On Negritude

Negritude provides us with another point of accessing the world, accessing the specific history of pain, of trauma, of longing. As a word, it holds the power to challenge what seeks to drown out black expression. The discourse of the world that dominates our understanding of it is calculated in nature. It also leaves little to no room for the stories and voices of those who have long been excluded from this narrative. In a white man’s world, there is no room for the history of the black man. Through negritude, which Sartre’s calls poetry in essence, a poetic impulse is produced that seeks to expand meaning, and seeks to expand possibilities. It is a different way of analyzing the world. As an expression of a language, it makes room for those who have been cast aside by the world. It creates a space, in the dominant discourses of the world, for the black man to exist in. As who he is, not who he’s been made out to be. The modern conception of our world has reduced it to a quantifiable entity. When you put something that is not an obvious concern, that is not immediately intuitive to us, you find a semblance of similarity with what negritude seeks to teach us. The world is reduced to laws, it is cut in binaries of white and black, it is demystified, and as Weber calls it, it has become disenchanted. A great theft, he calls it, to rid the world of its magic, to make it more comprehensible, understandable, more codified, more simplified. Negritude, as a philosophy, as an ethic, as an ontology of Being a different way in this world seeks to generate a meaning of the world that serves as an alternative to the modern understanding of it. It is a meaning which seeks to create a different form of humanism, one that is applicable to all human kind.

Derived from the French word, negrè, negro, the linguistic baggage that this world carries accumulated over the span of four centuries. It is here that the term blackness came to be understood as an attribute. What Cessaire and Senghor attempt to do, is to change that understanding of blackness, by talking about the black man, and where he comes from, and who he is, and what cultural and intellectual baggage he carries, that comes from his relationship with others like him, with his ancestors, with the past he is no longer a part of. Negritude seeks to retrieve an identity that has been artificially constructed by another. It is homecoming. It is appreciation of where you come from, and ownership of it. It is claiming the world you inhabit with that ownership of your past. It seeks to affirm. It seeks to represent the stories of those who have been silenced by others. It is reinforcement of this idea, and ownership of it: emotion is negro, as reason is hellenic.

This philosophy emphasizes the need to go back to the African past, to explore it, to reexamine it. Because the past still has a lot to teach us, and that is how the past can come to be the present, with the way that we analyze it, and understand it now. Criticized on the restricted nature of this philosophy, which seeks to establish a root to the universal through the particular, there are questions directed at it to explain whose past it seeks to revive. Is it of those who inhabit Africa, is it also of those Africans who constitute the African diaspora? Does this form of humanism seek to include everyone, including the Europeans, including all non-Africans, or does it seek to isolate Africans from the rest? Is this unlimited in its scope of what comes to be understood as African, or is it also limited in its conception of that? Is it possible to make space for yourself in a a world divided across lines of difference, divided on the grounds of color? Negritude is particular, but it is also universal. Because it doesn’t only provide us with the ontology of Being a different way for Africans, but for humans across the world. Though situated in the context of affirming the black identity, it seeks to create an alternative understanding for how human kind is come to be understood and defined. The understanding of man rooted in the mind of the Africa is that which connects him to nature, that which connects him to his God. How do you express this blackness, which has come to be thought of as an attribute, as a characteristic, as a color? You do it through your art. And your music. And your rhythm.

This past is elusive, and it is difficult to recognize. This past has become past. It doesn’t exist for the new African, for the modern black man. But it must be refashioned, and recreated, so it can become home to the formation of African identity, that is derived not from the colonial understanding of it as a subject, but the African conception of it as human. This is not all there is to it, and even the suggestions to reinvent this past have met with criticism. If the African expresses himself through his art, through his music, through his rhythm, is he not still operating within the colonial gaze? Is he not still performing for the white man, to prove to him that he is who he is? But for Senghor, this form of negritude seeks to do much more than that. With the expressions of the African through his art, he establishes a connection between man and nature, between God and nature, and between nature and nature itself. Through the particular, you find a root to the universal.

One defines the Other

Mohanty’s article focuses on the universalization of the particular. Besides highlighting the bifurcation of western, and third world women, it also brings forth the notion of a dualistic form of colonization which the latter suffer from. In addition to being colonized, in an economically exploitative and absolutely violent way, the representation of these categories of women is also colonized, by the construction of the Other, in tandem with the construction of the Woman. This crisis of representation is pervasive in western feminist discourse, which corroborates the theory of hegemonic imperialism, which was violent in its control of the dominated both by the sword, and the pen. Mohanty divides her critique of popular western feminist literature into three distinct components, constituting of five specific ways in which the third world woman is categorized in western literature.

The first point of analysis focuses on the context of the women who are described in western discourse, and attempts to locate their identity in the world outside of the purview of the western scholar. The ‘methodological universalism’ employed by western feminists undercuts the particular trajectory of historical events which shapes the lives of these women under study. The categorization of them as “third world women” carries with it a linguistic baggage, which casts off third-world women as just third-world women, who are all involved in the “sameness of their oppression.” This divides the discourse of women into binaries of western woman, and the third world women, in a manner which defines the former as someone the latter is not. The associations attached to such categorizations are reinforced on multiple levels to produce immediate images in the mind of the colonizer which render the colonized subject as “ignorant, poor, uneducated, religious, tradition-bound, etc.” A stereotypical analysis of such intensity and repetitiveness is essentially defining the western woman. These characteristics are used as a frame of comparison for the white woman who is the antithesis of them. The third-world woman becomes a metric against which western woman is defined. In painting the oppression of every and any woman with the same brush, the western discourse on feminism does not take into account differences across class, culture, ethnicity, race, and even gender. These women are then “discursively constructed” and not thought of as subjects which shape their own material identity, and history. Women are placed into preexisting structures, which defines their existence in a way which serves as extracting specific signposts from historical memory to validate a particular perception of them. It is a form of feminism which focuses on tracing antecedents events which are incorporated as substitutes for a deeper level analysis of the lives of these women. In one categorization, women are rendered victims of male violence, and their existence is defined on the terms of the control men exert on their bodies. The instance of female genital mutilation is not explained, but rather described as tool of male dominance enacted on the women to restrict their sexuality. In another text, Facing Mount Kenya by Jomo Kenyatta, the concept of FGM is considered a form of resistance against colonial rule. These variations between perceptions of the same event are not taken into account, and this essentially defines the third world woman as merely a victim, through which both the attack, and the defense against society comes from. Mohanty also emphasizes upon the depiction of women as dependent subjects in western discourse, which situates them on a trajectory of progress which is defined by western standards. The historical specificities of women are ignored, and they are formed into a homogenized group which suffers from the same issues, in an identical way. A woman’s existence is defined “via dependency relationships vis-a-vis men.” Instead of uncovering the value attached to the roles women take on as part of these “dependency” relations, their reality is seen as an irrefutable fact. Even in the context of kinship patterns, the exchange of women in tribal societies is reduced to a ritual which does not have social, political, and economic implications.

The homogenizing of women in this category overlaps their differences, and assumes that the origin of their position in society in the socio-economic context is preceded by just a sexual-political impression of it. With reference to religion, the example of Pirzada women cited by Mohanty substantiates her claim that western discourse focuses on preconceived notions about the third world women. In western discourse, the act of taking on the purdah is justified by Islamic ideology, whereas it is underpinned by an aspect of security, and the male members of society taking over the economic resources. These overarching categories state that the western woman needs the third world woman to define herself, and in this pursuit, the discourse does not allow for debates which reflect upon the specific contexts of these women. In suggesting that development will render the third world societies progressive, aspects of choice on part of the women in developing countries is not taken into account, nor the absence of freedom to act that these women actively suffer from. The problems pertaining to underdevelopments also affects women in different classes in different ways, and this intersectional discrimination faced by women on the basis of their color, race, ethnicity and class are not taken into account in western feminist literature.

This methodological universalism employed by western feminists does not rest on empirical proof, but instead of reductive binaries which superimposes the perception of the Woman in the eyes of the western observer, onto the category of women as a collective. Women are placed into a self evident category, which creates a “negative relation” between them and the group in power, as emphasized by Michel Foucault. The western woman becomes the subject, whereas the third world woman becomes the object. These structures created by the foreign to locate the other comes laden with moral justifications for a way of life which before being considered inferior, is defined as different. The codification of the third world women which produces stock categories of “veiled woman, powerful mother, chaste virgin” are used interchangeably to define all women in the third world. Politics of lesbians, and women from marginalized religious and ethnic groups are not assessed, and instead of “culture, identity and universalism” being preceded by “differences, temporality, error” — the analysis is inverted, and one entity ends up defining the other.

How important is culture to Cabral’s view of national liberation?

For Cabral, culture holds immense value as a tool of resistance by the colonised against colonial oppression, while also serving as a gateway to a “firmly entrenched domination” by the coloniser. It is cultural assimilation which largely enables the perpetuation of colonial rule in Africa, and it is cultural oppression which poses a challenge to it. Amilcar Cabral defines culture as the “materialist and historic reality of society being dominated” — a reality upon which the evolution of society is contingent upon. In pursuit of national liberation, culture serves as an essential armour against an erasure of history. Each society is afflicted with conflicts, and the antidote to them is found in the “dynamic syntheses” produced by its culture, which offer solutions to them. In the perception of national liberation employed by Cabral, the three main prongs of what culture entails — “continuity of history; progress of society in question, and a perspective of evolution” prove to be instrumental in establishing control over a society. The cultural personality of the colonised becomes an expression of either implicit collaboration with the coloniser, or of rejection of foreign invasion. The notion of liberation at a national level encompasses a story of a nation in a manner that the parts which make the whole do not lose their individual weight. According to Cabral, “culture is not the prerogative of one faction of the society” — and for the struggle against colonial domination, it is imperative to recognise that culture is not an overarching umbrella which paints the society with the same brush, but exists in various forms which need to be kept distinct, with a common thread of national liberation unifying them. Culture allows for an “understanding of, and integration with the environment, an identification with the fundamental problems, and an acceptance and possibility of change in the direction of progress.” Therefore, culture plays an integral role in striving towards liberation.

Another distinction attributed to the notion of culture by Cabral is that of its ability to unify, but also to alienate. In Cabral’s view, culture can be expressed through assimilation with a foreign culture, which serves as a way of silencing dissent, and as a form of alienation in which the elites absorb cultural values of the invader, and in the process create a distance between them, and the masses. The road to liberation is paved with acquiring a consciousness which identifies this distance as a problem that ought to be addressed. To acquire this consciousness, building on the indigenous cultural values, beliefs, and norms, a “reconversion of minds” is necessary to become “reAfricanised.” What precedes national liberation is cultural domination exercised by the coloniser, which is embedded in the “class nature” of culture, that becomes more palpable and evident in the rural areas. In order to attain liberation, this dichotomy between the repression of the culture of the masses, and support and protection of the cultural influence of the ruling elite ought to be challenged and subverted. This is because in the context of rural areas, it becomes apparent that actual power is concentrated in the hands of the colonial administration, who exercise it with the collaboration of the native ruling class. This class of indigenous native elites come to be seen as black skins, wearing white masks. Culture holds a dualistic role for Cabral, who advocates its fundamental position in perpetuating domination, and its value in strengthening resistance. Culture acts as a potent tool of resistance, and as an integral part of national liberation movements because, in the words of Cabral, “not understanding the culture of Africa was a grave mistake that the Portuguese committed.” This blatant negation of an African culture by the Portuguese resulted in three subsequent wars of colonisation. This claim of establishing culture as an undeniable fact, lends credibility to the material reality of a society seeking liberation.

Lastly, it is not sufficient to merely be cognisant of foreign domination resting on cultural oppression, because it is equally important to critically analyse, assess, and reevaluate aspects of native culture which do not contribute towards national liberation. A demarcation ought to be produced between the positive and negative aspects of African culture; its strengths and weaknesses; its essential and secondary characteristics, and between what is blindly accepted and exalted, and what ought to be embraced, cherished, and celebrated. It is easy to think of culture as all-embracing, but in pursuit of national liberation, the parts which make the whole need to be given their due weight and attention. These constituents of an overarching culture, each pertaining to a distinct social category, need to coalesce into a “single natural culture” which expresses itself in an armed struggle. For Cabral, culture is important when it manifests into an armed struggle, which functions as both a “cultural fact”, and as a “builder of culture.” Instead of transposing foreign methods of attaining national liberation onto a context where they might not be applicable, it is essential to increase political awareness, through a restructuring of native cultural values. This finds an expression into forms of popular, national, and scientific cultures, which then begin to oppose, challenge, and potentially subvert foreign domination.

“Where are our heroes and ancestors?”

A statue which can be seen as a depiction of an epistemic conquest, was removed over the crisis of representation. The removal of Cecil John Rhodes was initiated by students of the University of Cape Town, as an attempt to decolonize education, in a struggle to rewrite history to suit their own sensitivities.

The “poo-protest” uncovered buried remnants of a past that barely exists in the consciousness of those who were subjugated by the colonizer. A one-dimensional perception of the statue harboured in the minds of the students, which presented it as a beacon of hope. The statue, however, represented far more than a ticket to higher education on the promise of a Rhodes Scholarship. Though ironic in essence, the existence of a concrete figure represented an otherwise blank state, a form of deliberate omission in the stories of the past. It represented the colonial modality of knowledge and rule, through an erasure of history – not accidental, but effectively deliberate, by the consolidation of a colonial figure who played an instrumental role in the epistemic conquest in Africa.

The question, “where are our heroes and ancestors?” alone carries a mass of cultural baggage, and calls to attention the need to uncover history which is representative of those whose identity it seeks to form. The statue stood for an extension of British will, and its removal represented the reintegration of the present with an acute understanding of the past. It represented the Eurocentric curriculum of a leading African university; the representation of a population which was majorly black by a government body that was predominantly white, and the lack of financial and mental health support available for black people in a key learning centre.

This crisis of representation places credence in the theory that colonization was an epistemic conquest, in which the problem in the representation of the colonized was not just limited to a difference in the ethical orientation between the colonized and the colonizer, but also extended to the idea of non divergent representation. The statue, which embodies the essence of the colonizer as an entity that demands respect, represents the concealment of a past that has denied the colonized their historical agency. In order to subvert the colonial domination which seeps into the identity of the colonized, it is imperative to gain consciousness of one’s own identity which ought to be extracted from the archives of history. As Macaulay advocated in his Minute on Education (1835) that non-European literature did not hold the same value as European literature, this statue was representative of the notion that certain kinds of knowledge are tagged with a certain kind of privilege. The African literature is considered useless, irrelevant, and is deemed nonexistent because there is a preexisting value attached to the kind of literature the colonizer produced.

The defacement of the statue was an act of defiance against a system which places individuals into a framework wherein certain kinds of knowledge is considered superior to other kinds. It was an act of resistance, against a preexisting notion of having exposure to a selective understanding of history, one which was presented to the students with deliberate omissions. It represented the duality of existence that the colonized is forced to experience. An existence which creates a dichotomy between the subject, and the ruler; between colonized, and colonizer, and between white, and black. A student who engaged in protest against the removal of the statue of a man who was an architect of segregation, mulled over this blatant denial of agency by wondering if the gaps that existed in the curriculum were there because there was “something somebody did not want me to know.” John Cecil Rhodes attempted to create a perception of the particular entity, that of being black, in the collective imagination, and the defacement of his statue represented an act of resistance against that formation of identity.

This “poo-protest” attempted to represent a different perception of an identity that has previously been defined as the ‘other’, in relation to the identity of the white colonizer. While Nelson Mandela championed for the cause of black emancipation under the slogan of “what is verby is verby!” (what is past, is past) – the question of “where are our heroes and ancestors?” represents not only the entrapment of black identity within a mould of the colonized subject, but also poses a challenge to a western culture pervasive in UCT which justified colonial control, domination, and an erasure of history.

Lastly, this statue represented the fears of the black people who had lived through testing times, and did not want the next generation to grapple with a form of racism that was disorienting for them to experience. Perhaps, they did it to protect the next generation from a crisis of identity. Was this act of protection undertaken in hindsight, or in retrospect? Maxwele’s “poo-protest” was an act of resistance, against a crisis of representation that rendered the past of the black people a blank state. It represented an awareness that black people have come to nurture: we are not tabula rasae, and that being black is an identity that can be defined independent of the existence of another.