“I remember you was conflicted, Misusing your influence. Sometimes I did the same..”

An imagined representation of 2PAC conversing with a young Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick Lamar’s “To Pimp a Butterfly” has been widely recognized as one of the most impactful albums of the 21st century, across all genres. In 2017, Harvard University immortalized the album in its library archives along with Lauryn Hill and A Tribe Called Quest. The album addresses the African American experience with, arguably, unparalleled detail. It is unanimously considered as Kendrick’s magnum opus because of the creativity with which Kendrick incorporates themes of racism, police brutality, slavery, taxes, Uncle Sam, drug peddling, gang violence and most importantly his inner demons.

However, the album eventually leads to the very question of self-love and perseverance. A question which is often raised within our course as well. One of the most prominent tracks on the album “Alright” talks about this very dilemma. Preceded by the track “U” where a drunk Kendrick seems to be at his lowest, addressing his shortcomings and deep rooted hypocrisies as a person, it flows perfectly into Alright:

“I’m at the preacher’s door,
My knees gettin’ weak and my gun might blow but we gon’ be alright”

Image result for kendrick alright poster

The track is mainly about having a constant sense of hope amidst all the violence and adversity. Its lyricism is unapologetic and witty but also constantly refers to being on God’s good side.

“My rights, my wrongs are right till I’m right with God”

Kendrick also talks about how despite being at the top of the game he can clearly see through the “evil” also referred to as “Lucy” (Lucifer) in the album, a character that Kendrick himself plays. The lyrics suggest that no matter what circumstances African Americans find themselves, they should always be hopeful things working in their favor in the end as a reward for all the challenges they persevered through. For Kendrick, one can achieve that level of perseverance through constant faith in God and by developing the ability to distinguish the good from evil. A message he presents in an extremely creative manner without even slightly coming across as preachy.

OF FAITH IN MLK’S NON-VIOLENCE

The notion of non-violence by Martin Luther King (MLK) holds certain complexities that require to be de-layered in order to get convinced or not by its principles, its philosophy and its possibility.

From one angle, the question of non-violence could be situated in the question of privilege, that is, firstly, the privilege of having the choice to decide between the approach, either non-violent or violent. Secondly, the privilege of being in the position, or having risen to a position where one might have trumped, outgrown, overcome violence directed at them. This, inevitably, turns the direction towards the ordinary black man who does not, or did not have this privilege. The black person who was not known, who was not famous, whose soul identity was their skin, who was not a Martin Luther King. How meaningful or how convincing would non-violence be for them?

This begs another question. How easy is it to internalize and accept that the end, is in fact, inherent in the means? The fairness of prioritizing the means in an unfair, oppressive system is debatable. It could have also questioned the strength of the black man by the oppressor or given the oppressor the confidence to continue with their means of oppression (?). The intention here is to not arrive at absolute answers, but only to question possibilities.

Consequently, the complexity further situates itself in the necessity of morality. How sustainable and doable is morality in a space which has seen nothing but immoral acts, passed from generations to generations. How convincing could morality be in the face of epistemic violence and oppression? Did faith in morality even exist? Could the “constructive moral plane” even be seen, envisioned and imagined from the point that MLK and his people were standing at. Prioritizing the moral means could probably also mean the recognition of the possibility to never really get to the end but find solace or refuge, nonetheless, in the process, the method, the approach that does promise a potential end. The very belief in non-violence holds that the “purity” and morality of the means would guarantee a pure end. That the means and ends are but inseparable. That it is the only way towards light. That the guarantee, the hope is perhaps enough.

If one were to converge the black thinkers and intellectuals together in order to find a common point, one would find that their purpose comes down to ‘dignity’. It comes down to self-respect, and recognizing pride in the self. It comes down to the long-deprived freedom and humanity. Where is, therefore, the dignity in suffering peacefully, one may ask? Or where is the guarantee in returning violence with non-violence that one day, the violence will come to a halt itself? How do you persuade the person, the child, who has seen nothing but himself as a recipient of violence since the day not just he, but his kind set foot in the foreign land.

Notwithstanding the preceding arguments , while addressing the question of non-violence versus or vis-à-vis violence, there is the unfortunate question of viability and practicality, of resources and strength, and of power. With what chance did the black man stand in front of the powerful, the entitled, the backed white man. This demoralizing practicality might create a necessary space for faith in the white man, that someday, some time, things will change. That he will see, that he will mend ways. That someday, truth will overcome and overpower everything that oppressed it. And when that day comes, when emancipation becomes a reality, then the black man would pride himself for being brave enough to not resort to violence, for giving the white man a chance, for believing in the white man, and for contributing to ensure no loose ends remained in the struggle and the reality of emancipation. That would make non-violence worth the pains, and worth the conviction.

In some ways, through non-violence, MLK also seems to be separating his people and their souls tangled in ‘fear’ of pain and oppression. Where would pain be if one were to abolish its fear? This could sound theoretical but perhaps it did work for the supporters of non-violence. Perhaps it did give them a direction and an elevation; that they outdid themselves and the white man in morality, in goodness, in faith and in hope. That they did not give in to evil. That they did not resort to violence even when they could. That they ascended higher than ever for choosing to not take revenge, for choosing to look ahead with hope and faith in betterment.

When MLK asks to center attention on the evil system, not the evil doer, it could be seen, in one way, as relieving the evil doers of the agency and the will they had. It could remind us of Ella Baker, suggesting that the white man “did not know better”. Again, was this convincing enough to suffer more, to be at peace waiting for the ‘end’, to be only dedicated to the moral means, I cannot say. Whether it was easy to convert suffering into a “social force”, a force of being human, a force of humanity, again, I cannot say.

Following MLK’s outline would mean believing in the inherent goodness and the possibility of eternal improvement and goodness in man, regardless of race and regardless of color. Maybe regardless of history too. It is interesting and intelligent how MLK defines non-violence as a “technique of action”. This is a beautifully conflicting phrase. However, it does make sense. There is, of course, a technique in silence and a technique in morality. There is perhaps a technique, an ethic in suffering too. Perhaps hope for goodness, and hope in man, itself is a technique. A redeeming, comforting, strengthening technique. Maybe it helped in deriving hope and happiness, a spark in the future, a light in the end backed by peaceful, moral means.

This multifaceted idea of non-violence makes it difficult, if not impossible, to come to one answer: to say whether one is convinced or not. Non-violence is certainly not equal to weakness. It would have been more convincing had the power relations been less asymmetrical, let alone equal. It would have been more persuasive had the power disparity and the painful, long history not been astonishingly, paralyzingly vivid.

Language Through Music

One of the reasons why the songs in the playlist are so iconic is their use of language to capture feelings so emotively and powerfully. Language, as understood by both James Baldwin and Toni Morrison possesses the power to be a measure life and also create order from the disorder of life. Looking through the lens of both Morrison and Baldwin, there is overarching debate found within these songs. Despite spanning across different genres, the language used within these texts point to the struggle between how things are and how they are ought to be seen. This is done through three broad emotions: hope, anger, and pride.

The earlier songs of black protest songs evoking hope such as “Go Down Moses”, “Change Will Come”, “We Shall Overcome” and “Glory” use more general, abstract language. The phrases in them rely on biblical references and invocations of a rough life but the will to dream of a better future. We may not know what happens after overcoming racism, what the world looks like when change comes, or what happens when black people are free. Perhaps Baldwin is right, in that there is so much written on the pain and suffering of the African-American that prevents nuances and chances of possibility are ignored. Similarly, in her Tower of Babel anecdote, Morrison points out that the through the failure to incorporate or to articulate in other languages, the Babylonians could not consider the possibility that heaven lay beneath their feet.

In this way, songs of general hope do not allow for the language of anger. But the songs of anger address a valid problem: the black man is not free even after all the progress of the civil rights movement. In this instance, music is used to express frustration of unfulfilled promises. This is particular to more recent songs such as “This is America”, “Changes” and “Alright”, but even dates as far back as “Mississippi Goddam” and “Strange Fruit”. Unlike first group who used vague language, these songs are more comfortable naming instances of injustice. By naming them, describing them in detail with feelings of anger and disgust, they seek to rise above them just as Baldwin had done (as opposed to simply accepting their lot). The feelings which they expressed are not dissimilar to Morrison’s anecdote about empty hands. As opposed to mocking the older generation, the newer artists may genuinely demand answers from their elders in order to seek a wisdom they need, and they feel are being withheld from them by virtue of their age.

But, just as Morrison and Baldwin’s words say, there is room for language to be broad enough to articulate an array of sentiments and experiences in the creation of a distinct identity. One way to reconcile with how things are and how they should be is to see what is common to both: the shared history and struggle. From “Say it Loud”, “Respect” to “Redemption Song” moving into the present with “We are Here”, “Formation”, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”. The language used in these are combinations of Ebonics, colloquialisms or even shared references which fuse together to the creation of a black identity. This act, in Morrison’s words, is a radical act because it fully utilizes language as a system, a controllable living being and an avenue for agency. Baldwin takes this further when he explains that through hurt and help, one creates a distinct artistic voice in an indifferent world. For him as an artist, he needed to know the historical context, the traditions of black expression – in short, he needed to unlock the Negro within him to be a good writer. And he can do that through language itself and the accumulation of language as a story.

There can be significant overlap between these three categories and neither a hierarchy of quality; each person would interpret a song differently. Like Morrison’s bird, language is in the hands of the people whether they use it to express the dream of a better future, frustrations with progress or simply their unique identity. Baldwin and Morrison understand the potential and malleability of language in expressing the wide range of emotions regarding the civil rights struggle, and they encourage us to do the same with our experiences. They teach us that through language “the way things are” can be infused with “the way things are supposed to be seen and vice versa.

Consciousness in The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

The route to take in order for a revolution to emerge and succeed has often been a point of contention. At this point people essentially separate into two camps, one siding with violence as the best route to take and the other siding with non-violence. However, both camps urge for some form of decisive and immediate action that would not let time and patience dull that passion. In Gil Scott Heron’s song The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, that dullness and stagnation is exactly what is targeted and Heron attempts to replace it with a consciousness. It is a consciousness that is deeply aware of the time and place that it resides in and does not simply absorb what is placed before it. Throughout the song there is a slow and steady beat that can almost lull you to sleep if it weren’t for Heron’s urgent voice jolting you back into consciousness.

It is no doubt that this song also targets American consumerism as Heron references multiple advertisements through the course of the song yet it is that dulled, wilted and paralyzed consciousness that is on the receiving end of those advertisements that Heron criticizes and tries to revive. This consciousness has also been promoted in the two camps battling over the choice of violence and non-violence during the civil rights movement. In Malcolm’s speech “Message to the Grass Roots”, Malcolm X called for an outright revolution that is impossible to achieve without force. However, he uncovers the underlying reason for this continued oppression which is the stifled mode of consciousness that led African Americans to “suffer- peacefully” for years. The act of suffering peacefully in Heron’s song/poem is shown by the conveniences that Heron lists such as “stay home”, “plug in, turn out and drop out” and “skip out for beer”. He shows how these conveniences hide the reality that is lurking behind the TV screen and one can look at it if only one were to develop that consciousness. On the opposite side of the debate, Martin Luther King’s assertion on non-violence being the only mode of revolution also contained disdain towards these conveniences that only hold people back. In “Letter from Birmingham Jail”, King frames this convenience as the act of “waiting” and how “it has been a tranquilizing thalidomide, relieving the emotional stress for a moment, only to give birth to an ill-formed infant of frustration.” What do these conveniences and the wait that King warns us against have in common? They are both ways through which the hard hitting realities are hidden way; there is something amiss in the world but no one can quite put their finger on it.

Heron’s entire song/poem would be incomplete and ineffective as a whole if it weren’t for the last line which declares: “The revolution will be live”. This not only places the consciousness that Heron desires from average American citizens in the present time but also gives it life. If one wonders what this consciousness would look like in reality perhaps a good example would be Alice Dunbar’s poem called I Sit and Sew which Dunbar wrote right after World War 1. In the poem Dunbar writes about the crippling realization of not being able to do anything and being restricted to your roles while a war is raging on elsewhere. She writes: “I sit and sew—my heart aches with desire/That pageant terrible, that fiercely pouring fire/On wasted fields, and writhing grotesque things/ Once men. My soul in pity flings”. In this poem even though Dunbar is within the safe confines of her house and is involved in a household task, she is painfully aware of what is happening outside. It is this burdensome consciousness that Dunbar bears and that Heron tries to evoke in his song and THAT is the first step towards a revolution.

‘Strange Fruit’, ‘Mississippi Goddamn’ and the Not Yet

“David, you will not be able to finish the temple. You will not be able to build it. But I just want to bless you, because it was within thine heart. Your dream will not be fulfilled. The majestic hopes that guided your days will not be carried out in terms of an actual temple coming into being that you were able to build. But I bless you, David, because it was within thine heart. You had the desire to do it; you had the intention to do it; you tried to do it; you started to do it. And I bless you for having the desire and the intention in your heart. It is well that it was within thine heart.”

I started with this quote because this was the first thing I was reminded of when I heard the two songs: the Not Yet. Why? Because both the songs were remarkable. They were so potent. So real. However, I also knew that what both of them did was describe not a scene from history, but a continued struggle. The sadness and anger in the songs show that there is knowledge of how things are not any better, however, they, in themselves, speak of a change that they hope would someday come, whatever the means.

Strange Fruit is considered a song highly relevant to this day. While it describes a haunting image of lynched bodies hanging from a noose on a pastoral Southern landscape, the meaning behind the portrayal of unabashed violence is as pronounced today as ever. The song was first performed in 1939 by Billie Holiday, and continues to be produced in other renditions to this day. Nina Simone performed the song in 1954.

The power of the song comes from how particular the image is but also how it speaks for numerous other cases. The song doesn’t shy away from describing the ‘bulging eyes’ and the ‘twisted mouth’. The pastoral imagery is also reminiscent of the ideas of the American frontier which is irreparably tainted by heinous crimes committed against the blacks. The relevance of the song continues to this as it is performed by different artists because as things get better, there is still too long till the struggle is complete.

Mississippi Goddam is different as it is faster, and has a lot more going on than a description of image as in Strange Fruit. This song is about remembering. It is about remembering with defiance. Simone’s voice is angry, it is loud. It is in direct contrast to the repetition of the phrase ‘Do Slow!’. She cannot go slow, because it has been enough. For every effort to legitimize their humanity, they have been told to go slow and wait for a gradual victory. Her fast tempo manifests her defiance with this constant dumbing down of their efforts.

She maps out the violence by naming the states with extreme violence as she says ‘Everybody knows about…’. It is almost like a threat, a firm statement which says that there will be no forgetting because she is not the only one who knows the atrocities black people go through, but everybody knows. It situates this violence in history. She says ‘Don’t tell me, I tell you’. Again, defying the idea that she will be told about the history of her people. She ‘bears witness’ to this history when she says, ‘I’ve been there so I know’. But at the same time, she brings in everybody to bear witness to this violence saying that everybody knows about it.

Both the songs are extremely tragic and powerful. They are filled with unceasing emotion and resistance. However, while Simone displays the evil, she also exists, with so many of her brothers and sisters, within the not yet. This is because, although, the remembrance is there, it is still far from reaping its fruit. While the songs bear witness to what happened, it does not mean it ceased to do so because of this. The profit of resistance was, and still is, yet to show itself. However, the act, the word, and the voice, is the marker of a start of a recognition of their own humanity and history. Simone, along with the others, unveils openly the history that could easily be swept under the rug. It is a different history. A history against the backdrop of the ‘purity’ of the pastoral landscape, against the Americanness of the South. It is the history of violence and oppression. A history of blackness.

Nonviolence

‘In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of the facts to determine whether injustices are alive, negotiation, self-purification, and direct action.’ – Martin Luther King

Non-violence to Martin Luther King is a matter of demanding radical justice through non-violent means. Of the ‘the relentless pursuit of truthful ends by moral means’.

For him, the ends cannot justify the means – more, the ends are the means, because you cannot really expect to achieve your dreams. Thus the path must be virtue, just as the end must be an ideal, if an un-achievable one in the immediate sense.

‘The non-violent resister is prepared to suffer even unto death. He believes that by suffering alone he can bridge the gulf between himself and his opponent and reach his heart.” frames MLK in his speech-plan. He continues: ‘He aims at raising them from the destructive physical plane to the constructive moral plane where differences can be peacefully adjusted. Thus, he seeks to eliminate antagonisms rather than antagonists.’

This sentiment only makes sense in the context of his conception of humans – all humans – as possessing infinite capacities for goodness. Thus nonviolence is an appeal to that goodness. It’s an attempt not only to achieve some form of individual emancipation by transcending any form of oppression through non-violent resistance, but also to redeem the oppressor by appealing to their better nature – by shaming them by relentless non-violent resistance.

The moral-high ground of the idea is undeniable. A non-violent movement demanding justice and faced with brutality in shutting it down will always be making a powerful statement – especially in de-legitimizing those opposing them. There is no denying that violence easily becomes a loss of moral high-ground and thus, shuts off avenues of compromise and reason. In the age of media and international conceptions of human rights, and pressure there-of, non-violence cannot be considered precisely ineffective either.

It’s this issue of appealing to the better nature of your oppressor that I find questionable. Why must the onus of redeeming the oppressor be placed onto the oppressed? Leaving aside the pragmatism of non-violence in trying to appease an oppressor with a monopoly of violence such that you cannot effectively demand change through violence, non-violence as an ethic of revolution, in that it is chosen for it’s redemptive nature rather than pragmatism, seems… difficult, at best.

For one, assuming the capacity of infinite goodness in all people – including those in power seems problematic. People in power – and here I refer not just to powerful people, but also to normal people benefiting off of an underclass – can be ‘good’ and still find it eminently reasonable to maintain this power, if simply by not recognizing others as worth their ‘goodness’. If Martin Luther King says there is nothing inevitable about progress, then I’d argue that there’s nothing inevitable about goodness being touched by suffering either.

For one, have they not already suffered? Is suffering not what they are protesting, in fact? Is the difference then a sort of organised, public suffering meant to attract attention such that it is un-ignorable? Assuming the ability to shame people into doing good thus becomes a matter of manipulating the media, perhaps, and that seems like a hollow endeavor to me, stripped of its righteous rhetoric of redemption and morality. Playing the media game is increasingly messy in the modern world anyway, and it is easy to imagine non-violent protest going un-remarked and unnoticed, just as it is easy to imagine any other form of protest being deliberately painted in a terrible light. There seem to be no easy answers.

On the note of the concept of the means being as much the end as the end itself – if the end is emancipation, to assume that violence is somehow an unworthy means to that end is also very much positional. To Malcolm X, for instance, violence – if not in the carrying out of it, then definitely in the willingness to carry it out to protect yourself – was very much emancipatory in and of itself. The ability to demand the application of the same laws for yourself as for others – the right to self defense, just as if you were any other (white) person was very much a radically transformative idea – just as much as any concept of turning the other cheek – in implication being stronger, being the bigger man than the oppressor was the emancipatory ideal of Martin Luther King.

Another problem with non-violence protest is its transformation from a radical ideal to the only way of protesting. Isn’t there an issue when the oppressor can demand that any protest against oppressiveness be conducted only by non-violent means? What does it mean when the oppressed are told to turn the other cheek?

The idea of non-violence remains attractive though, especially since violence is escalating, and it never remains confined to where idealism would have it remain confined to. It is emancipatory on a very straight-forward level, however, as a way of wresting power for oneself.

As the question is not exactly an academic one, I admit that the moral high-ground, and sheer lack of violence of non-violence appeals, despite my doubts as to how fair or effective it is to shame the oppressor into compliance. It’s in the academic sense that violent, clean, straight-forward emancipation makes its appeal – and even that isn’t as straight-forward as it might appear.

In the end – there is no simple answer. And perhaps that is the answer.

The Carters & The Louvre–I can’t believe we made it

Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith were lynched in the town center of Marion for allegedly murdering a white factory worker, 1930. The case was never solved. Photograph by Lawrence Beitler.

For fifty years, lynching postcards were circulated in the United States. Pictures were taken at the time of the lynching and people bought them as ‘mementos’ from lynchings they had participated in. Lynching the black man was a sport and it was the white man’s word against the black man’s in deciding fate. Participants mailed these postcards to their families boasting the spectacle they had participated in. Long after circulation had been banned, they were carefully collected and passed down generations grouped with family pictures and other fond, nostalgic images.

It was these postcards and this particular photograph that inspired Abel Meeropel to write the poem ‘Strange Fruit’ in 1937. This poem as performed by Nina Simone speaks the uncensored truth of the black person’s reality in slavery days. He is merely an object of amusement, his body is portrayed in the postcard that is celebrated but it is his death, lynching being celebrated, not him. He is the subject of the white man’s art without ever being the dignified subject, creator or consumer of it.

I am now going to examine the ways in which The Carters makes a place of celebration for the black identity in neoclassical art by having black bodies create the art, be the subject and invert the themes of art that excluded them, through their music video ‘Apeshit.’

The Carters stand infront of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa

The Carters rented out the Louvre for this music video and used three millennia worth of art and sculpture to explore themes of black power, erasure, violence and resistance. Throughout the video, they take art and give it a new meaning through the ‘special attitude’ the black body brings to it. Baldwin discusses this idea in his ‘Notes of a Native Son’ when he talks about his own experience win France as he marvelled at the art he saw. He discusses the way the white man turns to these same prestigious museums and structures to trace his lineage and find pride in it and yet the black man simply can not– ‘these were not my creation, they did not contain my history.’ Baldwin says he feels like an ‘Interloper’ as he appreciates western works of art. He resents the white folk and hates them, yet he still appreciates their work. Throughout this video, Beyonce and Jay-Z explore this relationship of black bodies, interlopers, with Western art and challenges what this relationship can and should be. It does so have been depicted, through inclusion and exclusion in art and the way change is here. It echoes themes of James Brown’s black pride, Aretha Franklin’s demand for ‘just a little bit respect’ and Burning Spears’ ‘showing them that we are still alive.’

The video starts with the iconic sculpture of ‘The Winged Victory of Samothrace,’ representing the goddess Nike. This sculpture is one of the most celebrated surviving greek hellenistic sculptures and dates back to the 2nd century BC. Nike is the goddess of Victory and by juxtaposing her wings with a young black boy, the video establishes the glory it attributes with the young black man’s body and how it is to be associated with victory and triumph. Beyonce places herself right in front of the statue while demanding ‘gimme my check, put some respect on my check,’ echoing the straight forward, no-filter sentiment that is present in Nina Simone’s ‘Mississippi Goddamn.’ The stairs leading up the statue are covered with different shades of black female bodies, showing how they are literally occupying a pre-dominantly white space and making it their own.

A young black man with wings representing *‘The Winged Victory of Samothrace’*

Beyonce wearing a white, structured dress resembling the bleached sculpture of ‘The Winged Victory of Samothrace’

Black female bodies of various shades occupying space within a pre-dominantly white context

In the following image, Beyonce dances in front of David’s ‘The Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Joséphine. Napoleon had this piece commissioned to portray him crowning his wife as a was a way to honour Josephine. Beyonce stands in front of this image of French pomp and conquest and freely dances in tight fitting clothing with women of colour to emphasise how she as a black woman does not adhere to the respectability politics of white women. Beyonce sings about how she has ‘expensive habits’ and she’s ‘living lavish’ just like Jospehine, however, unlike her, she does not kneel down for someone else to crown her.

Beyonce and her dancers in front of Jacques-Louis David’s ‘The Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Joséphine,’ 1804

The music video then goes to the following still of two black women sitting on the ground as Davids‘ ‘Portrait of Madame Recamier‘ is elevated in an exalted manner. Madame Recamier was a Parisian socialite and she is depicted coifed in Greek fashion, reclining on a Pompein couch in a severly formal setting, truly serving as the height of French elite and regal status. The two women of colour sitting underneath her become significant as they portray how in reality it was women just like these who were characters surrounding figures like Madame Recamier, and it is these slaves who are left out of the narrative. The song goes silent at this still and lets the viewer contemplate what this means and how black bodies have historically been excluded.

Davids’ ‘Portrait of Madame Récamier’, 1800

The video also incorporates Gericault’s Raft of Medusa, a painting which is deeply socially and politically conscious. Gericault depicted people who were abandoned deliberately at sea and most of them died. The raft was eventually rescued and at the top of the pyramidical composition is a black man signalling towards a ship. Gericault empathised with the slaves and this work of art portrayed the suffering of the people while depicting them the black as heroic. Jay-Z stands in front of this image and repeats the chorus ‘can’t believe we made it.’ The inclusion of this particular image depicts the deeply hopeful nature of struggle and shows how Aretha Franklin’s ‘its been too hard livin, but I’m afraid to die’ rings true.

Théodore Géricault, ‘*The Raft of the Medusa’*

Finally, the Apeshit video breaks the constant portrayal of white characters with the ‘Portrait of a Negress’ by Benoist. This painting was made during a brief period of abolition of slavery in French colonies and is the only painting of a black subject without a visible form of white domination within the painting. The woman is titled simply ‘The Negress’ and has her breast exposed, which shows that she probably did not have any control over how she was made to pose. However, despite this, The Carters embrace this image because she is given a portrait and she maintains her regal and poise. Her image takes up the entire screen and no comparisons need to be drawn. Her portrait is hung in a respected place. The Carters sing ‘can’t believe we made it, this is what we’re grateful for’ and one sees how black identity and its relation with art continues to evolve.

Marie-Guillemine Benoist, ‘*Portrait of a Negress*,’ 1800.

To conclude, I think back again to the poem ‘Strange Fruit’ and Nina Simone’s voice as she re-opens the deep wounds that have been inflicted upon black bodies through slavery. I think back to the post cards that were circulated and to what thoughts may have crosses Lawrence Beitler’s mind as he captured the lynching of Thomas Shipp and Abran Smith. I think about The Carter’s and their ability to rent out the Louvre, an icon that represents the height of white elite culture and I meditate over how they have taken these famous works of art and tried to bring their own ‘special attitude’ in their approach to it. I think about James Baldwin in 1955 writing about feeling like an interloper as he appreciated art in France and I think about how The Carters tie into this long history. I wonder how Baldwin thought these works of art do not contain his history and how The Carters show that they do.

On the boat or on the shore

History with a capital H, as we know it today, is world history. But the world is the white man’s. It is exclusionary and laden with hidden silences; towards the black man. In other words, if the world is to be understood as that on the boat, and the shore, History with a capital H is the history of those on the shore, and not on the boat.

Because Toni Morrison, C.L.R James, and Malcolm X write and speak the history of those on the boat, they can be used to identify and heal the erasures and silences within History. Toni Morrison urges one to read not only as a reader, but also a writer. C.L.R James inverts the idea of the beginning of History, and urges one to see their history through their own memory. Malcolm X condemns the creation of the Uncle Tom-like docile Negro, and urges to see black history in black resistance movements. In doing so, each of the three want their audience to look through the DuBoisian veil, and with a prophetic gaze, such that they see things as they are, and not how they seem to be. To write is to become, and these figures re-wrote history to become what they wanted themselves to be, and not what the white man had told them they were. They saw through the veil. They saw what was other than the common sense. They saw the black man’s truth, unrefracted through whiteness.

But can history have a prophetic gaze? To explain, can it see through the veil? Can it heal the scars of the oppressed? Can it be life-affirming to the silenced? The answer is in affirmative, and lies in Toni Morrison and C.L.R James’ way of reading and writing history.

Toni Morrison insists upon reading as a writer because the latter has an added degree of alertness and responsibility. A writer is mindful of the processes that led to the final production of the piece; previous citations and archives, positionality of the writer in the world, and choice of language. As a result, the writer-like reader is able to identify and question the erasures, and hear the silences by reading against the grain of History. Then, history becomes accommodating and inclusive, and makes space for the marginalized.

As for C.L.R James, he insists upon writing in a way that challenges the European linearity and causality of History. In doing so, he suggests the power of beginnings of stories. It matters where and when a historian begins a story because it determines the outcome and implications of the story. For example, as opposed to History’s treatment of the Haiti Revolution to be a bi-product of the French Revolution, C.L.R. James begins it with the inception of slavery in West Indies. This allows him to transform Haiti from being a shadow of Europe to agents of their history. Then, history becomes prophetic because it sees time and memory that is otherwise un-seeable.

The choice rests with the historians. Whether they want to be on the shore or on the boat? Whether they want to begin writing from when the boat landed on the shore or before the boat arrived on the native land? Whether they want to write black history as the history of Uncle Tom or Malcolm X? If history is to perform the function that Toni Morrison, C.L.R James, and Malcolm X hoped it would, the choices should be the latter. Then, history can have a prophetic gaze. It can bring an end to oppression. It can heal and complete those that have been ruptured and lost. Otherwise, it will function as a tool in the hands of the oppressor to sustain and legitimize its oppression.

Any place is better than here

“We swear to destroy the whites and all that they possess; let us die rather than fail to keep this vow.”

It was this intelligence that refused to be crushed and the potential of this intelligence frightened the white colonist and plantation owner to the core. CLR James argues that regardless of whatever torture of humiliation the slaves at the plantations were subjected to, the master was unable to completely subdue him, the master was unable to kill his potential. Malcolm X is coming from the same tradition.

“If someone came to the field negro and said, “lets separate, lets run”, he didn’t say “Where we going?” He’d say, “Any place is better than here.””

I think what both of them are saying are that the field negro never completely gave up on attaining their subjecthood. CLR James mentions in quite some detail how the slaves used poison methodically to combat the master. If one of the masters robbed a slave’s wife, the husband would poison him. Most children of slaves that were born on the plantations were poisoned to keep the slave population low but also to rid the children of the terrible fate. This methodic use of poison was a way for the slaves to take some sort of control of their lives which again goes to show that they never fully became slaves.

Malcolm is speaking with this tradition of resistance in mind when he mocks the integrationists as uncle toms. How can you speak of love and integration with the white man when the oppressor even refuses to acknowledge your gory past, the blood of which is on his hands? And how can you speak of this “integration” when the white and refuses even to acknowledge this burden of history that you always carry as black people? When you have a history and present marred with brutality and murder, why do you want to rub shoulders with the white man? How is being “peaceful” even an option in face of such blatant hate?

“Blood running down all your jaw and you don’t know what’s happening. Because someone taught you to suffer-peacefully.”

This sums it up perfectly. The black man owes nothing to the white man, and the black man is certainly not obliged to suffer “peacefully” for the sake of white validation. Malcolm says that “our religion teaches us to be intelligent. Be peaceful, be courteous, obey the law, but if someone puts their hand on you, send him to the cemetery”. He goes on to say that is a good religion and that is the force of his truth which refuses to subdue itself to the power that has murdered, oppressed and exploited the black man for centuries. Malcolm says he is a field negro and the black masses are field negroes and the forces of his truth ties in perfectly with the slaves in the West Indies who refused to let the master kill their intelligence. Despite the use of every form of torture and oppression, the master was unable to pacify the “wicked” slave and he kept on singing, hymning, yelling, “any place is better than here.”

Harlem through its visuals

I aim to create my project on the Harlem Renaissance from 1910s to the end of 1930s and more specifically the visual artworks of that movement. Since this is a time period before the larger struggle for decolonization in the international world, it stands as a cultural and artistic predecessor of the later movements. The movement is also unique in that it takes a mix of the American and African culture to create something distinctive in its intellectual expression. The time period, which was merely a few years later the abolishment of slavery in America and the rampant exercise of the Jim Crow laws, attempted to create an identity of the black man which was not in relation to its slave past and which made the mark of the black man known on the international forum. It was a new manifestation of black consciousness and showed the black aesthetic to the world. Although, the Harlem Renaissance is a massive cultural and academic movement which is multi-dimensional, I intend to, by focusing on visual art, understand the meaning and affect it had on black identity, representation and their position in the world.

I’m particularly interested in the visual art of that movement is that apart from the many other things it sought to convey, it ‘represented’ the black identity in the eyes of the black population. People could see themselves in the paintings which showcased both the American culture along with their history and the influence Africa has on them. For example, the painting by Archibald John Motley Jr. known as ‘Saturday Night Street Scene’ shows the mix of people enjoying a night at the club having forgotten their differences amongst themselves. This is just a rudimentary example of the type of life and hope the paintings emanated. Along with this, like the paintings of Aaron Douglas, one sees the history of the life of the African-American in his slave days which sought to redeem the history of struggle of the black man. One such painting is his ‘Aspects of Negro life: From slavery to Reconstruction.’

Aaron Douglas

The form that my project will take is that of a report with commentary on selected works by the artists mentioned above and others as well. I will attempt to make the commentary holistic in the sense that it represents the different themes radiated from the art. In doing so, I might overlap into the Surrealist tradition because in that time, Surrealism sought to create art which was not conventional, which meant that it found space in the black illustration of identity in the mainstream world of art.