|
Books by Kalamu ya
Salaam
The Magic of JuJu: An Appreciation of the Black Arts Movement
/
360:
A Revolution of Black Poets
Everywhere Is Someplace Else: A Literary Anthology /
From A Bend in the River: 100 New Orleans Poets
Our Music Is No Accident /
What Is Life: Reclaiming the Black Blues Self
My Story My Song (CD)
* *
* * *
Impotence Need Not Be Permanent
The Decline of Black Men Writing
By Kalamu ya Salaam
WELL,
SHUT MY MOUTH.
Who
silenced the Black male writer?
Po'
boy did it to himself
Within
the dynamics of contemporarily respected social intercourse,
many of us Black male writers feel sexually inadequate. To even
raise the question of "who silenced Black male
writers?" is in fact an admission of inadequacy because the
implicit assumption is that we (or most Black male writers)
share the view that we have been silenced. This
"silencing question" is multifaceted: (1) We assume
that our silence is an impediment to our fulfillment as male
writers; (2) although unable to fully identify the culprit, we
believe we have been coerced into this involuntary silence; and
(3) we are certain that the silencing was done by someone other
than ourselves.
But I
believe these assumptions conceal the truth. First, if
"silenced" means that either we are intellectually
incapable of coping with our conditions (and thus have been
overwhelmed and resultantly rendered speechless), or that we have
been forced by others to say nothing about our current state,
then we have not really been silenced. Second, to the degree
that we are silent, we have done it to ourselves more than we
have been silenced by others. But fear not, like many forms of impotence,
our speech impediment problem is in part psycho-socially based,
and it can be cured.
The
hardest part of dealing with this problem is 'fessin' up,
confessing where the problem lies. Moreover, admitting our own
inadequacy vis-a-vis women is not easy, especially when we men perceive
ourselves as besieged and censored, and also believe that women
writers are enjoying "favored writers" status. To hear
some of us tell it, rather than the general behavior of men
toward women, it is "malicious, angry, and spiteful women
who have given manhood a bad name." Others of us are just
plain confused: "What," we incredulously ask, "is
wrong with being a man?" Although we phrase the question as
though we do not understand why we are under siege, that is not
the question we are really asking. What we really want to know
is "what is wrong with me being a man?"
To a
frighteningly large extent, many of us men have convinced
ourselves that it is our gender per se rather than our behavior
that women perceive as the central problem. Just as many Whites
convinced themselves that they were being attacked because of
their race rather than because of their behavior, many of us men
have taken the defensive posture that a feminist critique is
preposterous. How could we possibly stop being men? Preposterous
or not, we do recognize that there is a serious problem. We hold
forums not only to address "the problem" but also
hoping to commiserate with one another via an intellectual
male-bonding ritual of collective denial.
"YOU
CAN HAVE ME BABY / BUT MY LOVING DAYS ARE THROUGH"
Let's look at
the real problem, rather than the perceived ones. Regardless of
sex (or sexual orientation), the intellectual who cannot speak
is impotent. The intellectual whose words are
ignored is frustrated. The intellectual whose print and
broadcast access is severed is castrated. At a gut perceptual
level (i.e., what we feel is true), to one degree or another,
all of the above describe many Black male writers. Impotent.
Frustrated. Castrated. The real question, however, is: who is doing what to
whom? How? Why?
The impotence of the Black male is grounded in
the complex nexus of exploitation and oppression, and in our
individual (re)actions within that context Within the general
social schema, a combination of two major foci immobilize Black
male tongues:
1. We
suddenly find ourselves branded the enemy.
2. We
abandoned independent action (i.e., self-determined and
self-supported
alternatives
to the status quo) for failed attempts at
integration into the mainstream.
Of
these two foci, only the first can, in any remote way, be said
to be caused by women. The idea that manhood is the enemy is
precisely the arena within which we feel most vulnerable.
The majority of Black male writers who feel vulnerable on this
issue are either heterosexuals or closet homosexuals.
Self-affirmative Black gay writers do not feel as isolated,
principally because they are not isolated. They recognize their
common condition as gays oppressed by the status quo and are
struggling against the status quo both for self-definition and
self-respect.
But for
those of us who are openly heterosexual or secretly and
self-ashamedly homosexual (which generally manifests itself as
exaggerated "manliness," the question is: What are we
struggling for? With
what movements and what individuals do we identify?
Our
problem is that we have no definition of manhood other than that
of "man as conqueror." The majority of male-respected
definiti6ns of manhood are based not simply on triumphing, but
rather on dominating (out-ranking the competition).
Additionally. the concept of conqueror almost invariably leads to its logical
extension: the concept of oppressor. Before
we know it, despite our protestations to the contrary, being a
man becomes synonymous with being an oppressor.
Not only do the vast
majority of
us clearly define our manhood
by our ability to dominate in the social arenas of life, but
within the generally accepted definition of manhood, the distance
between dominator and oppressor is nil. In America, being "The
Man" equals being dominant in whatever field of
endeavor--sports, business, music, entertainment, education, etc.
In the African American vernacular, to be "The Man"
means to dominate the scene.
Check
this interesting aside: Prince. Even though there are numerous
rumors about his alleged (bi)sexuality/androgyny, still he is
seen as dominating the pop music scene in terms of the
popularity of his product. As long as he dominates (sells), his
alleged deviance is tolerable.
"Man
as dominator" is precisely the concept under attack. We
attack the White man for dominating us, and Black women attack
the Black male for"sexist" (trying to be as
dominant as the "real"
man). The upshot of all this is our own particularly
cruel cul de sac: not only does the White man dominate us, but
Black women have peeped that, despite all our posturing and
protestations, Black men are impotent males unable to perform
(dominate) in a social sense.
This
leaves us literally up against the wall, especially in the
absence of any other operant and respected definition of manhood.
To the right is the system defining the man as the dominant creature, to
the left
is the feminist movement defining the dominant male as enemy, and
in the middle are Black men: dominated by the White man and
disrespected by "our women." Oh, how cruel!
WHEN
MALES ARE NOT MEN
I think
what hurts many of us more than anything about the criticism
leveled at us by Black women is not the rightness or the
wrongness of the criticism, but the feeling of being swiftly
kicked in the groin while we are down. If we were kicking the
White man's ass, we would care less. if; indeed, we had the
power to kick ass, we would actually be The Man-the man we have
been conditioned by modem American mores to believe that all
adult males are or should be--the same man that objective
political and economic conditions in modem America prevent us
from becoming.
If we
actually felt we were men and could prove it through political and
economic dominance, then being criticized for being a man would
not bother us. What really bothers us is that we
"non-men," (at best, "aspirant men"),
recognize with shame that it is not really our manhood under
attack but our failed manhood. This failed manhood we
desperately desire to bring to fruition. Yet, we realize it is
non-functional. To put it even more bluntly: we really want to
fuck somebody, but even when we get
somebody in our beds, we cannot get it up.
In this
context, the paradox is clarified: it is not the Black man who
is under attack, but the Black male who ardently wants to be
The Man. The painful realization is that even before we become
the men we want to be, we perceive that we are attacked
for being what in fact we are not. We hurt precisely
because the more women talk about how wrong Black men are, the
more they reveal to the world how much we are not men in the
White western sense of the word, which is the only living,
prosperous and unthreatened concept of manhood that most of us know or recognize.
WHEN
THE OPPRESSOR DEFINES WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A MAN, THE OPPRESSED
MALE CAN NEVER HOPE TO BE A MAN
Once we
have accepted the definition of man as dominator, our fate is
sealed; White men will not let us dominate and post-70s Black
women will not even let us dream of it
White
males dominate Black males (externally by force and internally by
establishing the definitions that we unconsciously adopt and use
to judge our own manhood or lack thereof). Even though the White
male dominance of us is actually the cause of our psycho-sexual
problem, the Black woman's deflating of our
manhood aspirations is the coupe de grace from which we we cannot recover as
long as we accept status quo definitions. Neither the macho
posturing of the 70s nor the status quo acceptance of the
definitions of manhood. In both instances, we were unconsciously accepting
Euro-centric definitions of what it meant for a male to become a
man. Whether denouncing or emulating,
the measuring rod remained the White man.
This whole
psycho-social quandary of seemingly developing our
own definition of manhood while really only exhibiting a
conditioned and painfully predictable response to our
oppression is so subtly complex and ego-damaging that it is hard
for many of us to even perceive or admit the effectiveness of
this dynamic in immobilizing us. The external dominance we can easily
see and just as easily reject. We label it racism. But the
internal dominance is so artfully achieved that we adamantly refuse to recognize that
our minds are being dominated. We believe that we are creating
our own definitions of manhood, but before we can even read and
write (not to mention critically and proactively think for
ourselves), our vision of self is contaminated by "dominant-culture"
produced
images of what a man is and should be.
There is not one African
American community in America within which the White power
structure's definition of manhood is not propagated, supported,
and reinforced daily by print and
broadcast media. The ubiquitous liquor and cigarette advertising
billboards that dominate
the physical ghetto landscape are simply the more flagrant and
obvious examples of this phenomenon. And do not forget the
"police & thieves," especially the police.
Currently, this occupying force includes women (more often than
not, White women) who handle young African American males like
they were boys. Hence, these
White women become more "man" than the subjugated Black males.
Moreover,
as Fanon correctly perceived and articulated in A Dying
Colonialism, within the context of colonialism or external
domination, it is impossible to come up with an alternative
definition of manhood that does not include the committing of violence. Although
it is not necessary for us to dominate
Whites or women in order to be men, it is necessary for us to
destroy the dominance that Whites have over us. As long as we
are dominated, we cannot be men; ending our domination will require
violence. Long before Fanon, Frederick Douglass framed the
essence of this argument: power concedes nothing without a
struggle, it never did, and it never will. Whether the violence
be physical, mental, or moral is not the question.
There is no way to end domination except by force. Contrary to
popular belief, there are no shortcuts to power, no shortcuts
to achieving enlightened manhood.
IF THE
SLAVE WIELDS THE WHIP, DOES THAT MAKE HIM A MAN?
Too
many of us focus our energies on defending ourselves against
perceived and/or actual feminist attacks. This focus, which
fuels a major portion of the anger expressed by Black male
writers, is a mistake. No matter what feminists may say about
us, feminists are not the enemy. In fact, they do not even talk as bad
about us as do our real oppressors.
Since
day one (i.e., Jamestown, 1619), African Americans have suffered
and continue to suffer systematic oppression and exploitation. Those who
maintain this social system are our enemies, regardless of the
fact that they now invite us to participate in the system's
maintenance. Yet, we suffer from the Fred Douglass Syndrome: we fight
against slavery, and once slavery is abolished we join the
government. But it was not slavery alone that was our problem.
Our problem was and remains being captured in a social context
within which we have relatively insignificant political and
economic power.
The
most obvious manifestation of the granting of civil rights to
African Americans has been the proliferation of Black
(predominantly male) elected officials in general and Black
mayors of major cities specifically. The most obvious
manifestation of the denial of Black power has been the worsening
condition
of inner-city African Americans. This includes not only a
debilitating drug epidemic and horrendous levels of
homelessness, but a family profile that is now dominated by
female-headed, single-parent families. On the one hand,
"blood" is the mayor. On the other hand, he is the
absent father husband.
The resultant dichotomy understandably leads to many politically
active men defending the system and many socially active women
attacking that same system.
This does not necessarily translate
into an anti-male bias on the part of women, but it does mean
that women are less likely to believe that participation in politics will solve
our social problems. After all, during a period when we have had more Black
elected officials than ever before, the conditions of poor women
have drastically deteriorated. No matter if Jesse Jackson is
elected president, the United States government and the major
corporations ultimately represent enemy forces unless and until
objective conditions for our people drastically change in the
economic, social, and political spheres. How one perceives the
enemy is a litmus test. The Black male writer is
intricately involved in this intercommunity conflict.
In the
60s, we took on racism. In the 90s, we must take on
homelessness, drugs, cancer. AIDS, environmental poisoning,
economic exploitation, and public (mis)education. Even though
Black men direct many of the local, state, and federal agencies
responsible for dealing with these issues, is there any doubt
that the same system that produced racism produces and/or
condones the ills we now face? The symptoms of the illness are
different, but the illness is the same. Whereas before it was
White mayors siccing dogs and "pigs" (police) on our people,
now we have Black mayors, such as Wilson Goode, who are
both figuratively and literally dropping bombs on us. Whereas
under segregation all-White school boards enforced inferior
education, today, majority-Black school boards very often
supervise the miseducation of our youth.
In far
too many cases, the most conspicuous examples of "Black
men" in our contemporary communities are those who are also
tacit collaborators the maintenance of the system of our oppression
and exploitation. During slavery, a similar phenomenon did not
create similar confusion. A Black overseer wielding the whip
did not change the social conditions one iota for the majority
of our people. No slave was fooled into thinking
that the creation of Black overseers was an objective
improvement
for the enslaved majority. Everyone knew the Black
overseer had cast his lot with the slave master in exchange for
personal gain. Was this Black overseer The Man? NO! The Black
overseer was a servant at best, a flunky and traitor at worse. What of
today's civil servants?
The
dilemma facing Black males is that it is difficult to advocate
active participation within the system and at the same time
attack the system. We know that the system is not working, but
as the repression of the 70s and the 80s* has made clear, there
is nowhere outside of and in opposition to the system where it
is safe and/or comfortable for a Black man to be a man.
Participation in the system offers us a limited measure of
manhood, but it is a Pyrrhic victory. What profits it a man to
win his manhood if the cost is managing the oppression of his people?
Of
course, many will argue that Black men working within the system
are making a positive difference. My response is that the difference has
been insignificant when compared to the worsening of our overall conditions
as a people. Whether politicians are making a significant
difference or not, what is the overall condition of our people?
The answer is obvious: we are in bad shape. To use a voguish
phrase which implies an acceptance of economic determinism, the
bottom line is that most
visible and "respected" Black men are promoting
integration into the American system rather than independent
opposition or alternatives to the American system as the direction
of the future.
Among the integrationists, those of us who are
Black male writers find ourselves increasingly confounded with
nothing original to say. We are confounded because the major
issues facing our people all involve opposing the status quo,
and how do you be in and out at the same time? We have nothing
original to say because there is nothing original about doing
what you got to do to deal with the bottom line. Po' boy did it
to himself. our silence on the major issues of the day is a
result of our correct understanding that the system does not
want to address these issues (from a radical as opposed to an
accommodationist perspective). To take a hard line against the
system would be a case of biting the hand that feeds us.
Black writers must make the
choice that Paul Robeson identified: the choice between the
forces of oppression and the forces of freedom. Regardless of rhetoric
emanating from Black politicians and Black conservatives, the
status quo does not represent freedom for the majority of
African Americans. The ethical question each writer faces is not a
question of what political line to espouse, but rather how to
resolve the conflict between the good of the individual and the
good of the group within the context of modern American
society.
This question is
especially critical when we are specifically dealing with the
good of our people as a whole versus our own individual economic
well-being. The complexities of these questions are the central
tension that either activates or paralyzes many Black male
writers. The abstract resolution of this conflict is easy: Revolution
against the system and/or significant change within the system.
But on a day-to-day living level, the concrete resolution is not
only far more complex, it is also depressing. The inability to
make revolution silences us.
For
those of us who remain constant in our opposition to the system,
we often end up marginalized into a position of very limited, if
any, effectiveness. Not surprisingly, we are demoralized by our
own ineffectiveness. The media spotlight (the major validator of
any reality in contemporary America) focuses on those who
participate and excel at partisan politics, while our own
fractured, crippled, and largely deserted or nonexistent
revolutionary (or alternative) organizations are largely
ignored. Those who keep the faith generally find themselves
in economically tenable and unenviable positions. There is a
whole lot of isolation and very little reward or recognition
given to those who oppose the system.
For
those of us to change the system from the inside, we too end up
marginalize. We strive mightily, but even as we are
successful at making little changes for the better, the overall
position of our people worsens. Most Black male writers who work
inside the system in economically secure positions find their
creative output drops to a trickle. This happens not because
anyone is telling them not to write, nor because someone is
telling them what not to write, but because we are not
ready--for
reasons as understandable as seeing the kids through school to
reasons as personal as being tired of being poor, marginalized,
and part of an opposition that has proven ineffective at
bringing about revolution-to write our most relevant missive:
our letter of resignation from the system.
Because
of the lack of progress for the majority of our people in all of
the places where there have been real revolutions--the
failure of Marxist-Leninism and Maoism, the neo-colonial
embarrassments on the continent of Africa and in the Caribbean,
the crippled Central American revolutions, and the repressed
South American revolutions--one almost feels like a fool calling
for revolution, especially when one has a job in which one can
do small bits of good on a daily basis. Many of us are
emotionally whipped and overcome by the American political
success at counter-revolution. And rather than address the depth
of our pain, the real causes of our impotence, rather than write
about ourselves as we actually are, we suffer in silence.
Meanwhile, the dominant forces march on and on, and on over us.
I know
from personal experience working as the executive director of
the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Foundation from June 1983
through June 1987 that no matter how successful a Black person is
while working within the system, his or her success does nothing
to answer our people's need for radical, systematic change. When
one honestly realizes the depth of the dilemma, one either gets
out or becomes a silent cynic. We become
silent because we cannot afford to say anything contrary to the
master who employs us or to the field slaves who see us
as house servants. We become cynical because we realize that the
better we do our jobs, the more difficult it will be to
overthrow the system.
READ
OUR TRICKS
Jazz
musician Archie Shepp is credited with a witty, albeit deadly
accurate, statement: "When we ain't got much, we share.
When we get something , we talk share." As I remember it, he was
discussing the dying out of collectives among jazz musician, and
the absence of any Black collectively owned record
labels. Writers, more so than most other artists, are
magnificent rationalizers. But no amount of rationalization can
justify African American abdication of the struggle for independent (or "alternative")
publishing apparatuses. The reasons the existing Black presses
continue to struggle for recognition is not because they are not
taking care of business, nor because they are not publishing
important books, but because all of us collectively and most of
us individually have failed to financially support their efforts
or to establish the necessary support networks, such as
distribution companies.
Brothers,
Black male writers, we can talk trash if we want to and cry
crocodile tears about our plight, but the fact is we just are not
doing it. Although the reasons we do not have more healthy,
independent, Black publishing businesses is complex, two easily
identifiable factors significantly contribute to our
failure:
1. Many
of the most financially stable of us have gone the (accommodationist
route and spent our resources supporting and touting Black-oriented
publishing concerns that are
either mainstream
institution-supported (Black oriented but supported by
dominant-culture
educational and philanthropic institutions) or main-stream
aspirant
(Black-oriented but they view Blackness as simply a marketing
segment or orientation.
There is a
world of difference between being Black-oriented and being an
independent,
self-defined, self-determined Black institution.
2.
During the big debate of the late 70s (Black Nationalism vs.
Marxism) the progressive
wing fractured, and Black Nationalism
got a bad rep. Although there were some very
important and
accurate criticisms leveled against Black
Nationalism, the AfricanAmerican Nationalist community was at
the front line of independent and alternative
Black
institutional development. Black Marxists made two fundamental
critiques.
First, they denounced the preoccupations of mainstream-aspirant Black business
people
as the pipe dreams of capitalists who were simply and
solely interested in making money.
Secondly, the Marxists took a
hard-line ideological position that it was impossible to
build economic alternatives inside capitalist America. The
mainstream-aspirant Black
capitalists ignored the Marxists and
took shelter in minority set-aside programs and
economic schemes concocted
by Black politicians. The Nationalists, from whose ranks
many of
the hard-line Black Marxists emerged, suffered both from the
defections and
from the fierce and debilitating battle royales
that accompanied the transformations of
individuals and
organizations from Nationalism to staunch Marxists.
By the end
of the
80s, on the international scene as well as within the
United States' African American
community, it was clear that
both the Marxists and the Nationalists were largely defeated
their guests to establish alternatives. Much of the
non-progressive Black business
community went rightward with
Reagan and the Nationalists were hounded into obscurity.
Ironically, the progressive Marxists were often the ones who served as the
"hunting dogs" that flushed the Nationalists out of
the community.
Historically Black
colleges, as well as Black
Studies departments and courses at most U.S. colleges and universities,
continue
to exist. Black professors and Black administrators in these
educational institutions could have organized themselves to
support ten or fifteen medium-sized presses (those with gross
annual sales exceeding a million dollars). Yet, only a small
percentage of the books purchased and used in these academic
settings are published by independent African American businesses
That is our fault.
The
continued existence, growth and development of various Black
publishers, such as Africa World Press, Black Classic Press,
Third World Press, and others is the major exception to the just
outlined depressing scenario. Their existence demonstrates that
it can be done. Yet much remains to be done. Dealing with
self-capitalization is where there is an understandably
significant difference between the independent Black movement
and the women's movement. The women's movement receives major and
consistent capitalization from women who have access to money,
an access that easily outweighs any comparison of access to
wealth in the Black community.
There
are more than enough Black male writers who are employed as
professors and endowed with prestigious fellowships and grants
to fund a national Black literary publication if not a Black
publishing company. Besides our own hesitancy to leave the big house
(where we are seduced and corrupted by creature comforts ,what
stops us? When we did not have access to the resources, we used
to try to build independent publishing concerns. Now that a
significant number of Black male writers are employed and have
access (at the very least) to personal resources we talk about
the silencing of the Black male writer. Brothers, please!
In the
area of literary magazines, the two major independently produced,
nationally distributed Black literary magazines, Catalyst and
Shooting Star Review are both founded and edited by African
American women--Pearl Cleage and Sandra Gould Ford, respectively.
Catalyst is funded by the Fulton County (GA) Arts Council and
Shooting Star is far from being really well known around the
country. Regardless of these shortcomings, where Black (mainly
male) politicians have risen to nominal positions of power or
influence, we do not use our power or influence to create and
support independent Black efforts. Fellows, where are we?
Journals such
as and Callaloo can be cited as publications founded and edited
by Black male writers, but both are connected to universities,
and both actually underscore the point that we men are not out
on the cutting edge of alternative magazine publishing. It is not
that Black men are not doing anything, nor that what we do is not
of merit Yet, African American
male writers have all but abandoned the struggle to create
independent Black publishing institutions.
Women
are much clearer about both the necessity of se-f-
determination and about making a personal commitment to establishing
independent publishing concerns. While most Black male writers
are writing for status quo-based publications, women are breaking
down the barriers as well as creating their own women-controlled
publishing institutions.
Black
male writers are not so much silent as we are generally
irrelevant in the struggle to create an alternative to the
status quo. We think progressive
thoughts, but our actions and inactions have abdicated a
leadership position in our
liberation struggle. To paraphrase Stevie Wonder, it is not
that we
are silent, but when we talk, "we ain't saying
nothing."
BACK TO
THE BUSH
Brothers,
if you're still with me, let's do like Isaac Hayes advises and
make a big fat "U-Turn." Our real problem is not
silence. The real question is: will we continue talking loud and
saying nothing or will we add our voices in shouting a freedom song?
We know what the real deal is. Our impotence
is self-inflicted and based on our decision to stand in the
shadow of the master. The revivification of our virility is directly related
to our
willingness to speak out, and act out, against oppression and
exploitation.
If we
are convinced that we are headed in the right direction, then so
be it. But in the process of silently giving assent to the
slaughter, let's not blame anyone but ourselves. If we have been
silenced, it is because of our own overwhelming feelings of
inadequacy and as Black male writers, we silence ourselves once
we stopped struggling for freedom from the system and convinced
ourselves that collaboration and accommodation was the prudent
course! WORD!
Source:
What Is Life: Reclaiming the Black Blues Self
* * * *
*
Kalamu ya Salaam has traveled extensively as a
journalist, activist and arts producer: Ghana, Tanzania and
Zanzibar, Barbados, Brazil, Cuba, Guadaloupe, Haiti, Jamaica,
Martinique, Nicaragua, St. Lucia, Suriname, Trinidad & Tobago,
Korea, Japan, The People's Republic Of China, England, France and
Germany. Contact Information: Kalamu ya Salaam/ Box 52723/ New
Orleans, LA 70152-2723 Phone: (504) 581-2963 / Fax: (504) 581-5446/ email: kalamu@aol.com
* * *
* *
Audio:
My Story, My Song (Featuring blues guitarist Walter Wolfman Washington)
Bob
Dylan: Only a pawn in their game /
The
Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll
 |
Panel on Literary Criticism
26 March 2010
National Black Writers Conference
Patrick Oliver, Kalamu ya Salaam,
Dorothea Smartt, Frank Wilderson discuss
the use of literature to promote
political causes and instigate change
and transformation. The event is at the
Medgar Evers College at the City
University of New York.
C-Span Archives
Panel on Politics and Satire
26 March 2010
National Black Writers Conference
Herb Boyd, Thomas Bradshaw, Charles
Edison and Major Owens discuss how
current events are reflected in the
writings of African Americans. The
event is at the Medgar Evers College at
the City University of New York.
C-Span Archives |
*
* * * *
The Katrina Papers is not your
average memoir. It is a fusion of many kinds of
writing, including intellectual autobiography,
personal narrative, political/cultural analysis,
spiritual journal, literary history, and poetry.
Though it is the record of one man's experience of
Hurricane Katrina, it is a record that is fully a
part of his life and work as a scholar, political
activist, and professor.
The Katrina Papers provides space not only for the traumatic events but
also for ruminations on authors such as Richard
Wright and theorists like Deleuze and Guattarri. The
result is a complex though thoroughly accessible
book. The struggle with form—the search for a
medium proper to the complex social, personal, and
political ramifications of an event unprecedented in
this scholar's life and in American social history—lies at the very heart of
The Katrina Papers . It
depicts an enigmatic and multi-stranded world view
which takes the local as its nexus for understanding
the global. It resists the temptation to simplify
or clarify when simplification and clarification are
not possible. Ward's narrative is, at times, very
direct, but he always refuses to simplify the
complex emotional and spiritual volatility of the
process and the historical moment that he is
witnessing. The end result is an honesty that is
both pedagogical and inspiring.—Hank Lazer
The Richard Wright Encyclopedia (2008)
is a marvelous resource! It's not like any
encyclopedia I've seen before. Already, I have spent hours reading
through the various entries. So much is there: people, themes,
issues, events, bibliographies, etc., related to Wright. Yours is a
monumental contribution! The more I read Wright (and about him), the
more I am amazed at the depth and breadth of his work and its impact
on the worlds of literature, philosophy, politics, sociology,
history, psychology, etc. He was formidable!
Floyd W. Hayes
* * *
* *
Audio:
My Story, My Song (Featuring blues guitarist Walter Wolfman Washington)
* * *
* *
* *
* * *
 |
Sex at the Margins
Migration, Labour Markets and the Rescue Industry
By Laura María Agustín
This book explodes several myths: that selling sex is completely different from any other kind of work, that migrants who sell sex are passive victims and that the multitude of people out to save them are without self-interest. Laura Agustín makes a passionate case against these stereotypes, arguing that the label 'trafficked' does not accurately describe migrants' lives and that the 'rescue industry' serves to disempower them. Based on extensive research amongst both migrants who sell sex and social helpers, Sex at the Margins provides a radically different analysis. Frequently, says Agustin, migrants make rational choices to travel and work in the sex industry, and although they are treated like a marginalised group they form part of the dynamic global economy. Both powerful and controversial, this book is essential reading for all those who want to understand the increasingly important relationship between sex markets, migration and the desire for social justice. "Sex at the Margins rips apart distinctions between migrants, service work and sexual labour and reveals the utter complexity of the contemporary sex industry. This book is set to be a trailblazer in the study of sexuality."—Lisa Adkins, University of London |
* * *
* *
|
The Warmth of Other Suns
The Epic Story of America's Great
Migration
By Isabel Wilkerson
Ida Mae Brandon Gladney, a
sharecropper's wife, left Mississippi
for Milwaukee in 1937, after her cousin
was falsely accused of stealing a white
man's turkeys and was almost beaten to
death. In 1945, George Swanson Starling,
a citrus picker, fled Florida for Harlem
after learning of the grove owners'
plans to give him a "necktie party" (a
lynching). Robert Joseph Pershing Foster
made his trek from Louisiana to
California in 1953, embittered by "the
absurdity that he was doing surgery for
the United States Army and couldn't
operate in his own home town." Anchored
to these three stories is Pulitzer
Prize–winning journalist Wilkerson's
magnificent, extensively researched
study of the "great migration," the
exodus of six million black Southerners
out of the terror of Jim Crow to an
"uncertain existence" in the North and
Midwest. Wilkerson deftly incorporates
sociological and historical studies into
the novelistic narratives of Gladney,
Starling, and Pershing settling in new
lands, building anew, and often finding
that they have not left racism behind.
The drama, poignancy, and romance of a
classic immigrant saga pervade this
book, hold the reader in its grasp, and
resonate long after the reading is done.
|
 |
* * * * *
The White Masters of the
World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
* *
* * *
Ancient African Nations
* * * * *
If you like this page consider making a donation
* * * * *
Negro Digest /
Black World
Browse all issues
1950
1960
1965
1970
1975
1980
1985
1990
1995
2000
____ 2005
Enjoy!
* * * * *
The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
/
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
/
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
Slavery /
George Jackson /
Hurricane Carter
* *
* * *
The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
/
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
Haiti
* * * * *
* *
* * *
update 21 April 2010
|
