HISTORY + VIDEO: Remember Sarah Baartman > Nuñez Daughter

Remember Sarah Baartman

Posted on June 3, 2012 by

This is a guest post by Bianca of Latino Sexuality and of The LatiNegr@s Project. I’ll be cross-posting and blogging! Read a bit more about me when we introduced The LatiNegr@s Project team.

Cross posted from my Media Justice column

This is the tenth anniversary of Sarah Baartman (also known as Saartjie Baartman)  being returned to her home in South Africa. Sarah is an important woman to me because she reminds me of how bodies of Color, bodies that are feminine, and the sexuality of Black and African women remain devalued in the world we live in today. If you do not know Sarah’s legacy I’ll share a bit of it with you here.

Sarah Baartman was a Khoisian woman from South Africa. Born in the late 1780s (yes, you read that correctly), Sarah was a member of the Khoikhoi community. In 1810 an English doctor on a ship, William Dunlop, met her and convinced her to travel to Europe with him. She agreed and Dunlop took her with him to Europe where she was put on display for others to view and given the name “The Hottentot Venus.” Her body shape and size was seen as oddly disfigured by Europeans and Dunlop. The reality was that her body shape and size were very much characteristics of her being a member of her community and thus not that odd.

From an outsider’s perspective she was seen as having extremely large buttocks and genitals and it was these parts of her body that were on display for those in Europe to view, for a price. Each person who wanted to see the body of Sarah, who was marketed as a “freak” paid a price to an animal trainer who “managed” her. We do not know if Sarah was given any of this money. Her body and life on display became a part of the foundation that created the scientific and anthropological theories about African sexualities, Black bodies, and difference that are still present today.

After four years in Europe she went to France where scientist William Cuvier became interested in her for the same reasons Dunlop was. Her “showings” were extremely popular and several images and cartoons were created about her presence in Europe and France. You can see some of those images here. It is believed Sarah may have become a sex worker in order to survive once the doctors lost interest in her. Being in a foreign country with different climate, illnesses, and hygienic expectations, Sarah died of an infection of which people now believe could have been syphilis.

When Sarah died, her body was taken by a museum in Paris: the Musee de l’Homme.  At the museum a cast of her body was created, her brain and genitals removed and “preserved,” and her skeleton all put on display. Again. In the museum. For over 150 years after her death, the museum had her on public display. Some believe it was 1974 that she was removed from public display, others 1985, either way it was well over a century.

Even though her body was no longer on public display, the museum kept her body in their archives. When President Nelson Mandela requested her body be returned in 1994, it took 8 years for an agreement. In May 2002 her body was returned to South Africa and buried August 9, 2002 on South Africa’s Women’s Day.

Now you know a bit about Sarah Baartman’s life (please don’t refer to her as the derogatory name “Hottentot Venus”). When we discussed this in the course I’m teaching about women, art, and culture, my students were shocked. They were shocked that this went on for so long, many stating how they were born only a few short years after she was taken off of public display. Others questioned why there was resistance by the museum in returning her to South Africa. We had a great conversation about what museums represent, who they represent, and what and how are certain people, things, and topics considered art.

Many folks have used her legacy and life as a force for change, activism, and new forms of media and art. For example, in 1998 Khoisian activist and scholar Diana Ferrus wrote “A Poem for Sarah Baartman”  that many believe led to the agreement to send her body home and was read when her body was handed over at the South African embassy in Paris. Her poem is below:

I’ve come to take you home –
home, remember the veld?
the lush green grass beneath the big oak trees
the air is cool there and the sun does not burn.
I have made your bed at the foot of the hill,
your blankets are covered in buchu and mint,
the proteas stand in yellow and white
and the water in the stream chuckle sing-songs
as it hobbles along over little stones.

 

I have come to wretch you away –
away from the poking eyes
of the man-made monster
who lives in the dark
with his clutches of imperialism
who dissects your body bit by bit
who likens your soul to that of Satan
and declares himself the ultimate god!

I have come to soothe your heavy heart
I offer my bosom to your weary soul
I will cover your face with the palms of my hands
I will run my lips over lines in your neck
I will feast my eyes on the beauty of you
and I will sing for you
for I have come to bring you peace.

I have come to take you home
where the ancient mountains shout your name.
I have made your bed at the foot of the hill,
your blankets are covered in buchu and mint,
the proteas stand in yellow and white –
I have come to take you home
where I will sing
for you for you have brought me peace.

I think it’s interesting that as I’ve written this article in a word processing program on my computer, that Sarah’s first name of “Saartjie” and last name were highlighted as being spelled incorrectly, when the names of the two doctors: William Dunlop and William Cuvier, were both recognized and not ever highlighted for misspellings. This is a great example of the normalization of such practices based on white supremacy and eugenics and the erasure of the lives of women of Color and of Sarah Baartman’s.

It is this same erasure that many of us are fighting to end. Some ways to challenge the erasure and invisibility is by sharing her legacy, asking questions, creating knowledge, healing, and seeing the connections of injustice and fighting to end them. Read more about Sarah Baartman’s life and if you are interested encourage your school or local library to purchase the two films about her life by Swazi filmmaker Zola Maseko  “The Life and Times of Sarah Baartman” and “The Return of Sarah Baartman.” 

I’m writing this post, sharing it with my community online, teaching about her life and legacy, and discussing it with people in my life. I’m reminding all of the people of Color in my life they are loved and their bodies their own. What will you do to remember Sarah Baartman?

via nunezdaughter.wordpress.com

 

ESSAY: DOING BATTLE ON THE CULTURAL FRONT

photo by Alex Lear

 

 

 

DOING BATTLE ON THE CULTURAL FRONT

 

What is more important: reality or the perception of reality?

 

In the long run, reality is always more important than perception. For example, if we are sprayed with a poisonous gas, whether we could perceive that gas would not determine whether that gas killed us. Or if we were Sioux and made a treaty with the U.S. government, whether we believed in that treaty or not would not prevent us from dying at Wounded Knee, Wounded Knee (1 or 2 for that matter).

 

The facts are that in the long run, reality always rules. However, what we must contend with is the unfortunate truth that perception dominates human discourse more than reality. In the minds of humans, myth is more important that truth. How we perceive reality will determine what we do, far more often than reality itself.

 

In this context, cultural workers occupy a critical position. Through the power of our art work, we artists can either reveal the truth or maintain myths; can wake up the consciousness of our audience to the realities of our world or hypnotize people into believing that beliefs are synonymous with truths. The invaluable role that entertainment plays in stabilizing the status quo is why artists as entertainers are paid disproportionate to other workers (such as teachers and farmers) in modern American society.

 

Perhaps here we need to clarify the distinction between artists and entertainers, that is assuming there is a distinction. First of all, all successful art entertains, i.e. engages the imagination and emotions of its audience. That is the essential power of any art. So then being an entertainer is part and parcel of being an artist. An artist must be able to move people.

 

The real question then is not whether the art is entertaining but whether the art reveals truths or reinforces myths -- and because we live in a period and a place where truth is multifaceted and often contradictory, it is both easier to communicate received myths to the general public and for the bulk of contemporary Americans to accept myths than it is to communicate and have the bulk of people accept revealed truths.

 

Received myths are easier for the mass elements to swallow because these myths conform to the perceived reality of Euro-centric domination. Moreover, it is easier to market such myths, especially because the means of communication, not to mention the amount of remuneration, is generally tied to adherence to and propagation of the existing mainstream. Thus, even an avant garde which protest bourgeois values but does not lead a revolt against bourgeois domination is acceptable to the status quo as a safety value outlet of frustration that might otherwise be channeled into rebellion, or, "god forbid," social revolution.

 

An essential difference between art and entertainment is that art reveals the realities of history and the status quo, and proposes a vision of a significantly altered future, whereas entertainment reinforces social myths and proposes the futility of revolution past, present or future. Judge for yourself, but sooner or later, those essential characteristics will manifest themselves in all artwork. You can deal with this or you can deal with that, one way or another, you either conform to or transform the status quo.

 

Given our current state, which is a contradictory mixed bag (i.e. we both  conform and transform, but tend to conform more than  we transform), the real question for us as artists is how to mount and sustain cultural warfare with the avowed goal of winning the hearts and minds of our people away from conforming to the status quo, win our people over to transforming the status quo reality.

 

So that is the revolutionary duty of the artist: to reveal the truth. This is intrinsically a revolutionary duty because in a period of cultural domination the revelation of truth in and of itself is oppositional to the status quo which works to maintain hegemony.

 

We have tossed around two big words: reality and myth. Let us consider briefly, what we mean by these terms. Reality is simply what is. But reality is also complex. Reality is the event and the interpretation of the event; the conditions that lead to the event, the context within which the event took place, and the resultant outcome of the event. A myth is an accepted, symbolic explanation of reality. A myth could be true or could be false. By this definition of myth, it is obvious that I believe that there is nothing inherently incorrect about myths. However, within our contemporary context, a context of Eurocentric world hegemony, the myths of the status quo are intrinsically in opposition to the truths of non-European peoples.

 

For example, a Euro-centric myth is the belief in man dominating nature. Modern urban architecture (which I call "modern cave architecture") attests to this belief. The prevalence of air conditioning--enclosed spaces designed to keep the outside out. The drive to dominate nature is not just a reflection of atmospheric and environmental conditions. For example, the Inuit people live in cold weather but they don't try to dominate nature. No, I think the effort to dominate nature is a social characteristic which is intrinsic to Euro-centric thought. Native Americans, Africans, people of the so-called Asia subcontinent, and the peoples of the Pacific, all manifest either a reverence for or at least a respect for nature and see ourselves as part of nature.

 

A corollary of all of this is the Euro-centric move not only to separate man from nature (and notice when I speak of Euro-centric thought I specify "man," and when I speak of other modes of thought I specify people), but indeed Euro-centric thought puts man at odds with nature and even goes so far as to say that man has the right to control, or dominate, nature. Thus, we have this Euro-adopted trinity of sky gods, i.e. 1. Yahweh; 2. God the father, son and holy ghost; and 3. Allah, all of whom exist without a female principle (Christianity even goes so far as to make Adam the mother of Eve). All of these religions bestow to men dominion over the earth. and reserve the dominion of heaven (and by extension, hell) to the control of God. This then becomes the mythological justification for Europeans (even though Europeans did not create any one of these three religions) to conquer and control the world and all its diverse peoples.

 

I suggest to you that an artist who has not come to grips with the patriarchal and dominating nature of a so-called "universal" sky god, is an artist unable to break the psychological grip of Euro-centric thought, and hence, regardless of the so-called political content of their work, that artist will invariably end up supporting the status quo, and thus in the long run end up being an entertainer. Of course, there is much more to discuss in this context, because this is a very complex topic, but I think you see the general outlines.

 

All of this is the context within which I think our battle for cultural equity and cultural diversity takes place. I believe what we are struggling to do is defend and develop ourselves based first on revealing the truth of our day to day lives and our history, and second on taking responsibility for the shaping of our future.

 

Our social truths are tough and complex in that they include all kinds of contradictory social realities, some of which are shameful, nearly all of which are painful to reveal. Our failure to stop the colonizer was often because of a failure to unite with others who had a common battle to wage even if they were historically our enemy; a failure to curtail collaboration with the enemy; and ultimately a failure to overcome our own weaknesses in thought and action.

 

The fact is we were enslaved by the millions and the magnitude of that slavery could not have taken place without strategic mistakes and critical sell-outs. Fortunately, as our ongoing struggle makes clear, we have been delayed but not denied. So the task of our artist and art institutions is to reveal both the perfidy of the enemy and the pitifulness of our own weaknesses. You see when we talk about what needs to be attacked, the internal contradictions must be very high on our list. Most of the major slave revolts in the United States were betrayed from within.

 

So art must look unblinkingly at the past and the present if it is to offer a clear-eyed vision of the future.

 

Furthermore, the future of our struggles for equity and diversity, for empowerment and tolerance, must be grounded in specific realities and aimed toward a general embracement of the oppressed and exploited including huge sectors of the so-called "white" world who are more confused than we are, and certainly more spiritually and emotionally bankrupt than we have ever been. We may not have much wind in our sails, but there are literally millions of white Americans running on empty who live in a world of dread and angst. While I feel no moral responsibility to save them as whites, I do feel a responsibility to address them as human beings.

 

I do not fool myself into thinking that the majority of people who think of themselves as white will heed my words, but, at the same time, I am wise enough to understand that I in no way diminish myself by helping others, even if those others have historically bought into their alleged superiority over me. For you see, deep down in their souls they know, just as deep down in my soul I know, that none of us are superior, we are all humans struggling to survive, procreate and find a measure of peace and happiness.

 

The effort to accurately communicate the complex and contradictory nature of truth is the battle I envision as a human being, the battle I wage as an artist.

 

—kalamu ya salaam

 

VIDEO + INTERVIEW: Kimbra: Settle Down (Live) - NOWNESS

Kimbra: Settle Down (Live)

<p>Kimbra: Settle Down (Live) on Nowness.com.</p>

New Zealand's Pop Prodigy Multiplies Into a Formidable Beatboxing Chorus

 One-woman, iPad-looping sensation Kimbra performs her breakout hit “Settle Down” in our exclusively commissioned and dynamic short by directors Us. Springing to global attention after featuring on Belgian chart-topping phenomenon Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know,” the soulful 22-year-old Kiwi dropped her debut album Vows in America last month. Us directing duo Christopher Barrett and Luke Taylor filmed a single take of the track to capture the live energy of Kimbra’s performance, visually recreating her vocal loops in post-production. “She builds the entire song using just her vocals, some beatboxing and her iPad,” they explain. “It’s often quite hard to distinguish many layers of sound, so we wanted to break down the structure of her performance, and highlight what she was actually doing.” Currently touring the States with indie rockers Foster the People, NOWNESS caught up with Kimbra on the road to snare her choice of dance moves and drum kits.

Jet set or settle down? 
Jet set!

Up or offbeat? 
Offbeat. 

Shuffle or playlist?
Playlist.

Vinyl or leather?
Leather.

Whiskey or wine? 
Wine.

Twitter or Tumblr?
Twitter.

Bach or The Beatles? 
The Beatles.

Hi-tech or lo-fi? 
High-tech. 

Pop art or pop tart? 
Pop art. 

A cappella or Acapulco? 
A capella.

Drum kit or tool kit? 
Drum kit made up of a tool kit. 

Toe-tap or head-bop? 
Head BANG.

Shimmy or shake? 
Shake. 

Dior or Dion (Celine)? 
I'm down with Celine. 

Solo or duet? 
Duet... With D’Angelo, please?

1950s or 1990s? 
50s for the style, 90s for the cheesy R&B. 

Showgirl or playgirl? 
Showgirl. 

Beastie or Backstreet? 
Backstreet!

via nowness.com

 

PUB: The New Guard - Literary Review

THE NEW GUARD 2012 CONTESTS

Good news, folks! We have extended both contest deadlines to July 18, 2012 (midnight/postmark). Entries are $15. International submissions are welcomed.

KNIGHTVILLE POETRY CONTEST: $1,000 for an exceptional work of narrative and/or experimental poetry. Three poems per entry. Up to 300 lines per poem. Judged by National Poetry Series winner JEANNE MARIE BEAUMONT.

MACHIGONNE FICTION CONTEST: $1,000 for an exceptional work of literary and/or experimental fiction. Submit up to 7,500 words: anything from flash to the long story. Novel excerpts are welcome if the manuscript functions as a stand-alone story. We do not publish illustrations. Judged by Novelist and Essayist RICK BASS.

THE NEW GUARD 2012 contest readers are looking forward to reading your work! You can enter online via our submissions manager or by postal mail with a $15 check and SASE. Contest winners and all finalists get two free copies of TNG and publication. We published 40+ debut writers in the 2011 issue alone. Each submission will be carefully considered. Final judging is blind.

We accept .doc or similar files–no PDFs, please. We do pay strict attention to word and line count. Please include your name on the first page of your submission only. Poetry submissions should be made together in one file (up to three poems in one document). TNG accepts previously unpublished work only. Any size print run or online publication (including blogs and/or social networking) disqualify your entry. Simultaneous submissions are accepted, provided we're notified upon publication elsewhere.

TNG retains standard first publication rights; all rights immediately revert to the writer upon publication. Please note that TNG cannot return manuscripts. We are not presently accepting submissions aside from our contests.


 

KNIGHTVILLE POETRY CONTEST JUDGE

Jeanne Marie Beaumont is the author of three books of poetry, most recently, Burning of the Three Fires, which was a finalist for the 2011 Writers’ League of Texas Book Award, and Curious Conduct. Her first book, Placebo Effects, was selected as a winner in the National Poetry Series. She also won the Dana Award for Poetry and The Greensboro Review literary award for poetry. Her poems have been included in two dozen anthologies and textbooks, including Good Poems for Hard Times, The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror, The Norton Introduction to Literature, 9th ed., and Poetry Daily: 366 Poems from the World's Most Popular Poetry Website. She was co-editor of the literary magazine, American Letters & Commentary, from 1992-2000. With Claudia Carlson, she co-edited the anthology, The Poets' Grimm: Twentieth Century Poems from Grimm Fairy Tales.

"Afraid So," a poem from Curious Conduct, was made into a short film by the same name (narrated by Garrison Keillor) by award-winning filmmaker Jay Rosenblatt. The movie has been screened at numerous international film festivals, on the IFC, and at the Museum of Modern Art. She served as director of the annual Advanced Poetry Seminar from 2006-2010, and she currently teaches at both The Unterberg Poetry Center of the 92nd Street Y in Manhattan, and at the Stonecoast MFA Program in Maine.


 

MACHIGONNE FICTION CONTEST JUDGE

Rick Bass grew up in Houston, and started writing short stories on his lunch breaks while working as a petroleum geologist in Jackson, Mississippi.

Bass has published more than 20 books of essays and novels, and has worked passionately for environmental causes all over the world. His honors and awards include a PEN/Nelson Algren Award Special Citation for fiction, a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship, and the James Jones Literary Society First Novel Fellowship for Where the Sea Used to Be. He was a finalist for the Story Prize in 2006 for his short story collection The Lives of Rocks. He was a finalist of the National Book Critics Circle Award for his autobiography, Why I Came West. He was also awarded the General Electric Younger Writers Award.

Bass lives in the remote Yaak Valley of Montana, where he works to protect his adopted home from roads and logging. He serves on the board of both the Yaak Valley Forest Council and Round River Conservation Studies. His papers are held at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library at Texas Tech University and Texas State University–San Marcos.

via newguardreview.com

 

PUB: Call for Papers for the Special Issue of Journal of Pan African Studies: African Hip Hop > Writers Afrika

Call for Papers

for the Special Issue of

Journal of Pan African Studies:

African Hip Hop


Deadline: 3 September 2012

This issue explores the ways in which African hip hop artists have turned to hip hop as a way to give voice to important social and political questions. The music of Africa and the African Diaspora have a long tradition of borrowing from each other. Emerging from the South Bronx in the 1970s, hip hop's origins are rooted in African storytelling and musical traditions and built on African American social and political resistance. In the 1980s hip hop made its way to Africa, where youth identified with the stories being told by the Black youth of urban America. Building upon hip hop's roots as a platform for social and political discourse, African hip hop has evolved the genre to fit the contours of contemporary African society. The objective of this issue is to explore the new and complex ways African hip hop artists are using hip hop as a means for social and political commentary.

There exists significant crossover between hip hop and other urban youth music in Africa, such as Kwaito in South Africa, Hiplife in Ghana, Genge in Kenya, and Bongo Flava in Tanzania. However, a focus on hip hop to the exclusion of other genres of African music allows for an enhanced investigation into the ways in which African hip hop artists are building upon the foundations laid by hip hop's origins. Therefore putting the research in the context of broader linkages with African American hip hop, assists in revealing African hip hop artists own participation in social and political discourses.

SUGGESTED TOPICS INCLUDE (BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO) THE FOLLOWING:

*African hip hop artists as agents of social change

*The importance of language in hip hop's social and/or political critique in Africa

*Hip hop and linkages between Africa and the African Diaspora

*Interactions between hip hop and the state in Africa

*Representations of Africa in African hip hop

*Representations of the African Diaspora in African hip hop

*Representations of women and gender in African hip hop

*African hip hop representations of Black identities

*Hip hop and social resistance in Africa

*Hip hop and confrontations with African social institutions

*Articulations of hip hop's fifth element (knowledge of self) in African hip hop

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Submissions for this special issue should include an abstract of the proposed paper (approximately 300-500 words), the author's contact details and institutional/community affiliation, as well as a short biography of the author(s) (200 words). Within the paper, do not include page numbers or the title on each page; place all end notes, footnotes and bibliographic information at the end of the paper. Abstracts (including submission queries) must be sent to guest editor, Msia Kibona Clark (mclark7@calstatela.edu) in MS word format via e-mail by 3 September 2012. Full papers are due by 1 February 2013. Potential authors should first review The Journal of Pan African Studies website (http://jpanafrican.com) to get a sense of the aim and scope of the journal. Authors should also follow the guidelines for authors at http://www.jpanafrican.com/submission.htm.

CONTACT INFORMATION:

For queries/ submissions: mclark7@calstatela.edu

Website: http://jpanafrican.com

 

via writersafrika.blogspot.com

 

PUB: Stand Our Ground Anthology

We are now accepting and considering poems for publication in Stand Our Ground: Poems for Trayvon Martin & Marissa Alexander.

We welcome submissions from poets of all generations, backgrounds and nations. We seek to display the diversity of poets united for justice.

Poetry will be considered for publication that addresses any of the following themes:

  • The Case of Trayvon Martin

  • The Case of Marissa Alexander

  • All Other Related Cases (Rahmarley Graham, CeCe McDonald, Kenneth Chamberlain …)
  • Institutional Racism

  • Domestic Violence

  • Vigilante Racism

  • Black/Latino Relations

  • People of Color Solidarity

  • Legacy of Lynching

  • Police Misconduct/Brutality

  • Self-Defense/Self-Determination

  • Sexism/Patriarchy

  • Black Feminism

  • Women of Color Solidarity

We are looking for poems that exhibit a command of the craft as well as content.

Submission Guidelines:

1 Poem per Poet

The poem must be no more than 2 pages long

Each poem must be submitted via email to StandOurGroundBook@gmail.com. Place the poem in the body of the email AND attach it as a Microsoft Word document. 12 point font: Times New Roman, standard margins.

All poems MUST be emailed BEFORE midnight on July 31, 2012

Please include a short bio no more than 3 sentences long. Your contact info should include your name, mailing address, email and phone number.

DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS IS JULY 31, 2012.

Our goal is to have the book published by November 2012.

Published poets will receive a complimentary copy of the book once it is published.

via standourgroundbook.com

 

VIDEO: Byron Rushing and the Fight for Fairness

BYRON RUSHING

 

The Fight For Fairness

 

Byron Rushing was elected to the Massachusetts House of Representatives in 1982.

In the legislature, Byron's priorities are human and civil rights, and the development of democracy; local human, economic and housing development; and housing and health care for all.

Byron successfully sponsored legislation to create the Commission to develop a comprehensive plan to end homelessness in the Commonwealth; that Commission which he co-chaired with Undersecretary Tina Brooks released its report and 5-year plan in 2008. The plan has been adopted by the Deval Patrick administration.

He sponsored the law for the over-the-counter sale of sterile needles and the law creating statewide guidelines for hospitals dealing with violence victims. He is a chief sponsor of legislation for substance abuse "treatment on demand." He co-chairs the state's Health Disparities Council.

Byron was an original sponsor of the gay rights bill and the chief sponsor of the law to end discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation in public schools. He was one of the leaders in the constitutional convention to maintain same sex marriage in Massachusetts. He is a spokesman against the restoration of the death penalty. He leads the effort for size acceptance and anti-discrimination on the basis of height and weight. He is concerned about the constructive re-entry of ex-offenders and is a proponent of CORI reform.

He was a leader of the Commonwealth's anti-apartheid efforts and is a sponsor of the Commonwealth's twinning relationship with the Province of the Eastern Cape in South Africa.

During his service in the Legislature he has chaired the committees on Counties, on Local Affairs, on Public Service, and on Insurance. When he chaired the Committee on Insurance, he was the chief sponsor of the health reform ending pre-existing condition refusals by insurance companies and chaired numerous meetings of diverse stakeholders leading to the successful passage of nongroup insurance reform law. When he chaired the Committee on Public Service he oversaw the merger of the two state pension funds.

From 1972 to 1985, he was President of the Museum of Afro-American History. Under his direction, the Museum of Afro-American History purchased and began the restoration of the African Meeting House, the oldest extant black church building in the United States. In 1979, Byron oversaw the lobbying effort in Congress to establish the Boston African American National Historical Site, a component of the National Park Service. Byron led the Museum in the study of the history of Roxbury; the Museum conducted the archaeological investigation of the Southwest Corridor for the MBTA. Byron stays involved in this work: as a legislator he sponsored the creation of Roxbury Heritage State Park and occasionally leads walking tours of African American and working class neighborhoods in Boston and Roxbury.

Born in New York City, Byron has lived in Boston since 1964. During the 1960's he was active in the civil rights movement--working for CORE (Congress of Racial Equality)in Syracuse, NY--and as a community organizer for the Northern Student Movement in Boston. He directed a group of organizers, Roxbury Associates, who helped to found the Lower Roxbury Community Corporation, one of the first CDCs in the nation, and who began some of the earliest organizing in a black community against the war in Vietnam.

>via: http://www.mass.gov/hdc/about/bio_rushing.htm


 

 

CULTURE: Revolutionary Love by Nicole Y. Dennis-Benn

Revolutionary Love

by Nicole Y. Dennis-Benn

 

I WRITE THIS SO THAT OUR STORY IS TOLD IN ITS TRUEST, MOST BEAUTIFUL FORM. THAT WAY, OUR LOVE ALWAYS REIGNS OVER HATE (http://jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20120601/lead/lead4.html).

 

2:55pm. The day of our wedding. My skin is two shades darker, thanks to lots of sun on the beach. To many women my complexion, this would’ve been a travesty before their wedding. But for me, it’s no big deal, just an asset I wear proudly. Like a queen. My partner joins me in the water and for the next hour we swim and mingle with our guests who have also been baked and rejuvenated by the sun. “You ready?” my partner whispers, swimming up behind me to encircle her arms around my waist. “Yeah, I’m ready.” We smile at each other, aware in that moment that we’re about to do something big, bigger than us. “Come on guys, save the kiss for later.” We look up just in time to see our wedding photographer, Kwesi snap a picture of us. “Say cheese, everyone!” Kwesi calls out to our guests who have all gathered around us, our bodies bobbing in the undulating waves. Everyone splashes around to find their space in the camera’s lens. Family and friends alike. We all stand close, smiles etched on our sun-burnt faces; and the sun, nude and marvelous in all her glory rains down upon us. A blessing.

***

I married my soul-mate, Emma Benn on the luxurious compound of Silver Sands Villa in Duncans, Trelawney on Saturday, May 26th, 2012. We exchanged our vows under the wooden arch of the gazebo overlooking the ocean. As the waves crashed against the shore and the wind blew skirt tails in its sweeping lullaby, we said our “I do’s”.

My partner’s best friend, Anna, who had been her friend since college, was our officiant. We had six bridesmaids and one best man between the two of us. But one important guest loomed in the aquamarine backdrop of the sea. The green surface of the land. She needed no invitation to wear her canary yellow dress that lighted up the day as she pranced above clouds. Her mystique was even spotted in the smiles spread across faces of onlookers. She was my Jamaica, the land of my birth.

In my vows I mentioned that because of my partner I fell in love with my country again. For a long time I ran away from Jamaica, seeking refuge in the freedom that America offered. However when I met Emma, she was adamant about visiting Jamaica. “Why not?” she asked when I turned her down a few times. I couldn’t tell her then how much I was hurt by the culture stifled by the seemingly robust structures of colonialism. I couldn’t tell her then that every time I touched the soil my insecurities flooded the gates of my consciousness and broke the levees, thus paralyzing me. However, when Emma and I finally returned to the island together for our first visit as a couple in 2010, something felt different. At the time I couldn’t place what it was. There were no words to describe it since my brain had not yet processed it. I felt beautiful, stronger. Empowered.

Feeling comfortable with myself had nothing to do with maturity; it had a lot to do with acceptance, not of myself, but of my culture. You see, while I learned to love and appreciate myself, the good and the bad, I found my culture to be a big part of who I am. So running away with a knot in my chest only robbed me of half of the woman I am; half the partner; half the writer; and half the soul of the stories I live to tell. It wasn’t until I began to love myself unconditionally that I began to love my country despite the socialization and problems I endured as a child growing up there. I never felt I had a place or a voice there. I was an outsider, an interloper. I had not yet understood why I felt different, why I spoke different, and why I acted different. I only knew I was human and somewhere in the universe the dots would connect. They finally did. I now love myself enough to love my people and accept that not everyone had the opportunity I did to be exposed to certain knowledge that would rid the flaws and mentality colonialism imposed on us. I am lucky to be free, emancipated from mental slavery, free to love myself, and free to love others. In other words, I am now whole.

For this reason, I soberly chose to have my wedding celebration in Jamaica. I say “soberly” because my friends began to question my sanity once I told them that I’ll be getting married in Jamaica, a country known internationally for its blatant homophobia. “Weh di backside yuh mean yuh getting married in Jamaica?” Their eyebrows would shoot up to their hairline followed by a sharp inhale of all the oxygen in the room. I had to reassure them that everything would be fine, simultaneously trying to convince myself too. I would constantly ask myself if I’m doing the right thing. My partner and I discussed other options and had even gone around Brooklyn as we entertained the idea of having the celebration in the backyards of our favorite restaurants. “But it wouldn’t feel the same,” my partner retorted. “Jamaica is our second home.” With that statement we knew what the consensus was.

I met up with a friend of mine for drinks in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, a fellow Jamaican. By then, same-sex marriage was on the verge of being legalized in New York State. It was March 2011, and although the possibility looked dim from where we sat on that early spring night at Madibas restaurant, there was a pulse throbbing wildly beneath the surface. The thought had hatched. My partner was growing more and more excited about having our wedding in Jamaica. We began to work closely with my friend who we later hired as our wedding planner. Slowly but surely, the dream wedding began to take form in our minds and became real when we began to hire key people like the photographer, the cake vendor, the DJ, and even the boutique that would outfit our wedding party.

One thing missing was the location. Location, location, location! The following question became a conundrum greater than the world’s biggest riddle: Which hotel in Jamaica would host a gay wedding? The question loomed about our heads for months. We dug deep into the roots of the hairs on our heads. My partner and I took turns calling resorts in Kingston, the South Coast, and the North Coast. Pleasant voices with warring cadences of British and calypso accents greeted us on the phone. We clutched the receiver with sweaty palms as we prepared to come out as lesbians over and over again: “Yes, hello, we would like to inquire about hosting our wedding at your hotel. What’s the estimated cost for space? Great! Just one more thing you need to know…my partner is a woman. Yes, that’s what I said. A woman. Oh. OK. Uh-huh. I understand. Thanks for your time.” In that silence after the click of the phone we knew we would be asking around for a while. One hotel executive at a prominent hotel in Kingston told us they could host our wedding under one condition, that we not use their outdoor premises. But an indoor wedding would defeat the purpose of getting married in Jamaica with all its natural beauty, so we kindly thanked her and moved on. Our search continued, taking us all the way to Negril where another hotel kindly advised us to try Hedonism. Again, having a wedding at Hedonism would defeat the purpose of our wedding given that we see our relationship as worthy as heterosexual couples see theirs. We’re not heathens; we’re two women in love.

Then one day out of the blue I decided to surf Facebook. I became more interested in viewing wedding photos of my friends for the sheer hope of finding inspiration. Two of my acquaintances had gotten married in Jamaica and I sent both of them emails asking where they had gotten married. Both women are in heterosexual marriages, but something pushed me to inquire more about the location. In all their pictures there was a sense of intimacy with all the guests, the deep blue of the Caribbean Sea sprawled across the backdrop. I rarely spoke to these two women, and one of them I had never met in person; so I didn’t want to send them a random message requesting details. But time was running and we had to make a decision on location so I pushed the send button. I was shocked by the quick responses. One would’ve thought we were long lost girlfriends reconnecting over Facebook the way how the women eagerly chatted about their weddings. I formed a bond of sisterhood with two strangers over wedding location. Through them I found out about the beautiful property that spans the white sanded beach of the North Coast, not too far from the reaches of the all-inclusive hotels with their massive architecture, maze-like compounds, and watered down versions of my culture. We came to know this property as Silver Sands. With its quaint villas by the sea and beautiful gazebo overlooking the deep blue of the undulating waves, high security, and gated community, it provided the privacy we needed for our wedding.

Once we nailed the location for our destination wedding, we went full speed ahead with the planning. Everything fell into place, including the confirmation of guests who would be there. We rented out six different villas for our thirty-seven guests. We were blessed to have an eclectic mix of family and friends from various chapters of our lives. Emma had her best friends from college in the wedding and I had my childhood friend from middle school and high school. We paired old friends with new friends to spice up the essence of the weekend that would become the most memorable weekend of our lives. Our guests arrived the Friday before the wedding in shuttles to their assigned villas, all excited to celebrate with us. We designated villas by personality traits and who we thought would mesh well together. Many of our friends and family flew in from New York City, Boston, and Philadelphia while some drove from Kingston. By dusk on Friday, everyone who was supposed to be at our celebration was there. The dj arrived and it was non-stop dancing and mingling and fun. Our guests were treated to a welcome party put on by Silver Sands. My partner and I knew we were on our way to having a spectacular weekend. We also knew we were safe and protected by Silver Sands, which has also been a low-key destination choice for many Jamaicans and tourists alike looking to get away from the hustle and bustle of the real world.

Each villa was assigned two to four helpers. Emma and I were fortunate to get great women who assisted us throughout the weekend. These helpers were women from Duncans, Trelawney who have been in the Tourism industry long enough to not blink twice when they were informed about our wedding. In fact, the first thing one of our helpers did was hang our wedding attire up to reduce the wrinkles. She also pressed my partner’s suit and meticulously fluffed the handkerchief in the left breast pocket. As jittery brides, we tried not to take for granted the importance of mother figures fussing over us given that our own mothers had declined our wedding invitation. Our two helpers made sure that we were well taken care of, well fed, and of course, well ready to exchange our vows.

Once I knew everything was under control, I loosened up a bit. I took deep breaths and proceeded to practice mindfulness, a meditative technique I learned last year. I became aware of everything around me, the smells, the sights, the sounds. I allowed myself to feel everything flowing through me in that moment. The moving hand on the clock stopped, suspending everything in the present. I savored every second of it. My moment for life. And just like that my body relaxed. There was nothing that could steal my joy once I claimed it. I likened my joy to the process of an iceberg melting, the solid components made up of fear of rejection and knowledge of a cultural history known to refute the bond between my partner and I. Once that iceberg of fear melted I exhaled. So forceful was the exhale that I quivered. “Would you like some rum punch?” the bartender at the beach bar asked, as if she had witnessed my tenseness just seconds before. “Yes, please.” I took sips of my rum punch labeled A-Train, our signature drink which was aptly given its name because when I met my partner four years ago, I journeyed on the A-train from Brooklyn to Washington Heights almost every night to be with her.

Fast forward to our wedding. I felt like I’d emerged from a dark tunnel, greeted by her radiating light. My father walked me down the aisle; while my partner walked down the aisle with her aunt who she hand-picked to represent her father and the other elders, both past and present, who could not be there. We walked together as a couple paired with the most significant people in our lives to Whitney Houston’s “My love is your love”. Our bridal party had long taken their places in the gazebo in front of all the guests. Behind us, staff and curious onlookers snapped pictures. It was Silver Sands’ first gay wedding and everyone on the compound was excited. Helpers stopped in their tracks on their way home from a long day of work to peer at the brides dressed in white. Front desk clerks flocked to the base of the jetty to give their well wishes then snapped more pictures. People were so excited that they almost followed us onto the jetty leading to the gazebo. They were prevented to do so by the DJ.

In that moment I wished I had a camera to snap pictures of the smiles that followed us that day. I wished I had a video to capture my Jamaican people full of nothing but well wishes and love. A side of Jamaica that the world needs to see; a side that the Jamaica Gleaner and other media outlets would constantly silence with biased stories depicting ignorant thoughts that breed stereotypes of the Jamaican people, especially the working class. My helpers were the ones who snuck away during the wedding procession to sprinkle flower petals on our immaculate white sheets.

Luckily for us, everything ran smoothly. With the help of a quick thinking DJ who stepped in to cue the bridesmaids and clear the jetty during the procession and the ceremony; my very animated friend, Dahlia and my Uncle Turkey, who took to the mics to MC the evening and directed waiting staff to serve food and drinks; and the photographer, Kwesi, who temporarily put down his camera to light the candles. It was all good.

The wedding was surreal in that we never expected the love and support we got from certain people. We even met a videographer who is the owner of one of the villas. The encounter was serendipitous since we had forgotten our video camera and wanted footage of our wedding. He and his wife documented the procession and our vows. However, word got around town that a gay wedding was taking place on the premises of Silver Sands. But the workers, upon hearing this, simply kissed their teeth and fanned away any slight buzz of ignorance.

My partner and I were too ridden with wedding jitters to even care about anything else. She reached for my hand in marriage and I took it. It was just us standing there before an audience of our friends and family. I looked into her eyes and saw those connecting dots in the universe, all aligned; and I thought to myself, she completes me. When it was time to jump the broom it occurred to us that the ceremony was over. We did it. We got married in Jamaica! Well, technically, given that we had really done the legal work in New York where our marriage is in fact legal. What we did in Jamaica, was celebrate with family and friends, reenacting what was already celebrated between us before a judge at the Municipal Building in Brooklyn in the spring. Thanks to Governor Chris Cuomo, same-sex marriage was legalized in New York. Therefore when we jumped the broom, it was literally an emotional experience for the both of us.

Jumping over the broom symbolizes various things depending on the culture. But in our ceremony, uniting us as two beautiful, black women, jumping the broom symbolized the hurdle gay and lesbians had overcome for same sex marriage to be possible. On June 24, 2011, a bill was passed recognizing, for the first time, gay and lesbian unions as worthy by the state of New York. Following that great milestone, President Obama, who I proudly voted for in the 2008 presidential election when I got my US citizenship, announced to the world on May 9, 2012 that he sanctions same-sex marriage. This announcement was a tremendous honor to millions of gays and lesbians who had fought for this very right. On our wedding day we remembered those living partners of gay men and women who were left with nothing—no healthcare and thrown out of the apartments. Those who weren’t able to sit by their partner’s bedside or even dare attend the funeral. Those who took the backseat as “friend” and not recognized as partners having the rights to have any say over how their partner was buried.

Therefore, jumping the broom on our wedding day symbolized not only the ancestors who were not allowed to get married as blacks on plantations and who died to make our dreams possible; but that our union and our love for each other as Black Women will be recognized by everyone, including the very country in which we publicly exchanged our vows, Jamaica.

As the 50th Anniversary of Jamaica’s independence approaches, so has the maturity of a nation. As a Jamaican, I have seen with my eyes and felt with my heart the burgeoning of a nation that is beginning to accept individual choices with little judgment. I say “little” with a bit of caution given that it’s all relative. I’m speaking from the experience I was blessed to have on the weekend of my wedding. At fifty, Jamaica has taken baby steps, but at one hundred, I am positive my country would have already taken giant leaps. In fact, my grandchildren will one day look back at our wedding pictures and feel proud that their grandmothers were the first same-sex couple to marry openly on Jamaican soil.


Nicole Y. Dennis-Benn

 

via ruminations-of-a-brooklyn-soul.blogspot.com
__________________________

The impact of Living out Loud

as a Gay Jamaican

June 18, 2012

Courtesy of Kweisi Abbensetts Photos

 

By Nicole Y. Dennis-Benn

“It is illegal … in Jamaica,” a pastor was quoted saying.  “Marriage is not a union between any two people; it must be between a man and a woman.  This kind of thing is not the norm and is not something you would expect to see in a Christian country.”

It has been a week since the first story broke about my marriage to my beautiful wife, Emma Benn, at Silver Sands Villa in Duncans Trelawney, a parish in Jamaica.  In one week, our lives have changed.  It started with an article in the Jamaica Gleaner, “Lesbian Nuptials at Silver Sands.”  When and how this information was leaked, we are still uncertain.  But this article immediately garnered attention, enough to overwhelm the comments section of the online article:  “Could it be true?  Did two women really get married on the island known to refute same-sex unions?  What an ungodly occurrence! They should be charged! The Villa should be fined!”  The questions and admonishments stirred like a typhoon in the middle of the ocean.  What was meant to be a private, intimate ceremony with family and friends, as a re-enactment of our legal marriage a month before in New York where same-sex marriage was recently legalized, became an overnight sensation in Jamaica.  We made history.

But in the midst of the reactions following the breaking news, there was something bigger; something my wife and I happened to be caught in the middle of by chance.  It wasn’t our wedding, it was the timing.  For in recent months Jamaica had been engaged in dialogue about homosexuality when Portia Simpson-Miller, Jamaica’s current Prime Minister, shocked the nation by saying she will hire a competent person to serve in her cabinet regardless of their sexual orientation.  For a Jamaican Prime Minister to make such a statement in a public debate is an anomaly in a culture so rigid about same-sex unions.  After this statement, Simpson-Miller won the election by a landslide.  This was followed by President Obama on May 9, 2012, when he publicly expressed that he supports same sex marriage.  The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), a very prominent civil rights organization in the US, followed suit when they too expressed their support of same-sex marriage.

By the comments I’ve received in response to the Jamaica Gleanerarticle and the article in Ebony Magazine, I realize that our wedding has encouraged positive discourse about homosexuality and same sex marriages throughout the African Diaspora.   I’ve gotten messages from people all over the world—people living in West Africa, South Africa, Singapore, Quebec, Jamaica, and the United States.   What my wife and I did was spark the flame.   The gasoline was already there.  And so was the match.    All we did was express our love before family and friends in a place I still call home.   A place known for its homophobia, yet still embracing us.  If we did not have the support of the venue, many of its staff and villa owners, and the local community, our wedding would have been impossible.  We may not have been the first to do this, but the attention resonated from the social movement that was already in effect.   A social movement that was already orchestrated by the higher-ups that eventually trickled down to two women having their wedding in Jamaica—one Jamaican and the other one African American.   Two women.   Two women of the African Diaspora.   From two countries in active dialogue about the issue of same-sex unions.  Two women.   One love.   And an act of courage.

Jamaica was ready.  America was ready.  The world was already poised, watching, waiting.

But what touched me most were the messages of support from gay and lesbian individuals living in Jamaica.   Many have expressed how inspired they were by our courage to do such a thing.  A nineteen year old girl wrote that she was on the verge of giving up on life after a long internal battle with her sexuality.  But after reading the article about us in the Jamaica Gleaner, she was able to see for the first time that there is a bright side at the end of the tunnel.   After reflecting on comments like these, Emma and I realized that we were now held in high regard by those who saw us as revolutionaries.  We realize that our story is bigger than us.

I recalled how alone I felt during my coming out process in high school and how important it was for me to see other lesbians as role models or even to see representations of us.  Like that nineteen year old girl, I used to be under the dark and desolate impression that I was the only lesbian in Jamaica; that I was the only person walking around with supposedly “unnatural” feelings for other women.  But during my freshman year of college I met another Jamaican woman, a Jamaican-born poet by the name of Staceyann Chin who captivated me by her fearlessness as an out lesbian.

Now, Emma and I are proud that our courage could give a voice to so many who truly love their culture and homeland, but who, marginalized, ostracized, and often living in fear, never feel that love reciprocated. Our story is not a lesbian story or a Jamaican story, but a story of love between two people that is so amazing, we just could not keep it hidden from the world. We know that we have not started this movement, but we are determined to give it the extra push it so desperately needs.

________________________________

Nicole Y. Dennis-Benn received her MFA in Fiction from Sarah Lawrence College. Her work addresses gender, sexuality, religion, and the Caribbean immigrant experience.  Her forthcoming novel, Run Free, tells the story of a transgendered son of Jamaican immigrants.  Nicole currently lives with her wife in Brooklyn, NY.

 

 

 

POV: Rap’s infatuation with white girls is hurtful to black female fans > theGrio

Rap’s infatuation with

white girls is hurtful

to black female fans

Opinion

by Bené Viera | June 19, 2012

Kanye West (L) performs while model Anja Rubik walks the runway during the 2011 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show at the Lexington Avenue Armory on November 9, 2011 in New York City. (Photo by Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images)

Kanye West (L) performs while model Anja Rubik walks the runway during the 2011 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show at the Lexington Avenue Armory on November 9, 2011 in New York City. (Photo by Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images)

By the time I was 11 years old my next-door neighbor, who was a few years older than me, had given me Nas’ 1996 It Was Written album. Knowing that the explicit content would send my mom in a fury if she found it, I insisted she keep it, but she refused to take it back. Frightened, I sneaked it into our two bedroom apartment to add to the rest of my mostly R&B music collection. When I eventually popped it in to my CD player, I was in awe. It was that moment I fell in love with Nas’ music — and more in love with hip-hop. That was 16 years ago.

For so many in my generation, hip-hop has served as the backdrop to our childhoods. Its appeal was not only the heart-pounding thump of the beats, or the coolness of the women and men rapping. Finally it seemed like someone was telling our story. Rap music spoke our language in a way nothing else did. It was the true essence of giving the voiceless a voice.

theGrio slideshow: Hip-hop’s most infamous haters

Since then, feminism has changed my relationship with my beloved hip-hop. As much as I love it, I hate how it treats women. Hip-hop and black women have an abusive relationship in a sense. Its lyrics advocate violence and sexual assault against women; and it often reduces us to gold-digging “hoes” unworthy of respect.

Hip-hop “brainwashed” by infatuation with white women

As I plow through Tom Burrell’s book, Brainwashed: Challenging the Myth of Black Inferiority, I think about how the black inferiority complex (BIC) plays out in pop culture and music, particularly rap.

One of the things that has become more prevalent in hip-hop is the adoration of white women, juxtaposed with its seeming hatred of black women in rap lyrics. Historically, white women had been off-limits for centuries — black men were literally lynched; killed for allegedly whistling at white women. Therefore, snagging a white woman was the ultimate slap in the oppressors’ face —  a “look, I’ve made it and I have one of your women!” statement of sorts. Now, instead of rappers, en masse, toting white women on their arms, they parade them on wax.

Kanye West, whose music I happen to love dearly, has had a longtime obsession with the white aesthetic. His music tells the story better than I could. Visually, it has played out in his videos for songs like “Runaway” and “Monster.”  Why did all the ballerinas in “Runaway” have to be white?  In “Monster” we see the decapitated heads of white women hanging from ropes and rocking gold teeth. Most telling of his white girl fantasies was his cover art to MBDTF. But Kanye is far from alone in this line of thinking.

“My new young chick look exactly like Rihanna/A** like Nicki, but she yellow like Madonna.” – Meek Mill

“You know we keep that white girl/Christina Aguilera.” – Young Jeezy 

“But I’ve been practicing with some actresses as bad as sh*t/And a few white girls, asses flat a sh*t/But the head so good, damn a n**ga glad he hit.” – Kanye West

“White girl, that Ricky Lake/That boy can’t feel his face.” – Rick Ross

 “And now you b**ches that be hatin can catch a bouquet, oww/yeah, you a star in my eyes, you and all them white girls party of five.” – Drake

“I got that white girl, that Lindsay Lohan/And all you gotta do is ask Lindsay Lohan.” – Lil Wayne
 

“So just get you a white girl, don’t f**k with no black b**ch.” – 50 Cent

Granted, most of the verses aren’t as provocative as 50 Cent’s, and in a few of them, “white girl” is code for cocaine; but it’s interesting that the “white girl” nods are rarely paired with the same “b**ch,” “ho,” “gold-digger” and other slurs hurled at black women on the very same records. The adoration of one vs. the despising of the other is cause for concern. Yet as disturbing as it is, it’s not all the rappers’ fault. After hundreds of years of dehumanizing and conditioning, it makes sense that the BIC in the psyche of blacks would seep into rap music, which ironically, young whites are the largest consumers of.

Without romanticizing the “good ol’ days” of “real” hip-hop, I do miss the days when listening to commercial rap didn’t remind me of what society perpetuates: the degradation of black women. It’s not that I even have a problem with white girls or rappers wanting to be with them. I just want hip-hop to love its women — black women — the way we love it. In the same way we defend it to our last breath, write rebuttals about it not being the cause of society’s ills, I want the music to reciprocate that love. And at the very least, if it can’t do that it should not tear us down while putting the “white girls” on a pedestal.

Follow Bené Viera on twitter at @writtenbybene

via thegrio.com