Friday, August 31, 2012
The African Diaspora in the Western Hemisphere, Part 2
One of the most important things we should push for within the Americas is for clear census data detailing our numbers in each state in the hemisphere. With that data, we can also analyze it for similar trends in poverty, lack of black leadership, and hopefully destroy the invisibility of the African diaspora in so many Latin American nations, including Colombia, Ecuador, Venezuela, Argentina, and Central America. I will endeavor to give a list of the total population of African descent in the Americas below using data from wikipedia:
Total population of the Americas: 910,720,588 (July 2008 est.)
From conservative estimates, the Afro-descended (of Middle Passage descent, not recent immigrants from Africa) population of the Americas (USA, Canada, Mexico, Central America, Caribbean, and South America) is about 183,708,067. Out of the total population estimate in 2008 of 910,720,588, this would be about 20.2% of the entire human population in the Americas. Since data is lacking in so many countries or Afro-descended peoples are undercounted, I am quite sure that it's at least a few million higher than what I have written here. Furthermore, if one were to go by higher estimates for people of African descent than I've used for nations like Cuba, Puerto Rico, Mexico, Peru, and a few other nations, then the population is at least a few millions higher than my rather conservative estimate of 183,708,067.
Another total population estimate I found using wikipedia's African diaspora page is 178,588,078. The total population of the Americas according to that page is 919,547,596, which means that the proportion of people of African descent in the Americas would be 19.42%, a little lower than my estimate based on a 2008 estimate for the entire Americas. I believe both my guess and this estimate for the total population of African descent in the Americas is off, probably by a few millions.
Regardless, it's interesting that people of African descent are only about 1/5 of the entire population of the region given that, until the late 19th and 20th centuries, most people who crossed the Atlantic to settle in the Americas were Africans doing so against their will. The largest forced migration history, the Atlantic slave trade created the Black Atlantic world as well as drastically shaping the racial composition of the Caribbean, coastal South America and Central America, and the southern United States. If mortality rates were not so high in so many slave societies and there were more balanced ratios of males and females of African descent, the black population of the Americas would undoubtedly be much higher. When Europeans crossed the Atlantic in vast numbers during the late 19th and 20th centuries, the developing Industrial Revolution and advances in medicine allowed for, I suspect, greater access to medicine and fewer deaths, especially infant mortality. Moreover, many Latin American nations wishing to whiten their societies, encouraged and offered incentives for European immigrants in order to stem the social decay they associated with biologically inferior African and indigenous peoples, unfit for any modern democracy. Ironically, the other aspect of the whitening ideology was to have them mix with black and indigenous peoples and improve the morality and cultures of the nations they came, too.
1. United States of America: 42,020,743 African-Americans
2. Canada: 836, 912.2 (about 2.5% of total population)
3. Haiti: 9,719,932 total population with at least 90% or 95% 'black.' So about 9, 233, 935.4 people of African descent if one uses 95% as the estimate for 'blacks'
4. Dominican Republic: total population estimate of 9,927,320 (November 2011) and 73% mixed, 11% black giving us a total of 8338948.8 for people of African descent.
5. Cuba: census of 2010 indicates the population was 11,241,161with estimates of Afro-Cubans ranging from 33.9% to 62%. Range of estimates varies because census data is based on how Cubans self-identify
6. Puerto Rico: 3,706,690 and As of the 2010 Census, 75.8% call themselves white, 12.4% are black, 0.5% Amerindian, 0.2% Asian, and 11.1% are mixed or other. It's estimated that 46% of the island has African descent, however, even though only 12.4% self-identify as black, which is about 459, 629.56
7. Mexico: Estimates vary, but a group of Black Mexican activists estimate the population of Afro-Mexicans at about 1 million, but there are no official figures. They have petitioned the Mexican government to include a category for people of African descent on the 2010 census. Total population in 2010 census was 113,724,226, the Spanish-speaking country with the greatest population in the world.
8. Martinique and Guadeloupe: 862, 924 with over 90% of the population of both islands being of African descent/black, so about 776, 632.
9. Jamaica: 2,868,380 (2011 est from CIA World Factbook). Majority of African descent, with 91.2% black. So about 2,615,962.56 people of African descent
10. Barbados: 284,589 (July 2009 est.) and about 90% black
11. Trinidad and Tobago: Blacks/African/Afro-Trinidadian 37.5%, mixed 20.5% out of a total population of (July 2011 estimate)1,227,505. About 460,314.375 'black' if one excludes mixed people of Afro-Indian-Trinidadian descent and mixed black/white people.
12. St. Lucia: 156,260 with 93% black and mixed.
13. Dominica: 98% Black and mulatto of a total population of 71,293
14. Guyana: 30.2% black and 16.7% mixed according to 2002 census, out of a total population of 751,223. So perhaps a total of 352,323.587
15. Suriname: According to the 2004 census, Suriname had a population of 492,829. About 41% are of African descent, giving a total of about 202,059.89
16. Brazil: About 50.1% identifies as Afro-Brazilian, including pardos and pretos. 14,517,961 'blacks' and about 82,277,333 pardos or 'brown' multiracial people. That is 96,795,294 out of a total population, according to a 2010 census of 190,755,799. About 50.7% of the nation is Afro-Brazilian or "black" if we define black very broadly. The largest black population in the hemisphere and the second largest black population in the world after Nigeria!
17. French Guiana: 231,000 and about 66% black or mixed, so a total of about 152,460.
18. Panama: total of 3,405,813 and about 14% black, so 476,813.82 people of 'black' ancestry, although a much higher proportion of Panama's population likely is of African descent.
19. Belize: Total population of Belize is 312,971. About 25% Kriol and 6.1% Garifuna/Afro-Amerindian. So perhaps an African-descended population of 97,021.01 but probably higher given the multiracial majority of the small nation.
20. Honduras: Estimates of people of African descent in Honduras vary widely, from 100,000 to 320,000 (1.8 to 5.8 percent of the country's 5.8 million people in 1994). Today, current population estimate in 2010 is about 8,249,574 and, using a low estimate of 2% for people of African descent, the 'black' population in Honduras would be about 164,991.
21. Guatemala: 13,824,463 from a July 2011 estimate for the total Guatemalan population. Perhaps 1-2% is of Afro-Guatemalan heritage, so, using a lower estimate of 1%, the black/mixed population would be 138,245 for people of African descent.
22. Nicaragua: 2010 Census estimate of 5,891,199 for total population of Nicaragua. With about 9% of the population being Afro-Nicaraguan, many of West Indian descent, Nicaragua's black population is somewhere around 530,208.
23. El Salvador: 5,744,113 according to a 2009 census. Due to laws banning the immigration of blacks into the country in the 1930s, Nicaragua's black population is very small and does not include large West Indian or even Garifuna communities, meaning that the small population imported during the slave trade era has mixed with the mestizo majority and indigenous peoples. Thus, although African heritage and influences are present in El Salvador, the numbers of people who self-identify as Afro-descended people is very small and unknown. However, estimates of 10,000 enslaved Africans imported during the colonial period indicates that African contributions to El Salvador and the genetic profile of El Salvador exist. About 86% of the natio's population of likely more than 6 million people is mestizo, with a portion of that population also having African ancestry.
24. Costa Rica: 2011 census counted a population of 4,301,712 people. The black population is concentrated in Limon and largely of West Indian descent. Perhaps around 2% of the population is of West Indian and African descent, according to a census from 2000. I estimate that around 86,034 of Costa Rica is of African descent, although, the proportion is probably a little higher.
25. Colombia: Estimates range from 4.4 to 10.5 million Afro-Colombians, with the higher estimates being that nearly 18-20% of Colombians are Afro-Colombians or of partial African descent. This is nearly 1 out of 5 46,366,364 Colombians. Afro-Colombians are mostly concentrated on the Caribbean and Pacific coasts, as well as in cities in the southwest, Antioquia, and Bogota. Their numerous contributions to Colombian culture include cumbia music, one of the most popular forms of Latin American music.
26.Venezuela: 2011 census gives a total population of 27,227,930. Those of African descent who identify as "Negro/negra" are only 2.8% of the population according to the census, and 0.7% as "Afrodescendiente." If a conservative estimate were to combine these two categories, then about 3.5% of Venezuela is "black" and about 952,977.55 of Venezuelans are black. However, the population of Venezuela of African descent is likely higher, especially since 49.9% of Venezuelans self-identified as "moreno/a" on this same census, which could include mestizos and mulattoes. The network of Afro-Venezuelan organizations that pushed for inclusion of Afro-descended and black/negro categories on the 2011 census estimated that there are more than seven million Venezuelans of African descent, so the census data and the estimates of Afro-Venezuelan organizations clearly indicates a huge gap...
27. Ecuador: A total population of 14,483,499 according to a 2010 census. Nearly 7.2% are of African descent, so there are at least 1,042,812 Afro-Ecuadorians.
28. Peru: 29,496,000 people from a 2010 estimate and at least 2% are of African descent (some claim 5-10%), giving us a total of 589,920 Afro-Peruvians whereas others estimate 2,000,000. The census data in Peru does not include race so it's really impossible to get an accurate number for people of African descent in Peru, who are mostly concentrated in the coastal lowlands and Lima. A famous Afro-Peruvian was Maria Elena Moyano one prominent person of African descent assassinated by Shining Path in the 1980s.
29. Argentina: The "whitest" country and most "European" in Latin America began as a colonial and early independent nation with significant black populations in Buenos Aires and other areas. Indeed, the population of the city was nearly 1/4 black or Afro-argentino until the mid-19th century, and by the end of the 19th century, hordes of European immigrants completely shifted the racial makeup of the city. George Reid Andrews has done extensive research on Argentina's black population, if anyone cares to do more research. 40,091,359 is the total population as of the 2010 census, which is the first in over a century to incude data since the late 19th century. Unfortunately, no census since 1887 has included blacks or Afro-Argentines as a separate category, so the population of African descent in Argentina is still unknown. The indigenous population of Argentina, based on self-identified people in the 2010 census was 955,032. A nivel población, la cantidad total de personas que se autoreconocieron como afrodescendientes es de 149.493, es decir un 0,4 % de la población en viviendas particulares." The Afro-Argentine population according to those self-identifying as such in the 2010 census is about 149,493 or 0.4% of the population living in private homes. 92% of those identifying as Afro-Argentine were also born in the country, not abroad or migrants.
30. Uruguay: A 2006 study found that about 9.1% of Uruguay is black or of African descent. They concluded that would be about 300,000 people of African descent, black and 'mixed.' That would be, if we apply the 9.1% to the current population, still around 300,000 Afrodescendientes. Most of the black population is concentrated in Montevideo, where their candombe music is well-known.
31. Paraguay: 6,454,548 according to a 2009 estimate, perhaps 1% if is African descent. In 1990, the population was reported to be 150,000, but not enough data has been done to document their numbers. The Joshua Project found 68,000 more recently.
32. Bolivia: The total population is around 10,118,683 and there are at least 30,000, mostly in the Yungas region. Many were imported during the colonial period to work in the silver mines of Potosi. "The last census to list a black population separately was the 1900 census, in which 3,945
Afro-Bolivians were officially counted, out of a total population of just over 1.8 million (some
0.2% of the total population)." Assuming there are at least 30,000 Afro-Bolivians, then their proportion of the total population is only 0.3%, but that's assuming 30,000 is the total number of Afro-Bolivians.
33. The Bahamas: 316,182 and about 85% black according to the CIA world factbook. So about 268,755 blacks.
34. Curacao: 142,180 according to a 2010 census. Majority of African descent. The combined population of the Netherlands Antilles (Curacao, Aruba, Saba, Sint Eustatius, Sint Maarten, Bonaire) is likely 200,000 with probably a majority, 85%, being mixed blacks out of a total estimated 2008 population of 225,369. Thus, the black population of the Netherlands Antilles is probably somewhere around 191,564.
35. Antigua and Barbuda: 81,799 and 91% black, so about 74,437 blacks.
36. Bermuda: 64,268 and about 61.2% black and mixed, so the total population of African descent is likely around 43,188.
37. British Virgin Islands: 83.4% of a total population of somewhere around 28,000 is 23,352.
38. Cayman Islands: About 60% of African descent if not more out of a total population of 54,878.
39. Chile: 15,116,435 from the 2002 census. The Afro-Chilean population is more difficult to discover. Groups of Afro-descended people are demanding a category for them in the 2012 census. The Afro-Chilean population is mostly concentrated in Arica in the north. The Afro-Chilean Alliance's preliminary results from 2009 or 2010 found over 8,000 Afro-Chileans in Arica and other parts of the north of the country.
40. Grenada: 108,419 and 94% of African descent, so 101,914 people.
41. Montserrat: 5,164 and mostly of African descent.
42. St. Kitts & Nevis: around 90% of 51,300 of African descent. At least 46,170 people of African descent.
43. St. Martin: 36,824 on the French side of the island, predominantly of African descent. The Dutch side's population was incorporated into the Netherlands Antilles.
44. St. Pierre & the Grenadines: 104,574 and at least 86% of African descent. 89,934 people of African descent, but probably higher.
45. Turks & Caicos: 44,819 and at least 90% black. 40,337 people of African descent at least.
46. United States Virgin Islands: 109,750 and at least 80 if not 90% of African descent. Assuming it was only about 80%, then 87,800.
47. Saint Barthélemy: 8,902 but 90-95% of European descent. French Caribbean.
48. Anguilla: 13,600 with at least 90% being of African descent, 12,240.
The African Diaspora in the Western Hemisphere
The total population for people of African descent in the Americas is quite substantial. Far more than enough needed to envision a unified, Pan-Africanist state within the hemisphere rather than to Africa. Haiti, in the 19th century, offered itself as a beacon for freedom as well as citizenship to people of African and indigenous descent throughout the Americas if they settled on Hispaniola. Indeed, an estimated 6000 (perhaps even higher) African-Americans (as well as people of African descent from other areas of the Americas, though their numbers are not known) settled in Haiti. Some of their descendants still live on the island, especially in Samana in the Dominican Republic, but most returned to the United States due to the language divide, lack of opportunities under Haiti's autocratic president, Boyer, and religious divides. Some descendants of these free black Americans became prominent Haitians, just look at the career of Haitian intellectual Jean Price-Mars. However, due for multiple factors, some beyond the control of Haiti, large-scale immigration from other corners of the Americas never materialized beyond that of African-Americans during the 1820s. Interestingly, some white Americans, including Lincoln, were considering sending freed blacks all to Haiti as a quasi-Liberia 2.0 venture to rid the United States of all peoples of African descent. Obviously, that didn't happen and would have been very difficult to do. Furthermore, before the Civil War, some Southern planters and politicians were actually pushing for incorporating what is now the Dominican Republic and Cuba into their slave labor empire, which would have complicated everything else in the Caribbean before the rise of well-known US imperialism during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
I am not calling for a return to a similar ideology whereby everyone of African descent is encouraged and given incentives to immigrate to Haiti or another Caribbean island (though, that could be useful for bringing more skilled professionals to Haiti and help restore Haitian agriculture if they work cooperatively with Haiti's poor...). I do believe, however, that increased collaboration between different areas and populations of mostly African descent would be beneficial to our mutual struggles against racism and poverty. We know that the Black International has existed since at least the 19th century, and that Pan-African Congresses have met that included peoples of African descent throughout the Caribbean and United States. In addition, people of African descent throughout the Americas have evinced signs of cooperation and mutual influence through music, literature, and political organizing. African-American music from the United States, for instance, has influenced the rest of the diaspora both in this hemisphere and in Africa, truly contributing to what should properly be termed, the Black Atlantic. Hip-hop, jazz, funk, soul, and doo wop can be found in Afro-Colombia, Brazil, the Caribbean, and across Latin America. Likewise, Afro-Caribbean and Afro-Latin music forms and rhythms from Cuba, Brazil, Haiti, and Jamaica have profoundly shaped African-American jazz, hip-hop, and funk, so the Black Atlantic's cohesion through music is bidirectional. Moreover, black resistance to slavery, whether through militant, violent means, or other forms of abolitionism, has fascinating parallels across the Black Atlantic. Likewise, the African-American Civil Rights Movement and Black Power era profoundly shaped black consciousness and political activism in Brazil, the Caribbean, and apartheid South Africa (Black Consciousness Movement, look it up!). Indeed, some of the strategies and tactics adopted by states for redistributive policies have spread to Latin America, with affirmative action in Brazil being a great example (although affirmative action in the US is partly based on a similar policy in India for Untouchables). In literature and the arts, we also see a conspicuous display of interaction between artists (Jacob Lawrence's series on Toussaint Louverture, for instance) and writers, especially those influenced by or working in conjunction with the Harlem Renaissance and negritude. Claude McCay, a well-known Harlem Renaissance writer, was of Jamaican heritage. Langston Hughes worked with Nicolas Guillen, an Afro-Cuban poet. And Hughes was a friend of Jacques Roumain, Haitian Communist, novelist, and poet, eventually translating one of his best novels.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Toni Cade and Audre Lorde on Blackness and Womanhood
Audre Lorde versus Toni Cade Bambara: Blackhood and Womanhood
Bambara’s black nationalist feminist vision has several strengths, which appear convincing, but fail to ensure an equally dedicated commitment to abolishing sexism and racism. Bambara states, for example, “And I am beginning to see, especially lately, that the usual notions of sexual differentiation in roles is an obstacle to political consciousness, that the way those terms are generally defined is a hindrance to full development (Bambara 124).” For evidence of changing traditional gender roles, she cites Fanon’s A Dying Colonialism that illustrates how traditional nuclear family units shifted away from patriarchal normativity with daughters and mothers joining the FLN and no longer marrying out of contract arrangements (Bambara 133). Though it is a sign of progress that men and women in revolutionary struggles do transcend some of the preexisting gender stereotypes, it would be naïve to assume that this means liberation. Bambara’s idealization of the Algerian anti-colonial movement’s impact on Algerian family structures, for example, ignores how male domination persists in Algeria and how women were often relegated to supportive, background roles of carrying messages, inventing alibis for men, and providing bandages and food (133). Of course these roles are significant in any struggle, but they still do not transcend gender stereotypes, despite raising consciousness of women participants through giving them a sense of responsibility and a stake in revolutionary movements. Likewise, black women working in the Black Panthers, for instance, or other black nationalist groups, found some empowerment by joining a larger movement, but were largely relegated to the background and targets of male violence and rape because of the patriarchal, military-like sub-culture. Thus, the idea of letting go of all notions of masculinity and femininity is contradictory since, like race, it will not just disappear. Stereotypical ‘women’s work’ must acquire the same value as ‘masculine’ revolutionary organizing, and both categories of organizing must be open to all genders. The best approach to reach this goal is movement dedicated to broader array of issues, such as coalitions battling racism, sexism, heterosexism, and poverty that affect everyone, not just blacks or any narrowly defined nation.
In addition, Lorde’s intersectional approach to oppression demonstrates how racism affects men and women differently. Without lens that properly place the differing systems of oppression blacks face into their own contexts, it becomes too easy to identify racism as a black man’s problem, subsuming black women’s experiences into a larger black narrative. Obviously this silences black women, and perpetuates patriarchy by emphasizing the black male experience. Moreover, as Lorde writes, “Refusing to recognize difference makes it impossible to see the different problems and pitfalls facing us as women (Lorde 287).” Therefore, open dialogue and an understanding of the nuances of racial oppression becomes necessary to include marginalized voices, such as the black lesbian experience, often perceived as a threat to black nationhood. (Lorde 290). Bambara’s desire to concentrate on blackness consequently faces immediate limitations, since blackness means different things for different people. Lorde’s experiences as a lesbian mother in an interracial relationship, for example, differ immensely from those of Shirley Chisholm, for example (Lorde). Yet both women faced racism and sexism, suggesting that the real focus of black nationalism should be uniting against the shared oppressions, instead of formulating a singular notion of blackness that must be imposed upon members of the African diaspora. As a result, black cultural nationalism, if imbued within black nationalist political projects, becomes dangerous by endeavoring to create a monolithic blackness that inevitably excludes certain voices and experiences, especially those of multiracial individuals.
Instead of creating an inclusive space that could open the door for collective liberation, black nationalism often attempts to create a black/white dichotomy based on the same binary oppositional thinking Bambara critiques in western European history that leads to another mythic norm of blackness (Bambara 124 and Lorde). Lorde herself also correctly notes the particularly strong patriarchy and homophobia within many black communities, making it hard to believe simply eradicating racism would provide liberation for women and queer folks. Furthermore, alliances among women of all colors may become essential in certain battles for reproductive rights, health, and combating sexism and rape, common issues facing people of all races and economic backgrounds.
In defense of Bambara, she does offer some compelling ideas for social change that endeavor to transcend the traditional stereotypes of the gender binary, as well as initiate the revolution on an individual level. Using the examples of Nina Simone, Abbey Lincoln, and Kathleen Cleaver, Bambara shows how black femininity can be redefined in ways that are empowering to black women because these aforementioned figures were well-known, unabashedly proud of their black skin, and contributed to the Civil Rights Movement and Black Power through their music, intellect, and organizing. These women became inspirational because they did not straighten their hair, conform to white standards of beauty, and define themselves along stereotypical notions of female inferiority or paternalism. They were measured in terms of their connection to the Struggle, but that validates a human being’s gender by how committed they were to a narrow struggle inexcusably masculinist. Though it may be tempting to eradicate all notions of femininity and masculinity for black nationalism, it is much harder to incorporate practically. Bambara correctly notes, “And a man cannot be politically correct and a chauvinist too,” but how does a man stop being a chauvinist if people are encouraged to stop seeing gender (Bambara 131)? She argues that the revolution begins with individuals, who must clean their own house by rejecting gender roles and ensure that their personal lives do not perpetuate sexism, which is something Audre Lorde would agree with (Bambara 134). Lorde, who believes the failure to recognize difference contributes to racism within feminism and sexism and homophobia within black nationalism, would argue that the revolution begins with the self who is cognizant of other systems of oppression, and resists through their social relationships. However, Lorde would argue that acknowledging the nuances of class, sexual orientation, and gender identities within black nationalism ensures inclusion of different expressions of blackness instead of male, heterosexual domination. With continued recognition of gender as equally important, in addition to other differences, it will become harder to ignore the widespread problem of rape and male-dominated black institutions that espouse heterosexist, anti-feminist beliefs.
Another limitation of placing race as the primary concern for black women would also be the issue of interracial coalitions. Blacks are no longer the largest non-white ethnic group, nor do they possess a monopoly on racial oppression. Latina, Asian, indigenous, and immigrant women also experience racialized and gendered oppression that is intersectional, but unique from black women’s experiences because of its specific context within their separate racial backgrounds. Moreover, blacks and other minority groups often have, or at the very least, perceived, divergent interests that necessitates changing mutual attitudes. For example, immigration reform and the controversies engendered there regarding Latino immigrants and labor, have affected blacks. Blacks once had a stronger presence in the California construction industry, but have been largely replaced by Latinos, and race relations between blacks and Latinos in states like Texas are far from harmonious. A black nationalist project that embraces blackness in excess could easily drive a further wedge in black-minority relations, which would weaken multiracial coalitions that could oppose the racist environment that affects all minority communities. Lorde, who pays attention to the specific issue of intersectionality, sees the similarities in the struggles black American women and Third World women engage in, would resist focusing on creating a singular black race divorced from broader issues of race involving other ethnic groups.
Ultimately, one cannot create a hierarchy of oppressions and then decide which should be a primary concern. Black women, who stand at the intersection of class, racial, and gender oppression, are oppressed to varying degrees by the various components of their identities. Black nationalism, as espoused by Bambara, has some valid points regarding eliminating gender stereotypes, and beginning a revolution with the individual, but is undermined by its narrow focus. In order to achieve collective liberation for all of humanity, as revolutionary black nationalism often proclaims to be its goal, one must not become too caught up in a single identity group, or neglect the role of gender within organizations. Black nationalism has its value in cultivating racial pride, independent aesthetics, and strengthening African American communities, but cannot become separatist. Blacks alone will not be able to destroy racism, and neither black women alone will eliminate sexism.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
A Comparative Analysis of Clothing in Colonial Kasai and Brazzaville
Colonial Brazzaville and Kasai represent contrasting case studies of the adoption of Western styles of dress. Both areas experienced colonialism differently, especially as Brazzaville developed as a cosmopolitan urban center and adopted a Western style of dress, while the Kuba kingdom maintained its prior traditions of clothing longer into the 20th century. Nevertheless, both regions share a mutual history of the politics of costume. Cloth, as a visible sign of status and wealth in all Central African societies, engendered a set of social relations and rules regarding clothes that pervaded both Brazzaville and Kasai, despite the less cosmopolitan, heterogeneous populations in the latter. Thus, despite the significant differences between Brazzaville and Kasai, both regions exemplify local African appropriation of Western styles based on local practices and politics of costume. African appropriation of Western clothes was not simply imposed from above, but disseminated by local practices and patterns according to each region’s unique gender dynamics, timeline, and ethnic diversity.
The adoption of Western clothes in Kuba was an uneven, gradual process that lasted throughout the colonial period. Similar to change in Brazzaville, Africans’ outward appearance often began with Western missionaries, Christian converts, and African collaborators of the colonial system. In Brazzaville, for example, Senegalese overseers and workers came to work for the French colonial regime, along with Gabonese and Caribbean clerks (Martin 12). Often fluent in French and dressed in Western styles, black workers from Loango and Gabon were the trendsetters in Brazzaville fashion (158). European cloth, suits, monocles, gloves, cans, and other accessories of Western origin were widely appropriated by these foreign artists and clerks. Kasai, on the other hand, lacked the large number foreign African skilled and semi-skilled laborers who were fashion trendsetters. In Kasai, the Luba and Lulua peoples, unlike the Kuba, embraced Western style and dress in an attempt to be “like whites” (Vansina 310). Moreover, the Bushong and Kete continued to equate wage labor with slavery, leading to the Luba- speakers dominating the unskilled and low-level wage labor (310). Their early access and prevalence in wage labor ensured access to European clothes, since only participation in the industrial market economy through wage labor or trade could ensure access to Western styles of dress. Thus, access to wage labor in Brazzaville and Kasai facilitated the gradual adoption of Western dress through providing cash to purchase clothing through the capitalist industrial economy.
Brazzavillle and Kasai’s upper-class foreigners and early converts to Christianity facilitated the adoption of Western clothes. Similar to the dominance of the Luba-speakers in Kasai who entered wage labor more quickly, the residents of Bacongo, the wealthier, less heterogeneous African quarter of Brazzaville where an African upper class came to symbolize the area, also took most of the office work and other semi-skilled labor (Martin 67). Not surprisingly, the earliest Africans to adopt Western styles of dress came from this nascent urban upper class, foreign administrators and workers, who had to conform to the European dress code, and the growing Christian presence through mission schools. Mission schools, for instance, were one avenue for changing the dress styles and consumption of children and adults in both Kasai and Brazzaville. In Kasai, mission schools for girls began to require dresses and blouses in the 1930s, as well as subsequent schools for boys mandating shirts and trousers (Vansina 306). Other Christian missions, like the Scheutists, demanded their female followers wear a skirt for minimum decency, which created demand for a local tailoring industry (305).
Missions also encouraged the adoption of Western dress in Kasai because of their assumption that the Christian faith required also adopting the common table manners, etiquette, and practices of the industrial Western world (300). A Presbyterian school for girls in Luebo, for example, trained young women to dress, take care of clothes, how to be polite, and to become consumers of modern commodities, in addition to spreading The Christian Gospel. In Brazzaville, missions essentially carried out a similar goal. With a monopoly on education due to lack of colonial government investment in schools, the Catholic Church held a significant influence on the adoption of Western clothing by the people of Brazzaville (Martin 51). In addition, the Church supported the self-contained Christian village of Saint Firmin for mixed children, to prevent these mixed people from being corrupted by local African culture (54). Special Catholic schools contributed to this by encouraging African children to dress in “appropriate” Western attire and separating them from other Africans, like the case of the biracial children schooled in Saint Firmin, in Brazzaville. These biracial children required separation from the city’s Africans to prevent moral corruption by the African masses.
African adoption of European clothes also took place in the context of local societies’ own desire and initiative. In the 1920s, Kuba women, for instance, became attached to wraps, especially expensive Dutch wraps with steadfast colors, expecting to receive one new wrap of cloth every year from their husbands (Vansina 306). Women in Brazzaville also appropriated female fashion from the West. Gabonese and Loango women in the 1920s began to wear short dresses, high-heeled shoes, silk stockings, powder their faces with rice flour, and straighten their hair (Martin 158). European women also influenced fashion trends in Brazzaville, which reinforced the local custom of associating clothing with status, since these women had to attend many social functions that required a public presence in the highest quality European clothing (159). Magazines and catalogues used by European women to order clothes were also used by Africans, who would show the designs to local tailors to have them copied (159). Once their clothes were no longer wanted, white employers often gave them to African domestics, leading to being sometimes sold in African markets, furthering the spread of European fashion in Poto-Poto and Bacongo (158). Interestingly, most women continued to prefer African cloth into the 1950s, with only women married to elite men or professional women wearing European-style dress in Brazzaville (167). Nevertheless, African women in Brazzaville attached more importance to cloth and created a hierarchy of value for different types, as well as adopting new styles of wearing African cloth. Beauty pageants, such as the ‘Miss Brazzaville’ competition, also sparked controversy on whether participants should wear African cloths or short skirts that showed their legs, with most males in the audience preferring short skirts (170). This problem aroused by female dressing styles led to controversy about urban African women and morality, which reveals the extent to which adoption of European dress was male-dominated.
Men, who were the largest consumers of European dress, like women, associated cloth with status and an expression of power. This precolonial practice remained at the root of all African appropriation of European dress code, meaning that urban, professional men or members of the elite were more likely to adopt European dress codes. Beginning with urban African elites in Brazzaville, or the ‘class of 1949’ in Kasai, the educated Kuba men who received a Western education at boarding schools, young men began to aspire to wear modern clothing as a marker of status within the rapidly changing world. In the example of Kasai, these young men learned to see themselves as part of the broader colony of Congo, and though they still valued and identified as Kuba by remaining steeped in core values, including the sense of hierarchy, they desired accessible aspirations for material wealth and status (Vansina 315). Though by the 1950s European clothes were worn by an estimated 1/5 or 1/4 of the population of Nsheng, the Kuba, capital, these educated elite men set trends and developed a larger worldview that clashed with that of Kasai village elders (311). These males conspicuous consumption of modern clothes at concerts with urban music such as the rumba and other novel leisure activities further reinforced their status as elite and more modern than the older generation (315).
Likewise, younger male elites in Brazzaville also flaunted their European suits, trousers, and other clothes in bars, clubs, and other venues, replaying the centuries-old tradition of cloth as a status symbol. Young men in Bacongo, for example, established clubs that focused exclusively on fashion, blending their taste in fashion with mutual aid societies for each other that included going to popular bars such as ‘Chez Faignond,’ or dancing to pop music (Martin 171). Urban workers also participated in the dress frenzy to show off their status regardless of their wages. These migrant workers began to purchase Western clothes, some going as far as starving themselves to buy new clothes with their pay, in the case of a number of servants in the 1920s (162). Indeed, by 1951, according to one survey, 21 percent of expenditures were on clothes in Poto-Poto and Bacongo, meaning that the consumption of cloth was widespread across all classes (162). Men were clearly more dependent on the consumption of European dress than women in both Kasai and Brazzaville, due to greater access to wage labor and unequal gender relations which allowed men to continue their privilege of expressing their power and status through ostentatious personal display.
The consumption of Western styles of dress and their appropriation by Africans in Kasai and Brazzaville during the colonial period reflects parallels. These similarities in the spread of modern styles of dress share a mutual origin in the long association of cloth with prestige and wealth in precolonial Equatorial African societies, dating back to locally manufactured raffia cloth. Africans in Brazzaville, however, with the longstanding tradition of the Atlantic slave trade in Malebo Pool and its cosmopolitan population derived from centuries of trade between and among Africans and Europeans, alongside foreign workers, was exposed to European dress earlier and appropriated it more rapidly. In Kasai, the adoption of Western dress occurred more gradually, with some groups like the Luba and Lulua shifting their dress more rapidly while the Kuba continued to look down on wage labor as synonymous with slavery. Moreover, the Kuba were hesitant to adopt Western clothes since it would erase all outward manifestation of the Kuba as distinct from neighboring Africans. However, the gender dynamics of both regions share a commonality in the unequal access to European styles of dress due to the dominance of men in access to wage labor with higher wages. Nevertheless, each region’s adoption of Western dress illustrates local agency and change with continuity, since the political purposes of cloth, as expressions of status and power, remained the same.
Jewry of Medieval Cairo
The Jewry of Cairo
The Jewish community was
very integrated culturally, politically and economically into the larger
society of Egypt. The Jewish residents of the cosmopolitan city fared better under
Islamic rule than anywhere in Christian Europe. Indeed, their integration into
Egyptian society indicates the degree of heterogeneity and diversity in
Egyptian society. The simple fact that Jews enjoyed rights and privileges in
addition to tolerance in Muslim Egypt, as demonstrated by the Geniza papers,
also counters the myth of Muslim intolerance and oppression of dhimmis, or
non-Muslims. In fact, Jews generally lived under much worse conditions in
Christian Europe during the medieval period since there were few legal
protections, combined with a theologically driven anti-Semitism that led to
ghettoization, collective violence as retribution, and general hostility. Jews
in Islamic lands, such as Egypt, however, enjoyed special protections under
Islamic law that allowed freedom to worship, maintain their own community
institutions, greater economic opportunities, and no ghettoization.
Nevertheless, Jews were still a minority group in a Muslim-dominated social
hierarchy, and were never completely free from repression or discriminatory
practices, a product of the Pact of ‘Umar.
Culturally, Jewish Egyptians were far more
integrated into Egyptian society than their counterparts in Europe. Jewish and
Muslim dietary laws, for instance, converged in multiple instances, especially
regarding consumption of pork. Jewish halakha and sharia law also have
parallels, offering evidence of additional similar cultural and religious
practices that eased socializing between Muslims and Jews.[1] In addition,
interreligious marriage between Muslim men and Jewish women faced no
opposition.[2] No evidence of Sunnii
Muslims believing in contamination from contact or socializing with Jews
appears, either, which has further support by the mixed character of
residential areas. In fact, Jews and Muslims could own property together, and
the Jewish community of Cairo was not separated from the rest of the city, but
spread across in different clusters. [3] The Geniza also show
that the Jewish population lived in neighborhoods where at least half of the
houses had Gentile neighbors.[4] Thus, Jews and Muslims
lived side by side, could intermarry, owned property and businesses in
partnerships, practiced similar dietary laws, and interacted with each other
socially in the marketplace, in administrative positions, and in hospitals.
Furthermore, Jews adopted
cultural and social practices of the broader Muslim society, such as the Arabic
language and script, and the position of the qadi within Islamic society became
a model for judges in the Jewish community.[5] Due to the influence of
Islam, Jewish judges were increasingly expected to perform similar roles of
administering and managing funds connected with social services to the
community, such as taking care of orphans, widows, the poor and sick, foreigners
and captives.[6] In addition, despite
occasional attempts to enforce a distinctive dress code for Jews and other
non-Muslims, it was rarely enforced and Jews and Muslims were indistinguishable
by their attire during the Fatimid and early Ayyubid dynasties.[7] Unfortunately, there
were periods where the imposition of dress restrictions on dhimmis, meant to
perpetuate a distinction between Muslims and non-Muslims, was enforced, such as
during the reign of the mad Fatimid caliph, al-Hakim, considered insane and
cruel by all Muslim historians. This particular Fatimid caliph, ruling from
996–1021, required Christians and Jews to wear distinctive belts and badges.[8] This one extreme case of
persecution against Jews and Christians also included requiring Jews to wear an
image of the golden calf worshipped by the Israelites in Exodus and Christians
an image of the cross in public baths.[9] Still, most Muslims
considered these persecutions aberrations, and in the aftermath of these
persecutions, dhimmis forced into conversion were allowed to convert to their
previous faiths.[10]
Despite being quite
integrated into overall Egyptian society, Jews were often pressured into
expressing their religious faith behind closed doors. Funeral processions, for
example were often difficult since public displays of the Jewish faith
contradicted a regulation in the Pact of ‘Umar, which aimed to limit displays
of faiths besides Islam.[11] They also had to be sure
that new synagogues would not surpass surrounding mosques in height lest they
arouse the fanaticism of some of the Muslims, another burden on their freedom
of religious and cultural expression because the synagogue was the center of
the Jewish community.[12] The Jewish community
also did not practice the seclusion of women, so that aspect of cultural
identity among Cairo’s Jewry was absent within their own community, although
they were also patriarchal and male-dominated. Still, like Muslim women, Jewish
women had to worship in a separate compartment in the house of worship.[13]
On the political level, Cairo’s
Jewish community was relatively integrated into the state apparatus. Like other
non-Muslim communities, the Muslim rulers allowed a certain amount of autonomy,
often working through religious leaders within the Jewish communities to collect
taxes and administer the law. This practice was instituted in Egypt through the
position of the Gaon, or head of the yeshiva, which had judicial and
administrative authority over the Jewish community.[14] The Muslim state also reserved the
right to confirm his office, ruling through the Gaon and the Nagid, a Hebrew
title for the ‘head of the Jews.’[15] The Nagid was expected to address complaints by
Jews about government oppression, expected to act against rapacious officials
either by intervention through the central government or by talking things over
with local authorities on the occasion of a visit, essentially representing the
power of the Muslim state through the religious institutions of Jewish life,
the synagogue and yeshiva.[16] The elders and notables
of the Jewish community also participated in the political system by issuing
and receiving letters on behalf of the state, promulgating statutes, and signed
contracts, sometimes alone or in conjunction with the muqaddam, an appointed
executive.[17] The muqaddam also played
an essential role in the political system, appointed with the consent of the
community by the Jewish central leaders and accredited by local representatives
of the government.[18] The aforementioned
judges, whose role in the Jewish community by the middle of the 12th
century began to resemble that of the Muslim qadi, also participated in this
system as intermediaries between the Muslim state and Jewish subjects.[19]
The Jewish
community of Cairo was also given positions in the state beyond that of
representing their religious group. For example, the sofer, or Jewish scribes
and copyists, served the Fatimids as court scribes.[20] Jewish physicians also
served in the Fatimid court, such as Moses b. Elazar, who became an influential
person in the court of caliph al-Mu’izz in the 10th century.[21] Other physicians with
political power include Samuel b. Hananya, who became a leader in the Jewish
community in the middle 12th century.[22] Indeed, the Shiite Fatimids were well-known
for condoning dhimmi participation in state service, partly due to the simple
fact that the dynasty was Shiite in a sea of Sunni Islam and therefore eager to
find loyal administrators.[23] With that consideration,
the rise of Jewish merchant Ibn Killis, an Muslim convert, in the financial
administration of the Fatimids in the late 10th century, or the
Tustari family, no longer surprises.[24] The Jewish vizier, Abu
S’ad, who reached the pinnacle of his power during the regency of the mother of
caliph al-Mustansir, provides another example of Muslims serving in the highest
positions within the Fatimid caliphate.[25] The presence of Jews at
the highest positions in the Muslim world indubitably illustrates the degree of
integration Jews reached under Islam.
Unfortunately, Jews and
other dhimmis were excluded from state service in the 9th century by
the decree of Abbasid caliph al-Mutawakkil, but the decree was only
sporadically enforced during Abbasid rule.[26] The simple fact that
Jews and Christians were found in all urban centers of the Islamic world made
them inevitably tied to the political system in some way, even if only a few
Jews rose to top administrative positions. Still, the Pact of ‘Umar, the
aforementioned bilateral contract between Muslims and dhimmis in which dhimmis
agree to discriminatory regulations, such as the jizya, or poll tax, in
exchange for tolerance and protection, obviously did not exclude Jews from
participating in political circles.[27] The legal system also
treated Jewish subjects with far more juridical objectivity, not imposing
collective punishment on Jews for alleged crimes of individuals, unlike the
Latin West where pogroms and collective punishment were common.[28] However, the jizya tax
was a heavy burden on non-Muslim populations, especially since if they did not
receive a receipt, they could be charged again.[29]
On the economic
front, Jews were also well integrated into Egyptian society. As mentioned
previously, Jews and Muslims owned property together and were business
partners, something impossible in the contemporary West.[30] Jews were also present
in the economy at several different levels and types of employment, not solely
moneylenders. Jews
were broadly distributed across all sectors of economy, with some owning land
and raising crops in arable Egypt while others were also involved in dyeing,
metalware, cheese, sugar manufacture, and various other sectors of the economy.[31] Jews were present at
ports, served as police and engaged in tax-farming.[32] The control of mints was
also Jewish-dominated in most Muslim states.[33] Thus, Jews were wholly
integrated in broad array of economic activities in the Islamic world, and
often traveled abroad to engage in international trade with Muslim partners in
addition to engaging in intra-Jewish trade and economic exchanges across the
Dar al-Islam.
Uniquely, Jewish moneylending was largely
within the Jewish community in the Islamic world, unlike Jewish moneylenders
loaning to strapped rChristians in medieval Europe.[34] The Christian
theological claim against usury and the pursuit of material wealth contradicted
Islam’s pro-trade stance, which encouraged the pursuit of material wealth,
trade, and business, thereby sparing Jews of ridicule and violence for engaging
in usury or business.[35] Medieval Islam did not
portray the Jew or Christian as collaborating with Satan to undermine society,
which Jews were perceived to do in Christian Europe for practicing usury.[36] As a result, shared
judgment of Muslim and Jewish legal experts regarding the necessity for
flexible response to the law of the merchants developed alongside congruence in
economic practice generally.[37] Nevertheless, Jewish
merchants often signed contracts before Muslim and Jewish authorities
concurrently.[38] In addition to engaging
in business transactions on an international level, Jewish merchants of Cairo
were active in all the bazaars, marketplaces, and squares, not exclusively the
Lane of Jews, which only housed a fraction of Cairo’s Jewish residents.[39]
The degree of Jewish
assimilation into Muslim Egypt during the medieval period contradicts standard
depictions of Islam and Arabs as intolerant. Participating in every economic
sector, working as viziers, administrators, and community representatives for
the Jewish minority and the Muslim state, or adopting elements of Islamic
culture demonstrate the high degree of cultural miscegenation in the
pluralistic societies of the Islamic world. This degree of cultural
heterogeneity hardly surprises when on takes into account Egypt’s large Coptic
population in the medieval period, as well as the general cosmopolitan
character of Cairo and the Nile Delta throughout history, since it is the
meeting ground for Asia, Africa, and Europe. The high degree of Jewish
assimilation and tolerance in Fatimid Egypt, for example, stands true for the
Coptic communities and other Christian sects in the region. Naturally, this
relative tolerance and acceptance of dhimmis in the Muslim world was far from a
Golden Age of interfaith solidarity, since they were required to pay taxes and
did at times face persecution or special impositions regarding dress and
displays of religion. The centuries proceeding Fatimid and early Ayyubid rule
in Egypt also show that the inclusion of non-Muslims in positions of authority
and other special privileges could be revoked by intolerant rulers. Regardless
of what dynasty ruled in Cairo, however, the Jewish population enjoyed far more
protection and inclusion within broader society than their counterparts in
Christian Europe enjoyed until the arrival of industrial nation-states.
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