Come Back, Black

It’s high time for “Black” to make a comeback.

“African American” had its day. It was always a little contrived, cumbersome. All those syllables. Couldn’t shorten it: “AA” was not specific enough, even when it was understood the subject was ethnicity. (“Asian American”? “Armenian Argentinean”?) When not talking about ethnicity, people probably assumed “AA” stood for the 12-step program for recovering drinkers. On some college campuses it was shortened to “AfAm” as in “AfAm Studies.” That never caught on in the general public, however.

All those syllables…and sometimes, some people stumbled over the second one, not knowing whether to go “-fro” or “-fri.” Must have been confusing because “-fro” was in at one time, too.

It was supposed to connect all of us to the Motherland, give us a reference to a geographical location that was forcibly taken from us as a result of slavery. But as we came to know about others in places other than the United States, some began to search for a term that would unite us all. “Diasporic Africans”? Whew, all those syllables. (Not to mention “diasporic” sounds a little like medication one might use to cure athletes’ foot or something.)

As we came to know more about human origins, we found out that really we all are from Africa, us humans, somewhere deep in our DNA.

So “African American” at once described not enough people and too many people.

No. “Black” was good. And it is time for “Black” to come back.

One simple, melodic syllable. Start with a b in a kiss, roll the tongue to the roof of the mouth–just behind the front teeth, a brief sigh (“aaaaaa”), then end with the back of the tongue touching in back of the roof of the mouth. Bllllaaaack…

Of course, for many, “Black” never went anywhere: “Don’t call it a comeb(l)ack…” It was always there–for exclusive use, or as an alternate label. Sometimes mushed together with other labels with a slash. But it was out of favor, it seems, for “official” use. Probably not on the census form.

Who is “Black”? Well, that is a discussion for another day. But we have a feeling it is about choice and constraint, and history and experience, and diversity and tradition. It is, perhaps, more malleable than we might have thought in the past. But it is also a term that is not to be given out to just anyone. It is not as if one could take a test using the spittle from the inside of the cheek and decide “I am Black.” Yes, and you always had a feeling, and you have always had an affinity for the culture and the music and you tan well in summer but no, that does not necessarily make you “Black.”

There definitely will be some kinks to work out with “Black”–some unchecked baggage, too. We’ll get to that in time.

But for now, ring the bells and shout it from the mountaintops. Say it loud. Capital-b “Black” is back! And lookin good, too.

“Land of the free and home of the dollar…”

"you know what you've got to do." gnackgnackgnack, http://www.flickr.com/photos/gnackgnackgnack/436733671/

So, there are now or soon will be a couple of new plush dolls–black hair, light brown skin, big brown eyes and bright smiles. They are named Marvelous Malia and Sweet Sasha, from Ty, Inc. According to the company the dolls are not meant to represent (marvelous) Malia and (sweet) Sasha Obama.

The First Lady, however, has released a statement opposing this move, and several commentators have expressed discomfort with the idea. The concern that is explicitly expressed about the dolls is that these First Daughters are private citizens, are children and should be off limits, and ought not be used for the financial gain of a toy company. A commentator on a CNN story about the dolls linked the move to the USA’s “consumer culture” and President Obama’s unique status as an iconic “rock star” politician so seems to think the marketing of the new First Family is to be expected.

The concern that is implicit in this story is that the image in this case is specifically of two pre-adolescent Black girls. When a psychiatrist in the CNN story says, “They should not be sold and feel like…they can be bought; This is not healthy for them psychologically,” I cannot help but think that at one time two little girls like this would have fetched a nice price, indeed. Healthy, presumably ripe for child bearing, offspring bred of two tall and strong stock… They definitely would have been bought and sold–and quickly.

Is it OK to excuse such things in the name of capitalism?

Some would be quick to point out that the Obama girls are not being singled out. In fact, the President Obama commemorative coins and plates and front page newspapers replicas and special magazine issues–not to mention the Michelle Obama dresses and First Daughters outfits and Aretha Franklin inaugural hats flying off of shelves–are all good signs that the public is embracing these Black people.

A White rural mother buying Marvelous Malia and Sweet Sasha dolls for her own daughters is a sign of progress in a post-racial age.

Some would be quick to point out that it is not only images of Black athletes and politicians and entertainers that are bought and sold. Anyone of any race and background is fair game to become merchandise in the game of commerce. After all, we in the United States of America live, as the CNN commentator said, in the “land of the free and home of the dollar.”

There is still a nagging feeling, though. We all may now have the potential to be symbolic merchandise, to be bought and sold (or, to buy and sell). But for some of us, that symbolism was at one time reality. We were listed, sometimes not even by names, along with horses and cows and plots of land.

Somehow, that makes a certain difference. Whether it is a difference that we can acknowledge and talk about remains to be seen.

UPDATE: More commentary here.

All Up in the Kool-Aid

It's a Black Thing You Would Not Understand! Shop, CafePress. http://www.cafepress.com/itsblackpride.78852368

As a college student, she liked to wear this one t-shirt that she had purchased from her favorite street vendor. On it was the image of Bart Simpson–except this Bart Simpson had deep brown, instead of yellow, skin and his hair was styled in black long locs instead of yellow pointed triangles. This bootleg Bart was wearing a multi-colored tie-dye t-shirt and around his neck was a gold chain with a huge pendant in the shape of the African continent. The speech bubble beside Bart’s open mouth read

IT’S A

BLACK THANG.

YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY

UNDERSTAND.

She used to wear this t-shirt around campus and around town, receiving appreciative nods and comments from other Black people and from White people, confused stares and uncomfortable silences. (At least, uncomfortable for the White people.)

She liked being the recipient of both. In those days, there were many things that seemed to bring Black people together, things that Black people understood–and that seemed beyond the comprehension of White people. Unlike previous generations, her 20-something crowd did not seek or desire the understanding of the majority culture. They did not long to be accepted. They were comforted by their outsider status, even as they traveled inside the campus halls and workplaces and neighborhoods of the insiders. They were, perhaps, a little weary of being this first fully integrated generation of young Blacks, weary of having to explain, of having to Represent the Race. Of being every White person’s First Black Friend. (At least the White people called them Friend, but often to the Blacks barely knew them.)

It’s a Black thing; You could not possibly understand. If you had to ask, then it was not for you to know.

She was reminded of this t-shirt–now long gone–one day recently. She was having a conversation with a White neighbor. She and the neighbor “knew each other” in that comfortable distance of associates. They, perhaps, both had children in the same suburban school and perhaps exchanged advice about dry cleaners and landscaping. They spoke of places to have birthday parties and places to go on a long weekend. This relationship buffer allowed certain topics and interactions between them while excluding others.

Yet one morning, this relationship buffer was breached. She had mentioned something relatively benign and completely in keeping with their unspoken relationship rules–something about getting her daughters ready for school in the morning. Then the neighbor said, “Now, do you think that you will keep their hair natural or are they going to get a relaxer in their hair like you have?”

In that breach came several pieces of knowledge at once. First, for this neighbor Black hair was no longer one of those “Black things” that White people were destined to never understand. She was well aware of the “flavor”–understood to some extent the heavy political weight of Black hair. Further, the neighbor knew enough about Black hair to tell by visual examination who had what kind of hair and to use the correct descriptive terms. This was no instance of a White woman mindlessly repeating something she had heard on Oprah. (“You go, girl!)

Finally the realization dawned on her: This neighbor had already had her First Black Friend, and this wonderful woman had already patiently explained the mysteries of Black hair to her.

She was not sure how she felt about this new knowledge about her neighbor. Would their relationship change now, become deeper? Did she want that? Was there no more “behind closed doors,” no more private in-group Black cultural space for her to inhabit with others who looked like her? If so, was that a good thing or a bad thing? What would be required of being someone’s second (or third or fourth or fifth…) Black Friend? Would that just be like…being someone’s friend?

Oh, brave new, post-post-racial world that has such Black and White (and all other) people in it!

Rule-One

The next few years will be exciting–but challenging. We will need to find new ways to envision our place as “Americans” in the world, as well as our place as Americans who are ________ [insert identity here] in a diverse country and world. We must learn how to joke about a Black President without wounding all who are Black. We must learn cultural referents and how to explain them.

Another thing we–specifically any we who are Black–must do is learn how to constructively critique.

For many it is a badge of honor to be seen as going against the grain, bucking the racial status quo. As if all Black people think the same way and speak the same thing and only I (or You, or He or She) can see and say things differently, without the heavy chains of Negro Groupthink.

As if.

Well, far be it for me to take away this small joy from those who might be lucky enough to experience it, or to attempt to correct when such correction would be seen as only the latest example of Negro Groupthink itself. I do, however, offer one suggestion. Allow me to go so far as to call it a “rule.”

Post-post-racial Rule #1: Point out your criticism, support the critique, and provide an alternative. Then, explain how said alternative might have been achieved, given the constraints of the target of your criticism.

Don’t like President Obama’s inaugural address? The First Lady’s choice of gown designer? That their daughters’ hair was pressed, not natural? Why? OK, now. What might the President have said differently? What other designers might Michelle Obama chosen and why? What is your favorite natural hair style for Black girls? Now the really hard part.  Consider that perhaps President Obama and others around him are not clueless, uninformed, disconnected to the wisdom of the universe that you yourself are tapped into. Why were those decisions that you think should have been made not made?

Finally, what can we learn from the gaps between the thing itself,

the thing as we would like,

and the possible reasons for the actuality of the former instead of the latter?

Now, I understand the inclination to take offense, to critcize, to wish to hold feet to fire. I also understand the inclination to protect, to defend, to make allowances for. These years will require some stretching in how we balance ourselves between the two.

Black in White

What would be the proper post-post-racial frame for yesterday’s inauguration of Barack Obama as the USA’s 44th president?

A “post-racial” frame would be to claim that this event proves that the US is “past” race. Let us call this the Transcendent Frame. A second possible “post-racial” frame would be to claim that the skin color of the President, the new first family, and a large number of inaugural guests, participants, and commentators was beyond notice–or at least beyond care. Let us label this frame the Pink-with-Purple-Polkadots Frame (as in, “I don’t see color: I wouldn’t care if Obama were Black, White or pink with purple polka dots).

In the first case, a majority of yesterday’s news coverage would probably be seen as an apt celebration of this historic moment of truth. But, the assumption would be that today, the conversation should focus on other things and that, in fact, from here on out we ought not talk about race. In the second case, much of yesterday’s coverage is likely seen in poor taste…rude, even. People who see-only-one-race-the-human-race, or else who see individual human beings as if covered in a variety of multi-hued and multi-patterned fabric, tend to be almost resentful of any mention of racial categories.

But both these frames would be post-racial. The original question was what would a post-post-racial frame be?

Keep in mind, in thinking about the question, that at this point in this blog’s life I have yet to adequately define “post-post-racial.” This is by design. I think that a definition or definitions will present itself or themselves through the process of engaging in such activities as wondering what a post-post-racial frame for yesterday’s inauguration would be.

Here is one possibility. I think I will, as a placeholder, call it the Black-is-the-New-White Frame. Much of the gushing during the news coverage yesterday seemed to contain a nugget of awe and disbelief. So much seemed so novel to so many. Little Black girls can be adorable! A Black woman can be gorgeous and elegant! There are so many highly intelligent, well educated People of Color surrounding the new President! Aretha and Beyonce and Joseph Lowery–oh my! Everywhere the cameras turned–black, black, black, black. Black people, black music, black poets, Black marching bands. Black.

But a post-post-racial reaction would be to assume that such sights are normal, to be expected, nothing out of the ordinary. It is not so much that “White is right” and so now Black is right, too. It is more that White=normal, the default or baseline position, with everything else seen as a deviation from it. So, in post-post-racial, the cuteness and beauty and intelligence and talent of Black people is not an achievement, but the norm. It is not so much to be celebrated, but to be expected. And Black (and other “of-Color”) inclusion is also seen as normal. So normal, in fact, that it would odd, the next time the country has a White president, if the inauguration were as lily White as past ones (until yesterday) have been.

A key difference, however, between this frame and a regular old post-racial one is that discussion of race would continue. In fact, talking about race would be just as normal as seeing race and being surrounded by diversity. We would be conscious about race and the need to discuss it, without being self-conscious and fearful about doing so.

Well, that is one possibility.

Actually, we’ve been there from jump…

A slave coffle passing the Capitol grounds, 1815 published in A Popular History of the United States, 1876. Library of Congress

Construction on the President’s House began in 1792 in Washington, D.C., a new capital situated in sparsely settled region far from a major population center. The decision to place the capital on land ceded by two slave states-Virginia and Maryland-ultimately influenced the acquisition of laborers to construct its public buildings. The D.C. commissioners, charged by Congress with building the new city under the direction of the president, initially planned to import workers from Europe to meet their labor needs. However, response to recruitment was dismal and soon they turned to African Americans – slave and free – to provide the bulk of labor that built the White House, the United States Capitol, and other early government buildings.

Members of the White House domestic staff during the Hayes administration, c. 1880. Rutherford B. Hayes Library

Text and images from the White House Historical Association

People Make Bikini Bottom Go Round

Setting the scene: A woman is lounging in a garden tub, bubbles tickling her chin and warm water caressing her skin. The aroma of scented candles delights her nose and the flicker of their flames delights her eyes. Music is piped through speakers on the vaulted ceiling.

Seated on the edge of the tub is a small child, playing with a ball of hot pink Moon Sand. (This woman, a mother, has learned not to expect her tub moments to resemble a Calgon commercial past a point.)

Presently, the sound of The Stylistics wafts from the speakers–”People Make the World Go Round.”

…But that’s what makes the world go ’round

The up and down, the carousel

Changing people, they’ll go around

Go underground, young man

People make the world go ’round…

The young child playing with pink Moon Sand at the edge of the tub says absently, “Mommy, is this singer a man or a lady?”

The woman soaking in the bubble bath tub is used to discussing the sometimes mis-match of sound-of-voice and gender-of-singer with the child: No this is a man his name is Prince; yes this is a lady her name is Toni Braxton… “A man.” The child considers, still shaping the sand into bowls and snakes.

Then the child says, “Mommy, the man singing this song sounds a little like Mrs. Puff. You know: From SpongeBob SquarePants.”

A movie version of the scene would at this point feature the sound effect of a record player arm being ripped from the LP spinning on its turntable.

The Stylistics. Mrs. Puff from SpongeBob. The Stylistics and Mrs. Puff from SpongeBob?

"Spongebob Graffiti." NineFingers, http://www.flickr.com/photos/ninefingers/333372737/

This is a juxtaposition that the woman is now compelled to consider. First of all, a closer listen to the lead vocals verifies that, yes, it does sound  quite a bit like how SpongeBob’s boating instructor would sound were she to croon about the state of the world. Second, the woman knows, with a sense of both whimsy and loss, that she will now forever listen to this Stylistics classic with the image of an animated puffer fish in a skirt superimposed on the audio.

Part of being a woman who does not live in the magical world of Calgon commercials involves reconciling such juxtapositions, reframing them such that they sit comfortably in her world. So she reflects how Black music has had a long tradition incorporating all manner of popular culture–including cartoons. There is, for one, the Woody Woodpecker laugh in the Michael Henderson novelty tune, “Wide Receiver.” Parliament, the Gap Band, George Duke, and many others have incorporated nursery rhymes, television commercials, and Bruce Lee films into their lyrics and music. And the Jackson 5 were at one time animated. And Michael had a pet snake.

The woman relaxes back into the warm embrace of the tub.

“Yup,” she says calmly. “It sure does sound like Mrs. Puff.”

At which point a small glob of pink goo plops into the water near her right knee. She dives her hand beneath the fragrant bubbles and fishes it out, handing the now slippery ball back to the child perched on the edge.

Our “Post-Racial” Moment

I think it lasted for, like, 22 or 23 minutes, on November 4th or 5th sometime after the major networks called the election for Barack Obama. Although.

Some claim that we have been a post-racial society for some longer period of time and, in fact, continue to exist in such an epoch. Still others claim that “post-racialism” is purely the stuff of mythology…or wishful thinking…or willful ignorance…or cunning malice. Or some combination of the above.

Myself, I’ll grant we may have had a post-racial moment. But I am calling it over.

So now we are in a state of post-post-racialism. What will that mean? What adventures await us in this new era of racial relations and racial perceptions?

History may be written by the victors. But futures–such as what will be our lives on PPR earth–are written by the bloggers.