Kanuri Women of Borno (Nigeria): Perspectives from the Little Kingdom of Musune

Editha Platte's Kanuri Women of Borno (Nigeria): Perspectives from the Little Kingdom of Musune is a fascinating but often flawed work on a topic still neglected by those interested in the history of the Kanuri. Unfortunately, this work, which appears to contain parts of her dissertation and subsequent research, was not translated well from the German. It is usually not enough to hinder understanding, but when combined with the repetition of pages in later sections, it is enough to make the last third of the text an arduous enterprise. The second half, focusing on the life cycles experienced by Kanuri women from birth to marriage, child-rearing, and divorce or widowhood, sorely lacked a conclusion to connect it with the earlier part of the book on titles held by Kanuri women. 

One was also expecting a conclusion to connect it to the possible question of looking at the Kanuri mai mbauji for possible insights into how the Sayfawa court was organized and run. After all, if these smaller chiefdoms or princedom courts, which were ruled by local dynasties who once occupied a vassal status as tributaries to Birni Gazargamo, could possibly shed light on that topic, it would have been of interest to see that argument made explicitly or with strong examples. Some of this likely can be found in a few of the older studies or inaccessible German resources or a more thorough reading on our part of the works of Cohen on the question of women and queen mothers. 

Nonetheless, Platte apparently did not wish to engage in a more detailed historical study using the various written sources from the precolonial era which do contain allusions to women titleholders and royal women. Indeed, thanks to Platte, we began to take another look at some of the mahrams in Palmer's Bornu Sahara and Sudan and references to elite women in Muhammad Yanbu's work. Some of the connections were, in fact, quite obvious and we are embarrassed to admit we did not do this earlier. For instance, the sokotoma Aisha  bt. Ali, who was mentioned in one of the mahrams, was likely the eldest daughter of the mai. Platte also makes fascinating references to the donning of male garb in some of the installation rituals for female titleholders among the Pabir, Bolwa, and other groups. One cannot help but wonder if some of these rites, forms of seclusion, and use of male dress were also part of Sayfawa court practice for the maira or moworam. 

Also of use is Platte's reference to some of the then-recent theories about the "Sao" and Kotoko. If Musune was once a "Sao" center that transitioned into a Kotoko polity whose ruling class later claimed Maumi origin (Maami-Ariwa, though commoners were of the Ngaala clan), then Musune's history can be contextualized within the broader context of ethnic and political changes in Borno from the 1200s to the 1500s. This model of Platte assumed the "Sao" were building centers or towns at places like Musune by the 1200s (by c. 1300 for Musune). Possible proof can be found in the giant "Sao" pots in this region, dated from the 1200s-1400s. Then, a Kotoko identity gradually emerged as the Massa expanded northward. This led to the absorption or displacement of the "Sao" already in the area. Subsequent changes began when the expansionist Sayfawa state in the 1500s began to incorporate the former "Sao" and Kotoko polities. Somehow, although it is not clear from the evidence utilized by Platte, Musune transitioned from a possible Sao-Tatala affiliation to Kotoko by the 1500s. Presumably, the new ruling dynasty was installed by the Sayfawa (or they began to claim common origin with the regional hegemon). 

To what extent this aforementioned (and tentative) historical overview is accurate for Musune or the Kotoko is up for debate. One also wonders why Platte was perhaps more persuaded by the idea of the Sayfawa in Borno borrowing some of its titles or court practices from local "Sao" groups. For instance, the central role played by elite women as titleholders in the Sayfawa court in Kanem can be partially glimpsed from the Diwan for the 1100s. And why the Sayfawa would have needed to borrow so heavily from groups who, according to Platte, did not develop more elaborate political formations until the 1200s or 1300s, is not addressed. But as an introduction to one of the Kanuri princedoms of Borno and the life cycle of the Kanuri women, there is an ample amount of fascinating information. 

Gender & Class in Inca and Spanish Peru

Famous painting depicting St. Ignatius of Loyola's nephew and his wife from the Inca nobility, Beatriz Ñusta

Irene Silverblatt's Moon, Sun, and Witches: Gender Ideologies and Class in Inca and Colonial Peru is a provocative analysis of gender and class in Peru under two different imperial systems. The first, that of the Incas, drew from Andean traditions and kinship structures while "genderizing" class. The second, the more brutal Spanish colonial imposition, brought more destructive changes that included private land tenure and Christianity with a Judaeo-Christian patriarchal religious and social structure. Silverblatt's study, using chronicles, archival sources and the literature produced by Catholic missionaries and priests eager to extirpate idolatry in Peru, chronicles this development across time from Incan into colonial Peru. 

The early chapters establish the importance of gender parallels in kinship/ayllu structures, gender parallels in religion and increasingly, how the expansion of the Inca Empire promoted its own supremacy through kinship that was both gendered and class-based (yet used the discourse of kinship to mask exploitation). In its pre-imperial Inca phase, Andean gender parallelism was based on complementary principles, with gendered roles for men and women that included inheritance on female lines as well as a role for women as political and religious leaders. Inca imperial expansion, however, drew on the conquest hierarchies of ayllus as well as a gendered discourse that made conqueror ayllus or lineages "male" and the subjugated "female." The Incas, or Lords of Cuzco, drew on this plus their control of women as acllas to buttress their imperial ideology. 

In other words, that the Incas were able to expand their cult of the Sun and take women and girls from conquered provinces to later redistribute as wives (as a favor of the Inca) or as religious/ritual specialists in Inca imperial religion as part of their imperial ideology and class system. Through the control of the Cuzco elite of women's sexuality (by demanding virgin acllas or the privilege of the Inca to give them as wives to relatives, subordinates and vassals) and labor, class was heavily gendered. However, in spite of the gendered dimensions of Inca imperial ideology and expansion, women exhibited power in a number of ways. As mentioned previously, they could exert authority as religious leaders and political leaders at a local level. The Inca Queen, too, possessed power of her own that complemented that of the male Inca ruler. Nonetheless, the Inca imperial structure favored males as conquerors and their subjects as "conquered women" in the empire. This gendered dimensions is also clear due to the fact that Inca elites and favored subjects could possess multiple wives but the Inca Queen and female nobility were still restricted to a single husband. 

The chapters on women under colonial rule are a bit more interesting, although one wonders if relying too heavily on Guaman Poma may slightly distort the conditions in the colony. This is not to dispute the generally correct view of Guaman Poma of colonialism's negative impact on indigenous peoples in Peru, but rather to call to attention the class position of indigenous chroniclers like Guaman Poma who also profited from or exploited the conditions created by the Spanish conquest to enrich themselves. Either way, we can assume peasant women and poor Indian women were exploited in every way to a degree inconceivable in Incan or pre-Columbian times. As detailed by Silverblatt, this included forced labor, rape, taxation/tribute burdens, accusations of witchcraft, and the loss of political rights to own or bequeath land or exercise political leadership. Indigenous women of the elite, of course, were less disadvantaged by Spanish rule yet still faced drastic changes that limited their autonomy. This is expanded upon in subsequent chapters on witchcraft and Andean pre-Christian religion. Throughout the book, Silverblatt had already made reference to the role of women in religion and spirituality and how that position was undermined or came under attack from the Spanish colonial system and Church. 

The voluminous corpus of written sources on the attempt by the Jesuits to eradicate indigenous religions in the Andes, however, provides another perspective on the experience of indigenous women under colonial rule, however. One learns that women who fled to the puna to avoid the Church and/or Spaniards, for instance, played a key role in the survival of indigenous beliefs and culture since they were less "corrupted" than Indian men who were more likely to serve as curacas or be incorporated into the colonial administration as intermediaries. Women likewise resisted colonial rule and the Church through continued ritual practices that were outlawed or persecuted by the Church. Many women also continued to take their surnames from their mothers or bequeath land to female children, even if forced to act via male "tutors" the colonial regime expected. There is even a remarkable episode of women continuing Andean practices of confession that incorporated the quipu! Undoubtedly, much of the survival of indigenous religion, worldview and culture in the Andes can be attributed to the role of peasant women who upheld pre-Hispanic values and traditions against the utter destruction wrought by the Spanish conquest and colonial system.

Theodora Holly

Theodora Holly ca. 1902

Daughter of James Theodore Holly, a prominent African-American and bishop of the Episcopal Church in Haiti, Theodora Holly and her siblings played an important role in Haitian intellectual history. As a product of a family rooted in black nationalist emigrationist thought and action of the 19th century, Holly unsurprisingly inherited this tradition of solidarity between Black America and Haiti. Furthermore, as a Protestant fluent in English, French, and Creole, she was uniquely poised to connect Black America and the Anglophone West Indies with Haiti through her journalism for venues such as the UNIA's Negro World. Perhaps her greatest importance lies in her being one of the few female voices in Haitian noiriste circles, suggesting the need to explore gendered dimensions of noirisme.

Unfortunately, little appears to have been done on researching Theodora Holly's important role in Haitian education, women's history, and intellectual thought. According to David M. Dean, Grace Theodora Holly was the best scholar of James T. Holly's many children, but the family lacked the funds for her to study abroad. Her father believed African-American emigration to Haiti was necessary to ensure Haiti reached her destiny as a shining star of black civilization. However, Haitians could not do it alone since African-Americans supposedly were more civilized due to contact with Anglo-American religion and civilization. Opposed to this view, her brother, Arthur, was a pioneer in the ethnological movement, authoring texts on the question of Vodou and esoterica in Haiti. Holly also shared her brother's fascination with the occult and esoteric matters, although not, to my knowledge, openly embracing Vodou like Arthur. Most of her contributions to Les Griots were about numerology, however, and her writings about Haiti in The Negro World and other African-American journals usually stressed solidarity between Haiti and Black America or touched upon the history and conditions of women in the island.

According to Grace Sanders, Holly played an important role in the International Council of Women of the Darker Races of the World, whose members later established a vocational and domestic training schools for girls. As an educator, Holly's appreciation of the Vai writing system and its implications for creating a Haitian Creole writing system, also suggest the importance of looking back to Africa for solutions to problems facing our race today. It is hard to imagine her father would have thought of doing such a thing. She was also praised in issues of Le Nouvelliste and Le Matin for her conferences on education and moral cultivation as early as 1913, predating her involvement with the International Council of the Women of the Darker Races.

Perhaps the most intriguing thing about Holly for this blog is her somewhat singular status as a Haitian woman directly engaged in the UNIA and noiriste circles. To what extent did her connections with African-American women and the UNIA shape a nascent Haitian women's movement? Did her father's enthusiasm for Fourier and Christian Socialism shape her belief in education and black women organizations for collective uplift? She seems to be one of the interesting figures in the early development of Haitian feminism and respectability, but also a proponent for educational reforms at a time when more women would have been migrating to the cities or working in new fields, as later seen by the presence of women in the tobacco industry or factories in the subsequent decades. Moreover, as someone shaped by the ethnological movement, she appears to mark a transition from the older classic black nationalism of her father to one shaped by the interwar years, a period where Haitians were urging themselves to not slavishly emulate French or Western ways but look inward.

Suggested Reading

 

Dean, David M., and James Theodore Holly. Defender of the Race: James Theodore Holly Black Nationalist Bishop. Boston: Lambeth Press, 1979. 

Moses, Wilson Jeremiah. The Golden Age of Black Nationalism, 1820-1925. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988. 

Sanders, Grace Louise, La Voix des Femmes: Haitian Women's Rights, National Politics, and Black Activism in Port-au-Prince and Montreal, 1934-1986. 



The Left Hand of Darkness

The Left Hand of Darkness is the second novel in Le Guin's Hainish Cycle that I've read, and far more developed and interesting than the great novella, The Word For World Is Forest.  Exploring androgyny in a wintry planet possibly on the brink of war, Le Guin's brilliant novel forces us to rethink our notions of gender as Genly Ai seeks to bring Gethen into the Ekumene. Mr. Ai is forced to confront a society of humans without gender (well, except for kemmer) and see how despite the differences, the balance of "masculinity" and "femininity" has led to the creation of a very different society. Much like The Word For World Is Forest, Le Guin's interest in anthropology must have led her to research the differences in the social construction of gender in various societies, and brings mythology, elements of Eastern philosophy, and fantasy to craft this world. Much of the transgender and non-binary movements have pushed for a similar sort of realization in the present: an acknowledgement of how the gender binary is not necessarily "natural" and independent of social forces. Le Guins's consistent use of male pronouns for the non-gendered Gethenians is a bit confusing, particularly when coming from the point of view of Gethenians themselves, but the general point remains consistent on dualism that is not neither/nor but both/and, a form of thinking quite common in indigenous societies. 

The astonishing level of detail and chapter entries consisting of Gethenian mythology and history create a fully-fleshed world where the past, present, and future collide and connect with the main plot, including a powerful moment at the novel's conclusion. Furthermore, this world features some uncanny parallels to the "precogs" of Philip K. Dick's literature and the Cold War-era. The Foretellers, mindspeech among the Hainish humans of other worlds, and last but certainly not least, the power accorded to deviants (those with mental illness or in a permanent state of kemmer) have numerous comparable scenarios and characters in Dick's oeuvre, albeit Dick was never quite on the same page when it came to androgyny. In fact, the only instance in which "hermaphrodites" appear in Dick's fiction are the "mutants" who have sex with each other while changing genders for audiences (The World Jones Made). Nonetheless, the mutual interest in precognitive abilities, telepathy, and metaphysics point to a shared concern for understanding who and what we are. So what if novelists lie, as Le Guin says in her introduction, if those lies can lead to some truth? Perhaps Naipaul is right about fiction never lying.

Eugenio Maria de Hostos Lecture on Gender

Enjoy a lecture from April Mayes at Hostos Community College on Eugenio Maria de Hostos's views on the 'Woman Question' in the Dominican Republic. As a towering figure in Puerto Rican and Dominican letters of the late 19th century, it is important to also understand the question of gender in the work of Hostos.

Mary McLeod Bethune, Haiti, and Black Feminists

Source

Mary McLeod Bethune, influential figure in the Black Freedom Struggle and one of the leaders of the National Council of Negro Women. Often obscured in our memories of this important and powerful Black woman is her links to Haiti, a country she only visited once. Bethune was friends with the President of Haiti's wife, Lucienne Estimé, and awarded Haiti's Medal of Honor and Merit.

While she only visited in Haiti during 1949 (the same year of President Estimé's Exposition for the Bicentennial of Port-au-Prince), the National Council of Negro Women had been in communication and solidarity with the Haitian women's movement throughout the 1940s. The Ligue d'Action Feminine Sociale, established in the 1930s, maintained links with Black women organizations and feminists in the US and some of its members traveled and met with African-American women, too.

African American Women and Haitian women had also found solidarity and worked together earlier (as early as the 1920s, when African-American women showed an interest in anti-US Occupation collaboration and research on the conditions of Haitian women) in the International Council of Women of the Darker Races, an organization consisting mostly of African-American women and a small contingent of important Haitian feminists (including Theodora Holly, Haitian daughter of an African-American immigrant, Theodore Holly). Clearly, the Haitian women's movement of the 1930s and 1940s was tied to broader Black women's movements in the US and international collaborative projects.

For more information, read Grace Louis Sanders's "La Voix des Femmes: Haitian Women's Rights, National Politics, and Black Activism in Port-au-Prince and Montreal, 1934-1986." Her excellent work is the source for this post, and eloquently elucidates the origins and forms of Haitian women's activism in Haiti and the Diaspora.

Kaiama Glover and Haiti

A worthwhile lecture from Kaiama Glover on how discourses of Haiti after (and before) the 2010 earthquake are predicated on an anti-African, anti-black bias. Media reports of Haiti during and after that catastrophe often emphasize Haiti's links with Africa as a way of denigrating and Othering Haiti.

How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents

Reading How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents has been exhilarating, and a necessary balance to the mainly male-centered works of Junot Diaz. In Alvarez's well-known novel, we see an immigrant narrative of a family forced to choose emigration because of the Trujillo regime's constant presence and attempts to kill the patriarch of the family, Don Carlos. Thus, like so much of immigrant literature, the focus of the novel is on identity and finding meaning in the 'new land.' However, the novel does more than explore the contours of Dominican-American identity. Issues of gender, race, color, language, patriarchy, and sexuality are relevant in all sections of the novel. Moreover, it's structured in an intriguing fashion: it moves backwards in time chronologically, thereby tracing the troubled lives of the four Garcia girls from their adult years in the United States back to their childhood in the Dominican Republic, a period where Trujillo's secret police sought and killed some of their relatives.

As in Junot Diaz's Brief Wondrous Life, the shadow of Trujillo and the unequal power distribution of his regime lurks behind the scenes, though Trujillo never appears as a character (except one allusion to his daughter being a neighbor of the family compound). Somehow, the dictator manages to exert an influence that begins to affect everyone's behavior, including the children (the harrowing scene where two secret police (guardias) show up at the house for Don Carlos is an excellent example). And, likewise, aspects of the patriarchal culture of the upper-class family the four girls descend from mirror that dictatorship: male heirs were favored, males were given more freedom, women were to abstain from sex until marriage, etc. In addition to the widespread misogyny and sexism that characterized Trujillo's regime (and many families of the Dominican Republic), Sofia's experience with an illegitimate cousin, Manuel, prove how women are subordinated in very real ways by a culture of machismo (cousin Mundin is another outstanding example of Dominican masculinity being cultivated in horribly sexist ways, since he plays the role of catalyst in the loss of innocence of his cousins, Yoyo and Sofia). Clearly, a female-centered narrative such as this novel provides a fascinating way to study the effects of gender and sexism on maintaining the dictatorship, as well as the conflicts the family faces in the US as the daughters mature and embrace their sexuality and 'liberation' in ways their parents do not support.

Issues of race, color, and xenophobia in the Dominican Republic and the US also shape the novel. The family faces racism in New York (being called spics by white children and adults), poverty (Don Carlos struggles to get his medical license and find work when the family first leaves the Dominican Republic after narrowly escaping capture by Trujillo's men), and alienation. Simultaneously, while becoming victims of US white racism (including from the more 'liberal' types like a college boyfriend of Yolanda's who assumes 'Latin' women are easy and whose parents believe the Dominican would be like a geography lesson for their boy, an intersectional example of racism and sexism), strict class and race boundaries within the Garcia family's elite background dictate a type of condescension and racism towards the servants and those of Haitian descent. Thus, as Dominican-Americans, regardless of color, face racism and xenophobia in the Diaspora, Dominicans in the Island perpetuate another form of oppression against each other and Dominicans of Haitian descent.

 For instance, Chucha, a Vodouizan survivor of them 1937 massacres ordered by Trujillo (again, Trujillo is omnipresent in this novel), taken in by the generous grandparents of the girls, is looked down upon by the servants in the household because of her 'blue-black' color and descent, as well as being a practitioner of Vodou (entitled 'voodoo' in Alvarez's novel). Despite loyally serving the family since 1937, she is looked down upon by other similarly lower-class, dark-skinned Dominicans (the skin color or hair texture of the servants makes it quite obvious they are Afro-Dominican, being described as 'black' like Nivea or Chucha, dark-brown like Haitian-descended Pila, and having kinky hair, like Gladys. In this case, one can see how classism, racism, colorism, and xenophobia influence the Dominican and Dominican-American self-conceptualized identity. Even in the Garcia family, Laura is constantly bringing up their Swedish descent, her pride in conquistador ancestors, and praising the light skin and blue eyes of one of the daughters. This slavish devotion to white skin and privilege obscures the racial complexity and need for unity among Dominicans, especially in a dictatorship that based so much of its power on demonization and 'de-Haitianization' of the border with Haiti.

Perhaps this is why the two servants of Haitian descent play such prominent role in the early experiences of the Garcia girls before leaving for New York. They are a constant reminder of the classism, colorism, sexism, xenophobia, and immigrant experience the Garcias will undergo in what Chucha refers to as a land of the unliving, white zombies. Indeed, Chucha even prays for the girls on their last day 'home,' showing them the very same statue or 'talisman-like' figure that appears to be crying, the very same 'paquet congo' and her Vodou faith that sustained her all these years, losing contact with her family in Haiti and barely escaping death at the hands of a Trujillo-sanctioned massacre. The irony of this must not be lost, since the Garcia family was perilously close to a similar end under the same dictator. Pila, on the other hand, introduces Yoyo, or, Yolanda, into the coal shed where her innocence and the beginning of her longing for 'home,' take shape. If Pila's story of losing her eye and Yoyo's fears of the black cat (which manifest in nightmares after she flings the kitten out the window and steals it from the shed) symbolize her longing for home, then these women of Haitian descent, like the Garcia girls in the US, will continually struggle with locating 'home,' their identity. In fact, to make things worse for Pila, she disappears after stealing from the Garcia family, only to be brought to justice swiftly because of what I presume to be vitiligo, which marks her like Cain, just as skin color and national origin mark the Garcias in New York.

Unfortunately, this novel would have been better off focusing entirely on Yolanda than the entire family. Maybe if published as separate but interconnected short stories, the novel's structure would have been less jarring, but this is certainly a powerful read. The prose is simple and direct, the metaphorical language accessible, and the character of Yolanda very strong. Due to a lack of similar development for the other sisters, one cannot help but disinterested in some parts of the novel, but the working backwards chronologically worked quite well. It allows one to see, as Diaz observed in his famous novel, how Trujillo lives on in the minds, hearts, and behavior of Dominicans in the Diaspora, with devastating results for women. Their horrendous experiences with abusive, sexist, and racist US men, in conjunction with the struggle of assimilation, language barriers, intra-family squabbles, and the plethora of issues plaguing the Dominican Republic, demonstrate how everyone in the family is capable of becoming a little 'Trujillo,' capable of acts of great malice and abuse of power.

Bad Feminist

Everyone should read Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay for cultural and feminist criticism. She has a gift with words and retains her humor throughout. She even manages to make subject matter that would usually bore me to death interesting or engaging, such as the essay exploring her love for competitive Scrabble. Who would would have thought Scrabble could be so entertaining, funny, and meaningful? She also grapples with issues of body, sexism, rape culture, popular culture, film, and race, illustrating that no topic is beyond her grasp. She deftly critiques films dealing with slavery or black history (The Help, Django Unchained, 12 Years a Slave), analyzes popular literature (including the seemingly meaningless or trite, such as Fifty Shades of Grey or The Hunger Games) and manages to find depth and merit in all.

She weaves together her own life story with several chapters, thereby inviting the reader to see how we are all a collection of messy contradictions that make us 'bad feminists,' therefore offering a way for us all to embrace ideals espousing gender equality while remaining human. Thus, Gay can enjoy or at least accept that listening to misogynistic lyrics in popular music, or feeling fettered by some gender stereotypes, does not disqualify one from being a feminist. In addition, she critiques classism, heteronormativity, racism, and other flaws in much of mainstream feminism, while remaining open-minded and calling for building bridges. Perhaps the only flaw in the text was not due to the author, but my own ignorance of much popular culture, which made some essays a challenge to 'get' because I knew nothing of the subject matter. Nonetheless, Gay's style stayed accessible throughout, a true triumph. Moreover, Gay gave me her copy of the text!

We Should All Be Feminists

The amazing Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie eloquently speaks about gender inequality around the world. I love she can be so academic and truthful with a sense of humor.

An Untamed State

An Untamed State did not live up to some of the hype I had read about. It was certainly one of the most harrowing accounts of a kidnap and sexual violence I have ever read, but I felt that the novel was lacking a certain 'oomph' in other areas. Basically, the strongest prose and detail from the novel comes from Mireille's captivity, her reflections on her life in that hellish, untamed state, and the whirlwind of emotions, mindgames, and events that eventually lead to her liberation. Perhaps I am expecting too much from this novel, which is clearly about the prevalence of sexism and rape culture as well as the cages inside cages inside cages we experience, regardless of being kidnapped, but I would have liked to learn more about the details of the negotiations Sebastien Duval went through with the Commander, Laurent. It would have been very useful to learn more of the particularities of the ransom and deal reached between Mireille's father and her kidnappers, especially since it would show how much he values his youngest child's life (it must have been under one million US dollars, but no figure or number is shared after Mireille's 13 days of hell end).

Anyway, the second half of the book looks at Mireille's experiences with post-traumatic stress syndrome, coping with her injuries, feeling a permanent sense of danger and fear about men, and gaining some recovery, although she will never be the same. She never truly reconciles with her father after allowing her torment to last nearly a fortnight, but she makes peace and truly acknowledges how the US is her home, her identity. In some ways, it's quite a horrifying way for a Haitian-American to become 'American,' after undergoing several days in the Inferno, to be so irrevocably removed from her parents' identity and longing for 'home.' Throughout the novel, commentary on rape, sexualized violence, and the danger Mireille experiences in the US certainly belies Fabienne's point, however, that "Mr. America" (Mireille's husband, Michael) has a very selective memory of the US, since poverty and sexual violence occur there in ways that endanger Mireille, too. Thus, a woman is always in danger when around men, and Mireille's rupture from her former self includes a rupture with Haiti, the childhood home away from home she cherishes. One should certainly read this novel, and appreciate it as one of several examples of the flourishing, nascent Haitian-American literature.

Melissa Harris-Perry and Bell Hooks

An interesting conversation between two 'titans' of black feminist thought today. hooks, in my opinion, is far more applicable and interesting on the question of black feminism and progressive or revolutionary ideology and thought (the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy lets you know immediately where hooks stands). Unfortunately, MHP seems to have either sold out somewhat to be on MSNBC or was never the 'progressive' she touted herself to be, but regardless of her political orientation and sometimes problematic show she's not the reason I watched this (love you bell hooks!).

Bill Cosby's Fatherhood

Finally got around to perusing Cosby's Fatherhood. In many ways one can see how The Cosby Show follows many of Cosby's ideas of how the 'modern father' should raise his children. Indeed, Cosby's model of fatherhood is similar to 'traditional' narratives in some ways, but is far more engaged in criticism of misogynistic and outdated gender norms. Indeed, Poussaint, the Haitian-American psychiatrist and friend of Cosby who contributed to the hit sitcom (Haitians really do have a tendency of showing up where you don't expect them) also shares Cosby's take on how 'traditional' roles of fatherhood often led to emotional distance from children. Poussaint, who grew up in East Harlem in an apparently working-class family, regretted never being close to his father until the latter was on his deathbed, something Poussaint attributes to traditional models of father-child relationships. Cosby and Poussaint believe fathers should show emotional bonds and reveal more of themselves to their children, something I agree with, as would most people today, I think. Cosby wants such an open relationship with his children that he would want all fathers to be able to discuss puberty and sex with their teenage progeny, as well as have an engaged father during the pregnancy and infancy periods. 

While I can agree with much of Cosby's take on how fathers should interact with their children from the cradle to college (especially the critique of sexist gender roles where mothers are supposed to do all the child rearing on their own, cook, clean, something that came up in The Cosby Show via Alvin, Sondra's misogynistic boyfriend/husband of Caribbean descent), and I enjoyed the accessible and humorous writing style, it was a little too 'wholesome' and cared too much about assuaging whites and the status quo. Cosby actually praises Thomas Jefferson, uses almost only white American and European references (besides some talk of jazz and how all fathers hate the music their children like). Oh well, that is to be expected. For a black comedian of Cosby's era to become popular and retain that crossover acceptableness to whites, he has to cater to mainstream notions of "America" and popular culture to a certain degree (though he did celebrate black culture through art and music in the sitcom). Furthermore, Poussaint's introduction to the text spouts some stereotypical nonsense about how absentee fathers are to blame for child poverty. I am sure Poussaint recognizes the nuances of child poverty in America, but it sounded uncomfortably similar to his and Cosby's more recent work on blaming the black poor for their own condition. Regardless, Poussaint's introduction struck me as classist and perhaps a chastisement of poor blacks in particular, though single-mother households are increasingly common across race lines.

“Moi égal à toi...": Images of Black Women in Revolutionary France

The above is a striking example of the use of women in general and a Black woman in particular as propaganda for the goals of the 'far left' of Revolutionary France. Not only challenging some of the sexism and the institution of slavery in the colonies, this image blends the to with the use of an Afro-Caribbean woman of what is now Haiti, according to this. Her headwrap, very Caribbean, evokes the Phyrgian caps that were equated with concepts associated with democratic governance, republican forms of government, and the ideals of the French Republic, including its abolition of slavery in the 1790s (partly because slaves already took their liberty in their own hands in colonies such as Saint-Domingue since 1791) as well as Masonic connotations. Although women were sometimes used to represent the benevolent, progressive character of republican government in France during the Revolution, of course women remained silenced and excluded from formal political power and office. The example below shows another Black woman, emancipated slave, from Saint-Domingue/Haiti, which is explained in French in this blog:

As one can clearly see, this woman bears the triangle necklace, another Masonic reference, but, so unlike British abolitionist imagery, shows no helplessness, holding her head high and demanding respect. Both of these images depict empowered, independent formerly enslaved Black women who demand freedom and surpass the usual depiction of enslaved Blacks in British and American abolitionist iconography. Compare these two with Benoist's Portrait of a Negress from the same era (circa 1800) and the strong, autonomous and rational Black woman looks into the eyes of the gazer, showing no deference or respect for patriarchal white authority. Indeed, her partly exposed breasts further the painting's ties to Classical references and freedom, from gender and racial oppression.Moreover, like the other two women, this former slave from the French Caribbean wears a headwrap in the similar Caribbean style while her part exposure is reminiscent of the later famous Liberty Leading the People by Delacroix in 1830. Thus, women both Black and white were used during the Age of Revolution to represent the entirety of the population, liberty, or advances for the female gender. Of course, paintings and engravings and political propaganda and rhetoric exaggerated and most certainly remained under the dominance for and by males, and, in the case of France and the rest of it's colonies excepting Haiti, white males. As for Haiti, nationhood and patriotism would eventually be defined largely as male, as Mimi Sheller has indicated regarding the attachment of an ideal Haitian in the early constitutions of the Black Republic with militarism, sword-bearing, and an entirely male-centered definition of citizenship rooted in patriarchy.

 

What these images provide, however, is a different look at how Blacks of the Caribbean perhaps responded to their enslavement, freedom, and reenslavement during the turbulent periods of the French and Haitian Revolutions. The former slave above,  for instance, appears confident, strong-minded, and aware of herself and her rights, beyond simply being a prop by the white French painter, who, in this case, was a woman. Furthermore, unlike the common depictions of Blacks in European art of the colonial period, these images stray far from the racist depictions of savage, ugly Blacks with exaggerated physical features or, as in some cases, associations with apes and lesser beings. For an example of the extremely racist, sexist depictions of Black women in European art,  Three Young White Men and a Black Woman, or Rape of a Negress, which shows three white males enjoying themselves with an unwilling Black woman, by van Couwenbergh. In addition, such images as the above three illustrate an undeniable link between Freemasonry in France and the Caribbean colonies, and, as Garrigus and others have suggested, may perhaps also allude to the presence of Black and mixed-race Masons in colonial Saint-Domingue, since Toussaint L'Ouverture and others were likely Masons. Moreover, Haitian paintings and history also describe Masonic leaders in the postcolonial period, proof of an undying link from colonial Freemason societies to their 19th and 20th century Haitian mulatto and Black counterparts. 

Clearly, the use of the image of Black people in this short period of French republican radical anti-slavery, pushed to do so by slave resistance and demand in the colonies, illustrates more than simply French proponents and supports of the Revolution just using images of Blacks from the Caribbean as simple props with no agency. Although, as this essay indicates, Blacks are still exploited by philosophers, articulators of Enlightenment and early Romanticist thought on the role of Blacks and their humanity, the image is not unambiguously wholly negative or racist, despite racist and sexist reception from many audiences of Benoist, a known proponent of abolition and feminist causes. Nevertheless, such images, as James Small demonstrates, were received differently and the intertextual layers in the portrait could easily appeal to racist, sexist, colonial attitudes regarding Black women, eroticism, and inferiority, despite the Neoclassical allusions, firm gaze of the woman, and the painter's abolitionist and feminist sympathies. Unfortunately, the remainder of the 19th century would reveal an overwhelmingly negative depiction of Black women as scientific racism, European imperialism in Africa, and re-enslavement and colonial exploitation continued, despite the brief relapse in revolutionary France. For an undoubtedly negative, oversexed and racist caricature of Black women, the infamous depictions and treatment of Sarah Baartman provide ample evidence. A woman of Khoikhoi extraction from what is now South Africa, she was forced into parading her body in freakshows in England, despite the abolition of the international slave trade by the British. To make matters worse, after her horrid life of freak shows and burgeoning alcoholism to cope with the daily life of being gawked and jeered at, her corpse was dissected by Georges Cuvier and her remains put on display at the Louvre until finally returned to South Africa in 2002. What happened? After a brief, positive visualization of Black women, they soon become equated with the worst racial stereotypes, aided by nascent scientific racism that used the body of women such as Baartman to exoticize, mock, insult, jeer, and dehumanize ALL Black women.

Black Men, Intersectionality, and Black Feminism

Clarke’s assertion that black men’s absence of white racial privilege and generations of class privilege means they’re maleness has given them little currency in a racist, capitalist patriarchy is fraught with problems. Feminist theorists of intersectionality would agree that black men’s lower class backgrounds and race would indicate evidence of their intersectional oppression, but as men, their male privilege cannot be ignored. Indeed, all evidence of the black male patriarchy in churches, black institutions, and black communities, as well as defining the black community’s struggles solely through male lens illustrate the remarkable levels of male privilege enjoyed by black men in America. Scholars of intersectionality would also add nuance to Clarke’s claim that black men act as overseers on white male-owned plantations, or the patriarchy, since some black men do indeed exert their own patriarchy independently of white institutions or rule.

Crenshaw, like Hancock, would also agree that black men face intersectional oppression. Though lacking the broadened scope of intersectionality as an analytical paradigm for looking at any group or identity, Crenshaw, who focuses on anti-discrimination laws and black women, demonstrates how racist discriminatory policies are defined according to how they affect black men, would still perceive black men as living at the crossroads of intersecting oppressions (Crenshaw 211). Though she clearly acknowledges the male privilege of black men, whose own experience with discrimination becomes the standard for all blacks legally, she states that the model of race discrimination tends to be defined in accordance with the most privileged blacks (Crenshaw 211). This inevitably leads to notions of what constitutes race and sex discrimination that are limited in scope to fit those of the most privileged. For instance, blacks who complain about not being able to get a taxi as an example of racial discrimination have some class privilege because they can afford to pay for a taxi in the first place. Nevertheless, their problem with not getting service because of their race somehow outweighs that of black lesbian mothers who cannot receive child support for their children because of a lack of legal recognition for same-sex couples or that of blacks living in an impoverished community without any economic prospects or functioning schools.  

Ange-Marie Hancock, one theorist of intersectionality, would unquestionably agree with the idea of black men as intersectionally oppressed. In fact, Hancock calls for broadening intersectionality away from content specialization focusing on women of color through the lens of gender, race and class to an empirical paradigm that “can generate strategies for political change that incorporate all of us as political beings, not simply a subset of the population discussed in a single comparative case study” (Hancock 249). Hancock clearly sees intersectionality as a theoretical paradigm to study every actor in society, not solely women of color. Moreover, Hancock defines one of the principles of intersectionality as within-group diversity, meaning that the broad diversity across class, sexual orientation, and other identities or characteristics of the individual must be taken into account (Hancock 251). Thus, black men can be intersectionally oppressed due to poverty, blackness, sexuality, or various other aspects of their identities. On the other hand, black men can also be oppressive themselves, through extreme chauvinism and patriarchal views, rape, class privilege and exploitation of others, or domestic abuse. To ignore the agency of black men in their oppressive treatment of others by relegating them to the role of guards on a white male plantation neglects the obvious within-group diversity inherent in all black males, who can fully enjoy class privilege or patriarchy under the current racist and capitalist system. Thus, Clark’s claim of black men as intersectionally oppressed lacks nuance and demonstrates conspicuous inattention to detail, as well as ignoring the diversity of black men across the country and their own agency in maintaining sexism, racism, or other forms of oppression.

 As a result, black males can just as easily be conceived of as standing at the intersection of multiple oppressions, such as class, gender identity, sexual orientation, able-bodiedness, or other aspects of their identity. For example, a poor, gay black male attending an underfunded, inner city school and facing constant harassment or beatings from peers is intersectionally oppressed because their poverty, blackness, and sexual orientation have all resulted in him living in an impoverished community with inferior schools and a heteronormative preference. This specific instance also complicates how one perceives oppression since this hypothetical young male bears the brunt of harassment from other blacks, including male and female peers or residents in the neighborhood, meaning blacks can and do dehumanize each other within and without the white capitalist patriarchy. Perhaps one could argue that the treatment of this young man stems from broader white American heterosexist patriarchy, but such a view dismisses the agency and ability of marginalized communities to control their own destinies or outcomes. 

 Though very critical of the dominant framework of antiracist work as defined through the male lens, the logical implication from Crenshaw’s critique would be that lower-class and homosexual black men also suffer. Those living in poverty cannot easily afford to pay for taxis, for instance, and gay blacks still suffer from heterosexist institutions, prejudice, and a broad array of other disadvantages in a white, heterosexist society. Moreover, Hancock’s broadening of intersectionality would also take into account how race, sex, sexuality, and class are never mutually exclusive. Thus, a gay black man can be poor or rich, or a poor black male can commit acts of violence toward women, because these mutually constitutive relationships among various categories of difference allows the scholar to avoid essentializing entire population subsets, a critical flaw of standpoint theory.

Similarly, the greater societal association of black men with crime rather than black women demonstrates another avenue through which intersectionality must be embraced. Rather than engaging in “oppression Olympics” and competing for access to the fringes of opportunity and resources, one must never engage in overgeneralization and woefully incomplete analyses of entire groups (Hancock 249). Black men, who because they are male and black, do suffer from increased supervision, police brutality, incarceration, and excessive punishment, which does not negate the fact that the women of color prison population is simultaneously rising. However, since crime, especially violent and physical types such as murder, rape, and assault are equated with males, black men suffer from a type of intersectional oppression that targets the poor, black, and male, even though those aforementioned violent crimes do tend to be committed disproportionately by men. Their blackness cannot be divorced from this, since historically blackness has always been associated with moral depravity and savagery in the dominant perception of African Americans, dating back to the antebellum period and the need for justifications for African slavery. 

Like their race and gender, those that tend to commit these crimes or who endure racial profiling embedded in practices like the New York Police Department’s Stop and Frisk, tend to be from lower socioeconomic backgrounds, which in turns feed the proclivity to crime in the first place because of impoverished living conditions. Unsurprisingly, these racist attitudes toward poor, ghettoized black communities impact how society perceives and treats blacks with higher-class status. Therefore, the entire process is a multifaceted system of oppression that does target black and Hispanic men in particular because of their non-whiteness, maleness, and class. 

The response of feminist theorists of intersectionality would take into accounting the rising incarceration rates of black women and the general association of blackness with criminality as affecting black women. The welfare queen stereotype, for example, criminalizes black mothers as lacking proper moral values and cheating the state to avoid work by having several children. This attack on black women recipients of public assistance indicates a clear case of intersectional oppression of black women due to their race, which is often equated with laziness, and their gender, as mothers who cannot live to the standard to white motherhood (Crenshaw 227). Consequently, black women have also been criminalized on the basis of race and gender, as mounting rates of black female incarceration indicate. Regardless, intersectional theorists such as Hancock would agree that the special racial profiling, brutality, and imprisonment rates do indeed exemplify a form of intersectional oppression for black males. Thus, the possession of male privilege requires an intersectional approach to dissect the various ways through which black men benefit and suffer from their plethora of identities on an individual level, which unquestionably varies on the institutional level due to the diversity of black maleness. Male privilege is also undermined by the cult of masculinity which endeavors to shackle males to form of a prison-like masculinity.

Men who are not heterosexual, “masculine” or “tough” become victims of other men for perceived femininity because of societal reinforcement of this restrictive form of male expression, leading to oppression of all men because their ability to express themselves is severely limited. Women, such as black single head of households, often become oppressed through this standard of masculinity as well if they stray too far toward it. The attack on the black family structure on pathological in the Moynihan Report because of the black “matriarch” who is too strong and independent-minded for her presumed male partner receives the blame for the black underclass (Crenshaw 227). Moreover, these black single mothers are assumed to need male partners to raise their children, a heteronormative assumption that ignores lesbians and strategies to empower single mothers (Crenshaw 227). Thus, the special oppression of black males for not acting masculine in the traditional sense influences their intersectional oppression, since maleness is not always a positive in their experiences. The experiences of black women also face negative repercussions because of the cult of masculinity’s effects on gender relations and family dynamics in mainstream discourse and the political system. Once again, an intersectional framework allows one to move beyond essentializing maleness and deconstructing it to the level where one can perceive its oppressive factors through analysis of the myriad types of black men. The sexual expression of black males also evinces signs of intersectional oppression rooted in racial stereotypes and discriminatory historical trends, such as lynching.

Though black women were also lynched, the fact that black victims of lynchings were disproportionately black men shows signs of a specific gendered oppression targeting black men. The stereotypes of black men as rapist beasts desirous of white women and the fear of interracial sex from white society led to violent retribution against alleged interracial sex between black men and white women. Likewise, black women also resisted sexual terrorism on the part of white men, but black men’s experience with lynchings and specific stereotypes regarding sexuality reveal the extent to which black male sexuality is also demonized. Black women, whose sexuality is also demonized through the jezebel stereotype, also face a similar intersectional oppression since both black men and women are depicted in popular culture and pornography with an animalized, savage sexuality. Thus, both black men and women encounter stereotypes of their sexual expression in the dominant discourse and media. Intersectionality provides the lens through which one can analyze how black males often face additional burdens based on their race and gender, being perceived as sexually threatening by whites, for instance. Hancock’s use of intersectionality as an empirical paradigm could be used to analyze this trend in the context of interracial couples, for instance, with careful attention to data gathering and research design to better understand the experiences of mixed couples by not focusing solely on gender but also incorporating class, sexual orientation and other factors for a more holistic account (Hancock 253). Such an approach could advance scholarship on the issue of sexuality and interracial dating as well as how the construction of racial and gender stereotypes intersect with each other in fascinating ways.

Ultimately, black men have do face intersectional oppression. Their multiple other identities ranging from sexual orientation to class reveal other areas where their deviation from white heterosexual patriarchy subjugates black men as well as black women. Furthermore, male privilege for black men does not always allow turn out to be a privileged outcome. Black males do face intersectional oppression since their incarceration rates, experiences in police brutality, sexual stereotypes, and association with violent crime are due to multiple converging systems of oppression. The experience of black women often parallels that of black men due to race, but the unique gendered forms of discrimination they face impact each other. Intersectional theorists, therefore, would agree with Clark’s claim that black men can be intersectionally oppressed, but some black men do indeed use their class or male privilege in ways that maintain patriarchy in black communities.

Digenis Akritas: Masculinity and Gender in the Epic

Masculinity and Gender in Digenis Akritas

            The Byzantine epic poem, Digenis Akritas, features a heroic frontier military leader on the eastern frontier of the empire after the Byzantine resurgence of the 9^th and 10^th centuries. As the empire reconquered territory lost to the Arabs centuries ago, the eastern frontier of the empire remained under the control of the military aristocracy, of which Digenis was a member. As a work of literature, the poem’s protagonist represents certain ideals of the society that produced it, especially ideals of masculinity and gender that were reproduced in the daily lives of the people sharing that cultural background. As a product of a deeply Christian medieval empire, the ideals of masculinity depicted in the poem are deeply influenc ed by Christianity, chivalry, ancient Greek traditions, and the cultural values of Byzantine elites. Thus, subaltern classes did not identify with or share the values and morals of the protagonist to the same extent as aristocrats.

            The ideals of masculinity presented in the poem are primarily influenced by Christian values and monasticism.  The source of the protagonist’s power lies in “having as help the grace of God.”[1] Following the warrior saint traditions of famous historical figures, such as George, Theodore and Demetrius, who are invoked by the hero in the poem, provide the foundations of many of Basil’s superhuman exploits.[2] Like St. George and other warrior saints of the past, Basil slays a dragon, which, like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, endeavors to tempt Basil’s wife.[3] Like the victorious St. George, Basil beheads the three-headed dragon, thereby demonstrating his piety and self-control in the face of desire. In addition, Basil’s love of hunting wild animals and killing lions with his bare hands symbolizes a catharsis for the hero since wild animals symbolize lack of self-control and an inclination to passion. In addition to hunting and dragon-slaying symbolism, Basil also displays piety, kindness, mercy, and humility in his interactions with others. For example, during his meeting with the Byzantine emperor, Basil, he humbles himself before the emperor and recognizes God’s power invested in the imperial office.[4] By humbling himself before the man who rules in God’s name, Basil humbles himself before God, another Christian value. Basil also decides to live away from society with his wife and servants near the Euphrates. Like the monks across the empire, Basil chose isolation from the outside world after committing the sin of adultery twice and lying to his wife about it, then slaying Maximo, the adulteress.[5]  Basil also dies before old age and not on a battlefield in the East, which follows Christian views of death as inevitable and a liberating force for the soul. Even with all of his strength, is still human and cannot defeat death after his symbolic baptism while bathing in the Euphrates before becoming ill.[6] Therefore, the ideal man of the Byzantine world would be devoutly Christian, humble, pious, and control his body and emotions, although Basil’s flaws provide evidence of his humanity since nobody could

            In addition to profound Christian influences and perspectives on masculinity, Digenis Akritas also follows ancient Greek models and medieval models of chivalry and military lifestyles. Ideal masculinity in terms of the aforementioned models would thus be defined as strength, hunting skills, honor, and possession of women, war experience, and humility. For Basil, his membership in an elite military group that ruled the regions in the East in the name of the emperor, power came with expectations of honor and chivalrous. For instance, during his duel with Philopappos and his sons, he refuses to strike Kinnamos while he was down, since “flogging carcasses is just for weaklings.”[7] The role of protector and guarding women also comes into play for defining the ideal man. His wife, who is never named, is honored for her beauty and in need of constant protection to prevent other men, driven by passion, of abducting her, though Basil kidnapped her as well. This suggests women are prizes to be won in contests between men. Of all the female characters, only Maximo, the Amazon with male characteristics such as strength and initiating her sexual relationship with Basil, is named. One must also take into account the double standard applied to Maximo for committing adultery while Basil sleeps with two different women. Her punishment is death while he has the opportunity to repent, suggesting meaning men have more power and prestige in Byzantine society since their sexual freedoms did not have similar consequences. Masculinity could also be ideally characterized in hunting, strength, and battle victories, exemplified by Basil’s hunting of animals, lion-slaying, defeating Philopappos, Maximo, and the armies of soldiers sent after him which he single-handedly defeats. Furthermore, like the heroes of ancient Greece, Basil must resist the sin of arrogance, or hubris, which Philopappos and his sons could not avoid doing when they boasted of their ability for each to “handle thousands” though they obviously could not defeat Basil.[8] While recalling his defeat of the three, he is careful to distinguish his exploits as boasting, which is additional evidence of the low tolerance for arrogance and the prestige of humility.[9] Like Odysseus and other Greek heroes, Basil must avoid arrogance but simultaneously fights with others over women, like the heroes of the Iliad fighting for Helen.

            The identification of masculinity in the text with military training, aristocracy, monasticism, and other privileges of the upper echelon of Byzantine society indicate that its version of idealized masculinity was never the values and morals of everyone in society. As a Christian empire fighting intermittently with Muslim states, everyone in society value strength and Christian values to guide their lives. However, many aspects of Basil’s perceived manliness are characteristics of the elite, such as hunting, fighting in wars, and noble birth. Obviously, most peasants did not have the time to hunt beasts, fight in wars, and dedicate themselves to spiritual perfection and value chivalry in combat like members of the military ruling establishment. The akritai, or frontier soldiers, had these opportunities that the peasant majority lacked. Members of the ruling class, such as Byzantine emperors, such as Michael IV, for example, were seen as masculine for abstaining from sex, meaning that they were resisting carnal or earthly pleasures as a test of their manhood.[10] Yet men were also expected to take the pursuing role in courting women, exactly what Basil does to the lost maiden betrayed by her lover. Clearly the behavior of Byzantine upper classes mirrors that of Basil and more closely matches the morals and values of the text than peasants, who were losing their land and independence to wealthy landowners during this time.

            As a result of being passed down through oral tradition before being written in Constantinople, the story has likely changed multiple times, which is attested by the various versions of the text. It is also likely that the writers added more intellectual and religious overtones to the text that may have not been present in the minds of the peasant and other communities that passed it down orally. Either way, the text demonstrates stereotypical gender roles for women as mothers, wives, recipients of male protection and a lack of agency with an emphasis on male superiority and strength. Real men were expected to be strong, control their households, and control themselves when it came to emotions and the body in order to attain spiritual content. Though the poem favors elite forms of masculinity, the common factor of Christianity united the people in their morals and values.  Religious symbolism and Christian values embedded in the text would unite all readers and offer a possible contemporary heroic man for Byzantine society during the 11^th and 12^th centuries.

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[1] Denison B. Hull, trans., Digenis Akritas: The Two-Blood Border Lord (Athens, Ohio University Press, 1972), 3.

[2] Ibid., 91.

[3] Ibid., 73.

[4] Ibid., 60.

[5] Ibid., 95.

[6] Ibid., 106.

[7] Ibid., 79.

[8] Ibid., 78.

[9] Ibid., 88.

[10] Leonora Neville, “Legacies of Basil II,” 3/28/2011