Abbey’s Good Night, Protest Music, and Other Musings

I’ve collected myself long enough to write something in honor of the late Abbey Lincoln.  While I’m aware that Abbey was elderly, it still saddens me when someone of such caliber leaves this earth without a designated torch bearer.  Upon her ascension though, we can gather her accomplishments in order to justify her legacy, and when it’s all said and done, that’s what matters.  Succumbing at the age of 80, Ms. Lincoln, as she is known professionally, had a full and eventful life, something that many of us are striving for each day.

Born Anna Marie Woolridge in August 1930,  she picked up the name Abbey Lincoln at the suggestion of a friend.  Abbey is derived from Westminster Abbey and Lincoln is the last name of the Great Emancipator.  I was introduced to Abbey Lincoln several years ago when I came across her performance in the controversial 1964 film, Nothing But a Man, starring opposite the late Ivan Van Dixon.  Then, I happened upon a chance to see her opposite Sidney Poitier in 1968′s For Love of Ivy.   While the latter movie is arguably regarded as one of Poitier’s least memorable performances, I enjoyed it because of the relativity of Lincoln’s character, Ivy Moore.  Technically, Poitier was Lincoln’s supporting character.  Lincoln was the subject of attention and she proved that she was strong enough to handle a lead role against an Academy Award winning actor.  In both movies, she was captivating in her emotional delivery, however, in For Love of Ivy, Abbey gave the lead character a kind of complexity that transcended her markedly invisible status as a housekeeper for a White family.  That performance made me wonder why Abbey was not able to secure better acting roles. Ok, wait. I know why but still….

As for her music, Abbey’s version of Skylark is incredibly beautiful and soulful.  Many of her earlier works showcased a rich, full, and engaging voice.  My favorite album from that era is Abbey is Blue. Now, contrary to the subservient roles she portrayed in those two films, Abbey was actually quite outspoken about civil rights as she linked up with Max Roach; providing lead vocals on Roach’s Freedom Now Suite, releasing We Insist! in 1960.  Abbey’s haunting vocal renditions on the album resonated of deep yearnings of better days for Black people, both here and abroad, as two of the songs are aptly titled, All Africa and Tears for Johannesburg.  Jazz was not meant to be protest music, however, artists such as Abbey Lincoln and Max Roach as well as others such as Sonny Liston made their definitive musical statements, supporting the cause.

What happened?  Given the conditions of the global Black community today, do Black artists even deem it necessary to sing about relevant social issues anymore?  In the 1960s, there was a movement afoot so Black artists gathered around those unifying pushes for racial equality.  These artists informed the masses about the plight of the people while entertaining them simultaneously.  Now, we can easily assert that singing protest music is not profitable, but here’s the question to counter that thought–has it ever been?  Considering that many of these artists were largely managed by recording labels with White executives, their whole careers rested on being in the mainstream, very much like it is today.  However, they made the sacrifice to say something on behalf of the marginalized and advocate for change, much to the chagrin of the executives and the well-being of their wallets and purses.

Nina Simone’s protest music is legendary (Mississippi Goddamn) and eventually her strong opposing views to the racial construction of American society forced her into a self-exile in France, where she lived until her death.   Another one of the most popular protest artists, James Brown, did suffer a bit monetarily with his release of Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud, but his iconic status continues to live.

Motown’s The Temptations really couldn’t afford to produce any protest music, taking a real risk at losing their White audience acquired in the 1960s, but the group did so anyway, releasing socially conscious music in the 1970s.

The good thing is there’s a few contemporary artists who are still making an effort to make socially conscious music, but I can guarantee that they are starving for radio airplay.  Nevertheless, they seem to persevere through their underground status and continue to provide a voice for the voiceless.  Most recently, Nas and Damian Marley recognized this void and embarked upon an ambitious musical effort called Distant Relatives, which features several tunes that speak directly to the plight of the downtrodden, especially in Africa.

Here’s Asa’s Jailer/Fire from the Mountain and Nneka’s The Uncomfortable Truth.

And lastly, at least for this post, Donnie’s 911.

The Danger of a Single Story

While wasting time on Facebook, which is something that I find myself doing more often than not, I came across this insightful and inspiring TED.com video.  If you haven’t spent time on TED.com, do yourself a favor and do so.  You will be a better person for it, trust me.  I discovered TED about a year ago when I googled a wonderful actress, Sarah Jones, for some reason that I can’t remember now.  I was led to her website and there was a video of her appearance at TED.com on behalf of UNICEF.  After watching Sarah’s crafty performance, I went on to discover the video’s source.  Since then, I’ve been hooked on TED, which is an acronym for Technology, Entertainment, and Design.  Its sole purpose is to push their Ideas Worth Spreading initiative, hosting several talks/sessions per year and then under the Creative Commons license, post video footage on the Web for greater coverage.

Now, as for the video I’m raving about, it features Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Adichie and her talk on the danger of a single story.   As she recounts her experience growing up in Nigeria, then traveling the world and meeting new people, she eloquently builds a profound argument about disallowing powerful entities from controlling our perceptions of people and then using that perception to generalize the whole.   Considering that the video is enclosed with this post, I won’t recap any of the points. You can just view it for yourself.  But before you do, allow me to elaborate on how this relates to my life as a writer.

One of the main things that I’m concerned with doing as a writer is reshaping the perception of my home state of Mississippi and of Black Southerners.  All Southerners are generalized for the most part; many believe us to be one-dimensional, uneducated, and simple-minded individuals, however, when you’re Black and Southern, there exists another level of misperception.  Given films like Mississippi Burning or A Time to Kill, Black Mississippians are often viewed as subservient, poor and always the tragic victims of brute force.  Their depiction consists of sweaty faces and bodies, with kinky hair, dingy denim overalls, and they spoke in broken English, denoting their lack of education.  While those films tapped into a yesteryear reality, to this day, whether you believe me or not, I am sure that there are some around this country who have mentally embedded that as a base perception of Black Southerners; drawing from that in such a way that certain aspects of ‘being Southern’ work against us.  For instance, our Southern drawl has been regarded as an indicator that we’re rather slow-brained, which contributes to our ‘supposedly regressive’ natures.

As an undergrad, I remember vehemently defending my intelligence when a Brooklynite attempted to explain a specific passage in a book that he was currently reading but I had read.  Very flatly, he told me that I was not able to understand the concept because ‘cats down here in the South don’t get into this kind of knowledge’.  Over the years, when I have told people that I’m a native Mississippian, I’ve been asked questions like, ‘Do you have running water or a bathroom at your house?’  Yes, at one point in time, an area in the Mississippi Delta known as Sugar Ditch in Tunica County was the poorest in the nation, however, to suggest that the rest of us lived like this was preposterous.

Admittedly, the state of Mississippi has a torrid past with deep racial scars that continues to haunt its present day circumstances.  However, I grew up in a family that cherished the struggles of our relatives.  My mother often recounted events such as the Strike City protest that included many of my family members and gained national attention.   She tells me of how my great-grandmother held such a personal authority during a time when a Black woman’s life had about as much value as a speck of dust (to some extent, it still does).  She has told me of her vivid childhood memories of rural living, love, and a sense of community.  My father has told me about his days as an athlete and the silly things he used to do with his brothers while growing up in rural Alabama.   You see, the oppressive forces of racism were prevalent, but there was an everyday living that took precedence over that.

My own childhood in Mississippi was not wrought with despair and lack or anxiety about racism, instead my blue-collar parents gave me a rather middle class lifestyle; my father paid my college tuition with his factory trucker wages because he didn’t want his daughter bogged down with student loans.  I grew up in a single family brick house on a paved street with neighbors–something that may be in stark contrast to how the media has portrayed how we live in the ‘Sip.  For every childhood friend that may have fallen by the wayside, there’s twice as many who are doing quite well for themselves.  It is from this wellspring that I draw my stories of Southern living, hopefully giving the world another angle to see Black Mississippians/Southerners.

Just as Adichie, I have to admit that I have been guilty of allowing a single story to shape my understanding of a few people from other ethnic, socioeconomic backgrounds, states and countries.  Now, I try to take a genuine interest in the person by being open enough to allow them to paint their reality for me.  From there, I get a better portrait of them.  By doing that, I usually begin to marvel at how interesting and rich their experiences have been.  This is why I now believe EVERY ONE should write an autobiography.

Anyway, enough about me, enjoy the video. Feel free to comment and share.

Reading for Black Music Month

Somebody ain’t getting their learnin’….

Today’s music industry is evidence of that.  As 2010′s Black Music Month rolls along, I deem it imperative to drop off a list of reads on the subject of Black music.  After all, I believe one of the hardest things to do in this distracting society of ours is to pick up a book and read.  Now, this list is not exhaustive, however, I think it’s a pretty good starter list for many who are interested in the history, critique, and analysis of Black music. Let me warn many of you in cyberspace beforehand, this is not tabloid lore; instead, it’s good old fashioned, research-based, fact-finding, nonfiction mixed with some brilliant social commentary and philosophical ponderings.  So, if you’re one who thinks that watching a bunch of documentary clips on Youtube qualifies as valid research for drawing intelligent opinions, then this probably won’t work for you.

I have many of these titles myself, however, I have a slew of them on my Amazon Wish List just in case some of you want to buy a few of them for my upcoming July birthday (hint, hint).    I bring you…..

THE LIST:

The Music of Black Americans: A History by Eileen Southern

Black Music by Leroi Jones/Amiri Baraka

Blues People: Negro Music in White America by Amiri Baraka

Race Music: Black Cultures from Be-bop to Hip Hop by Guthrie P. Ramsey

Blues, Funk, Rhythm and Blues, Soul, Hip Hop, and Rap:  A Research and Information Guide by Eddie S. Meadows

Souled America:  How Black Music Transformed White Culture by Kevin Phinney

People Get Ready:  A New History of Black Gospel Music by Bob Darden

R&B: (Rhythm and Business):  The Political Economy of Black Music by Norman Kelley

Just My Soul Responding: Rhythm and Blues, Black Consciousness, and Race Relations by Brian Ward

Soul Babies: Black Popular Culture and the Post-Soul Aesthetic by Mark Anthony Neal

The Power of Black Music: Interpreting Its History from Africa to the United States by Samuel A. Floyd, Jr.

The Death of Rhythm and Blues by Nelson George

About the movie ‘Just Wright’: I Can Wait

You know, it seems to me that Hollywood is 20 years behind when it comes to Black films. Last night, while hanging out with my movie buddy, we opted to see The Prince of Persia over Queen Latifah and Common’s Just Wright. I don’t have any plans to watch the film until it’s released on Amazon Video on Demand. I’ll pay 3.99 to rent it but not 10 bucks to check it out at the theater—and that’s where it really counts too. 

See, that’s the problem. A mystical adventure set in ancient Persia trumped the love story of two Hip Hop stars portraying a mix matched couple.  Supposedly, this film feeds into the perception that Black athletes only want trophy pieces (White women included) as dates/girlfriends/wives.  So when one of them, Common’s character, falls for his full figured therapist, portrayed by Queen Latifah, this is the ‘ahhh’ moment  of the film.  So, I’m assuming the takeaway is that ball players should be looking for women that’s going to stand with them, even if they suffer a potentially career-ending injury rather than pursuing the obvious chicks who look good on their arms. 

Yeah, so…..does Hollywood think that the entire Black audience has the educational level of a seventh grader?  Apparently, Hollywood executives are under the impression that the Black audience wants to see simplistic notions of Black love rehashed over and over again on the screen instead of in-depth, complex characters and stories.  You know, that’s exactly what they think because their financials support their position.  With the recent rash of Tyler Perry films, Hollywood believes that Black people want to see more romantic comedies and films that cater to the supposedly ‘innate’ criminal sense of Black men (think:Takers starring the latest Black girl heartthrob Idris Elba and a fresh from jail, straight to the film set T.I.). 

Let me be clear.  I am, in no way, criticizing the actors–not at all.  Black actors have to work and eat too.  Besides, the actors do not make decisions on what kinds of movies get the green light.  There are merely the front men and women.  So, tossing a good heaping pot of Blame on them is pointless.  No, let’s get to the heart of the matter.  First of all, Black people are literally starving for some proper representation in popular culture.  Radio One and research firm, Yankelovich,  conducted a recent survey, polling 30 million Black Americans on their perceptions about varying aspects of Black life.  The results indicated that we are a people with a serious longing for those things that reflect our cultural values.  Since Hollywood is not an any hurry to release a hoard of Black films at any given time, we wait, busying ourselves with a standard, mainstream flick or two until we see a preview featuring a movie that has, at least, three to four Black actors.  Then, under cultural obligation and loyalty, we hurry into the theaters and support it with our ticket buys, momentarily quenching our thirst of seeing some Black folks on the screen.   

Herein lies my offense. I made the choice to see a film with a cast of several lily white Europeans portraying tan-skinned Persians.  I was supposed to watch this film featuring two of my Hip Hop icons, but I didn’t because I have grown utterly weary of this Black film formula.  Some years ago, Spike Lee said (and continues to say), that we support films with our paychecks.  That hit home to me.  Ever since, I’ve been managing my paycheck a lot better by not supporting a lot of Black films.  For instance, I didn’t go see Precious.  With that one, I’m taking it a step further—I won’t even watch it on DVD.

Now, I know that pushing out films that reach deep into the Black Experience could pose some significant challenges in many ways.  For one, we cannot escape the tragic effects of racism and its impact on every aspect of our existence.  Believe it or not, we’re still not ready to see too much that will pull on our emotions. Many of us gave Precious a go—apparently, thinking it would be quite easy to watch Black pathological behavior without being affected (oh, and because Oprah and Tyler Perry told them to go see it).  Boy, were they wrong? After reading many online comments from Black moviegoers, the flick caused the reaction I thought it would—heartache, anger, frustration, and an overall sense of helplessness.  The movie, Rosewood, performed poorly at the box office, partially because of subpar marketing but also because many Blacks did not make an effort to see it.  If anyone cannot understand why, then I refuse to waste my time explaining.

Now, many of you reading this may ask: Chandra, what’s so wrong about a Black movie with a romantic theme, comedy or otherwise?  Well, the ones that we keep getting just don’t delve deep enough.  Where is the Black version of Dear John?  The Black community has plenty of soldiers being deployed and leaving the women that they love behind. Given certain socioeconomic factors, that would be one interesting plot filled with some great complexity.  Instead, we get a Black bedtime story in ‘Just Wright’.  The movie will probably fare well at the box office because many of us (raising hand to be counted) love some Queen Latifah.  Since he ain’t T.I., there’s some in the Black audience who are just now getting familiar with Common, although I’ve been a fan ever since the rapper came onto the scene as Common Sense.   

As for myself, on the film ‘Just Wright’, I can wait.

‘Memphis Beat’ Doesn’t Look So Sweet

In August, I will commemorate 19 years of living in Memphis.  Originally born and raised in Mississippi, I moved to the Bluff City at a young age to attend college. After graduation, for reasons I cannot recall at this moment, I stayed; often asking myself  ‘Why?’ over the years.  Don’t get me wrong.  Memphis is a place with much to offer the world and even more that makes it a historical gem, however, my wanderlust has been in overdrive for the past few years, and I’m eager to know what else is out there in the world for me. For the most part, many native Memphians express that same desire, but at the same time, they are equally loyal to the city.

Admittedly, the city has a way of owning you and attaching itself to your dreams; almost begging you to make something of its rich potential and love it enough to save it from the grips of those who seek to pimp and destroy it.   Case in point: Not too long ago, the producers of The First 48 were told to pack it up by the Memphis Police Department’s Commander in Chief, citing that the show was damaging Memphis’ already fragile reputation.  To validate that, I had friends as far away as Arizona calling me and telling me to move because they were under the impression that it rained bullets here every day.   Now, I believe that TNT is probably on its way to doing something that probably won’t help the rep much either.

TNT is set to premiere one of their newest shows in June,  a cop show titled Memphis Beat.  I learned about the show while visiting my mother in Mississippi. Immediately, I smelled trouble and sought more info on the show’s website.  Memphis Beat stars Jason Lee who portrays a Memphis cop named Dwight Hendricks.  Hendricks is supposed to be something of a Southern eccentric like myself, but perhaps with more quirk and less sass.  When he’s not busting the bad guys, he’s moonlighting as an Elvis impersonator.

Ummmmmm…..what?

Now, keep in mind, I’ve been in Memphis for almost 20 years.  I have yet to see a native Memphian impersonate Elvis.  As a matter of fact, there’s a slew of Memphians that have never visited Graceland.  That’s right.  NEVER. You can count me in that number as well.  The closest that I get to Graceland is passing by it in route to some other destination in Whitehaven (the  neighborhood where his mansion is located).  To be quite clear, most Memphians spend very little time harping over Elvis; that’s actually a byproduct of his obsessed fan base that journey to Memphis twice a year; once in January to celebrate his birthday and once in August to commemorate his death.  You see, because of them, we don’t really have to love Elvis like that because he was here.  Furthermore, there’s virtually no reports of random Elvis sightings to prove he’s still alive either.  After all, if he was to show up anywhere, it would be Memphis, wouldn’t it?

Instead, a great deal of Memphians take pride in the legacies of Gospel, Blues, and Soul music, and least I forget, BBQ.   Al Green and the late Isaac Hayes are perhaps adored just as much as Elvis.  Let me tell you, as a Black woman, it’s a beautiful…and hilarious…experience to see a couple of rhythmless White people sing ALL of the lyrics to Love and Happiness.   It happens,  even in Memphis.

Stax Records, Hi Records, the National Civil Rights Museum, Sun Studios, Beale Street, Neely’s Bar B-Que, the Rendevouz, and probably the Peabody Ducks are honored highly among Memphis residents.  They’re historical points of reference….which leads to the second problem of the show. Memphis Beat is NOT filmed in Memphis.  It’s filmed in New Orleans. Again, what? Shouldn’t the show be called New Orleans Beat, instead? Now, how TNT and the producers of the show are going to be able to pull this one off will be interesting.  It’s almost like they sat at the meeting while brainstorming on the show’s concept and said, “Yes, let’s focus on Memphis, but let’s shoot it in New Orleans because we can eat beignets on our lunch break!”***

I just listed a lot of the infamous landmarks in Memphis.  When people watch this show, would it be wrong of them to expect to see them, especially if they live or have visited here?  Considering that the city has been promoting itself to the motion picture industry as an ideal filming location, how come the show wasn’t filmed in Memphis?  While New Orleans and Memphis have a lot in common in many ways, Bourbon Street looks nothing like Beale Street, thus the experience in visiting the Birthplace of Jazz is entirely different from the Birthplace of the Blues.Memphis could have used that revenue and publicity just as much as New Orleans.  Besides, filming the show in Memphis and making sure some of the city’s hot spots get a close up could have enhanced our tourism dollars as well.  But this is the kind of breaks that Memphis have been getting off and on for the past several years.  Every time it seems like the place will get the opportunity to re-introduce itself to the world, it seems to always end up with the short straw.

I will probably watch the pilot for the sake of Alfre Woodard.  DJ Qualls is also co-starring in the show and, to me, he’s just as out of place as he was in Hustle and Flow.  For the most part, I’ll take a pass on Memphis Beat because it just may give me heartburn.  After being here so long, I’ve seen enough Elvis worship to last me a couple of lifetimes.  I’ll also forego watching the show in a small protest on the city being so undermined in cultural significance and getting the shaft on filming rights.

Oh no, is that my pride showing?  Yeah, I believe it is. 

***If anyone has a hankering for beignets while in Memphis, they can just swing by Cafe Beignet downtown and grab an order.  Unless you just have to get that Cafe Du Monde experience, these beignets will fit the bill properly.

The Revolutionary Theatre

For those of you who may not know, that’s Amiri Baraka to the left–the founder of the Black Arts Movement, which was the cultural arm to the Black Power Movement of the ’60s.  This man has earned his spot in American culture as a bonafide protest artist–as a matter of fact, he can be considered one of the original protest artists.

I’m not going to go into too much detail on him as his website can do that in illustrious detail.  However, I did want to provide a link to a .pdf of his controversial essay, The Revolutionary Theatre, published in Black Dialogue after it was rejected by a couple of mainstream publications.

Even though this essay was written in 1965, its relevance and brilliantly coded language is something of a marvel.  As an artist living in the land of fakery dressed up as a reality show, I’m even more inspired as a playwright having read this essay.

Ok, yes, it’s vivid and and in many ways, violently written, but given the spirit of the times, who could truly blame the man for his rage?  My reason for inspiration is because he had the audacity to push forward with his art, making an explicit statement about the human condition.  The essay’s point of accusing and attacking anything that could be accused and attacked is extremely critical as we live, now, in this era of Pop culture overload.

Back Again!

First of all, let me apologize for my absence.  I’ve been quite busy with so many other projects that blogging was waaaay down on the list.  However, here I am….again, committing myself to making Southern Eccentrik and every other endeavor I’m working on a complete success!

…..

Perhaps the best thing to do is change my blogging schedule.  Initially, I was planning to blog twice a week but that was grueling in light of all of my other stuff.  So I’ve decided to try to post at least once a week to this blog.

I’ve also been working on landing some guest bloggers and expanding Southern Eccentrik’s scope of opinions and such.  That way, I can kill two birds with one stone: 1) keep the blog updated with fresh content and 2) spare me the item on the To-Do List to post when there’s just not enough time and space.

I’ve been looking at my blog stats and surprisingly, there are some people landing on the posts.  That’s a great feeling, ya know? But I gotta keep it up so that it will matter in the long run.

Cloud of Witnesses: Maggie Lena Walker

In the first installment of the Cloud of Witnesses series, I wanted to, in many instances, introduce some of us to Black women that may have been cast aside on the historical trail.  If they garner any mention, it’s not sufficient as most of these women accomplished feats in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.  They deserve a better space to occupy during this new century and with the advent of the World Wide Web and blogging, in particular, I can formally bring you the wondrous achievements of Mrs. Maggie Lena Walker.

Born as the daughter of a washerwoman in 1867, Walker grew up in Richmond, Virginia and graduated from the Colored Normal School in 1883.  As a teacher in the city’s public schools, Walker also took courses in accounting and sales which would later prove to be vital assets in her historical contributions.  She married Armstead Walker and was required to stop teaching but used her skills in the many organizations that catered to the needs of women.

One of Walker’s most instrumental roles was as the Grand Worthy Secretary of the Independent Order of St. Luke,  founded by former slave woman, Mary Prout.  The organization was founded as a women’s sickness and death mutual benefit association; meaning it provided insurance benefits  mainly for former slave women.  In this role, Walker instituted and worked diligently on the order’s ventures: a juvenile department,  an educational fund, a department store, and a weekly newspaper.  Initially in decline prior to Walker, the order grew to 100,000 members in 2,010 councils and circles in twenty eight states.

The order was involved in every capacity necessary to ensure equality for Black Americans, and in particular, Black women.  The order’s endeavors ranged from social, economic, and political levels; complete with a women’s suffrage movement that led to an unprecedented achievement, even today.  During the 1920 elections in Richmond, black women accounted for 80% of eligible black voters.  In turn, blacks organized an independent political party called the Virginia Lily-Black Republican Party; and Walker ran for state superintendent of public instruction under the ticket in 1921.

Maggie Lena Walker is most known for being the first woman bank president. She founded the Penny Savings Bank in 1903 which was dedicated to ensuring that the ’small depositor’ was able to save money.  Many of the bank’s customers were washerwomen, like her mother, and other domestics and laborers–both male and female.  Before her death in 1934, Walker helped with the reorganization of the bank as the Consolidated Bank and Trust Company; and it is the oldest, existing Black owned and operated financial institution in the country.

Walker’s philosophy rested squarely on the need to provide black women with the same opportunities to excel economically as white women, and even men.  Of course, her active public life drew criticism from those within the black community as well as among whites.  However, Walker stood firm on her ideals of enabling Black women to be self-sufficient, whether married or single.  Black women were suffering under conditions that rendered them helpless in caring for their children.  Therefore, they deserved the ability to acquire their own means financially in an effort to better support their families as their husbands were unable, in many cases, to do so alone.

Walker believed that women should have a balance between work and family life and both were necessities in upholding a proper society.  Noted scholar, Elsa Barkley Brown, wrote,

“In her efforts Walker, like the other Saint Luke women, was guided by a clearly understood and shared perspective concerning the relationship of black women to black men, to the black community, and to the larger society.  This was a perspective that acknowledged individual powerlessness in the face of racism and sexism and that argued that black women, because of their condition and status, had a right–indeed, according to Walker, a special duty and incentive–to organize” (p. 620).

Indeed, Walker’s ideals were forward thinking in the nineteenth century and perhaps just as progressive in the 21st century.  Are Black women making a point to organize as once before?  Do we still feel as though we have a need to do so?  Walker believed that black women should be able to support themselves financially without the ‘companion of a man’ and it appears that this same sentiment is revalent some 100 or so years later.  How much have Black women advanced in their struggle?  Does it matter that Black women continue to lag behind their white women counterparts in wage earnings as well as suffer disproportionately from poverty?

It appears that Walker’s work must be extended into the 21st century as Black women, not only in this country,but the world over are continuing to be affected severely by the complexities of race and sex.  I know that when I study foremothers like Walker, I notice a sense of inadequacy as I realize that I am not doing enough.  Their courageous stories charge me to be a better woman in the world—a better sister to my fellow sisters and brothers, a better lover to black men, and better nurturer to black children.

I hope I am not the only one.

Reference:

Brown, Elsa Barkley (1989) Womanist Consciousness: Maggie Lena Walker and the Independent Order of Saint Luke  Signs (14) 3 pp. 610-633

Spinning a New Web for Black History Month

Initially, Black History Month was only a week. Founded in 1926 by Carter G. Woodson, it was dubbed Negro History Week before expanding into a month long observance.  Why was it necessary?  Well, for obvious reasons.  African Americans were not regarded as an intricate component of society and Woodson deemed it as imperative that Black people are included in all historical discussions.  At the same time, Woodson, along with other great African American historians, John Hope Franklin, John Henrik Clarke, W.E.B. Dubois, Martin Delaney, Arthur Schomburg, and others, were reacting to the theoretical assumptions by many White historians and scientists that African people did not have a history of any significance nor were they intellectually capable of producing any worthwhile contributions because they were ‘biologically inferior’.  Woodson and company set out to disprove these grossly biased and racist assumptions by developing a separate body of thought and field of reference.

Woodson went on to pen many books including the classic, ‘The Mis-Education of the Negro’ and founded the Association for the Study of African American Life and History; a research institute that published The Journal of Negro History in 1916.  It was later renamed The Journal of African American History and still available.  As Woodson and company went about the business of constructing a historical account of African Americans, they simultaneously became historical figures in their own right.  To that end, Black History Month becomes much of a celebration of Woodson’s life as it is quite unfair to honor the masses and disregard the leader. Ya dig?

Given the spirit of the times that fueled the Black Power and Civil Rights Movements, Black History Month was perhaps more revered than I believe it is now.  As a matter of fact, when I was growing up in the 80s, it was treated more so like a bothersome task of the school system and the teachers did little more than offered a list of ‘safe’ Black folks for students to write a book report; by ‘safe’, I mean that Malcolm X, Huey P. Newton, Angela Davis, and Stokely Carmichael were not really included on the list–only Dr. King and some more folks.  By the time I got to the 8th grade, Black History Month was a contrived event; if I had to hear about Dr. Charles Drew, Ralph Bunche, Ida B. Wells, and Mary Mcleod-Bethune ONE more time….  It wasn’t until I started spending countless hours in that two-story library in my hometown that I discovered other largely ignored Black figures.  Further still, as an adult, it seems as though I’ve become familiarized with more and more Black figures that went under the radar during my childhood and teen years.

Sadly, unless someone corrects me, I don’t think Black History Month has evolved beyond my grade and high school years.  About two years ago, my mentee was undergoing the same programming at her inner city middle school during Black History Month.  Teachers were only providing a list of Black folks for book reports—Malcolm X has made the list, at least (thanks Spike Lee).  Compared to my mentee’s teachers, my teachers, who were all disinterested and unmotivated, were rather sprightly.  Understandably, there’s only so much that the teachers can do given the systematic constraints and ongoing social conditions that so many of our children endure.*

*This statement was added for the benefit of teachers.  I don’t need ya’ll reading this and blasting me.  We’re good, right? 

In a larger context, Black History Month is somewhat undergoing an attack.  There are some who believe that Black History Month is unnecessary now that the country has its first African American at the helm as POTUS. They regard it as separatism and unbefitting to the so-called ‘post-racial, color-blind society’ in which we live now.  Oh yeah?  On the contrary, many important aspects of Black history (and, let me add, any other history of people of color) are still largely omitted from the textbooks of our children and furthermore, many of us do not get an opportunity to truly capture the breadth of Black History until either studying it in college or striking out on our own as life-long learners.  Black History Month was conceptualized during the initial scourges of Jim Crowism and segregation, however, its purpose has always been larger than integration.

Compared to most of the world, America is among one of the youngest countries.  Unlike many nations, every citizen here can trace their roots to another land with its own history, leaving a huge void in the American story that begins with the coming of the Mayflower.  These voids must be filled appropriately with accurate histories that connect themselves with the dominant history, or else it will continue to cripple our ability to relate…and more importantly, accept and understand each other. Ya dig? At the same time, it will give each one of us the total picture, putting many things into perspective while establishing the truth (Can’t get too deep with that one. I don’t have the space.)

On another note, Black History Month is just as significant now because of the need to connect the African Diaspora;constructing a full history of a people with an ever-present struggle for identity. Since the tragedy in Haiti, I’ve been wondering if there are some African Americans who are unable to see themselves in the faces of their Haitian brothers and sisters.  I believe if we (Black folks) had a richer knowledge of our history, Pat Robertson would not have been able to practically get away undisputed with his comments regarding Haiti.  For that sake alone, we need to move past the mere activity of rolling off the accomplishments of selected individuals and actually engage in the work of thorough research, critique, and analysis; after all, history is not so much defined by past occurrences so much as it is the foundation and explanation of present-day realities.

Guess what? That’s gonna take longer than a month per year.

Classic Moments in Black Films, Take One

Film: THE WOOD

Starring: Taye Diggs, Omar Epps, and Richard T. Jones

Released in 1999, The Wood is the first addition to the Southern Eccentrik’s club of Black movie classics.  Set in Inglewood, CA, it’s the story of three men who have been friends since junior high school.  Taye Diggs plays the charming but self-styled ladies’ man, Roland, while Omar Epps and Richard T. Jones portray the characters of the level-headed Mike and the quick-witted Slim respectively.  The film opens with Roland having a serious case of cold feet as he disappears on his wedding day.  To that end, his buddies find him and then help him sort out his fear of taking the final step into manhood by reminiscing about their boyhood antics; which all occurred during the late eighties.  The fact that writer/director, Rick Famuwiya, set the timeframe of the story during the height of gang activity in Cali, The Wood can be easily considered as the alternative to John Singleton’s Boyz in Da Hood and answers the question, ‘If not all young Black boys were banging, what were they doing?’

Apparently, they were trying to grow up, become men, and have a lot of fun while doing it.  The actors who played the younger versions of the main characters did a great job at conveying the youthful dispositions of black boys during that era.  Sean Nelson (Young Mike), Trent Cameron (Young Roland), and Duane Finley (Young Slim) were all complete crack ups, showcasing the cute and clumsy moments that denote coming of age.  In everything from the Phone Number Contest to their Pussy Pot caper, I saw so much of my childhood male friends in each one of them.  In my little hometown in Mississippi, I had my own versions of Mike, Roland, and Slim.

I even had my own version of Stacy. He was actually my first boyfriend (I’m saving that story for the biopic).  Stacy, portrayed by De’Aundre Bonds, was the Blood-affiliated older brother of Mike’s object of affection, Alicia.  While the entire movie brightens up my mood every time I watch it, there is one particular scene that does it for me every time and Bonds’ character is at the center.

All of the elements that were incorporated into the film (the music, the clothes, the language) points out that Famuwiya wanted a relatable story; so he had to deal with the phenomenon of gangs, which is where Stacy comes into play.  Instead of building Stacy as a one-dimensional character, Famuwiya brilliantly constructs him with depth, showing different sides of Stacy as he was essentially just a misguided youngster who needed a swift kick in the right direction.  Famuwiya’s development and Bonds’ performance made Stacy likeable and left the audience with a good impression.  This was not an easy task, considering that Hollywood historically generalizes Black men as innate criminals or dumb, subservient individuals with little worth to society.  Famuwiya even spoofed the O-Dog persona (Menace II Society) with the goofy hold up scene in which Mike, Roland, and Slim technically become accessories to a felony.

Not only does Stacy trip in the doorway as he enters to rob the store, but he also incriminates himself when Mike calls out his name.  If that’s not funny enough, he has time to have a moment about his pre-gangster days when he used to attend the school dances and to explain to his homie that Mike has ‘heart’ because of how he handled an ass whopping after violating Alicia (grabbing her booty at school).  As an act of courtesy, he tells his younger counterparts to grab something from the store, if they wanted it, and offered a ride to the dance.  Now, for the most part, Stacy is clearly a gangster in training, but he must have been paying attention in his Armed Robbery classes because taking the boys to the dance could serve as a great alibi.

Of course, everything doesn’t go as planned and Stacy gets pulled over by the trigger-happy lot known as the LAPD, and for all things, a busted tail light.  When it comes to young Black men, random traffic stops often become an opportunity to investigate any inkling of suspicion that a police officer could get.  Here, Famuwiya visually presents a bit of social commentary about racial profiling and how Black men can acquire a criminal record with relative ease.  So when the boys are spread eagled against the wall, Mike observes that the gun used in the store robbery is in plain view on the floor in the low-rider’s backseat.  Distracting the officers, Mike earns the immediate respect of Stacy who blesses him four times; once by demoting his Blood homie to the backseat with his ‘cry baby ass’ and giving Mike the coveted spot. The second time, Stacy apologizes for the ass whooping, third, he christens Mike as Big Mike because of his ‘heart’ or courage and finally, by dropping a dime on how to win Alicia over.

There’s so many takeaways from this scene alone.  As a soul deep lover of Black men, this film helped me with understanding how much they revere their friendships.  Also, I got a glimpse at how hard it is for them to earn and keep each other’s respect. It’s also nice to have a movie in the Black Experience where Black men were portrayed without any pretenses.  Famuwiya stayed away from the overused clichés that seem to follow Black men; no prison scenes, no blood spilling, no ‘the block is hot but I’m selling these rocks’ mentality, no high speed car chases, no over exaggerated cool pose expressions that have trapped Black men in a never-ending maze of lazy strolls, chin up, tilted heads, and thugged-out simplicity.

In a word, classic.

C/K