Although I am not really too interested in hagiography, Mandela was indeed a 'great' person and complex figure whose death, though perhaps to be expected, will be mourned forever. It seems ironic that he would die so close to the anniversary of the death of Fred Hampton, illustrating how the struggles of black folks in the US and Africa are entwined.
http://africasacountry.com/three-myths-about-mandela-worth-busting/
http://africasacountry.com/songs-for-mandela-south-african-edition/
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Julia Alvarez's A Wedding in Haiti
I finally read Alvarez's A Wedding in Haiti and though it was endearing, full of detail on the personal life of Alvarez (as well as forms of Dominican 'whiteness' in Santiago), and well-intentioned, it was sad to see how dependent she was on foreign white writers for understanding Haiti's history (something she compares to a nightmare at one point and exaggerates the extent of a 'genocide' against the remaining whites in Haiti during the days of Dessalines). But her relationship with the Haitian worker Piti and his family (and that of his Eseline, his future wife, which inspires the first trip to Haiti taken by Alvarez, her husband, etc.) is useful for looking at symbiotic and positive relationships between Haitians and Dominicans, even if it began with Alvarez and her white American husband starting a coffee farm, inherently unequal power relations.
What I particularly enjoyed was some of the rather repetitive and silly human drama that comes with all couples or trips. Alvarez and her husband, Bill, fighting and arguing, especially on their second trip to Haiti after the earthquake, was actually humorous and provided a fully human portrait of herself and her companions. Moreover, she has a very compassionate take on Haiti post-earthquake, describing in sad detail the devastation of Port-au-Prince, her own guilt and fears (she's influenced by the media reports of large-scale violence and crime in Haiti), and the obvious social inequality. Unfortunately, Alvarez lacks a more critical lens that sees beyond the benign intentions of missionaries, aid workers, and NGOs as a contributor to dependency and the inability of the Haitian state to develop accountability.
She does get to see rural Haiti (Moustique and other small villages and towns, for instance), go to Le Cap, visits Port-au-Prince (including spending a night in Petionville with a wealthy son of an American and a Tuareg woman from Niger, Adam), gets a personal tour of the capital from a Haitian police officer assigned at the Dominican consulate, experiences Haiti while driving across the country (from Santiago in the DR to all over the Haitian countryside (for the wedding, one in which Piti and Eseline are chastized for premarital relations!). It's an interesting book for sure, and certainly speaks to the possibility for people of different cultures, races, and languages to communicate, as Alvarez did with Eseline, her mother, her own parents deteriorating due to age and Alzheimer's, and Haitian people she encounters, such as one woman she shares an extra portion of pineapple (or was it mango?) with. Like I said previously, it's an endearing book written with simple prose that is immediately accessible and likely a reflection of some of the Dominican goodwill and interest in less combative or hostile relations with the sibling on the other side of the island. Who knows, maybe I'll finally read How The Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, a novel given to me by a friend.
What I particularly enjoyed was some of the rather repetitive and silly human drama that comes with all couples or trips. Alvarez and her husband, Bill, fighting and arguing, especially on their second trip to Haiti after the earthquake, was actually humorous and provided a fully human portrait of herself and her companions. Moreover, she has a very compassionate take on Haiti post-earthquake, describing in sad detail the devastation of Port-au-Prince, her own guilt and fears (she's influenced by the media reports of large-scale violence and crime in Haiti), and the obvious social inequality. Unfortunately, Alvarez lacks a more critical lens that sees beyond the benign intentions of missionaries, aid workers, and NGOs as a contributor to dependency and the inability of the Haitian state to develop accountability.
She does get to see rural Haiti (Moustique and other small villages and towns, for instance), go to Le Cap, visits Port-au-Prince (including spending a night in Petionville with a wealthy son of an American and a Tuareg woman from Niger, Adam), gets a personal tour of the capital from a Haitian police officer assigned at the Dominican consulate, experiences Haiti while driving across the country (from Santiago in the DR to all over the Haitian countryside (for the wedding, one in which Piti and Eseline are chastized for premarital relations!). It's an interesting book for sure, and certainly speaks to the possibility for people of different cultures, races, and languages to communicate, as Alvarez did with Eseline, her mother, her own parents deteriorating due to age and Alzheimer's, and Haitian people she encounters, such as one woman she shares an extra portion of pineapple (or was it mango?) with. Like I said previously, it's an endearing book written with simple prose that is immediately accessible and likely a reflection of some of the Dominican goodwill and interest in less combative or hostile relations with the sibling on the other side of the island. Who knows, maybe I'll finally read How The Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, a novel given to me by a friend.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
White Faces in Majority Black Public Schools?
One topic I have not encountered much academic literature on is the experiences of white students in majority black, 'inner-city' schools. I have met a handful of such people (their rarity is proof of how extensive racial segregation is in the US), and they were a mixed bag in their political orientation and class identity, though most came from lower class backgrounds or working-class roots. Some were Jewish secular leftists, or their descendants, who remained in neighborhoods that 'became' black in the Age of White Flight. Others were working-class whites who were "ethnic" at one point, and remained in the city limits and sent their children to inner-city schools. Others I have encountered are from poor families and rough circumstances, but seem to get by or have gotten through inner-city, often under-performing schools.
What I would love to see in some academic analysis is a discussion of how white students in these types of schools experience race, when do they develop a 'racialized' identity as white, and how their perceptions of black children (and blacks in general) are influenced by their deep and extensive firsthand interactions with predominantly people of color. In addition, I would have to gather some demographic and class data pertaining to how white students experience a gendered form of whiteness in "majority-minority" schools. Perhaps I'll start by questioning some white folks I know, though the ideal candidates would be people who are currently having that experience or recent graduates. Although I know some older whites who could be useful, too, though back in the 1970s the inner-city schools in the two large Midwestern cities I am accustomed to were very different.
What I would love to see in some academic analysis is a discussion of how white students in these types of schools experience race, when do they develop a 'racialized' identity as white, and how their perceptions of black children (and blacks in general) are influenced by their deep and extensive firsthand interactions with predominantly people of color. In addition, I would have to gather some demographic and class data pertaining to how white students experience a gendered form of whiteness in "majority-minority" schools. Perhaps I'll start by questioning some white folks I know, though the ideal candidates would be people who are currently having that experience or recent graduates. Although I know some older whites who could be useful, too, though back in the 1970s the inner-city schools in the two large Midwestern cities I am accustomed to were very different.
Bobine
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Sunday, December 1, 2013
A Problematic Scene in The Wire
A powerful but problematic scene from "The Wire" on the question of violence in Black America. Though Bunk is right in many ways about how death ripples out, regardless of the victim's background or status, his statement about how "fall we done fell" is problematic and can be easily twisted into some form of culture of poverty or black dysfunction as a product of the black urban proletariat themselves. In other words, the urban poor of Baltimore and other black communities elsewhere and the alarming homicide rates are seemingly placed solely as the responsibility of the black urban poor themselves rather than a product of the War on Drugs and structural racism. Personal responsibility is obviously huge when discussing violence and homicide, but in this context, and for primarily white audiences, it's a little unclear and potentially dangerous to hear this kind of Moynihan-esque explanations for violence among the black underclass (blaming the victim essentially).
This kind of stuff is something I observed as a pattern in the television form of "The Boondocks," which has led me to rethink my thoughts about "The Wire," too. Though David Simon's pessimistic program is more about systemic or institutional dysfunction rather than black cultural pathology, notions and ideas from the latter do appear in the series, something picked up on by black critics, such as Ishmael Reed. In addition, it's another example of white men profiting from and being recognized as 'experts' in the field of 'urban literature' and art, even though African-Americans from Baltimore's troubled neighborhoods would be far better at telling their own story than a white guy. This ain't to say that whites can't write about black life, but my sympathy for some of Reed's critiques of the show and how blacks are exploited and used in ways that prevent them from telling their own story for mainstream ('white') America has led me to a healthy skepticism and natural resistance to a lot of the shows touted as 'realistic' depictions of black life (and yes, I know 'black life' means many things, there is no monolithic standard of 'blackness).
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