PUB: Call for Papers:ACLALS Conference > Geoffrey Philp: Exonerate MarcusGarvey

Call for Papers:ACLALS Conference



Connecting Cultures and the Commonwealth, ACLALS Conference

 

The 16th Triennial ACLALS (Association for Commonwealth Literature and Language Studies) Conference

 

St. Lucia, West Indies,

 

August 5 –9, 2013

 

CFP deadline: 15 December 2012


Information direct from CFP below:


“‘The current unbroken/ the circuits kept open’: Connecting Cultures and the Commonwealth”


In “Sometimes in the Middle of the Story,” a poem that revisits the perilous event of the Middle Passage, the eminent Walcott scholar, Edward Baugh, gives primacy to the connecting currents of the “ocean” as a central motif. While the sea is viewed as an archive of history as Nobel Laureate and St. Lucian poet, Derek Walcott has argued, Baugh mobilizes this metaphor to both recognize the traumatic beginning of the colonial encounter in the Caribbean and the rich “refashioning of futures” of cultural connections that the Middle Passage engendered. No doubt the colonial encounter of slavery and indentureship in the Caribbean could have led to cultural enclosures, but in Baugh’s view, “the paths of ocean” represent connecting currents between and beyond the cultures of Africa, Asia, Europe and the Indigenous Caribbean. The sea, in particular, the Atlantic Ocean, was a site of treacherous travel and trade, yet that very sea is a source “connecting us still”.


Not all colonial encounters carry with them the violence of such ruptures; but whether we had traumatic or benign beginnings, we wonder what future consequently has been imagined for these and other Commonwealth lands? What global zones of power and influence haunt the seemingly ecumenical and liberal discourses of cultural exchange? What cultural connections and disconnections have emerged over time? Whose cultural currents are unbroken: whose cultural circuits have been kept open? What is the currency of indigenous language and linguistic legacies? In the commingling of cultures in the postcolonial circuits of exchange, what is the relationship between indigenous and outside cultures? Is the implicit comparative critical lens fostered in early postcolonial theory still viable? What do these connecting comparisons obscure or reveal? What is the relationship between economic currencies and cultural circuits? What are the historical and critical currents that mark postcolonial and commonwealth studies at this time? What connections are there between different genders, sexualities and ecologies? How valuable is the more recent deployment of concepts of desire, intimacy and affect to postcolonial and Commonwealth studies? What useful connections can be made between such disciplinary paradigms as globalization, diaspora and cultural studies to Commonwealth and postcolonial literature and language studies? In general, how might literary and language studies help us to understand the value of cultural connections and disconnections throughout the Commonwealth?


The 16th Triennial ACLALS Conference invites scholars working in a variety of media (literature, linguistics, film, the visual and musical arts and popular culture) to present papers on the theme, “‘The current unbroken/ the circuits kept open’: Connecting Cultures and the Commonwealth,” on the questions raised above, and on a range of topics including those listed below:


Historical and cultural currents in the Commonwealth

The common wealth of nations

Identity, currency and the practices of cultural consumption

Currents in language studies

The currency of cultures and/or Cultural Studies

Linguistic circuits and circuits of identity or cultural exchange

Cultural circuits and economic currency

The Currency of trade and travel

Circuits of violence/brokenness/trauma and cultural discourse

Discursive cultural circuits on gender and sexuality

Middle Passages and stories in the middle

The Black Atlantic and the Commonwealth

Connections/disconnections throughout the Commonwealth

Circling definitions: Commonwealth? Postcolonial? Postnational?

Waves of critical, cultural or linguistic practice

Short-circuiting genre: literary experimentation?

Island currents, global changes: conversations across the Commonwealth

Imagining Commonwealth futures

DEADLINE: Abstracts of maximum 300 words for papers of 20 minutes duration, and maximum 400 words for three-paper panels (with the names of the panelists) which engage with these and other relevant questions along with a short bio not exceeding 100 words should be submitted to ACLALSCONFERENCE2013@gmail.com by 15 December 2012

 

FOOD: Zain’s Signature Vitamin Water Five Flavours - Winter Collection > Zain Jamal

Zain’s Signature

Vitamin Water

Five Flavours

– Winter Collection

 

Find yourself needing a vitamin boost?

If you fell in love with my original line of signature Alkaline Vitamin Waters, you are going to LOVE the all new Winter Collection.  One sip will nourish your insides.

On these dark, dreary days, it is even more important to get your vitamins in.

Below are the recipes and directions of my five signature colour-free, sugar-free and bpa plastic free alkaline vitamin waters.  Enjoy these combinations or get inspired to make your own!!

It simple, cheap and easy way to get your vitamins in a delicious and hydrating way.

*Note, these combinations still have major healing benefits even if you do not have the powdered forms of vitamins as the fruit, vegetable and herb ingredients alone have incredible healing power.  These combinations have a few more exotic vitamins and healing herbs than my original collection but many of them should be easy to find.  If you have any trouble locating the herbs, just make the waters with as many of the ingredients as you have available.

**You may opt to add in a sweetener of your choice, I do not add sweeteners to mine; however, if you wish to, I recommend Manuka 25+ honey OR 3-5 muddled dates OR 1 Tbsp Sweet Life Stevia Sweetener

Liquid Sunshine

This vitamin water is ideal for those dark, gloomy days when you are feeling low on energy and need a boost of vitamin D.  For those who experience  Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) this vitamin water is the one for you. Fruits such as strawberries, pineapple & pear are high in B and D vitamins and St. John’s Wort will ease the feelings of depression and help to lift your spirits.

Ingredients:

1/2 Cup Strawberries

1/2 Cup Pineapple (sliced)

1 Cup Pears (sliced)

5ml Borage Oil

Vitamin D (1200 IU, open capsules)

Vitamin B Complex (7-10 drops of tincture)

St John’s Wort, (1 open capsule)

1 Tbsp Wheatgrass (fresh or powder)

1 Tsp Raw Cacao Powder

Pinch Himalayan Crystal Salt
750ml – 1 litre Filtered Alkaline Water (or Purified water + 1 Tsp Fresh Lemon Juice)

Directions:

1. Muddle strawberries, pineapple and pear in a small bowl and add to a large 1 litre glass or mason jar, add remaining ingredients and stir
2. Refrigerate for 4-6 hours

 

 

Revitalize 

This vitamin water gives your adrenal glands a boost.  If you suffer from adrenal exhaustion or fatigue due to stress, overwork, improper nutrition, lack of sleep or any other hormonal issues, this vitamin water will help to revitalize and nourish your glands with dosha balancing ashwagandha, maca, high doses of natural vitamin C camu camu, cranberry, orange and kiwi.

Ingredients:

1 Cup Oranges (sliced)

1 Cup Blueberries

1/2 Cup Cranberries

1/2 Cup Kiwi (sliced)

1 Tsp Ashwagandha Powder

5-10 Holy Basil Leaves (fresh or 1 Tbsp dried leaves or powder)

1/2 Tsp Reishi Mushroom Powder (or two capsules opened)

1 Tsp Camu Camu Powder OR Ascorbic Acid (Vitamin C)

1 Tsp Maca Root

Pinch Himalayan Crystal Salt

750ml – 1 litre Filtered Alkaline Water (or Purified water + 1 Tsp Fresh Lemon Juice)

Directions:

1. Muddle blueberries, orange, cranberries, kiwi and holy basil in a small bowl and add to a large 1 litre glass or mason jar, add remaining ingredients and stir
2. Refrigerate for 4-6 hours then allow to return to room temperature before consuming.

 

 

Purify

This is my favourite combination in the winter collection. The combination and fragrance of all of the herbs and brightly coloured fruit is healing in itself. This vitamin water is ideal for helping you purify your blood and endocrine system with antioxidant boosting uva ursi and purifying herbs such as mint, lemongrass and hibiscus.  Fennel and parsley make this vitamin water a safe diuretic which relieves water retention due to sugar, salt or alcohol intake or during your moon cycle.  Purify your blood and body with this incredible combination of mother nature’s finest.

Ingredients:

1 Cup Fennel (sliced)

1 Cup Apple (sliced)

1 Cup Grapes

5-10 Sprigs Parsley

1/4 Cup Uva Ursi (berry OR 11/2 Tsp Powder)

1 Tsp Lemongrass (fresh or dried)

1 Tsp Hibiscus (fresh or dried)

1 1/2 Tsp Lucuma Powder

Pinch Himalayan Crystal Salt
750ml – 1 litre Filtered Alkaline Water (or Purified water + 1 Tsp Fresh Lemon Juice)

Directions:

1. Muddle fennel, apples, grapes, mint, lemongrass, uva ursi and parsley in a small bowl and add to a large 1 litre glass or mason jar, add remaining ingredients and stir
2. Refrigerate for 4-6 hours then allow to return to room temperature before consuming.

 

 

Chillout

This vitamin water is basically a ‘chill pill’ in a glass. Made with energy balancing and restoring herbs that are considered the most powerful in Traditional Chinese Medicine such as Ho Shou Wu, Astragalus and the triad of powerful superfood mushrooms chaga, reishi and cordyceps this vitamin water will balance your the yin and yang energies in your body creating a deep sense of peace, wellbeing and relaxation. Raspberries, plums, maca and schizandra berries rich in B vitamins and calming minerals, will put your thoughts and mind at ease.

Ingredients:

1 Cup Plums

1 Cup Raspberries

1 Tsp Maca Root Powder

10-20 Drops Chaga Mushroom Tincture

1/2 Tsp Reishi & Cordycep Powder (or 2 capsules opened)

11 Tsp Ho Shou Wu (powder OR 1/4 Tsp drops)

1 Tsp Astragalus

1 Tbsp Schizandra Berry (or 1/2 Tsp Powder or drops)

Pinch Himalayan Crystal Salt

750ml – 1 litre Filtered Alkaline Water (or Purified water + 1 Tsp Fresh Lemon Juice)

Directions:

1. Muddle plums, raspberries, astragalus and schizandra berry or powder, in a small bowl and add to a large 1 litre glass or mason jar, add remaining ingredients and stir
2. Refrigerate for 4-6 hours then allow to return to room temperature

 

 

Warrior

Protect your body from viruses and pathogens that come with the colder season with this warm vitamin water..  Warrior is ideal when you are starting to feel the beginnings of a cold or flu or when you come into contact with others who are affected.  Saturated with Vitamin C rich lemon, papaya and camu camu powder, antioxidant loaded blueberries, detoxifying watercress, powerful oregano and the immunity powers of ginger, honey, echinacea and goldenseal this vitamin water will keep your white blood cells fired up and ready for action at the first sign of a virus or pathogen.

 

Ingredients:

1 Cup Blueberries

1 Cup Papaya

1 Cup Watercress

1 Tsp Camu Camu Powder OR Ascorbic Acid (Vitamin C)

1 Lemon (Sliced)

2″ Ginger (Sliced)

3-5 Stems Oregano

1/4 Tsp Oil of Oregano

10-15 Drops Echinacea & Goldenseal Tincture

Pinch Himalayan Crystal Salt

750ml – 1 litre Filtered Alkaline Water (or Purified water + 1 Tsp Fresh Lemon Juice)

Directions:

1. Muddle blueberries, papaya, ginger, lemon, oregano, in a small bowl and add to a large 1 litre glass or mason jar, add remaining ingredients and stir
2. Refrigerate for 4-6 hours then allow to return to room temperature and add 1/2 Cup boiling water.  Drink warm.

 

 

 

PALESTINE: Black, Proud and Palestinian > Souciant

This story was taken for Arthur Neslen’s book In Your Eyes a Sandstorm: Ways of Being Palestinian a collection of interviews about Palestinian identity. Sadly, for space reasons, it could not be published there. But Souciant is happy to give it a home. 

 

Inside a circle

Minorities can easily be overlooked in the heat of national struggle. No-one knows exactly how many Palestinians of African descent exist in Palestine. But they have lived on the land since the days of the slave trade, at least. They may not be singled out for particularly discriminatory treatment by Israel. However, within their own society, the picture is sometimes less clear. Reem Mohamed Amer was a founding member of perhaps the only support group for Palestinians of African descent in Israel/Palestine. She exuded a warm and unguarded bonhomie, often beaming with a sunny smile or cracking up with a rich infectious laugh. Reem sat in an office tea room, chewing gum and swiveling her chair slowly from left to right, changing direction every time her toes touched the floor.

Reem’s day job was behind the counter at a post office in Kfar Qassem, where her family had lived since her grandfather moved there from Ramle after the First World War. His wife – Reem’s grandmother – was shot dead by Israeli troops in the 1956 massacre, which claimed the lives of 49 other Palestinian civilians, for nominally breaking an unpublicised village curfew.

‘My father and uncle were survivors,’ Reem said shyly. ‘I don’t know the exact story because my father never wanted to talk about it but my uncle was in the group that cycled to the village. When they arrived, he saw shooting and hid behind a cactus. My father got in to Kfar Kassem in the last car that was let through. He saw his mother killed there. Later he developed alcohol problems. October was always a difficult time for him. ‘ The massacre took place on 31 October, 1956.

According to principles of sumud (steadfastness), villagers should rally together in the face of an enemy intent on ethnic cleansing. But Reem looked downcast when I asked if this had happened in her case. ‘No,’ she said sadly. ‘My father and his friends were politically active against the military administration so people here didn’t support them. They even collaborated and talked against them.’ But ‘the massacre made him more politically involved,’ she stressed. He was jailed twice in the years that followed.

While Reem’s mother was a ‘home-mum’ who made dresses in her spare time, her father, a construction worker, was one of the founders of the town’s Communist Party. Reem remembered him reading Russian literature from the Soviet Union, and the newspaper Il Iftishad (the struggle) which was later closed by Israel’s authorities. ‘My dad taught me a lot,’ she reflected. ‘I was always against Arab leaders, but he said that I should try to look for the positive in them, and not curse them. I also learned to be independent because I saw that no-one would support me, just as no-one supported him.’

In those days, left parties did well in the ‘triangle’ of Arab villages bordering the West Bank. But the Islamic Movement had become the strongest party ‘because it started here,’ Reem qualified. ‘All their leaders come from this town. We faced a very hard economic period and they supported people financially. This is a very conservative town and religion is closer to its prejudiced family traditions – against women’s rights to education and work – than the Communist Party. They didn’t bring people to Islam against the traditions. They flowed with the tradition and mixed it with religion.’

Asked about her own identity, she smiled. ‘I am an Arab Palestinian, nothing more,’ she said gingerly. Despite feeling isolated from her community, Reem had a happy childhood and still kept ‘the child in myself,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t really involved in the town’s social activities. I watched things happen around me. Early marriages were a tradition – and a social problem. Most of my schoolmates were married by [the time they were] 18 years-old. But my neighbourhood was different because girls got married when they finished their studies and worked afterwards. I felt like I was living in a bubble.’

Reem never felt that she belonged in Israel but she never liked the lyrics of artists like Oum Khaltoum either. ‘They made it sound like the Arab world was dreaming and refusing to wake up,’ she said. ‘I grew up during the first Intifada and our generation was politically aware. We felt that we belonged more to the Palestinians who were fighting. I got to know some Jews through political activities, but their lives were very western. They don’t have our tradition of close oriental family relations.’

Interestingly though, Reem believed that Israelis treated Black Palestinians ‘more appreciatively,’ than other Arabs, ‘like something exotic. They don’t know that there are black Arabs. They think I’m a freak African or an Ethiopian Jew. Ethiopians sometimes talk to me in Amharic, their language,’ she let out a howl of mirth, as she said this.

Although she was studying for a History degree in the Open University, Reem’s workplace was perhaps the most dangerous in town. ‘The post office is more like a bank now. We’ve even had a few robberies – and each time I was working!’ she hooted again. ‘I’m not a fearful person. I practiced karate for ten years. But last time the robbers were armed, so I was more careful.’

‘I was about to close up when the first robber came in and shot at the ceiling. Another one jumped out from behind the door and came to the counter and a third guy started threatening two customers who were here. I bent over and the guy who shot first thought that I was going to press the security button or something so he shot a bullet through the glass. Then he pushed it so that the shattered glass fell all over me. I wasn’t hurt. They only took the money that was in the drawer. It wasn’t much, about 3000 shekels.’

‘I wasn’t scared,’ she emphasized and then leaned her head back to let a deep laugh exit. ‘I always treat these things calmly. Even the police were surprised that I talked about it like nothing special had happened. It made me sad, because people who use the post office are usually old people who are really in need.’ The worst thing for Reem was that the robbers were from Kfar Qassem. ‘I always helped people here and because they attacked my office, it felt like they attacked me personally,’ she said and her smile finally faded. Bullet-proof glass had since been installed at the counter. It made her feel safe but also distanced from the customers.

Reem first became aware that villagers thought she was ‘different’ as a child. ‘We had to split into black and white teams even when we were playing hide and seek,’ she said. ‘Then, when I was beginning to make relationships, one guy wouldn’t kiss me seriously. We felt different from the majority because of our skin colour so me and my cousins formed a gang of 10 or 15 kids to make ourselves strong and support each other. Like, if anyone said a word against one of us, we’d tell them what would happen.’ More generally, she said, ‘people treated me as though I were invisible’. The black team always won at hide and seek.

But they could not evade racist comments. ‘The white Arabs always called us “slaves” because for them a Black person is a slave,’ Reem said. ‘That’s what they saw in the movies. I used to think that because the Jews looked at them as inferior, they looked for others who they could treat as inferior. But our “inferiority” has been around since before Israel’s existence. For the whites, we were bought and brought here as slaves so they adapt this idea unconsciously from their fathers.’ Many Afro-Palestinians arrived as slaves in the Ottoman period but some also fled Sudan in the Islamic period. Reem thinks her family might have been among these.

Their numbers may be small, but Black Palestinians make up significant minorities in towns such as Jenin, Tulkarem and Jericho. In Kfar Qassem, Reem was involved in the first Palestinian Black consciousness group – for women only, at that time. She had even begun calling herself an Afro-Palestinian – ‘but only for a joke,’ she hedged. All Palestinians faced common problems of racism but Black Palestinians could easily feel like second-class citizens in their own society. ‘I don’t want to call it a disability but a Black member in the local council would be kind of inappropriate,’ was how Reem put it. Her nine-member group, initiated by her sister, had just started admitting white partners.

‘Many of us couldn’t marry people from the town,’ Reem said. ‘They thought our skin colour made us too different. You can only marry a black man or someone from the same family. If a woman can’t find a suitable person, she has two options: to marry the first black man who asks her or, like me, to not get married.’ But you’re very attractive I said, surely you’ve had suitors? ‘My criteria are not just about liking guys,’ Reem replied, ‘but about him being able to stand all the problems that I face. I have many admirers but it’s about finding someone suitable.’ Black men also felt inferior, she added, and often tried to pair off with whites. But her brother consciously decided to marry someone black.

Her most affecting experience in the group came during an art therapy session. ‘One young girl drew herself inside a circle,’ she said ‘and another group of girls outside it. She wanted to join this group but they were refusing to let her in. I know racism’s not going to change any time soon, but we’re trying to bring it to public attention. Reem lowered her voice several notches when I asked whether she felt an affinity with African culture. ‘I feel this a lot,’ she said. ‘There’s something in the way we react to music that I think I inherited in my genes.’ She said she wanted to visit South Africa, which had been an inspiration, ever since her father hung a photo of Nelson Mandela on the wall. No family member ever earned such an accolade. But then, invisibility can be a spur to great achievement.

 

VIDEO: 'Elza' - Touching Tale On Caribbean's Complex Racial Prejudices, Family & Forgiveness > Shadow and Act

Review:

'Elza' - Touching Tale

On Caribbean's

Complex Racial Prejudices,

Family & Forgiveness 

 

by Vanessa Martinez

 
November 30, 2012

 

Another Diasporic film opening in limited release this week, at the new MIST Harlem Cinemas in NYC; a film that we also highly recommend, so if you're in NYC, see it while you can, before it leaves.

ELZA (Le Bonheur d’Elza “Elza’s Happiness”), the first narrative film by Mariette Montpierre and the first directing effort ever by a Guadeloupean, was inspired by Montpierre’s personal accounts of searching for her biological father back in her native West Indies.

Elza, living in Paris with her mother Bernadette (played by director Montpierre) is celebrating completing her Master’s degree. But the successful young woman (played by the lovely Stana Roumillac), has never come to terms with her sense of identity. Her biological father, whom she barely remembers, is back in her hometown of Guadeloupe tending to another family. He abandoned them when Elza was a young child.

 

 

An enraged mother threatens Elza not to leave, but the willful free-spirit embarks on her journey.

A charming and vivacious Elza basks in Guadeloupe’s beaches and scenery. Hopeful and optimistic, she travels in her motorcycle through the succulent landscapes of the island. I loved the sequential images: a Black woman wearing her natural hair with no helmet (don’t try this at home) riding her motorcycle, exuding subtle sensuality, passionate about life, free and unburdened.

But Perhaps Elza is too optimistic. She tracks her father down; Mr. Desiré (Vincent Byrd Le Sage) is a man of mixed race – straight hair and dark olive complexion. He’s powerful, wealthy and a well-known figure in her hometown. She follows him as he meets up with a Black mistress, and later to his home, which he shares with his fair skinned wife, and granddaughter Caroline (an adorable Eva Constant).

Eliza lies to the family's new nanny, another Black woman, on her first day by telling her the owner has gone out of town. Unbeknownst of her ties to the man of the house, she infiltrates their home and becomes the caretaker of her father's granddaughter (her niece). She earns the trust of Mr. Desiré and his wife, but most of all, of their non-responsive granddaughter, who has formed a strong bond with Elza.

Even though things are going fairly well, Eliza's goal of reacquainting with her father is nowhere near being accomplished. He has two other daughters from his current marriage. The youngest, and her niece's mother, is in a mental facility. The father of her child, Jean-Luc (Teddy Doloir) was rejected by her parents; he was deemed too "dark/black" to join the family. And Mr. Desiré's oldest daughter, an ill-tempered woman, is in a passion-less marriage with a lascivious man who begins to lust after Elza.

She also realizes the family's deep-seated prejudice against Blacks. The young granddaughter is not allowed to see her father Jean-Luc. In one scene, Jean-Luc shows up at their doorstep to deliver presents for his daughter. Eliza watches as Mrs. Desire yells at him not to come back. She then gives the wrapped presents to Eliza to put in the garbage.

Yet, Eliza’s memories of the seemingly cold-hearted Mr. Desire embracing her as a child still hunt her. She sees the prejudice and feels displaced, but she also knows that the daughters he raised with his current wife aren’t happy and don’t share a close bond with their father either. She still yearns for his love and attention. She feels she deserves it. She must somehow win him over. And, although deep inside one may root for her; the most sensible alternative is to forget everything about this man and his dysfunctional family, and walk away with your pride and dignity in tact.

Yet Eliza is stubborn; her father’s acceptance becomes her obsession. Once the narrative unfolds and Mr. Desire finds out the truth about Elza, a truth he has been suspecting for quite a while, he’s in denial and can’t face her. “Please look at me,” Eliza cries in the climactic scene, to which Mr. Desire replies with his back to her, “With your kinky hair, you can’t be my daughter.”

Montpierre develops a narrative that shows the complexities of Caribbean racial prejudices, despite centuries of miscegenation due to French-European colonialism in Guadeloupe. Racism takes a form similar to what’s considered “Colorism” in the states, although more severe. There's a hierarchy based on skin tone and hair texture. Unfortunately for many “higher-class” Caribbean people, the colonially racist and paternalistic mentality persists: Black women seen as inferior – either mistresses/sexual objects or nannies. It’s a hypocritical, absurd notion, especially looking at Mr. Desire’s and his other daughters’ dark olive skin tones, his love-affair with his Black mistress and his own obviously mixed granddaughter.

Filmmaker Montpierre was optimistic in real life of meeting her biological father; however, she wanted a more positive outcome in her film than in the one in her true story. Her father died a year after meeting him, and it wasn’t the close relationship she had hoped for. Yet, in real life, her father’s family embraced her, and to this day, they have supported her and her film. Montpierre hoped to reach out to fatherless women in Elza’s situation looking to find closure. In the process, they may also find forgiveness, acceptance and a new family.

The only criticism I, and certainly others, would have is that the romanticized ending may come across as simplistic. It’s hard to reconcile the prejudices against Elza, plus her father’s unethical ways. Yet, it works here due to the beautiful, affecting performances, especially by the arresting Roumillac as Elza and Le Sage as her father; the latter’s transformation is superb as he sheds his layers and evokes genuine sentimentality.

The cast, consisting of mostly non-professional actors deliver believable performances. There’s an air of feminine energy throughout the film, brought on by the picturesque scenery, Elza’s allure due to her tenacity, strength and vulnerability, the film’s score – a mixture of sensual ballads and vibrant beats - and the film’s rich emotional energy.

 

VIDEO: 'Stones in the Sun' Is A Gripping and Observant Tale About Haitian Immigrants in the U.S. > Shadow and Act

Review:

'Stones in the Sun'

Is A Gripping and

Observant Tale

About Haitian Immigrants

in the U.S.


by Vanessa Martinez

 

 

December 3, 2012

James Noel and Patricia Rhinvil as Ronald and Vita in 'Stones in the Sun'  

 

It’s seldom we get to see authentic, complex and tactful character representations from the West Indies on the screen, especially in cinema. In her compelling and heartfelt feature film debut, Haitian filmmaker Patricia Benoit follows three Haitian immigrant families seeking refuge in Brooklyn NY from the sociopolitical upheaval surrounding them in their native country during the 1980’s. 

Benoit – who also wrote the screenplay - has crafted a movingly poignant and observant film.  Stones in the Sun, which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in April earlier this year, just screened as part of the 3rd Annual caribBeing event at the TriBeCa theaters this past Saturday. 

The finely interwoven stories – all three ultimately linked - begin with Gerald (a superb performance by Thierry Saintine), who is also at the center. He is the impassioned host of the anti-Haitian government show “Drums of the people”.  What’s fascinating about his story is that aside from his close involvement in the sociopolitical matters of his native country, he has acclimated himself to a new life in an upscale Brooklyn apartment with his pregnant, Caucasian wife. Yet, his heart and soul remains with Haiti and its people.  Their story - much like the other two - is paced just right, evoking a sense of intrigue and unpredictability. His wife listens to him daily “just to hear his voice”, since doesn’t understand/speak Creole. Their story begins to unravel when his wife welcomes Gerald’s father – to his son’s chagrin - who has unexpectedly showed up from Haiti at their doorstep.

What’s also fantastic about watching this film is how penetrable it becomes; you get the feeling that you are taking this journey alongside these characters.  Riva, played by newcomer Patricia Rhinvil in gripping film acting debut, travels to Brooklyn to join her husband, a cab driver. The story of this genuinely loving couple is endearing to watch.  In one tender scene, Riva is bathing her husband in the tub, yet she is confronted with her own psychological devastation caused by atrocities in her homeland.   One of the elements that I appreciated the most was her husband’s patience. It’s unfortunate that many of us are almost programmed to “assume” (you know the saying) how a husband would react in certain situations. A lesson of love is learned in this case. As Riva also struggles to adjust to living in the city, when we later find out the reasons behind her inner turmoil, the results are heartrending, yet inspiring.

Edwidge Danticat delivers another fine performance as Yannick, a teacher who is caught in her students’ political movement. She flees the chaos to move in with her sister in the suburbs. Micheline (a superb Michele Marceline) lives in a wealthy neighborhood with her overprotected daughter. The sisters were witnesses to tragedy and struggles growing up in their native country and Micheline, a realtor, has embraced a pretentious lifestyle of a “high class” American. Unlike Micheline, Yannick is unwilling to put her past behind and she is fervent on bringing justice to her students back at home. And, no matter how “different” these sisters’ paths in life may seem, the very convincing acting between the two actresses pave the way to some riveting and touching scenes. The tensions in their rivalry are clearly palpable, and the complexities of their differences become well understood.

Raw and understated, Stones in the Sun is handled with sensitivity in regards to its subjects. The well-developed drama has plenty of powerful performances and climactic scenes to keep you on the edge of your seat. But aside from this, hopefully you will come out of this experience with a new appreciation and respect for Haiti, its culture and the many realities its immigrants have undergone.

Stones in the river cannot know the problem of stones in the sun”.

STONES IN THE SUN from Ciné Institute on Vimeo.

 

HISTORY: 1776, The Slaveholders’ Revolution: A Review of "Negro Comrades of the Crown" > Black Agenda Report

1776,

The Slaveholders’

Revolution:

A Review of

"Negro Comrades

of the Crown"

 

 

 

by Dr. T. P. Wilkinson

 

Blacks posed a military threat to the slaveholder’s plans for an independent America. “Horne’s history of African-Americans fighting on the side of Great Britain against the United States and its racist regime shows that the continued hostility of the United States government at all levels toward African-Americans is not the product of mere cumulative prejudice against people of color.”

 

Gerald Horne

Negro Comrades of the Crown

New York University Press, 2012


Horne shows that African and British contemporaries saw the American war of independence as a unilateral act by the planter and mercantile elite to defend chattel slavery.”

 

In 1938 C. L. R. James published Black Jacobins—as he wrote at the time—with the explicit aim of demonstrating that Africans in the Western hemisphere had not only been victims of slavery but also agents of their own liberation. Moreover, his narrative was constructed consciously to address the struggle against colonialism in Africa itself. James chose the history of the Haitian revolution for a number of reasons, one of which was its exemplary impact on the consciousness of the African Diaspora.

 

In 1965, Malcolm X reiterated—e.g. in his Oxford Union speech—that Black nationalism was not a parochial response to white racism but the recognition that it was nationalism which had given strength to every movement to oppose colonial oppression of which slavery and racism had been integral parts. Especially in numerous interviews and speeches after his return from Mecca, Malcolm X saw that the question of liberation “for human beings” is an international struggle. However specific the local characteristics of oppression might be, consciousness of the history and dynamics of that struggle are essential for attaining human liberty anywhere.

 

Since Haiti established its independence from France in 1804, it has been an enemy of the United States. As a result, the US collaborated in subjugating the black nation through a kind of collective debt peonage that culminated in the 1913 US Marine Corps invasion, making it a quasi-colony of the North American republic. The US Marines finally withdrew after a vicious counter-insurgency campaign in 1935. US influence in the country persisted culminating in the 1956 transfer of power to the Duvalier dynasty defended by a US-trained national guard—a tyranny that would persist until 1990 when Jean-Bertrand Aristide was chosen to be president in Haiti’s first free elections since in the 20th century. Aristide abolished the national guard and in doing so removed the mainstay of US control over the island.

 

The United States government continues to clothe its hostility to Haiti in humanitarian language—echoing the cynical façade of Leopold’s Congo Free State.”

 

By 1991 the US government had been successful in having Aristide deposed. Since then the policies of 1913 have been effectively reinstituted, persisting into the 21st century. Bizarrely enough in contemporary language, the United States government continues to clothe its hostility to Haiti in humanitarian language—echoing the cynical façade of Leopold’s Congo Free State. Now after nearly two decades of US suppression of the Aristide revolution in the West Indies most populous and poorest state, it appears as an incomprehensible mystery that the US government exhibits no intention of vacating the island republic or yielding sovereignty to its population. On the contrary, there is every indication that the US would welcome a Duvalier restoration. But then again, the condition of African-Americans in the US itself is at an all-time low. Maybe therein lies a clue to the persistent virulence of US policy toward the Republic of Haiti.

 

Gerald Horne recovers the necessary and hitherto concealed historical background to support the argument ventured by James and polemicized by Malcolm X. His latest book, Negro Comrades of the Crown, begins with what white historians would no doubt consider an anachronistic view among Africans, namely that the great independence declaration of 1776 should be seen as an expression of the same spirit inherent in Ian Smith’s UDI in 1965 and not as an Enlightenment relative to the Declaration of the Rights of Man in 1789. Horne shows that African and British contemporaries saw the American war of independence as a unilateral act by the planter and mercantile elite to defend chattel slavery and continental conquest against a motherland committed to abolition of the slave trade and ultimately to the abolition of chattel slavery. The ruling elite in North America south of the St. Lawrence held slavery to be an essential part of what would later be called Manifest Destiny, integral to the wealth and enrichment of the whites, who dominated those thirteen British colonies to become the United States.

 

The ruling elite in North America south of the St. Lawrence held slavery to be an essential part of what would later be called Manifest Destiny.”

 

The occasion of Professor Horne’s unquestionably polemic history is the shadowy War of 1812, whose bicentenary is recognized this year. This conflict between the newly independent American republic and its former imperial rulers is usually given no more than a cursory treatment in the official and textbook histories of the United States. It rarely occupies more than a few pages in any school history book. The only things one ever learns about this relatively brief war is that Washington, DC was burned, Andrew Jackson became a popular hero, and Francis Scott Key wrote the tedious text that later would be set to a glee-club melody as the country’s national anthem in 1931.

 

Nowhere is one told that the United States very nearly lost the war against the British Empire. More significantly the importance of the war for the struggle against African slavery in the US is utterly ignored. As Horne concludes even today African-Americans are treated as subtly disloyal to the Republic but no one seems to know why. The story of Negro Comrades… opens a grand vista of world history by illuminating the War of 1812, not only in the context of the Napoleonic Wars, but in the struggle against slavery of which the Haitian revolution was a crucial part. Here Horne continues in the style of C. L. R. James by recovering the voices of Africans throughout the British Empire, the Caribbean, and the USA whose fight against chattel slavery and its constitutional preservation in the United States was and had remained a casus belli since 1776.

 

The Haitian infection was feared throughout the Caribbean wherever a white planter elite still held sway.”

 

Professor Horne has already shown in previous work, such as The End of Empires (2008), the persistent ideological warfare waged for the hearts and minds of African-Americans by the US ruling elite. In the wake of the Haitian revolution, many elements of the US slavocracy advocated deportation of free Blacks along with intensification of already draconian laws against slave rebellion and abolitionists. The Haitian infection was feared throughout the Caribbean wherever a white planter elite still held sway. In fact Spain exploited this fear repeatedly among Cuban planters to suppress independence movements until it lost control of the island to US suzerainty in 1898. Contrary to conventional historical narrative which focuses on slavery’s destructive impact on African identity, the American War of Independence and the Haitian Revolution did much to establish international solidarity among the African Diaspora concentrated in the United States and Britain’s remaining American and Caribbean dominions.

 

While official US history makes Britain the aggressor, raiding US merchant navigation and impressing Americans into British naval service, it ignores the Royal Navy’s mission to suppress the slave trade and thus liberate American chattel from bondage on the high seas. The official narrative also ignores US designs on British North America—Canada— strongly motivated by the desire to eliminate this refuge for escaped slaves as well as to extend slavery throughout the American continent. As a result of these lacunae the hostility of the US toward Britain—which persisted until 1914—and the increasing viciousness of US laws enforcing the race and bondage regime—which have scarcely subsided—can scarcely be explained or rationally debated.

 

American War of Independence and the Haitian Revolution did much to establish international solidarity among the African Diaspora.”

 

Until the completion of the Louisiana Purchase and the seizure of Florida, the US slavocracy felt itself under constant internal and external threat. One could say even that the fanatical defenses of white supremacy erected since 1776 are the deep psychological foundation for today’s seemingly incurable national security psychosis. In fact Horne’s history of African militancy and military daring leading up to the American Civil War provides the deep history for the inseparability of racism and fascism in the US. Whether it is the race riots incited in Northern states to oppose the Civil War draft, the state-sanctioned creation of the Ku Klux Klan to defeat Radical Reconstruction or the various Red Scares of the 20th century, the ultimate targets have been African-Americans. Horne’s history of African-Americans fighting on the side of Great Britain against the United States and its racist regime shows that the continued hostility of the United States government at all levels toward African-Americans is not the product of mere cumulative prejudice against people of color. He also shows by implication that racial prejudice did not arise from a generalized perception of African-Americans as inferior. Rather as in all colonial projects—or better said, in all projects of which grand theft is the central element—it is essential to create and maintain the inferiority of those who are robbed. They must be persuaded that what they have lost they did not deserve, if only because they were unable to defend it against theft. Even today the depiction of Haiti and other black and brown nations is one of hopelessly poor, helpless, incompetent and corrupt—in a now-fashionable term—“failed” states.

 

Therefore blinding African-Americans to their national military history or reducing it to the role of adjunct to Union regiments in the American Civil War, helps perpetuate the notion that African liberation for Americans is a purely American affair—that it is the successive rational persuasion of whites that blacks really are equal that has led to the end of chattel slavery and statutory Jim Crow in the US. By painting the Haitian Revolution and the West Indian Regiment, the Negro-Indigenes-British alliance in the Seminole Wars out of American history, generations of Americans have been left in utter ignorance as to the international scope of the struggle for African liberty and dignity. Gerald Horne expands well beyond Howard Zinn’s admirable work, which [documented] the history of the many poor whites opposed to the erection of the American plutocracy who were driven either to Canada, to the West—where they frequently lost their lives in land wars with Native Americans against whom they had to fight for mere survival—or were simply decimated by the military actions of the US planter-mercantile elite. In other words, the US was obsessed with internal security from its very beginnings and used the most ruthless methods to impose it. The US elite saw itself surrounded by Africans allied with British determined to abolish the crime against humanity of chattel slavery. In the South that elite was acutely aware that Africans constituted an internal enemy—ready to align itself with the British invader at any time. Moreover, the Caribbean-based British West Indian Regiment and the military units raised and commanded by African-Americans in Canada were viewed as a serious threat—scoring numerous victories over armies of the American republic.

 

The US elite saw itself surrounded by Africans allied with British determined to abolish the crime against humanity of chattel slavery.”

 

On the other hand Horne does not make the mistake of ignoring the ambivalence of British official anti-slavery policies. He does not make the strong allegiance to Britain into a proto-socialist mentality. Africans of property were not advocating a classless society. Instead he recalls that the Haitian Revolution could not be defeated by British intervention and that white minorities throughout Britain’s Caribbean colonies were justifiably afraid they would not be able to suppress slave revolts there either. The British government—not unlike the one that refused to recognize Rhodesian independence in 1965—did not want to surrender any more territory or economic resources to the control of its distant colonials and preferred loyal African majorities to revolutionary slave insurrections. Elimination of slavery in the Caribbean was also a strategy for suppressing white defection to the hemispheric alliance the US was trying to establish (and would justify in the so-called Monroe Doctrine, itself a strange phenomenon in that this coda of US imperial doctrine has entered the consciousness of white America as a principle of international law.)

 

Moreover both African and European contemporaries from 1776 until 1860 commented frequently on the hypocrisy of the American republic’s claims to be the epitome of liberty while casting chattel slavery in constitutional concrete. There was very little sympathy for the elite that repelled monarchy but was addicted to blacks as sub-humans in chains. The US government had then—as now—considerable difficulty establishing its legitimacy both at home and abroad. Within its borders ever more draconian measures were adopted in the hopes of separating indentured servants from slaves (although for decades the distinction was often only nominal in some jurisdictions)—presaging the apartheid ideology used to define white Afrikaners in the Union of South Africa.

 

As Horne proves, Washington was left virtually undefended in 1814 because Virginians feared that the forces needed to British would dilute their defense repel the against Negro insurrection—a far more lethal threat. He shows that far from being the defensive war portrayed in the official US history, the Seminole Wars were waged in a manner comparable to 20th century US tactics in Southeast Asia—it was border war waged under 19th century counter-insurgency doctrine, complete with assassination, massive deportation and pacification measures. The equally small radar blip in the far Northwest—Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia, is restored to historical context. Although much has been written to show the relationship between settlement and conquest of Texas and the expansion of slavery, very little has been said about the attempts to expand white domination of the continent in the territory adjacent to Britain’s far western territories. Usually depicted as a mere border dispute, Horne shows perhaps with some useful speculation—citing the actions of George Pickett in blue uniform before donning grey in 1860—that the chattel slavery/racial supremacy interests in the US were not only aggressive throughout the continent but that they were vigorously opposed by Africans serving the British crown everywhere.

 

Washington was left virtually undefended in 1814 because Virginians feared that the forces needed to British would dilute their defense repel the against Negro insurrection—a far more lethal threat.”

 

This tension with both economic and military consequences has been concealed in US history whether taught in schools, universities or television. As a result the relationships between the US and its neighbors—Canada, Mexico, Cuba, Grenada, Haiti—not to mention the sister republic on

 

Hispaniola—are distorted beyond recognition or comprehension. Moreover, the fact that until 1914, the major enemy of the US was Britain and not Germany—with implications for the strong support found for German (and even Nazi) imperialism among the US elite—cannot be explained without recognition of Britain’s very different racial policies compared to those persisting in the US. Those policies—although not without contradictions-- were nonetheless the result of African political, economic, and military contributions to the British Empire.

 

Negro Comrades of the Crown traces the roots of those contributions and the conflicts they engendered. It shows another reason why race and loyalty constitute a political dyad in the United States even today. The disproportionate severity of criminal and penal codes as applied to African-Americans into the 21st century—as if the so-called Civil Rights movement had never occurred—is a benchmark for the sincerity of race relations in the United States and an integral element of its contemporary foreign policy—one marked by more than two centuries of astounding resilience and consistency. Clearly the legacy of historical and institutional fear that survives in the white and even “mixed” elite of the United States is based on deep bad faith: on the recognition that the country’s senior ethnic minority has been systematically deprived of the parity it deserves—and which it largely attained in the British empire. It reflects a deeply held fear that African-Americans could join with the rest of the world and in the words of Malcolm X “by any means necessary” fight with their brothers and sisters in the Caribbean to seize their just share of the republic built on the backs of their ancestors.

 

Gerald Horne’s book is a tribute to the international struggle of Africans for human dignity. It also reveals the unstated fears and unearths the historical justification in the souls of white folks— recognizing the institutional silence that this book aims to pierce.

 

© 2012 Dr. T. P. Wilkinson

 

 

ESSAY: DO RIGHT WOMEN - Black Women, Eroticism and Classic Blues

photo by Alex Lear

 

 

DO RIGHT WOMEN

Black Women, Eroticism and Classic Blues

 

 

1.

 

 

I'm going to show you women, honey,

how to cock it on the wall

Now you can snatch it, you can break it, you can

hang it on the wall

Throw it out the window, see if you

can catch it 'fore it fall

 

Louise Johnson

I fantasize spanking you. What sexual fantasies do you have?" an ex-lover intoned into the phone receiver.

As she spoke I remembered a time when we were in one of those classical numeral positions and at a peak moment I felt the sharp smack of her bare palm on my bare butt--not in pain nor anger, but surprisingly, for me, I remember a tingle of pleasure, the pleasure in knowing that I had been the catalyst for her, a person of supreme sexual control, going over the edge.

After I hung up, I admitted to myself that like many males my main fantasy was to be sexually attractive to and sexually satisfying for thousands of women. I "fantasize" sexually engaging at least a quarter of the women I see, ninety percent of whom I don't know beyond eyeing them for a moment as I drive down some street, spot them in a store, in an office building, in line paying a bill, or walking ahead of me out of a movie.

I remember in one of my writing workshops in the fall of 1995 I shocked a room of young men by declaring that sexual expression among male homosexuals represented the fullest flowering of male sexuality. Some reacted predictably from a position of virulent homophobia and others were just genuinely skeptical.

I explained that if he could, assuming that there were no restraints and that it was consensual sex between adults, then the average American male would engage in promiscuous sex every time they felt aroused--which undoubtedly would be often. A major brake on our promiscuousness is the unwillingness of women to cooperate with male socio-biological urges.

I asked one of the more skeptical homophobes in my workshop, "haven't you seen a woman today you wished that you could get down with, a woman whom you didn't know personally?" He smiled and answered "yeah, on my way to class just now." After the laughter died down, I told him that this is indeed what often happens with gay sex precisely because there is no restraint other than desire and safety.

American male sexuality is, among other characteristics, a celebration of the moment. Our fantasy is immediate sexual gratification with whomever catches our fancy. Most of the time we deny, transfer, repress, or misrepresent these fantasies. However, in popular music we forcefully articulate the male desire to wantonly enjoy coition with women. 

Thus, these 90's rap and r&b ("rhythm and booty") records about rampant sex with a bevy of willing cuties is not just adolescent, post-puberty fantasizing but rather is an accurate projection of ethically unchecked and socially unshaped male sexuality--a sexuality which projects the male as the dominating, aggressive subject and the female as the pliant (if not willing) object of consumption.

Here is a significant cultural crossroads. I hold no truck in prudish and/or puritanical views of sex; while I abhor pornography (the commidifying of sex and the reifying of a person or gender into a sexual object), I am opposed to censorship. The status quo would have the whole debate about the representation of sexuality boil down to either reticence or profligacy. The truth is those extremes are not different roads. They are simply the up and down side of the status quo view which either come from or lead to the objectifying of sexual relations. Objectifying sexual relations is a completely different road from the frank articulation of eroticism.

Within the American cultural context, this difference is nowhere as clearly presented as in the early, 1920's woman-centered music known as "Classic Blues."

2.

You never get nothing by being an angel child,

You better change your ways and get real wild,

I want to tell you something and I wouldn't tell you no lie,

Wild women are the only kind that really get by,

'Cause wild women don't worry, wild women don't have the blues.

 

Ida Cox

Known today as "Classic Blues" divas, these women married big city dreams with post-plantation realties and, by using the vernacular and folk-wisdom of the people, gave voice to our people's hopes and sorrows and specifically spoke to the yearnings and aspirations of Black women recently migrated to the city from the country. While many women took up domestic and factory work, the entertainment industry also was a major employer of Black women. In Black Pearls author Daphne Harrison sets the stage:

Young black women with talent began to emerge from the churches, schools, and clubs where they had sung, recited, danced, or played, and ventured into the more lucrative aspects of the entertainment world, in response to the growing demand for talent in the theaters and traveling shows. The financial rewards often out-weighed community censure, for by 1910-1911 they could usually earn upwards of fifty dollars a week, while their domestic counterparts earned only eight to ten dollars. Many aspiring young women went to the cities as domestics in hope of ultimately getting on stage. While the domestics' social contacts were severely limited, mainly to the white employers and to their own families, the stage performer had an admiring audience in addition to family and friends. (Harrison, page 21)

The Classic Blues divas who emerged from this social milieu were more than entertainers, they were role models, advice givers, and a social force for cultural transformation. 

Ma Rainey is considered the mother of the Classic Blues. "She jes' catch hold of us, somekinaway." scripts poet Sterling Brown in giving a right on the money description of the cathartic power of Ma Rainey's majestic embrace which wrapped up her audience and reared them into the discovery of self-actulization's rarefied air. "Git way inside us, / Keep us strong" (Brown, pages 62 - 63).

Birthed by these women, we became our selves as a people and as sexually active individuals. Twenties Classic Blues was the first and only time that independent African-American women were at the creative center of Black musical culture. Neither before nor since have women been as economically or psychologically "liberated."

Ma Rainey & Her Georgia Band


In a country dominated by patriarchal values, mores and male leadership (should we more accurately say "overseership"?), Classic Blues is remarkable. Remember that although slavery ended with the Civil War in 1866 and the passage of the 15th amendment to the Constitution, suffrage for women was not enacted until 1920 with the 19th amendment. The suffrage movement, which had been dominated by White women, was also intimately aligned with the temperance movement, a movement which demonized jazz and blues.

Black women were a major organizing and stabilizing force in and on behalf of the Black community between post-Reconstruction and the Twenties. Historian Darlene Hine notes:

The second period began in the 1890s and ended around 1930 and is best referred to as the First Era of the Black Woman...black women were among the most active and determined agents for community building and race survival. Their style was concentrated on internal developments within the black community and is reflected in the massive mobilization that led to the formation of the National Association of Colored Women's Clubs that boasted a membership of over 50,000 by 1914. ... Black women perfected a "politics of respectability," a "culture of dissemblance," and a cult of secrecy and silence. (Hine, page 118-119)

 

But a curious dynamic has always animated Black America--while those who hoped to assimilate, to be accepted and/or to achieve "wealth and happiness" strove for and advocated a "politics of respectability" the folk masses sang a blues song a la Langston Hughes' mule who was black and didn't give a damn, if you wanted him, you had to take him just as he am. In other words, the blues aesthetic upsets the respectability applecart. And at the core of the blues aesthetic is a celebration of the erotic.

I contend that this is a major cultural battle. Eroticism is the motor that drives Black culture (or, more precisely, drives those aspects of our culture which are not assimilative in representation). Whereas, polite society was too nice to be nasty, blues people felt if it wasn't nasty, then how could it be nice.

 

As James Cone notes in his perceptive and important book The Spirituals and the Blues:

It has been the vivid description of sex that caused many church people to reject the blues as vulgar or dirty. The Christian tradition has always been ambiguous about sexual intercourse, holding it to be divinely ordained yet the paradigm of rebellious passion. Perhaps this accounts for the absence of sex in the black spirituals and other black church music. ... In the blues there is an open acceptance of sexual love, and it is described in most vivid terms... (Cone, page 117)

Many of us are totally confused about eroticism. Most of us don't appreciate the frank eroticism of nearly all African-heritage cultures which have not been twisted by outside domination (e.g. Christianity and Islam). Commenting on "Songs Of Ritual License From Midwestern Nigeria" African Art Historian Jean Borgtatti notes:

The songs themselves represent an occasion of ritualized verbal license in which men and women ridicule each other's genitalia and sexual habits. Normally such ridicule would be an anti-social act in the extreme... In the ritual context, however, the songs provide recognition, acceptance, and release of that tension which exists between the sexes in all cultures, and so neutralize this potential threat to community stability. (Borgatti, page 60)

The songs in question range from explicit and detailed put-downs to this lyric sung by a woman which could be a twenties blues lyric.

When I Refuse Him

When I refuse him, the man is filled with sorrow

When I refuse him, the man is filled with sorrow

When my "thing" is bright and happy like a baby chick, it drives him wild

When my "thing" is bright and happy like a baby chick, it drives him wild

My argument is that socially expressed eroticism is part and parcel of our heritage. In the American context, this eroticism is totally absent in the "lyrics" of the spirituals (albeit not totally suppressed in the rituals of black church liturgy). On the other hand, Black eroticism is best expressed and preserved in the blues (beginning in the early 1920s) and in its modern musical offshoots.

Erotic representation is another major point of divergence. Euro-centric representations of eroticism have been predominately visual and textual whereas African-heritage representations have been mainly aural (music) and oral (boasts, toasts, dozens, etc.). The eye sees but does not feel. Mainly the brain responds to and interprets visual stimuli whereas the body as a whole responds to sound. 

Moreover, textual erotic representation invites and encourages private and individual activity. E.g. you are probably alone reading this--if not alone in fact certainly alone in effect as there may be others present where you are reading but they are not reading over your shoulder or sitting beside you reading with you.

Moreover, you most certainly are not reading this aloud for general consumption. If you do read it aloud it is probably a one-to-one private act.

Aural and oral erotic representation, on the other hand, require a participating audience, become a ritual of arousal. Music, in particular, is not only social in focus, music also privileges communal eroticism. Thus, whereas text encourages individualism and self-evaluations of deviance, shame and guilt; musical eroticism encourages coupling, group identification and self-evaluations of shared erotic values, sexual self worth and pleasure.

Finally, within the African-American context, sound is used as language to communicate what English words cannot. The African American folk saying, "when you moan the devil don't know what you talking about" contains an ironic edge that goes beyond spiritual commentaries on good and evil. The White oppressor/slave master, i.e. "the devil," does not understand the meaning of moaning partly because of intentional deception on the part of the moaners but also because English lexicon is limited. 

 

Moans, wails, cries, hums and other vocal devices communicate feelings, moods, desires and are the core of blues expression. This is why the blues is more powerful than the lyrics of the songs, why blues lyrics do not translate well to the cold page (when the sound of the words is not manifested much of the true meaning of the words is lost), and why blues cannot be accurately analyzed purely from an intellectual standpoint. Moreover, erotic desires, frustrations and fulfillments--the most frequent emotions articulated in the blues--are some of the strongest emotions routinely manifested by human beings.

In the 1920's mainstream America was nowhere near ready to acknowledge and celebrate eroticism. Thus, as far as most Americans were concerned, a frank and explicit expression of eroticism was shameful


. This social "shame" became the singular trademark of the blues. Moreover, the identification of sexual explicitness with the blues was so thorough that sexually explicit language became known as "blue" as in "cussin' up a blue streak" or the kind of "blue material" which was often "banned in Boston."

Within the context of American Puritanism and Christian anti-eroticism, it is important to note that "blue" erotic music was first brought to national prominence not by men but rather by women. This privileging of feminine sexuality was an unplanned result of the newly developed recording industry's quest for profits. When "Okeh Records sold seventy-five thousand copies of 'Crazy Blues' in the first month and surpassed the one million mark during its first year in the stores" (Barlow, page 128) the hunt was on. 

Recording and selling "race records" (i.e. blues) was like a second California gold rush. There was no aesthetic nor philosophical interest in the blues. This was strictly business. Moreover, during the first years of the race record craze, because race records were sold almost exclusively to a Black audience there was less censorship and interference than there otherwise might have been. Black tastes and cultural values drove the market during the twenties. There were both positive and negative results to this commercialization.

On the positive side of the ledger, the mechanical reproduction of millions of blues disks made the music far more accessible to the public in general, and black people in particular. Blues entered an era of unprecedented growth and vitality, surfacing as a national phenomenon by the 1920s. As a result, a new generation of African-American musicians were able to learn from the commercial recordings, to expand their mastery over the various idioms and enhance their instrumental and vocal techniques. The local and regional African-American folk traditions that spawned blues were, in turn, infused with new songs, rhythms, and styles. Thus, the record business was an important catalyst in the development of blues that also facilitated their entrance into the mainstream of popular American music.

On the other hand, the transformation of living musical traditions into commodities to be sold in a capitalist marketplace was bound to have its drawbacks. For one thing, the profits garnered from the sale of blues records invariably went into the coffers of the white businessmen who owned or managed the record companies. The black musicians and vocalists who created the music in the recording studios received a pittance. Furthermore, the major record companies went to great lengths to get the blues to conform to their Tin Pan Alley standards, and they often expected black recording artists to conform to racist stereotypes inherited from blackface minstrelsy. The industry also like to record white performers' "cover" versions of popular blues to entice the white public to buy the records and to "upgrade" the music. Upgrading was synonymous with commercializing; it attempted to bring African-American music more into line with European musical conventions, while superimposing on it a veneer of middle-class Anglo-American respectability. These various practices deprived a significant percentage of recorded blues numbers of their African characteristics and more radical content. (Barlow, pages 123-124)

When the depression hit and Black audiences no longer had significant disposable income to spend on recordings, the acceptable styles of recorded blues changed drastically.

The onset of the depression quickly reversed the fortunes of the entire record industry; sales fell from over $100 million in 1927 to $6 million in 1933. Consequently, race record releases were drastically cut back, field recording ventures into the South were discontinued, the labels manufactured fewer and fewer copies of each title, and record prices fell from seventy-five to thirty-five cents a disk. Whereas the average race record on the market sold approximately ten thousand copies in the mid-twenties, it plummeted to two thousand in 1930, and bottomed out at a dismal four hundred in 1932. The smaller labels were gradually forced out of business, while the major record companies with large catalogues that went into debt were purchased by more prosperous media corporations based in radio and film. The record companies with race catalogues that totally succumbed to the economic downturn were Paramount, Okeh, and Gennett. By 1933, the race record industry appeared to be a fatality of the depression. (Barlow, page 133)

 

The Classic Blues divas founded and shaped the form of Black music's initial recording success in the twenties. By the thirties women were completely erased as cultural leaders of Black music. While there was certainly an overriding economic imperative to the cutback, there was also a cultural/philosophical imperative to cut out women altogether.

There was no precedent in either White or Black American culture for women as leaders in articulating eroticism. This significant feminizing of eroticism was predicated on an unprecedented albeit short-lived change in the physical and economic social structure of the Black community converging with a period of massive national economic growth and far reaching mass media technological innovations in recordings, radio, and film.

Despite optimal economic and technological incentives, the twenties rise of the newly emergent Classic Blues diva was no cakewalk, not only because of the virulence of class exploitation, racism and sexism but also because of cultural antagonisms.

Regardless of race, there was an open conflict between the blues and social respectability. The self-assertive, female Classic Blues singer was perceived as a threat to both the American status quo as well as to many of the major political forces seeking to enlarge the status quo (i.e. the petty bourgeoise-oriented talented tenth).


Moreover, unlike many post-Motown, popular female singers who are produced, directed and packaged by males, Ma Rainey, Ethel Waters, Ida Cox, Alberta Hunter, Sippie Wallace, and the incomparable "Empress" of the blues, Bessie Smith, were more than simple fronts for turn-of-the-century blues Svengalies. Yes, men such as Perry Bradford, Clarence Williams, and Thomas Dorsey were major composers, arrangers, accompanists and producers for many of the Classic Blues divas; and yes, these women often were surrounded and beset by men who attempted to physically, financially and psychologically abuse them, nevertheless the Classic Blues divas were neither pushovers nor tearful passive victims.

Emerging from southern backgrounds rich in religious and folk music traditions, they were able to capture in song the sensibilities of black women--North and South--who struggled daily for physical, psychological, and spiritual balance. They did this by calling forth the demons that plagued women and exorcising them in public. Alienation, sex and sexuality, tortured love, loneliness, hard times, marginality, were addressed with an openness that had not previously existed.

The blues women accomplished this with their unique flair for dramatizing their texts and performances. They introduced and refined vocal strategies that gave the lyrics added power. Some of these were instrumentality, voices growling and sliding like trombones, or wailing and piercing like clarinets; unexpected word stress; vocal breaks in antiphony with the accompaniment; syncopated phrasing; unlimited improvisation on repetitious refrains or phrases. These innovations, in tandem with the talented instrumentalists who accompanied the blues women, advanced the development of vocal and instrumental jazz.

Of equal significance, because they were such prominent public figures, the blues women presented alternative models of attitude and behavior for black women during the 1920s. They demonstrated that black women could be financially independent, outspoken, and physically attractive. They dressed to emphasize their symbolic importance to their audiences. The queens, regal in their satins, laces, sequins and beads, and feather boas trailing from their bronze or peaches-and-cream shoulders, wore tiaras that sparkled in the lights. The queens held court in dusty little tents, in plush city cabarets, in crowded theaters, in dance halls, and wherever else their loyal subjects would flock to pay homage. They rode in fine limousines, in special railroad cars, and in whatever was available, to carry them from country to town to city and back, singing as they went. The queens filled the hearts and souls of their subjects with joy and laughter and renewed their spirits with the love and hope that came from a deep well of faith and will to endure. (Harrison, pages 221-222)

Never since have women performed major leadership roles in the music industry, especially not African-American women. The entertainment industry intentionally curtailed the trend of highly vocal, independent women. 

Most of the Classic Blues divas, it must be noted, were not svelte sex symbols comparable in either features or figure to White women. The blues shouter was generally a robust, brown or dark-skinned, African-featured women who thought of and carried herself as the equal of any man. America fears the drum and psychologically fears the bearer of the first drum, i.e. the feminine heartbeat that we hear in the womb.

Bessie Smith and her peers, were sexually assertive "wild" women, well endowed with the necessary physical and psychological prowess to take care of themselves. 

Actively bisexual, Bessie Smith belied the common "asexual" labeling of stout women, such as is suggested by Nikki Giovanni in "Woman Poem":


 

it's a sex object if you're pretty

and no love

or love and no sex if you're fat

(Giovanni, page 55)

"No sex" was not the reality of the Classic Blues divas. Yes, many of them were then and would now be considered "fat" but they were far from celibate (by either choice or circumstance). Or, as the sarcastic blues lyric notes:

I'm a big fat mama, got meat shakin' on my bones

A big fat mama, with plenty meat shakin' on my bones

Every time I shake my stuff, some skinny gal loses her home.

In recent years the best description of the liberating function Blues divas served for the Black community is contained in Alice Walker's powerful novel, The Color Purple. Walker's memorable and mythic character Shug Avery is an active bisexual blues singer a la Bessie Smith. Shug instructs the heroine Celie in the recognition and celebration of herself as a sexual being:

Why Miss Celie, [Shug] say, you still a virgin.

What? I ast.

Listen, she say, right down there in your pussy is a little button that gits real hot when you do you know what with somebody. It git hotter and hotter and then it melt. That the good part. But other parts good too, she say. Lot of sucking go on, here and there, she say. Lot of finger and tongue work. (Walker, page 81)

Shug then instructs Celie "Here, take this mirror and go look at yourself down there, I bet you never seen it, have you?" The blues becomes a means not only of social self-expression but also of sexual self-discovery, especially for women.

In a life often defined by brutality, exploitation and drudgery, the female discovery and celebration of self-determined sexual pleasure is important. Thus the blues affirms an essential and explicit reversal. We have been taught that we are ugly, the blues celebrates our beauty and this is especially true for Black women.

I lie back on the bed and haul up my dress. Yank down my bloomers. Stick the looking glass tween my legs. Ugh. All that hair. Then my pussy lips be black. Then inside look like a wet rose.

It a lot prettier than you thought, ain't it. she say from the door.

It mine, I say. Where the button?

Right up near the top, she say. The part that stick out a little.

I look at her and touch it with my finger. A little shiver go through me. Nothing much. But just enough to tell me this the right button to mash. (Walker, page 82)

The major characteristic of the Classic Blues is that the vast majority of the songs were sexually oriented and nearly all of the singers were women. In his major study of Black music, LeRoi Jones (Amiri Baraka) notes:

The great classic blues singers were women... Howard W. Odum and Guy B. Johnson note from a list of predominately classic blues titles, taken from the record catalogues of three "race" companies. "The majority of these formal blues are sung from the point of view of woman... upwards of seventy-five per cent of the songs are written from the woman's point of view. Among the blues singers who have gained a more or less national recognition there is scarcely a man's name to be found." (Jones, page 91)

Jones goes on to answer the obvious question of why women dominated in this area:

Minstrelsy and vaudeville not only provided employment for a great many women blues singers but helped to develop the concept of the professional Negro female entertainer. Also, the reverence in which most of white society was held by Negroes gave to those Negro entertainers an enormous amount of prestige. Their success was also boosted at the beginning of this century by the emergence of many white women as entertainers and in the twenties, by the great swell of distaff protest regarding women's suffage. All these factors came together to make the entertainment field a glamorous one for Negro women, providing an independence and importance not available in other areas open to them--the church, domestic work, or prostitution. (Jones, page 93)

Ann Douglas, in her important book Mongrel Manhattan in the 1920s, Terrible Honesty identifies the twenties as a period of (quoting from the dustjacket) "historical transformation: blacks and whites, men and women together created a new American culture, fusing high art and low, espousing the new mass media, repudiating the euphemisms of outdated gentility in favor of a boldly masculinized outspokenness, bringing the African-American folk and popular art heritage briefly but irrevocably into the mainstream." Douglas believes the birth of modernism required the death of the white matriarch.

"The two movements, cultural emancipation of America from foreign influences and celebration of its black-and-white heritage, had for a brief but crucial moment a common opponent and a common agenda: the demolition of that block to modernity, or so she seemed, the powerful white middleclass matriarch of the recent Victorian past. My black protagonists were not matrophobic to the same degree as my white ones were, but the New Negro, too, had something to gain from the demise of the Victorian matriarch." (Douglas, page 6)

Such anti-matriarch sentiments directly clashed with the reality of female-led Classic Blues.

We are forced to ask the question: does the freedom of the Black man require the destruction of the Black woman? To the degree that the Black woman is a matriarch, a self-possessed and self-directed person, to that same degree there will inevitably be a conflict with the standards of modern America which are misogynist in general and anti-matriarchal in particular.

Thanks to the revolt against the matriarch, Christian beliefs and middleclass values would never again be a prerequisite for elite artistic success in America. Nor would plumpness ever again be a broadly sanctioned type of female beauty; the 1920s put the body type of the stout and full-figured matron decisively out of fashion. Once the matriarch and her notions of middle-class piety, racial superiority, and sexual repression were discredited, modern America, led by New York, was free to promote, not an egalitarian society, but something like an egalitarian popular and mass culture aggressively appropriating forms and ideas across race, class, and gender lines. (Douglas, page 8)

Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, et al may seem to contradict Douglas' thesis but actually the disappearance of big, Black women from leadership in entertainment is proof that Douglas was correct in her assessment of modern America. 

Bessie Smith

Among Black people, the Black matriarch continued to reign in the arenas of church, education and community service. However, to the degree that Black people adopt modern American ways to that same degree our culture inevitably becomes "masculinized" and "anti-matriachal." This is inevitable because, as Douglas' book demonstrates in great detail, American modernism is based on the refutation of the woman as culture bearer. Yet culture bearer is precisely the role that the Black woman fulfills.

"The blues woman is the priestess or prophet of the people. She verbalizes the emotion for herself and the audience, articulating the stresses and strains of human relationships" (Cone, page 107). Theologian James Cone, a Christian man, had sense enough to sustain the potency of blues priestesses, a potency which is overtly sexual but which also made strong social, political and economic statements (e.g. "T.B. Blues" by Ida Cox decrying poor health conditions and "Poor Man Blues" by Bessie Smith condemning class exploitation).

3.

 

There's a new game, that can't be beat,

You move most everything 'cept your feet,

Called 'Whip it to a jelly, stir it in a bowl',

You just whip it to a jelly, if you like good jelly roll

I wear my skirt up to my knees

And whip that jelly with who I please.

Oh, whip it to a jelly, mmmmmm, mmmm

Mmmmm, mmmm, mmmmm, mmmm

--Clara Smith

In western culture the celebration of dignity and eroticism does not and can not take place simultaneously. From Freud's theories of sexuality which focus for the most part on penile power to the church which goes so far as to debase the body as a product of original sin, there is no room for the celebration of eroticism, and certainly no conception whatsoever of the female as an active purveyor of erotic power. To me, the blues is clearly an alternative to Freud and Jesus with respect to coming to terms with our bodies.

James Cone correctly analyzes this alternative.

Theologically, the blues reject the Greek distinction between the soul and the body, the physical and the spiritual. They tell us that there is no wholeness without sex, no authentic love without the feel and touch of the physical body. The blues affirm the authenticity of sex as the bodily expression of black soul.

White people obviously cannot understand the love that black people have for each other. People who enslave humanity cannot understand the meaning of human freedom; freedom comes only to those who struggle for it in the context of the community of the enslaved. People who destroy physical bodies with guns, whips, and napalm cannot know the power of physical love. Only those who have been hurt can appreciate the warmth of love that proceeds when persons touch, feel, and embrace each other. The blues are openness to feeling and the emotions of physical love. (Cone, pages 117-118)

Moreover, the fact that Freud's theories find their first popular American currency in the 1920s at the same time as Black women's articulation of the Classic Blues suggests an open contest between widely divergent viewpoints. The Classic Blues offered an unashamed and assertive alternative to both the traditional puritanical views of sexuality as well as alternative to the new Freudian psychological views of sexuality. Bessie Smith and company were battling Jesus on the right and Freud on the left.

The puritans with their scarlet letters projected the virgin/whore (Mary mother vs. Mary Madaglene) dualism. For the most part, Freud either ignored the psychology of women, thought they were unfathomable, or else projected onto them the infamous "penis envy."

The period between the Civil War and World War II is the birth of American modernism. It is also the period when the bustle (an artificial attempt to mimic the physique of Black women) was a fashion standard. While it is not within the purview of this essay to address the question of how is it that Black buttocks become a standard of femininity for white society, it is important to at least mention this, so that we can contextualize the battle of worldviews.

Freud proposed the "id" as the controlling element of the civilized individual. The purpose of Black music was precisely to surmount the "id." The individual looses control, is possessed. This trance state is a sought for and enjoyed experience. Rather than be in control we desire to be mounted, i.e. to merge with and be controlled by a greater force outside ourselves. Blues culture validated ritual and merger of the micro-individual into the social and spiritual macro-environment. In this way blues may be understood as an alternative conception of human existence.

In a major theoretical opus on the blues, Blues and the Poetic Spirit, author Paul Garon argues

To those who suggest that the blues singers are 'preoccupied' with sexuality, let us point out that all humanity is preoccupied with sexuality, albeit most often in a repressive way; the blues singers, by establishing their art on a relatively nonrepressive level, strip the 'civilised' disguise from humanity's preoccupation, thus allowing the content to stand as it really is: eroticism as the source of happiness.

The blues, as it reflects human desire, projects the imaginative possibilities of true erotic existence. Hinted at are new realities of non-repressive life, dimly grasped in our current state of alienation and repression, but nonetheless implicit in the character of sexuality as it is treated in the blues. Desire defeats the existing morality--poetry comes into being. (Garon, pages 66-67)

Musicologist/theologist Jon Michael Spencer takes Garon's argument deeper when he comments in his book Blues and Evil:

Garon was seemingly drawing on the thought of the late French philosopher Michel Foucault, who said in his history of sexuality that if sex is repressed and condemned to prohibition then the person who holds forth in such language, with seeming intentionality, moves, to a certain degree, beyond the reach of power and upsets established law. Sex also might have been a means for "blues people" to feel potent in an oppressive society that made them feel socially and economically impotent, especially since sexuality inside the black community was one area that was free from the restraints of "the law" and the lynch mob.

In essence, the Classic Blues as articulated by Black women was not only a conscious articulation of the social self and validation of the feminine sexual self, the Classic Blues was also a total philosophical alternative to the dominant White society. In this regard two incidents in the life of Bessie Smith serve as archetypal illustration.


The first is Bessie Smith confrontation with the Ku Klux Klan and the second is Smith's confrontation with Carl Van Vechten's wife. The Klan is the apotheosis of racist, right wing America. Carl Van Vechten is the personification of liberal America.

In Chris Albertson biography of Bessie Smith he describes Smith's July 1927 confrontation with the Klan that occurred when sheeted Klan members were attempting to "collapse Bessie's tent; they had already pulled up several stakes." When a band member told Smith what was going on the following ensued.

"Some shit!" she said, and ordered the prop boys to follow her around the tent. When they were within a few feet of the Klansmen, the boys withdrew to a safe distance. Bessie had not told them why she wanted them, and one look at the white hoods was all the discouragement they needed.

Not Bessie. She ran toward the intruders, stopped within ten feet of them, placed one hand on her hip, and shook a clenched fist at the Klansmen. "What the fuck you think you're doin'?" she shouted above the sound of the band. "I'll get the whole damn tent out here if I have to. You just pick up them sheets and run!"

The Klansmen, apparently too surprised to move, just stood there and gawked. Bessie hurled obscenities at them until they finally turned and disappeared quietly into the darkness.

"I ain't never heard of such shit," said Bessie, and walked back to where her prop boys stood. "And as for you, you ain't nothin' but a bunch of sissies."

Then she went back into the tent as if she had just settled a routine matter. (Albertson, pages 132-133)

Bessie Smith was not an apolitical entertainer. She was a fighter whose sexual persona was aligned with a strong sense of political self-determination. This "strength" of character is another reason that singers such as Bessie Smith were widely celebrated in the Black community. Furthermore, Smith not only was not intimidated by the right, she was equally unimpressed with the liberal sector of American society, as the incident at the Van Vechten household demonstrates. Along with his wife Fania Marinoff, a former Russian ballerina, Carl Van Vechten ("Carlo") was the major patron of the Harlem Renaissance. Albertson describes "Carlo" as an individual who "typified the upper-class white liberal of his day" (Albertson, page 138).

Van Vechten loved the ghetto's pulsating music and strapping young men, and he maintained a Harlem apartment--decorated in black with silver stars on the ceiling and seductive red lights--for his notorious nocturnal gatherings.

His favorite black singers were Ethel waters, Clara Smith, and Bessie. (Albertson, page 139)

Van Vechten persistently sought Bessie Smith as a salon guest. She resisted but finally relented after continuous entreaties from one of her band members, composer and accompanist Porter Grainger, who desperately wished to be included among Van Vechten's "in crowd." Smith finally agreed to make a quick between sets appearance. Bessie exquisitely sang "six or seven numbers" taking a strong drink between each number. And then it was time to rush back to the Lafayette Theatre to do their second show of the night.

All went well until an effusive woman stopped them a few steps from the front door. It was Bessie's hostess, Fania Marinoff Van Vechten.

"Miss Smith," she said, throwing her arms around Bessie's massive neck and pulling it forward, "you're not leaving without kissing me goodbye."

That was all Bessie needed.

"Get the fuck away from me," she roared, thrusting her arms forward and knocking the woman to the floor, "I ain't never heard of such shit!"

In the silence that followed, Bessie stood in the middle of the foyer, ready to take on the whole crowd.

"It's all right, Miss Smith," [Carl Van Vechten] said softly, trailing behind the threesome in the hall. "You were magnificent tonight." (Albertson, page 143)

What does any of this have to do with eroticism? These are examples of Black womanhood in action accepting no shit from either friend or foe. Blues divas such as Bessie Smith were neither afraid of nor envious of Whites. This social self assuredness is intimately entwined with their sense of sexual self assuredness. As Harrison perceptively points out, the Classic Blues divas "introduced a new, different model of black women--more assertive, sexy, sexually aware, independent, realistic, complex, alive." (Harrison, page 111).

These blues singers were eventually replaced in the entertainment sphere by mulatto entertainers and chocolate exotics, Josephine Baker preeminent among them. Significantly, the replacements for Blues divas were popular song stylists who aimed their art at White men rather than at the Black community in general and Black women specifically. The replacements for the big, Black, Classic Blues diva marked the consolidation of the modern entertainment industry's sexual commodification, commercializing and exoticizing of Black female sexuality.

Although entertainers from Josephine Baker, to Eartha Kitt, to Dianna Ross, to Tina Turner all started off as Black women they ended up projected as sex symbols adored by a predominately White male audience. In that context, sexuality becomes, at best, symbolic prostitution. The Black woman as exotic-erotic temptress of suppressed White male libidos is the complete antithesis of Classic Blues singer. The Classic Blues singer did not sell her sexuality to her oppressor. This question of cultural and personal integrity marks the difference between the sexual commodification inherent in today's entertainment world (especially when one realizes that the major record buying public for many hardcore rap artists is composed of White teenagers) and the sexual affirmation essential to Classic Blues.
Another important point is that Classic Blues celebrated Black eroticism based in a literal "Black, Brown or Beige" body rather than in a "white looking" mulatto body.

 

When we look at pictures of Classic Blues divas, we see our mothers, aunts, and older lady friends. Indeed, by all-American beauty standards most of these women would be considered plain (at best), and many would be called "ugly."

For example, Ma Rainey was often crudely and cruelly demeaned. Giles Oakley's book The Devil's Music, A History of the Blues quotes Little Brother Montgomery "Boy, she was the horrible-lookingest thing I ever see!" and Georgia Tom Dorsey "Well, I couldn't say she was a good-looking woman and she was stout. But she was one of the loveliest people I ever worked for or worked with." Oakley opines

She was an extraordinary-looking woman, ugly-attractive with a short, stubby body, big-featured face and a vividly painted mouth full of gold teeth; she would be loaded down with diamonds--in her ears, round her neck, in a tiara on her head, on her hands, everywhere. Beads and bangles mingled jingling with the frills on her expensive stage gowns. For a time her trademark was a fabulous necklace of gold coins, from 2.50 dollar coins to heavy 20 dollar 'Eagles' with matching gold earrings.

(Oakley, page 99)

I'm sure the majority of Ma Rainey's female audience did not fail to notice that Ma Rainey resembled them--she looked like they did and they looked like she did. There is no alienation of physical looks between the Classic Blues singer and the majority of her working class Black audience. Physical-appearance alienation of artist from audience is another byproduct of the commodification of Black music.

What started out as a ritual celebration of openly eroticized life was transformed by the entertainment industry into mass-media pornography--the priestess became a prostitute. Albertson's citing of a colorfully written Van Vechten assessment of a Bessie Smith performance clarifies the difference between Bessie Smith performing mainly for Black people and subsequent "Black beauties" (including the famous Cotton Club dancers and singers) performing almost exclusively for Whites. Van Vechten not only points out the literally Black make up of Smith's audience, he also points out how Black women identified with Bessie Smith.

Now, inspired partly by the powerfully magnetic personality of this elemental conjure woman with her plangent African voice, quivering with passion and pain, sounding as if it had been developed at the sources of the Nile, the black and blue-black crowd, notable for the absence of mulattoes, burst into hysterical, semi-religious shrieks of sorrow and lamentation. Amens rent the air. Little nervous giggles, like the shattering of Venetian glass, shocked our nerves. When Bessie proclaimed, "It's true I loves you, but I won't take mistreatment any mo," a girl sitting beneath our box called "Dat's right! Say it, sister!" (Albertson, page 107)

The implication of such example is psychologically far-reaching and explicitly threatening to male chauvinism, as Harrison explicates:

...the silent, suffering woman is replaced by a loud-talking mama, reared-back with one hand on her hip and with the other wagging a pointed finger vigorously as she denounces the two-timing dude. Ntozage Shange, Alice Walker, and Zora Neale Hurston employ this scenario as the pivotal point in a negative relationship between the heroine/protagonists and their abusive men. Going public is their declaration of independence. Blues of this nature communicated to women listeners that they were members of a sisterhood that did not have to tolerate mistreatment. (Harrison, page 89)

That these women--big, black, tough, non-virginal, sexually aggressive--were superstars of their era is testimony to the strength of a totally oppositional standard of human value. Their value was not one of physical appearance but one of spiritual relevance. And make no mistake, at that time there was no shortage of mulatto chorines and canaries--Lena Horne, archetypal amongst such "All-American beauties." Nor was there an absence of White male sex-lust for exotic-erotic mulattoes. The difference was that during the twenties there was an unassimilated Black audience which self-consciously embraced/squeezed the blacker berry, i.e. the Classic Blues diva.

The Classic Blues diva was an extraordinary woman whose relevance to a Black audience has never been approached, not to mention matched. William Barlow's assessment is fundamentally correct.

The classic blues women's feminist discourse grappled with the race, class, and sexual injustices they encountered living in urban America. They were outspoken opponents of racial discrimination in all guises, and hence critical of the dominant white social order--even while benefiting from it more than most of their peers. They identified with the struggles of the masses of black people, empathized with the plight of the downtrodden, and sang out for social change. Within the black community, the classic blues women were also critical of the way they were treated by men, challenging the sexual double standard. Concurrently, they reaffirmed and reclaimed their feminine powers--sexual and spiritual--to remake the world in their own image and to their own liking. This included freedom of choice across the social spectrum--from political to sexual resistance, from black nationalism to lesbianism. Like the first-generation rural blues troubadours, the classic blues women were cultural rebels, ahead of the times artistically and in the forefront of resistance to all the various forms of domination they encountered. (Barlow, pages 180-181)

At the essential core of the Classic Blues was a throbbing, vital eroticism, an eroticism that manifested itself in the lifestyle and subject matter of the Classic Blues divas. Although we can analyze in hindsight, the ultimate manifestation of blue eroticism is not to be found nor appreciated in intellectualism but in its funky sound which must be experienced to be fully appreciated. Once again, Alice Walker's The Color Purple is exemplar in portraying the importance of the blue erotic sound--an eroticism best articulated by Black women.

Shug say to Squeak, I mean, Mary Agnes, You ought to sing in public.

Mary Agnes say, Naw. She think cause she don't sing big and broad like Shug nobody want to hear her. But Shug say she wrong.

What about all them funny voices you hear singing in church? Shug say. What about all them sounds that sound good but they not the sounds you thought folks could make? What bout that? Then she start moaning. Sound like death approaching, angels can't prevent it. It raise the hair on the back of your neck. But it really sound sort of like panthers would sound if they could sing.

I tell you something else, Shug say to Mary Agnes, listening to you sing, folks git to thinking bout a good screw.

Aw, Miss Shug, say Mary Agnes, changing color.

Shug say, What, too shamefaced to put singing and dancing and fucking together? She laugh. That's the reason they call what us sing the devil's music. Devils love to fuck. (Walker, page 120)

*   *   *   *   *

WORKS CITED

Albertson, Chris. Bessie. Braircliff: Stein and Day Paperback, 1985 (Originally issued 1972)

Barlow, William. Looking Up At Down. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1989

Borgatti, Jean. "Songs Of Ritual License From Midwestern Nigeria." In Alcheringa Ethnopoetics (New Series Volume 2, Number 1). Dennis Tedlock and Jerome Rothenberg, editors. Boston: Boston University, 1976

Brown, Sterling A. The Collected Poems of Sterling A. Brown. Michael S. Harper, editor. Chicago: TriQuarterly Books, 1989

Cone, James H. The Spirituals and the Blues. Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1972

Douglas, Ann. Terrible Honesty. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1995

Garon, Paul. Blues & The Poetic Spirit. New York: Da Capo Press, 1975

Giovanni, Nikki. The Selected Poems of Nikki Giovanni. New York: William Morrow, 1996

Harrison, Daphne Duval. Black Pearls, Blues Queens of the 1920s. Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1990

Hine, Darlene Clark. Speak Truth To Power. Brooklyn: Carlson Publishing, Inc., 1996

Jones, LeRoi. Blues People. New York: Morrow Quill Paperbacks, 1963

Oakley, Giles. The Devil's Music, A History of the Blues. New York: Harvest/HBJ book, 1976

Spencer, Jon Michael. Blues and Evil. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1993

Walker, Alice. The Color Purple. New York: Pocket Books/Washington Square Press, 1982

 

—kalamu ya salaam

 

VIDEO: Black Women of Brazil: Elza Soares: “Brazil’s Tina Turner and Celia Cruz; the BBC’s “Singer of the Millenium.”

ELZA SOARES:

“Brazil’s Tina Turner

and Celia Cruz;

the BBC’s

“Singer of the Millenium.”

 

Afro Brazilian women

 

Described as “an explosive mixture of Tina Turner with Celia Cruz,” by Time Out magazine, the main cultural guide of London, Elza Soares (da Conceição) is today an icon of Brazilian music.

 

In the following Q&A, the singer that Louis Armstrong called his “daughter” reveals her impressions formed from over seven decades of experience and more than 50 works. Recognized as BBC’s “Singer of the Millennium”, she embodies the essence of Brazilian myths and beliefs.

 

The hoarse voice is her trademark, with which she won great success in and outside of Brazil, overcoming the barrier of social difference. Raised in a favela (shantytown/slum) in Rio de Janeiro, the daughter of a washerwoman and a factory worker, Elza became pregnant at only 12 years old, and six years later became a widow. She worked as a washerwoman, just like her mother, and, like her father, in a soap factory. At the age of 20 she came across the opportunity to audition as a singer, at the academy of professor Joaquim Negli, and was hired by Orquestra de Bailes Garan. After singing in a play in Argentina, she ended up singing on the Radio Tupi program of top composer Ary Barroso, and on to a club in Copacabana in Rio.


His first album was recorded in 1960, on the Odeon label, singing the song Se Acaso Você Chegasse, which was also the title of her first LP. Two years later she sang with the legendary Louis Armstrong, who referred to her as his “daughter", at the World Cup in Santiago, the capital of Chile. It was there that she met Garrincha, one of the greatest players in the history of the Brazilian national soccer team, with whom he married and went to live in Italy for a few years.

 

However, the singer's life was not rosy as it may seem: she had eight children, but lost four of them, besides having suffered domestic violence. Her musical career includes about 30 albums and numerous participations in national productions of top songwriters such as Chico Buarque, Caetano Veloso and Toquinho. In 2000 Elza Soares was awarded by London’s BBC as “Singer of the Millennium”.

 

Elza doesn’t reveal her age, but it is believed that she born on June 23, 1937, which would make her 75 years old. Despite the pain caused by a bad fall on stage in 2003, she is in shape and has a body that would leave even a model with her mouth open. But more than that, what surprises even Elza herself is her strength in the face of many adversities. “I am my own the Phoenix, always rising from the ashes.”

 

Elza Soares - O Neguinho e a Senhorinha (1965)

 

Throughout your career, you steered clear of political issues, but even so you still suffered from this, right?

 

During the (military) dictatorship (1964-1985) they took my house, kicked me out of the country and I had to go to Italy. They shot up my whole house. I don’t know why they sent me away. I went and I left my children. Within 24 hours they were put on the street. They took everything. Because of this, I have a sick child today.

 

What was the charge?

 

To this day I don’t know. Maybe it's because I did a show with (singer-songwriter) Geraldo Vandré (1), who was a very close friend. I don’t know. When I started singing, (songwriter/producer/journalist) Ronaldo Bôscoli gave a title to what I did: Bossa Negra (2).  He thought that I would be a great woman to defend the race. I said: “Look, my children today are eating beans, rice and steak. For God's sake, I can’t go back to eating grass.” He said I was “the strongest woman that Brazil ever produced.”

 

Have you ever thought of quitting singing?

 

One day I thought (about this). But singing is still my greatest sedative. Without music I am nothing. Without the stage, I am nobody. But I wanted to stop. I moved to São Paulo and found a women’s home that cared for children and they needed volunteers. When I went in the house, one of the ladies was shocked: “What are you doing here? You can’t leave music.” But the truth is that I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt very pressured to be what I was not.

 

What did you want to be?

 

They always liked to label me as a sambista. I love Samba, but I'm not a sambista (3). I sing Samba, I sing Jazz, Samba-Jazz; I sing Samba-Rock. I consider myself the greatest Samba-Rocker. Throughout my life I’ve received many titles. I’m very grateful. They say that Brazil is the country of Samba, but I think this is the country of Rock and Roll. I like Hip Hop, I like everything. I am Cazuza, I am Titãs (4), I am this whole race.

 

Elza Soares - Rio, Carnaval dos Carnavais (1973)

 

 

In 2000, you and Tina Turner were considered “Singers of the Millennium” by the BBC. What was that like?

 

In the presenting of the award, I was still recovering from the fall. When I arrived in London, they brought me a wheelchair. I refused to sit in that thing. In the dressing room before going on stage, I decided to take off the vest I had to wear. I felt like a heron…so light, flying. At the entrance to the stage, I put down the cane. I never sang so much in my life. There was my idol, (popular Brazilian singer-songwriter) Chico Buarque, who is everything in this world. In this show, I went crazy. I didn’t feel any pain. Afterward I paid the price: I was in bed five days taking medicine.

 

What was your major musical reference?

 

To tell the truth, in the beginning, nothing. I was too poor, I didn’t have money for anything. And being poor at that time, you bought a radio, you didn’t buy bread. But one day my father bought a radio. And every night he listened to A Voz do Brasil (the Voice of Brazil, long-running radio program). It was so boring. But it had that opening [hums], and that deep voice: “Good evening to you (all).” After that I started my career, I got to know the singers who were successful. When I met (singer) Dalva de Oliveira for the first time ... Whoa! And (singer) Ângela Maria?  She made many beautiful dresses for me to sing in. How will I forget a woman like that?

 

What were your childhood dreams? It never passed through your mind to be a singer?

 

I had this desire because my father was a musician and I got used to singing. He sat me on his lap and asked me to sing. But when he saw that the thing had become reality, he said: “You will be a teacher.” He didn’t want his daughter in the night (life).

 

Despite the ups and downs of your career, you've always had your space it seems?

 

Thank God. Even in the down moments here, like the phoenix, I was at my peak. Everyone needs a moment to reflect, to be alone, listen to classical music, rock. My life is like this. Every five minutes, (there’s) a challenge.

 

Elza Soares - "Dura na Queda" from the 2007 DVD Beba-Me

 

What day were you born on?

 

I don’t know nor do I want to know. If you know, I'll be sad.

 

Her first success came with the single “Se Acaso Você Chegasse” in which she introduced the “scat” vocal à la Louis Armstrong, injecting a jazzification into Samba divergent from Bossa Nova

 

Some of her hits of the ‘60s were “Sambou, Sambou”, “Mulata Assanhada” and “Devagar com a Louça”, among others. In 1970, on a trip to Italy, she recorded the Jorge Ben-penned “Que Maravilha” and the Keti-composed “Máscara Negra”. Also popular were her interpretations of “Maria-vai-com-as-outras” and “Saltei de Banda”. With her exaggerated and sincere style she conquered audiences in Brazil and around the world, spending periods in the United States and Europe. In the ‘70s, she found success with “Salve a Mocidade” and “Malandro”, the song that launched popular singer-songwriter Jorge Aragão’s career. In the 80s, she almost walked away from her career until (popular singer-songwriter) Caetano Veloso invited her to record “Língua” in duet with him. Thereafter, she recorded two more LPs in 1985 and 1988. She spent some time in the United States and in the mid ‘90s returned with a vengeance performing in various shows, particularly in Rio de Janeiro. She released two more CDs: Trajectory (1997) and Carioca da Gema (Ao Vivo) (1999). In 2000, she won the “Singer of the Millennium” award from the BBC in London, and in that city she performed in a show alongside popular singers Gal Costa, Chico Buarque, Gilberto Gil, Caetano Veloso and Virginia Rodrigues.

 

In 1997 she released her autobiography, Cantando para Não Enlouquecer (Singing So I Don’t Go Crazy) written by José Louzeiro.

 

In 2009, Elza was moved to tears in a recording studio where she would record the classic Billie Holiday song “Strange Fruit”. Two years later, before another series of photos and interviews, Soares was still captivated by the sound of the song as it played in her car CD-player and on her way to a studio in the Rio neighborhood of Santa Teresa, where he would spend eight hours. The voice is her own, piercing and impregnated with emotion; the song had been done for a Jazz CD that she was preparing. Prior to this interpretation, only Holliday, who released “Strange Fruit” in 1939, and Nina Simone, who re-recorded it in 1994, had done the song in such a visceral manner.

 

A poem by Lewis Allen, “Strange Fruit” depicts the lynching of two black men who were hung in a tree so that their blood drained from their bodies, rotting in the sun to serve as a “lesson” to other southern rebels of the United States, anxious for rights equal to those of whites. Elza didn’t sleep at night, she woke up with stomach pains and her breakfast was restricted to a guava juice. “As I sang, the music took me to other places, the experience was so strong,” she says. Asked if she was speaking of transcendence, Elza responded that she felt close to blacks who bled for an ideal, of Billie and Nina, who died in 1959 and 2003, respectively. “When I dare to sing Jazz, I liberate myself, I take part of something that I consider to be mine also. It’s the cry of blacks from Africa, which sounds in Rio, Bahia (and) in Haiti.”

 

In 2004, she released a definitive statement with Do Cóccix até o Pescoço, a great artistic rebirth according to José Miguel Wisnik, the CD’s artistic director. “The CD brought Elza back to her place of importance.” The rap, A Carne, conquered generations who had never heard of her, and the singer filled huge houses like Canecão, the famous concert hall in Rio. In 2007, a cheeky and even better Elza released the live DVD Beba-me

 

Over the years, even the casual observer will have noticed the changes in Elza’s face that have nothing to do with age. Her first facelift was in 1963. Since then, the singer has had others. “I can’t stand to see a little wrinkle. I stomp my foot and say: ‘I don’t want it!’ I go to the surgeon and he asks me to return 20 years from now to remove it.” At that time, Elza gets right to the point: “So you want to see me with grey hair and a cane? In 20 years I’m bent over the ground! I’ll go out and seek another one.” And she recommends it to women:” They don’t condemn me for my plastic surgery, they do it too. It’s damn good for your well-being. Old age would be nice if I lived in a country that respects wrinkles. Brazil doesn’t tolerate the elderly.” She also steers clear of cigarettes and alcohol. I only drink a little wine. I take care of my body, workout at the gym...I only drink to get fat.” Her health is teetering. She’s faced two problems that have marked her: her fall on stage in 2003 (she broke three ribs) and diverticulitis in 2007, which led to the operating table. Elza had a fantastic recovery in both cases and returned to singing, avoiding doctors before being discharged.

 

The tenacious vocal cord, which allows her to sing hoarse, deep and sharp, and this irreverent improvisation caught the attention of the sacred master of Jazz, Louis Armstrong, who heard her in Chile in 1962. “He called me his daughter, he said that, musically, I was very like him,” recalls Elza.

 

Elza and soccer legend Garrincha
Her talent, however, did not prevent problems. One occurred in 1960, when she got together with legendary soccer phenomenon, Garrincha. He was married and, madly in love, left his wife and seven children to live with the singer. A morality campaign on the radio dubbed her a home wrecker, derailing the sales of her albums. Fans of Garrincha’s Botafogo team blamed Elza for his absence in training. The couple's house was stoned and even shot at.

 

The artist also lost her mother in a disaster that had Garrincha at the wheel drunk. Elza did what she could to help the man who had been the idol of the Brazilian national team overcome his shortcomings, but 14 years later she gave up. He died from alcoholism, in misery, after four suicide attempts.

 

You were the first Brazilian artist to speak of blackness in your work. Before the black woman came onto the music scene as the “mulher do cabelo duro (hard-haired woman) who doesn’t have a comb to comb her hair.

 

Elza Soares - The color of my skin does not mean less character or lesser value. I sing what I think, because the carne negra (black or dark meat) is still the cheapest on the market (referencing a lyric in her song “A Carne” (The Meat) that she recorded). Brazil owes me a lot. I became a professional very young and inexperienced. I was humiliated, offended and I remained silent. The need to eat and to raise my children was so great that if I stopped to argue in court, I would have lost my livelihood, my satisfaction. So I kept it moving, but I'm always singing to remind you that blacks exist. And not just blacks; gays and prostitutes don’t have a voice, and they are part of this great nation that I represent and that walk on the margins (of society).

 

Footnotes

 

1.Geraldo Vandré – 1960s Brazilian Popular Music artist who was forced into exile due to writing song lyrics that were deemed to be open opposition to the Brazilian military dictatorship that lasted from 1964-1985.

 

2.Bossa Negra – Bossa refers to the late ‘50s Brazilian music style known as Bossa Nova, a new way playing the Brazilian Samba with strong influences of American Jazz. The term negra translates as black in English. A Bossa Negra is also the title of Soares’s 1961 LP.
 
3.Sambista – Singer or musician who is known as a specialist in the style of music known as Samba. Here, Soares speaks of her desire to avoid being labeled a “sambista” as Brazil’s music industry often labeled black Brazilian singers and musicians in an almost folkloric, stereotypical manner that would also exclude these artists recording other types of music and expanding their audiences. For a further discussion of race and music in Brazil see the articles….

 

4.Cazuza and Titãs are both icons of the Brazilian Rock music scene beginning in the early 1980s. Cazuza’s career started as a member of the Rio-based band Barão Vermelho before pursuing a solo career. He died of complications of AIDs in 1990. The São Paulo-based band Titãs remains active today. 

 

 

 

 

PUB: Virginia Commonwealth University Cabell First Novelist Award > Poets & Writers

Virginia Commonwealth University

Cabell First Novelist Award

Deadline:
January 12, 2013

E-mail address: 
englishgrad@vcu.edu

A prize of $5,000 is given annually for a first novel published in the previous year. The winner also receives an all-expenses-paid trip to attend the First Novelist Festival at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond. For books published between July 1 and December 31, 2012, submit three copies by January 12, 2013. There is no entry fee. Call, e-mail, or visit the website for complete guidelines.

Virginia Commonwealth University, English Department, P.O. Box 842005, Richmond, VA 23284-2005. (804) 828-1329.

via pw.org