover in an autobiographical sitcom. And it's a year when America's first black president is likely to be re-elected. Here's how candid the Obama cultural renaissance is: 104 episodes are being developed for The First Family, a syndicated sitcom about a not-Obama black family in the White House, with a cast that includes Marla Gibbs, Jackée Harry and Gladys Knight.
At the same time, for every Jay Pharoah who rises in the ranks of SNL, the show burns through a Tim Meadows or a Dean Edwards or a Finesse Mitchell or a Jerry Minor. And don't forget there was Lucas also admitting that nobody in Hollywood wanted to make the Tuskeegee movie "because it's an all-black movie. There's no major white roles in it at all…I showed it to all of [the studios] and they said no. We don't know how to market a movie like this." Or Spike Lee saying he couldn't make Malcolm X today unless Malcolm X could fly. As Gavin Polone noted in an essay criticizing "the false circular logic behind Hollywood's resistance to black entertainment" for Vulture in February: "Black music artists are huge everywhere, so why can't that happen with more of our black actors and their films?" He cited a 2011 BET study that found African-Americans buy movie tickets more frequently than whites or Latinos and watch 40 percent more television than the general market.
Although plenty came before him, Eddie Murphy and his meteoric rise — still the only person to host Saturday Night Live while also a cast member, a show he kicked off with "Live from New York! It's The Eddie Murphy Show!" at 22 years old — made black crossover comedy an epic, irrevocable part of Hollywood. Many comedians of all stripes cite his HBO stand-up special Delirious as an exemplar without comparison, although Murphy himself cites Richard Pryor's Live In Concert as the ur-routine.
Murphy begins Delirious laying out some rules: "Straight up: faggots aren't allowed to look at my ass while I'm on stage," he said in red leather pants and a half-open red leather jacket. The comment sets off a four-minute rant that begins with "I'm afraid of gay people, petrified. I have nightmares about gay people. I have this nightmare that I go to Hollywood and find out that Mr. T is a faggot. Really, and he be walking up to people going [begins Mr. T impression] 'Hey boy. Hey boy. You look mighty cute in them jeans. Now come on over here and fuck me up the ass'" but also goes on to warn straight men that if their straight female friends consort with homosexuals who kiss those women platonically, then those women "go home with AIDS on their lips." The routine then shifts gears into an Elvis fart joke and a joke about how Stevie Wonder can't drive. Then a joke where he talks about how he "had a girlfriend once and smacked her and got all cool on her and shit." Then another set on farts. Then a mocking use of American Sign Language. Then a bit about how all blacks and Italians have big penises and "Chinese people are fucked all around because they got little dicks and little asses." There's a set of Star Trek jokes in there, too, including a Scotty impression. In a DVD bonus feature interview by Byron Allen in 2004, Murphy called the set "harmless" in retrospect.
Delirious was released in 1983 and Twitter rage was not yet a hazard of performing, partly because the technology did not yet exist but partly because Delirious was bigoted on such a quantum level that it reached through time and space to block Twitter from existence by preemptively crashing its servers. Last year, by contrast, one man wrote a popular Facebook post in which he laid out why he was upset by a stand-up routine Tracy Morgan delivered in Nashville in which Morgan said he would stab his son to death were his son gay, and added that he didn't care about upsetting gays because "if they can take a fucking dick up the ass, they can take a fucking joke." After a flood of condemnation, Morgan suddenly cared very much about upsetting gays (and their allies), delivering an eloquent, considered apology that, as Bell pointed out in his Totally Biased pilot, sounded nothing like Morgan. Bell filled the void by having a white lesbian (doing a Tracy Morgan impression) deliver a truer apology; it mentioned mermaids and centaurs.
When 30 Rock won a Golden Globe in 2009, Morgan spoke on behalf of the cast and crew, cheering, in part, "I am the face of post-racial America." Certainly, comedy has changed greatly in this millennial golden age it’s going through. But what has this meant for black culture? Yes, it's the Age of Obama, but it's also still the Age of Trayvon. And even the undisputed pinnacle of black popularity, The Cosby Show, got stupid and vapid and cheap.
Splitsider spoke with 14 black comedians — veterans and rookies, superstars and nobodies — in separate but equal interviews, compiled here for a kind of oral history, a roundtable state of the union. (There should be a stopwatch specially built to see how long a black comedian can talk before mentioning Donald Glover, who did not respond to invitations to participate in this project.)
Who knows this field better than them? Nobody. So read on.
BARATUNDE THURSTON: The state of the union is strong. That's a good opening line. It's worked before.
JORDAN PEELE: When Obama became president, it felt like a 'we' moment. It felt like a black person can get that love and trust from America. I wept like a little baby. I came to terms with the doors of love and trust in America that I had closed off. I felt this great rush of joy of doors opening, but also this shame because I had, to some degree, closed the doors myself.
TRACY MORGAN: I don't know what 'post-racial' is. We're still post-slavery.
DAMIEN LEMON: I see white rappers succeeding. I see white women walking pit bulls down the street. Maybe that’s post-racial. But not much else.
PHILLIP JACKSON: I’ve gone for roles when the role is cast for African-American but the character description isn’t black-sounding at all. I think it’s better that these roles for African-Americans specifically are less prescriptive because then you’re getting the actor’s own personality rather than a projection of a stereotype.
WAYNE BRADY: It’s pretty Pollyana to say everyone is the same. I wake up black. I was born black. I’m going to die black. I can be a fan of NWA and 2Chainz, but also Bachman Turner Overdrive and Chicago. And there are a lot of Star Trek episodes I can quote but I’ve also seen Coming to America 15 times.
KEEGAN-MICHAEL KEY: There are all these folks — Jordan, me, Wyatt Cenac, Reggie Watts, Donald Glover, Hannibal Buress, Eric Andre — who you might call, that someone might call 'white comedians' or comedians who have a white sensibility despite their brown skin, the whole Wayne Brady thing.
BRADY: This is Paul Mooney's joke of 'white people love Wayne Brady,' as if that's so bad. And, yeah, maybe I get a stick up my ass about that. Because you mean to tell me, as a comedian — I mean, I perform and I might have an old woman who likes me on Let's Make A Deal, I might have a middle-aged woman who liked Who's Line Is It Anyway, I might have some younger housewife who liked The Wayne Brady Show, and then whoever else, and I can make all of them laugh. I can make the whole world laugh. And you're telling me, as a comedian, you'd say 'Fuck that! I'm doing this for me! For my people! Represent!' Really? Really? That's stupid. I can make all these people laugh: old, young, college, Hindus, whatever. And that's every comedian's dream. That's what any of us wants.
KEY: But here's the thing: I can't act white. I can't act like I am devoid of melanin. There's a huge difference between culture and the value you put in culture. And here I say 'culture' but in most jokes the shorthand for culture is race.
MICHAEL CHE: I don’t think about it so much. Whether I like it or not or embrace it or not, I’m a black comedian. So I just try to be myself as much as possible.
JEFFREY JOSEPH: ‘Post-racial’ is just shit people say to make you not follow your dreams because it makes your dreams feel outdated. Your race gets ignored, which is just a fancy way of ignoring you as a human being.
LEMON: When we get into ‘post-racial,’ which is bullshit, we get a black man running the country, but where’s a black man running a bank? Running a movie studio? Running a network? Running all the other forms of power in this country? You don’t even have that many blacks coaching pro teams.
PEELE: It's all so regressive and simplified and cozy. That's what made Dave special: if you talk about Dave Chappelle, you can't also talk about how cozy everything is.
JOSEPH: Chappelle did it well with The Niggars sketch. He was sharp dealing with race and class.
JAYSON CROSS: 'Post-racial' is a semantic veneer we put to make it look smooth and sparkly. But it's not. It's putting a veneer on a tooth that's rotten and needs a root canal. The only reason I'm making this analogy is I just had a root canal. You gotta drill in and get out the decay. Nobody wants to go through that drilling because there's no Novacain for this. Self-analysis is hard as hell.
MORGAN: People talk about Obama like that's something. But you know what that does? It only cares about what white people think. Nobody was asking black people what they thought of having a white president. And now we get the first black president and made him show his ID.
CROSS: I don't think it's possible to be post-racial. When they said it was over, it made it more racial, just swept under the rug. Nobody wants to have that real conversation. There was a movie with Steve Martin and Queen Latifah where this white dude saved her from this big nasty black nigger. Then Steve Martin, at some awards show, calls her 'sequel money.' I guess that's post-racial America.
PEELE: We’re not in a post-racial world, but maybe a world where what we think of as ‘race’ has broadened.
MORGAN: They don't make many jokes about Obama, you'll notice. White people are scared of making jokes about Obama. Don't know if they're gonna get jumped later when they're walking home at night for telling a joke about the first black president. You gotta wait that out. Maybe tell a joke about the fourth black president. Maybe wait until that next-level shit happens and we have a Dominican in the White House, an Ecuadorian up in there.
PEELE:Chocolate News came at a time when Obama was coming up on the national radar. The racial divide was evolving very fast at that point. Obama was a catalyst for opening up that conversation.
KEY: A catalyst, to me, is a phenomenal thing, something that happens in a moment. This is an oxymoron, I know, but I'm going to say it anyway: Obama is a perpetual catalyst.
PEELE: We have a place on TV today because of Obama.
JOSEPH: There’s this delusion, this cultural delusion, that we’re living in a post-racial society, that what Obama has done means that comedians can say whatever they want. But we’re in an age where, really, it’s the audience that can say whatever they want.
KEY: But Jordan and I have a lot of late-80s, old-school, Def Jam jokes of 'white people do X this way, and black people do X this other way.' Those still resonate.
JOSEPH: I’ve been in all-black audiences that you wouldn’t call ‘a black room.’ They’ve gone to college, have professional jobs, but they have black identity and want to see something from that, that speaks to that in them.
LEMON: Black isn't a flavor, OK? It's not a personality. There are boring-ass black people just like there are boring-ass white people. Do you need to be, y'know, sassy? Or urban? Or whatever? No. If Fred Armisen can be Obama, I can be whatever I want, too.
CHE: It's not a color thing. It's a cultural thing. There are things you can ask about 'being black' that you couldn't ask, y'know, Wyatt Cenac.
HANNIBAL BURESS: Wyatt, I think, wrote for King of the Hill.
LUCAS ZACHARY HAZLETT: Wyatt Cenac wouldn't be popular in Harlem clubs; that's why he sticks to Brooklyn. Donald Glover is funny, and his funny is universal, but he got grown in the Upright Citizens Brigade, which is almost all white people — white comedians, white audiences — and so it's, like, focus-grouped, pre-approved.
PHIL LAMARR: It's Will Smith, a clear triumph of perception over ability. He had the easiest, flattest, whitest rap out there.
CHE: The Fresh Prince wasn't rap. He was rap lite. He was nobody's favorite rapper. He was passable. But now you're judged by how much you can make those in-roads, make yourself popular with the white kids in the suburbs. Being passable is something good now. Now you have 50 Cent doings ads for his own flavor of Vitaminwater. It's sad.
LAMARR: There's a fear in feeling unfulfilled, not being black enough. And they fix it in the smallest of ways. Ross dates Aisha Tyler for like five episodes of Friends. Or let's put Eriq La Salle on ER.
CHE: If you made Cheers today, it would have to have a black person. That's dumb. Why can't it be part of the story that here are six or seven white people in Boston who have no black friends? That's a lot of Boston. That's real, y'know? Like, when Friends was criticized for not having any black people. Ross is a paleontologist. You think he meets other black paleontologists? Rachel works at Bloomingdale's. You think lots of black people are in charge at Bloomingdale's? It's fine.
JACKSON: Some shows that do that do it understandably. I mean, Girls. Tons of criticism. But young twentysomethings living in Greenpoint; that's real. That's how it is. Let it be. Everything doesn't have to be a kaleidoscope.
BURESS: People get mad at Girls. That's such a weird thing to get mad about. It can be funny without black friends. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia doesn't have black friends, but I enjoy that. Getting hate in your heart over something is stupid.
[Editor's note: Girls addressed its lack of diversity by booking none other than “Donald Glover-ness” from The Donald Glover Himself.]
LAMARR: There's no black guy on Modern Family or Everyone Loves Raymond. People didn't care then. People care when they want to. And nobody wants to care all the time. Have you met those people? They're horrible.
THURSTON: Of course nobody cares all the time. We are imperfect people living in an imperfect nation. I grew up in Washington D.C. in the 80s. It was like The Wire. We had gangs, we had corrupt officials, we had drugs and guns and murders. We had everything The Wire had except the attention of White America.
LAMARR: Although two great exceptions to all this race-in-a-box stuff are Happy Endings and New Girl.
JACKSON: And it’s not like I long to play black characters. My gut says it would feel — I dunno. I don’t want to play black. I am black. I don’t think white performers are on a stage thinking ‘I want to make some of my whiteness come out on stage.’ The best comedy is grounded in truth. And the range is now larger than ever. It's not just one thing. It can be bolder. It's not one-dimensional anymore. Donald Glover is a great example.
MORGAN: Donald Glover! Love him!
CHE: Donald Glover can be a black hipster nerd. He doesn’t have to play the Def Jam circuit or the Chitlin Circuit. And Katt Williams can be Katt Williams even without a white audience.
JACKSON: Katt Williams doesn't give a fuck.
CROSS: Katt has beef with 50 comedians. I mean, these are people who could be helping him make money, make movies.
CHE: The difference between Katt Williams and Tracy Morgan is that Tracy Morgan has a job. What sponsors are going to pull away from Katt Williams if he says some outrageous inflammatory shit? People won't go to see him? His audience loves that stuff. It's like a highly successful metal band. You don't have to be on the radio.
HAZLETT: When I was growing up, it was Martin Lawrence. It was black but it was clearly targeted to the black audience.
CROSS: Martin Lawrence made great art. Think of all the things he brought into the lexicon: Wazzup! You so crazy! You go, girl! All of that. It was the opposite of, y'know, Good Times, black characters with white writers, lying to America about how happy life can be in the projects. I grew up in Chicago. Nobody likes the projects.
PEELE: To me, Martin was huge because I grew up during that time when, for African-Americans, you were either a Huxtable or part of 2 Live Crew. And here was Martin Payne, Martin Lawrence's character, kinda reminiscent of a Ralph Cramden, a black lead who suffered through his flaws and was allowed to lose sometimes.
HAZLETT: I envy Louis CK not because of his popularity or his creative control, but because he gets to be vulnerable. And I feel like I can't do that because there are all these macho expectations.
MORGAN: We get to be vulnerable when cops pull us over. Pretty damn vulnerable then.
W. KAMAU BELL: Louis CK gets to do that because Louis CK is just representing himself. But every black comedian represents all black people. Literally, I was walking through a hotel lobby with Chris [Rock] yesterday and someone yelled 'We loved Rush Hour!' and Chris just smiled and said thanks and kept walking.
LAMARR: When I was coming up in the late 80s and early 90s, it was amazing. It really was an amazing, beautiful time. We had so much.
BRADY: It's a harder question to answer than is there more stuff for us or less stuff for us.
LAMARR: We had The Cosby Show and A Different World. We had Martin and Arsenio and RuPaul and In Living Color and even Urkel. We had Whitney Houston with the biggest movie soundtrack of all time. We had MC Hammer. We had movies like Boyz in the Hood and Malcolm X.
CROSS: I loved that time because it was all Michael Jordan and Mike Tyson and Bo Knows Sports and LL Cool J. It was the first time I saw twists on TV. It was like Soul Train. He made his own damn show. We had paved our own road and we were dancing in the street.
PEELE: Society was all of a sudden allowing black people to win. Homey D. Clown hit white kids on the head and there was a brilliant comeuppance about that.
LAMARR: Here's how good we had it: We felt like, fine, let's make Homeboys In Outer Space. Starring a dude named Flex — that was the actor's name, not the character's. It was icing. We were having fun with the icing. And now what? Now Tyler Perry is trying to make an empire out of Homeboys In Outer Space. The Homeboys In Outer Space Network. The low-water mark has become the high-water mark.
BRADY: On my TV Land special, That's What I'm Talking About, we had people like Harry Belafonte, almost from the beginning of the modern black experience, but who comported themselves with such class. And there were things he pointed out where he'd say 'Oh my God! That's what I fought for?'
HAZLETT: The radicalness is done. Remember that Richard Pryor/Chevy Chase sketch? That would never even be brought up in the writers' room at SNL now. They wouldn't even approach it.
MORGAN:SNL now? They'd never ever do that Richard Pryor/Chevy Chase shit. Never. NEH-VAH. Show business in general is geared to children now. They don't make anything for adults anymore.
BURESS: There's more of a sensitive culture now. And a culture of being taped, analyzed, reposted, all that. There's an entitlement of people that they should like everything you do and say. But I would never waste my time tweeting to some musician, my favorite musician, and say, man, what the fuck was up with Track 9 on your new album?
BRADY: It sucks to say 'in the good old days' because you want the story to be about non-stop progress. But with the high-water mark becoming the low-water mark, you have to remember there's no accounting for taste. There's always going to be a lowest common denominator whether it's BET or Jersey Shore. What upsets me is that we get so starved for our own presence on TV that we'll take ourselves in whatever incarnation, even caricatures.
HAZLETT: That's why I like Key & Peele. They did a slave sketch and it wasn't just slaves at an auction wanting to be slaves; it was the deeper realism of: you will even be a slave if it means someone chooses you, someone likes you.
LAMARR: It's the entertainment industry's golden handcuffs: they'll always pay you well to do the things that hold you back.
HAZLETT: I’ve never embodied a stereotype and not gotten laughs. People love love love to see me as a slave.
CHE: And where has this way of thinking gotten black music? We used to have Stevie Wonder. We used to have Prince and Michael Jackson. Now everything sounds like The Black-Eyed Peas. I preferred black music when white people didn't understand it.
MORGAN: People don't understand. I'm 44. Not too many of the folks I grew up with are still around. We were teenagers in the 80s, man, when it was going down. Like, going down. We are the last of the marvelous, magnificent motherfuckers. We survived Reagan, guns, crack, AIDS, all that shit. The only time it was good was that little window, maybe '78 to '81, maybe just '78 to '80, when New Edition came out.
LAMARR: I have some friends where we're good friends but the only place we hang out is at casting calls. For 20 years, we've been going for the same roles. And you know what? We don't hang out so much anymore. The roles aren't there anymore. We applaud that it's almost gotten past tokenism. Talk about some sad applause, man.
LEMON: People say there's a lot of blacks on television now. There are not a lot. There's, like, three. In the last — I dunno — five years, Matthew Perry has had more of his own shows than all of Black America.
HAZLETT: The alt/improv domain forces you to come up through the white system. That's the difference between Tracy Morgan, who was such a force in the black community that Lorne Michaels had to pay attention to him, and Kenan Thompson, who came up through Nickelodeon. The crucible is different. We handed over our crucible.
KEY: There's an absurdist type out there now. Reggie Watts is such an artist. Reggie did our theme song. I can't categorize him at all and I love it. I love it. I absolutely love it.
CHE: Today you can be as absurd as you want, but not as real as you want.
MORGAN: If we put the really real on TV, people wouldn't laugh.
CHE: I wish it could be that way but they won't let it. Richard Pryor made jokes about sucking dicks. We're stuck being too macho. All rap stars. They allow absurdity because you can't be offended by absurdity. It means nothing. But it keeps you from being real. Eddie Murphy brought the real shit to Delirious. It was on HBO and it was fine. It was more than fine. It was one of the biggest comedy hits of all time. Everything was realer 30 years ago. I mean, Bad News Bears, in the original, dude is hitting kids, straight-up smacking the shit out of them. They made it again with Billy Bob Thornton and it was just a bunch of fart and dick jokes.
LEMON: With black comedians, big ones, it's like we only get one in office at a time: the Chris Rock Administration, the Dave Chappelle Administration, the Patrice O'Neal Administration. I remember always reading about how Chris Rock and Dave Chappelle are the funniest men in America, but never at the same time, never in the same article. But every Stephen Colbert story mentions Jon Stewart too.
BELL: History has taught us we get one every 10 years: Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle. One and only one. That's what we've taught ourselves. So we look ahead and ask 'Who's the next one?' instead of 'Is this the decade we get more than one?' It's like how it's an automatic rule that Spider-Man and Batman can't exist in the same universe.
BURESS: When people tell me 'You're the next big one,' it's nice but I just have to do my work. Kevin Hart is the dude now. Maybe Katt Williams. Kevin Hart is doing shows at The Garden.
BRADY: You see white superhero team-ups all the time: Will Ferrell and Adam McKay, Adam Sandler and his crew, Christopher Guest and his crew, Judd Apatow and his guys. Meanwhile, you've got Dave Chappelle doing his own thing, Chris Rock doing his own thing, and Will Smith sitting on his private pile of money, probably naked, laughing his naked ass off. We're so afraid of the lack of opportunity that we hold on to whatever we get for ourselves.
BURESS: If I do this right, this could be something my grandkids live off.
KEY: Every human does this — and please be sure to include that I said every human does this so that black people don't say I'm a traitor to my race for what I'm about to say — but what we'd do in Africa is say, look, I don't know who these Portuguese are, but if they'll give me horses or guns or spices or whatever and all I have to do is give them these prisoners of war I've captured from my rival tribe, that's win-win.
BRADY: We need more black superhero team-ups. Don't be the best black comedian. Beat Adam Sandler at his own game. We can write Superbad. We can make Funny or Die videos. We need our own Will Ferrells.
PEELE: Right now, for a lot of America, all we have is Tyler Perry.
BRADY: Tyler said, look, you feel unserved and I have this that I'm serving just for you.
JACKSON: I remember going from church to church in choir in Virginia and I was no older than 12, I think, but we'd stop and see plays — plays Tyler Perry had designed for black churches. That's an incredible thing.
CHE: Tyler Perry is huge to me. Not because I enjoy his movies. I don't. I don't at all. But he makes it totally for his audience and that's show business.
CROSS: Tyler Perry isn't rich because he's good. I mean, he is. But he's also the man in the office. Not just in front of the camera.
BRADY: I've talked about Tyler Perry at length with my sister in Texas, with my friends. You have to. He owns half of TBS now. But I've never seen a Tyler Perry film. And I'm sure this is where someone reading this will say 'See! He doesn't like the black community!' But it didn't really seem like it would make me laugh.
LAMARR: That's what they do with black audiences, didn't you know that? That's what UPN did, that's what the CW did. That's what all these Tyler Perry shows on TBS do. If you have black actors, you can build a black audience quickly and easily without quality. Once you have the numbers, you press the numbers and let your black base wither — abandon it.
JACKSON: Those Tyler Perry shows don't resonate with me. But I could see that, for a family, even those shows on UPN, the fact that they had an audience means there must've been something redeeming about it, right?
LAMARR: You don't have to have crossover, though. It doesn't need to be for everyone. It's like if Woody Allen made movies about everyone who lived in Manhattan. You don't get a belly laugh from people agreeing with you. You get a belly laugh from people realizing something new.
CROSS: After I did Playgirl, my audience became 95 percent white women. I sold out shows easy. Crossover appeal can be weird. This one time, I had this white girl in Florida hit on me, telling me, oh, if only her granddaddy could see her now, talking to me — because her granddaddy was a grand dragon in the Ku Klux Klan! I mean, what the fuck?! That was her game, I guess: that I was the luckiest nigger on the planet that I got to fuck someone related to the KKK. But it's the same, to be honest, as some liberal cougar who wants to tell her NPR friends that she likes black guys so much that she let one put his dick in her. Sometimes it's not even a racial or a cultural thing; it's an ego thing. Comedians know a lot about ego.
KEY: My wife is a dialect coach. It made Eugene Struthers interesting, because he barely speaks English. But academics use these words: the normal, the norm, the standard. The standard is mathematical. It's not racial; it's mathematical. I try to use statistical words. A lot of people get caught up in the ego of it instead. But, look, if only 11 to 16 percent of the American population is African-American, then it is not the standard.
PEELE: As a child I would choose 'Other' on forms asking if I was white or black because I wanted to be correct. Not politically correct, factually correct. There'll be more Others in the next 10 years. There's so much to be explained in the truth of our identities. There's plenty of fertile ground to explore. It's a new kind of black character coming around.
Richard Morgan used to write op-ed columns for Henry Louis Gates' Africana.com until they found out he isn't black. For the millionth time, he is not related to Tracy Morgan.
*R&B - I have heard the term roll off the tongues of Caribbean and African students at my school usually when referring to someone they did not like. Being late to the trend, as usual, I was thoroughly confused; until I was informed that it meant regular and black. That’s when I could not help but let out a heavy sigh. I understood.‘Regular and black’ meant African-Americans. I hate this term; let me count the ways, mostly because it’s used to insinuate that African-Americans have no culture. Which I always argue is virtually impossible. The definition of culture is a way of life and you have to be dead no to have that. Yes, many Black Americans have lost some of their original culture from Africa but they created their own meshing in some of the American culture. To my Caribbean people, sound familiar? The Caribbean culture has a lot of African influences and traditions that were passed down through the generations, but we did lose a good amount and we mixed our cultures with those around us, whether it is Spanish, British, French, or Indian. What makes us any different?I’ve been noticing that people relate culture, ethnicity, or heritage with anything that is exotic or foreign to the majority. For example, the idea that if you speak English you don’t have your own language. This is not the case at all. The African-American culture goes beyond southern foods, unique colloquialisms, slavery, and Jim Crow.It’s not easy coming to this country being made fun of because of the way you talk, what you eat, the music you listen to, or the way you dance. When your own culture is constantly misunderstood or being offended, the immediate reaction is to be offensive in return. When terms like “African booty scratcher,” are constantly thrown around, stereotypes are used as your mouthpiece, and the only images you see of your country are ones of the impoverished, you tend to retaliate. A black American woman once asked my mom if her people, meaning Jamaicans, “still lived in trees.” A Haitian friend of mine, heard girls laughing and making jokes about Haitians having to eat dirt cookies. When this happens constantly, the defensive response is always “Well at least I have a culture!” Now I know this term was created as a defense mechanism, however, it’s the wrong one. What the black diaspora needs now more than ever is unity. This does not mean to completely forget your own specific culture or nationality nor does it mean to merely be tolerant.When we step outside that door, we are Black American by default. No one knows your nationality and most don’t care. “Their” issues or stereotypes are yours as well. I understand that many have been hurt due to ignorance but let’s not spread it. When we use such an ugly term like R&B to refer to people that look just like us, we hurt ourselves in the long run, because at the end of the day many of us came from the same place, the boat just made different stops.
queer 'n quirky femme afro-boho activist dumpling into candles and poetry who luvs to vibe with friends, flicks, tunes, art, spades, exploring social transformation and uncovering who we/i&i are. a homebody geek who tugs war with the social butterfly within, my most enjoyed diversion is laughing while building with the beautiful sistren/brethren/spirits in my life (i.e., hangin') on days when the butterfly wins.
Whereas the academic discourse on skin color politics tends to focus primarily on the sociopolitical disadvantages associated with having dark skin in a racialized society, (1)ne Drop: Shifting the Lens on Race explores potential disadvantages related with having light skin, particularly among people of African descent – racial ambiguity and contested racial authenticity.
Often times, we live by stereotypical notions of “Blackness” and believe that “Blackness” is (or should be) a homogeneous identity – one that should be visually identifiable. In this way, we think we know what “Black” looks like. Consequently, when confronted with people who self-identify as “Black,” but do not fit into our stereotypical model of Blackness, many of us not only question their identity, but also our potential relationship to them. Whether it is their skin color alone, or the combination of their skin color with any number of physical characteristics, something about their particular physical appearance compels us to call their Blackness into question.
(1)ne Drop seeks to challenge narrow perceptions of Blackness as both an identity and lived reality. Featuring the perspectives of 56 contributors representing 15 different countries and countries of origin, and combining candid memoirs with simple, yet striking, portraiture, this multi-platform project provides living testimony to the diversity of Blackness. Although contributors use varying terms to self-identify, they all see themselves as part of the larger racial, cultural, and social group generally referred to and known as “Black.” They all have experienced having their identity called into question simply because they don’t fit neatly into the stereotypical “Black box” — dark skin, “kinky” hair, broad nose, full lips, etc. – and most have been asked “What are you?” or the more politically correct, “Where are you from?” numerous times by various people throughout their lives. It is through contributors’ lived experiences with and lived imaginings of Black identity that we are able to visualize multiple possibilities for Blackness above and beyond appearances.
Featuring the work of well-noted photographers Noelle Théard, Ayana V. Jackson (France), Akintola Hanif, Richard Terborg (The Netherlands), Rushay Booysen (South Africa), Janet E. Dandrige, and Guma (Brasil), (1)ne Drop: Shifting the Lens on Race takes the very literal position that in order for us to see Blackness differently, we have to see Blackness differently.
To learn more about (1)ne Drop and to view the online exhibition, please visit http://1nedrop.com
Portrait of Dr. Yaba BlayPhoto: by Rashid Zakat, courtesy of BlackStarCreative LLC
December 7 2012
Keep the concept of privilege-clinging in the back of your mind as you check out the work and words of Dr. Yaba Blay, the driving force behind “Who Is Black in America?” the fifth installment of CNN’s “Black in America” series. Using Blay’s Kickstarter-funded multimedia collaborationwith photographer Noelle Theard as a starting point, the show focuses on how people of African descent practice colorism, enforce identities based on appearance and the challenges of self-definition for multiracial people who aren’t recognizably black. I caught up with Blay, an assistant professor of Africana Studies at Philadelphia’s Drexel University (and, full disclosure, a Facebook-buddy-turned-friend), a few days after she co-hosted a special screening of the program on campus. Here, an edited, condensed version of our discussion.
So what’s the origin of the (1)ne Drop Project?
Oftentimes we do research that’s reflective of our lived experiences. So I’ve been personally impacted by colorism growing up as a West African, dark-skinned girl in New Orleans where you’ve got [self-described] black, white and Creole [cultures] and skin color politics are at the forefront of our social relationships there. I’ve always been very aware that I’m dark-skinned, in fact very dark-skinned. … I looked at colorism from the standard direction as far as how we look at the disadvantages of having dark skin in a racialized society. But there was always a part of me that wanted to explore the other side of this. … And actually, the first iteration of this project was called “The Other Side of Blackness,” but “(1)ne Drop” just emerged [as a] more catchy name. I’ve always known that light-skinned people were having their own experiences with skin color politics, but I wasn’t necessarily sure how to approach the question. There are black people all over the world, but the imagery connected to [blackness] has been more nebulous. If I take my students on study abroad, say in Brazil, will they be able to recognize the black people? Or are they just living with the idea that the black people are the ones who look familiar?
A lot of scholars, writers and activists have asked these kinds of questions. So how did you move transform an intellectual question into material for a Kickstarter video, a web site, the coffee table book of portraits you have in the works, a Facebook page and, ultimately, the CNN documentary? What was the spark?
I always talk about this experience of being on a [2010] panel about skin color politics at [New York City’s] Caribbean Cultural Center. They wanted me to speak specifically about my work about skin bleaching [and] about colorism. I remember sitting next to Rosa Clemente, who was referring to herself as a Black Puerto Rican woman from the South Bronx and feeling—I don’t want to say uncomfortable, but preoccupied with the way she was self-referencing.
Why would that make you uneasy?
Because it was completely new; it was outside of my framework of personal experience. I see it differently now, but in that moment there was a distinction between people of African descent and black people.
What was the distinction?
In that moment?
Yeah. In that moment. [Laughs.]
It’s a consciousness. So there’s a quote-un-quote genetic and historical reality of having black people in your gene pool. But it’s another thing to claim it, mean it and say that you are black. In my experience, I have come across people who are technically of African descent but use all kinds of nomenclature to describe themselves. I had been moving through the world with these assumptions that reflected an internalized negativity that a lot of us deal with. So [before that panel] I knew that Puerto Rican people are of African descent, but I also knew that they get to call themselves Puerto Rican rather than black. And here was Rosa saying “I am a black Puerto Rican.” As a professor who teaches about the black diaspora, I was [thinking] I’m supposed to know this stuff! [Laughs.] I was sitting on this panel with all of these questions to the point of distraction.
For you, what’s the significance of using “black” as opposed to, say, “African-American”?
Because “black” is a powerful word to me. It is my word of choice. I prefer it to “African-American” even though technically I am African-American. But I like what “black” represents because it’s connected to a Pan-African perspective that I hold.
Talk about what it means for you, a dark-skinned woman who has dealt with colorism, to be the person shepherding a project like this. How did you prepare yourself?
I didn’t prepare myself at all. I feel like I just jumped into it in the same way that I’ve done my other work. I started with people I knew and the first five to 10 interviews allowed me to work it out so by the time I got to interview 15, I had it down pat.
In an interview for another platform you talked about one of your subjects, Danielle. You two had classes together in the Africana Studies department at Temple University, but weren’t friends at all.
They’ll show a little bit of her story in the documentary. But, in short, I had always found her standoffish. We would speak to one another but that was the extent of it. Then a mutual professor encouraged me to talk to her for (1)ne Drop. When I approached her, she asked me very honestly how light-skinned people would be portrayed in this project because some of the things I had said about light-skinned privilege within the department. We just had to build mutual trust.
What surprised you about her story?
I remember during an interview Danielle asking me, “Why are you looking at me like that?” and I was looking at her like that because what she was saying completely disrupted the perception that I had of her. She grew up in Lancaster County in a Mennonite community with a white Mennonite mother and an African-American father who died when she was 13. In that [predominantly white] space, she was black as hell to everybody; there was nothing else for her to be. She tells this story of her going to a flea market with her aunt and somebody walking up and asking, “Oh, is this your Fresh Air Fund child?” She also talks about how classmates completely ignored her. She didn’t have friends and the only time they would talk to her would be to ask her to jump into fights on their behalf because the assumption was that as the black girl, she could fight. Where it was unquestionable who she was and then for her to come somewhere like Philadelphia where people were like, “Are you Italian? Are you Puerto Rican? You grew up where? With horses and buggies? Well then hell no, you ain’t black.” I remember leaving that interview and transcribing it immediately because I couldn’t believe that I’d heard what I’d heard.
I haven’t seen the CNN show—I wanted to talk to you about (1)ne Drop pre-CNN with a clean slate. But in one of the teasers you make a point about the so-called one drop rule that could be construed as an endorsement of what has become a matter of custom but was used to terrorize us.
Clearly, the one-drop rule is racist as hell and comes out of a white supremacist foundation. But it is still at the core of how blackness is defined in this country and we haven’t spent enough time unpacking it. When I say “we” I mean black people in this context. This definition has come from a source external to us who did it for the sake of controlling us. Now that we seek to control our own identity and exact some agency we need to really look at what it means to some of us. I don’t have to define my blackness; I live it. But what does it mean to the biracial woman who has people jumping out of the car or following her down the street asking her to take a picture and demanding to know what she is? What does it mean to people who appear to be light-skinned to some but are the darkest people in their family?
Cable news isn’t known for capturing subtleties. You’re bound to have some people misinterpret your intention. How will you deal with that now that your work is no longer in your hands?
I’m not prepared for that, either. [Laughs.] The truth is we’ve gotten a lot of support, but there has also been pushback. The other day on Twitter, a white woman called me a racist c**t who hated my people. Then I’ve had good friends of mine question why I was examining skin color politics from the perspective of light-skinned and multiracial people. One said she saw it as a distraction—as if giving attention to colorism from this direction would invalidate what dark-skinned women have been saying about it. It was if we were in a gang and I was crossing sides. [Laughs.] But we’ve got to look at these things holistically. I want to have a holistic conversation about skin color politics because it really doesn’t do us any advantage to only sit in the space of victimhood, the space of being disadvantaged. I don’t think these two conversations negate one another. They are equally valid. So I’m not trying to get into that comparative framework. It’s not better, it’s not worse. It’s different and it’s theirs.
“Who is Black in America?” will air on CNN on Sunday, December 9th at 8 PM ET/PT.
Yesterday, an interesting thing happened to me. I was told I am not Black.
The kicker for me was when my friend stated that the island of Puerto Rico was not a part of the African Diaspora. I wanted to go back to the old school playground days and yell: “You said what about my momma?!” But after speaking to several friends, I found out that many Black Americans and Latinos agree with him. The miseducation of the Negro is still in effect!
I am so tired of having to prove to others that I am Black, that my peoples are from the Motherland, that Puerto Rico, along with Cuba, Panama and the Dominican Republic, are part of the African Diaspora. Did we forget that the slave ships dropped off our people all over the world, hence the word Diaspora?
The Atlantic slave trade brought Africans to Puerto Rico in the early 1500s. Some of the first slave rebellions took place on the island of Puerto Rico. Until 1846, Africanos on the island had to carry a libreta to move around the island, like the passbook system in apartheid South Africa. In Puerto Rico, you will find large communities of descendants of the Yoruba, Bambara, Wolof and Mandingo people. Puerto Rican culture is inherently African culture.
There are hundreds of books that will inform you, but I do not need to read book after book to legitimize this thesis. All I need to do is go to Puerto Rico and look all around me. Damn, all I really have to do is look in the mirror every day.
I am often asked what I am—usually by Blacks who are lighter than me and by Latinos/as who are darker than me. To answer the $100,000, 000 question, I am a Black Boricua, Black Rican, Puertorriqueña! Almost always I am questioned about why I choose to call myself Black over Latina, Spanish, Hispanic. Let me break it down.
I am not Spanish. Spanish is just another language I speak. I am not a Hispanic. My ancestors are not descendants of Spain, but descendants of Africa. I define my existence by race and land. (Borinken is the indigenous name of the island of Puerto Rico.)
Being Latino is not a cultural identity but rather a political one. Being Puerto Rican is not a racial identity, but rather a cultural and national one. Being Black is my racial identity. Why do I have to consistently explain this to those who are so-called conscious? Is it because they have a problem with their identity? Why is it so bad to assert who I am, for me to big-up my Africanness?
My Blackness is one of the greatest powers I have. We live in a society that devalues Blackness all the time. I will not be devalued as a human being, as a child of the Supreme Creator.
Although many of us in activist circles are enlightened, many of us have baggage that we must deal with. So many times I am asked why many Boricuas refuse to affirm their Blackness. I attribute this denial to the ever-rampant anti-Black sentiment in America and throughout the world, but I will not use this as an excuse. Often Puerto Ricans who assert our Blackness are not only outcast by Latinos who identify more with their Spanish Conqueror than their African ancestors, but we are also shunned by Black Americans who do not see us as Black.
Nelly Fuller, a great Black sociologist, stated: “Until one understands the system of White supremacy, anything and everything else will confuse you.” Divide and conquer still applies.
Listen people: Being Black is not just skin color, nor is it synonymous with Black Americans. To assert who I am is the most liberating and revolutionary thing I can ever do. Being a Black Puerto Rican encompasses me racially, ethically and most importantly, gives me a homeland to refer to.
So I have come to this conclusion: I am whatever I say I am! (Thank you, Rakim.)
Rosa Alicia Clemente is a Bronx born Puerto Rican woman. She is a community organizer, journalist, Hip Hop activist and the 2008 Vice-Presidential candidate with the GREEN PARTY. She is currently a doctoral student in the W.E.B. DuBois Department of Afro-American Studies at UMASS-Amherst and is writing her first book entitledWhen a Puerto Rican Woman Ran for Vice-President and Nobody Knew Her Name. For more information about Rosa and her work, visit http://www.rosaclemente.org/
The Loving Story, a documentary film, tells the story of Richard and Mildred Loving to examine the drama, the history, and the current state of interracial marriage and tolerance in the United States. The documentary was filmed in High Definition video and 16mm film. It is intended for a wide audience through theatrical release, festival screenings, community screenings, national television broadcast, web-based broadcast, and DVD and educational distribution. The film has enjoyed sold-out screenings at festivals and special events since its World Premiere at the Full Frame Documentary Film Festival in April 2011. It will premiere on HBO on Valentine’s Day, February 14th, 2012 at 9pm.
The Loving Story is an Augusta Films Production. It was directed by Nancy Buirski, produced by Nancy Buirski and Elisabeth Haviland James, and edited by James. The documentary is fiscally sponsored by Living Archives, a 501 (c) (3) non-profit organization, created by legendary documentarian DA Pennebaker, and by the Southern Documentary Fund.
The official Loving Story Teacher’s Guide is available for viewing, with special thanks to Teaching Tolerance, a project of the Southern Poverty Law Center.
The Loving Story is co-produced by HBO Documentary Films and will be broadcast on HBO in February, 2012. The film has been made possible in part by a major grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities: Because democracy demands wisdom.
Through never-before-seen footage and photos, meet the interracial couple whose love took them all the way to the Supreme Court
BY: Jennifer E. Jones
Tucked within the great stories of the Civil Rights era in the United States are the Lovings. Richard and Mildred were two Virginians who fell in love and wanted to get married. However, Richard was a White man, Mildred was a half-Black, half-Native American woman, and it was 1958. Their marriage was declared illegal, the two were arrested on their honeymoon night and subsequently exiled. The Lovings would spend the next nine years fighting the legal system all for the priviledge to go back home to Virginia as husband and wife.
Premiering on Valentine's Day 2012, a new HBO documentaryfollows their love story. Beliefnet interviewed the director and producer Nancy Buirski on how the film came to be and what it means today.
What made you take on this project?
I read Mildred Loving’s obituary in The New York Times in May of 2008. I was struck by how little I knew of this couple and their pivotal civil rights role. But it was also a profound love story with enormous relevance in today’s society. It falls right into the nexus of conversations on racial identity and marriage equality. We were watching a mixed-race candidate vying for the highest office in the land. It seemed like their case made this possible!
Where did all the video footage and photos come from?
I excavated the video footage in 2009. It was produced by Hope Ryden and shot by Abbot Mills. Ryden had the foresight and sensitivity to understand the value of what the Lovings were going through. As a cinema verité filmmaker, she was able to capture these regular people going about the business of their lives – not protesting or trying to change history. Grey Villet’s remarkable pictures were shot for a LIFE Magazine essay – only 9 were used at the time. The rest were given to the Lovings, and Peggy Loving gave them to us to use in the film. They opened the door to the “love” story; he captured the intimacy of this noble couple in his images.
So many great stories came out of the civil rights movement, Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks, Brown vs. the Board, yet the Lovings aren’t always listed. Why do you think that is?
The Lovings did not want publicity. They were simply two people who wanted tor return to Virginia – not activists or radicals in any way. Indeed, with publicity they would have put themselves in more danger since they were technically breaking the law when they returned to Virginia to live from time to time. They needed to stay under the radar.
I was most struck by the fact that they could have lived in D.C., but wanted to live at home in Virginia to be with family and also for the principle of the matter (as Mildred said, “It’s just not right”). What did you find remarkable?
So much, but I am constantly struck by how our assumptions about people can so often be wrong. Here is a regular couple coming out of a poor, rural community, but who changed history. Soft spoken but noble in every way.
How did this story inspire you personally?
It is a constant reminder that race is the American Story – everyone’s story! You cannot tell stories like this too often or take tolerance for granted. I’m thrilled that it has the resonance it has, that it seems to have touched so many people – mixed race, same-sex, or folks that had never given interracial marriage much thought. So my assumptions have also changed, not only about the Lovings, but about the world we live in. These battles are not over, and as we move on to what may feel like more urgent issues, we cannot lose sight of the intolerance that still pervades society.
What do you hope others will learn after seeing the documentary?
First, that anyone can change history and make a difference. Secondly, the response to the film has shown us that some crucial battles may have been won but, as Mildred said, we may not yet have won the big war.
The Loving Storypremieres on on HBO East on February 14, 2012 at 9 p.m. Eastern, and will reair throughout February, March and April on other HBO channels. Check out HBO for more information and showtimes.
Kréyòl Seasoning / Creole Seasoning / Assaisonnement créole is a new 8-track album from Meemee Nelzy.
All songs were cooked with a west indian spirit and with some spices from west indians beatmakers and friends. Hip Hop, Soul, Caribbean rhythms influences are mixed in one project. Hot collabs written by Meemee Nelzy, Ti Malo, Döry and the US rapper John Robinson. Top 10 Best Soulful EPs of 2011 (www.KevinNottingham.com) Top 5 Best Female Artists of 2011 Top 5 Best Morpheus Soul Albums of 2011 (themorpheussoulshow.blogspot.com, UK) Toppa Top 10 Best Caribbean Albums of 2011 "On the aptly titled Kreyol Seasoning, her second LP, Guadeloupe’s Meemee Nelzy crafted a uniquely Caribbean soul sound, as inspired by the rhythms of her native French Antilles as by the continental R&B of Les Nubians and the futuristic soundscapes of Flying Lotus" (www.Largeup.com / www.Okayplayer.com, USA) Thank you all for your kind support! Official EPK directed by Slas: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sk9AzOzMPE0Also available on Itunes.com, Amazon, Napster, Fnac.com, etc
credits
released 16 November 2011 (P) and (C) 2011 Yumi Empress Music / Meemee Nelzy All lyrics written by Meemee Nelzy plus #3 by TiMalo, #4 Döry, #6 by Meemee Nelzy and John Robinson aka Lil Sci Beats made by Saneyes, Jim Juice, Kn7azz from Papajazz, Purpro, Phonie, Pako from Tak, Meemee Nelzy and Exxòs Mètkakola. All vocal arrangements by Meemee Nelzy Additional guitar on #7 by Ludovic Tinval Additional arrangements by Meeme Nelzy, Exxòs Mètkakola and Caféwils Recording by Exxòs Metkakola @Lwizin Studio and Caféwils (Guadeloupe) Mixing by Caféwils - Cazanm Studio (Guadeloupe) except track #8 mixed by Exxòs Mètkakola Mastering by Phohat (Paris, France) All pictures by Jacky "Kija" Gotin Artwork by Beestok (Pwen Com) Make Up by Gaëlle Gimer Stylism by Oshùn Fashion Design, Kija and Gaëlle Gimer
What a success our annual short story competition was last year! You submitted stories on a wide range of topics and of a high standard. We asked for great stories - stories to thrill us, make us laugh, make us cry, make us sit up and take notice and that's exactly what you gave us! And the winner was Christopher Fieldon whose well written and quirky tale The Cat, The Bull and The Madman captured our imaginations. Click here to read the winning entry.
For 2012we have two competitions for you: our LHCW annual short story competition and a Little Writers Inc Little Writing competition - details below. Send your submissions to: email@little-house-creative-workshops.co.uk
Little House Short Story Competition
For stories up to 2,000 words.
First prize £100 and a full critique
Five runners up also receive a critique of their submission.
For micro fiction with a word count of 200 including the title. And we thought we'd have a bit of fun with this one and give you a challenge, so stories must include the word little and/or any of its synonyms - there might even be a prize for most creative usage!
Pay to: UNO Foundation Bayou Magazine c/o (James Knudsen Prize for Fiction or Kay Murphy Prize for Poetry) Department of English University of New Orleans 2000 Lakeshore Drive New Orleans, LA 70148
Bayou Magazine adheres to the CLMP Contest Code of Ethics.
James Knudsen Prize for Fiction
WINNER: $500, publication and a year subscription.