“What are the words you do not yet have? What do you need to say? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you will sicken and die of them, still in silence?”
The Black Radical tradition has offered me a lot to learn in this course. It has taught me the violence of being static in a zone of non-being, of being defined by someone else, of being riddled out of history as if a certain history never existed at all. Reading about the African diaspora also taught me the tyranny of being uprooted, and then defining again what one’s home is, among many other things. But most of all, the Black Radical Tradition has taught me the importance of rising up from a silence that is somehow, in different levels, imposed upon all of us everyday. The quote by Audre Lorde above culminates in a sense my argument of what that means. It is the importance of recognition as well. The recognition of the violence of silence and language, the violence of definitions. And it has taught be that me that beyond that recognition, and even within it, lies a hope that looked to the future even beyond one’s own existence. Therefore, while I have learned of blackness as a wounded, traumatic history, I have also learned of blackness as the future.
The violence of language, the violence of naming was perhaps the biggest violence that existed in general relations of domination and subordination. Reflecting back on this, I think this idea became important even when we discussed Moscow as the new center during the time of the Communist International. In my second blog when we had to analyze some posters, I picked a one that inverted the moon laterally and that clawed into Moscow, and I said that this is what communism intended to do: it was changing the center. After having read so many more people in the course, I realize that that changing of the center was also a struggle against the preconceived naming of the West as the center. Naming something as static was the violence. And to change it was the struggle. This violence was addressed by many “prophets/prophetesses” we discussed. For CLR James, when he detailed the violence of the slave experience, he centered the history on blackness. For Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, in the struggles of violence and nonviolence – for the former, even in naming the movement “Human Rights Movement”. For black women that became heroines for me: bell hooks, Ella Baker, Toni Morrison, and so many more, by reading whom I realised the double violence of being silenced by the oppressor outside and within, i.e. the black man.
In essence, what I learned from the Black Radical Tradition was this then: that to have a space in history, a history that was not chartered by the white man, was to recognize how one came to be called what they were and to recognize the inherent hierarchy and power in that. It made me realise the importance of the phrase: There is a space for everyone at the rendezvous of victory. I did not just learn about black history then. This tradition offered me an ethic: to be more aware of the power that exists not just in actions but also in words. To see the violence in preconceived categories. To the extent of making me aware what I write, who do I write about, and why do I write that. . . In the end, therefore, it has taught me to be aware of meaning, and the power within it.

