of water and resistance via dance, talk and song

Alvin Ailey's "Wade in the Water" dance from Revelations.

Last week, the students looked at the concept of  black resistance while studying Alvin Ailey’s choreography in “Wade in the Water,” a piece from Revelation,  a famous 1960 performance. They also read excerpts from David Celcelski’s study of black maritime workers in antebellum America. To help them think deeply about resistance across time, I showed them the movements of dancers behind Marvin Gaye performances, circa 1960s, and “Soul Train” episodes from the early 1970s. The idea was to help them see how the Ailey movements presaged the way American vernacular dance reflected the resistance seen in Americans during the Civil Rights and Black Power (and, I might add now,  counterculture) movements. More critically, I wanted them to see how this foreshadowing happened more than a century after those maritime workers expressed independence by moving through space. Whether they wrote in, before or after class, several students were able to pick up on the many things I hoped they would. 

One of our take-aways was understanding how the African American men, free or enslaved, who navigated the waters off the coast of Wilmington, often resisted the oppression they faced as people of color simply because they were mobile. They could thus build traditions – such as singing - and maneuver strategically (sometimes with poor results if the many failed rebellions by blacks who lived in coastal areas are considered ) away from the direct oversight of whites. Decades earlier, some had even been used by the British government to fight white settlers before the American Revolution. As Anne Marie, one student wrote, “The black maritime seamen began to see in a silver lining in the opportunities that could present themselves if they would only rise up and claim them.”

Seahawks' Richard Sherman was criticized for postgame comments.

Marcia said while watching the Ailey piece, which also had a water motif, she did not immediately make the connection that it could be seen as a performance about how “blacks were able to rebel in their own way to the confinements of slavery.” But she finally did, saying, “Flashforward to the 1960s and the dance company…in their own way [was] also rebelling the confinements of being black in America through dance.”  Added Trakayla, African Americans were “almost silently telling whites that they will not be held down.” However, Elizabeth still noticed that the movements were “restricted [and] limited,” and thus, uncover the ways in which oppression continued. Conversely, Alex was able to still see a “celebration” in the Ailey dancers and make connections between black urban dwellers of the past who often “enjoyed living in…cities” because the freedom such a life seemed to offer differed from that endured in the plantation setting. Brandy, another student, noticed how the Ailey dancers seemed to “release their pain…via chest convulsions.”

As a means of helping the students to also keep the “city” in view (especially because Cecelski does something similar when he directs attention away from the black plantation life to black sealife), I also asked the class to pay close attention to how urban life emerges in the United States during the nineteenth century by reading an excerpt from Thomas Bender’s Toward an Urban Vision: Ideas and Institutions in Nineteenth Century America. They discovered that early American leaders like Thomas Jefferson never understood the degree to which American life would be defined by the urban space rather than the open land. Interestingly, because African Americans have long been tied to the urban space, they were always an integral part of this space. Wrote Marcia, “many port cities had large populations of black people,” something that whites feared. As Brandy also relayed, these men were sometimes able to be political by taking messages to blacks in distant places.

Speaking of Thomas Jefferson, Jake, another student, shared his troubles with the man. More critically, Jack was able to draw connections to the scuttlebutt over the recent 18-second post-NFC championship tirade by Seattle Seahawks player Richard Sherman. Jake later emailed me to say that Sherman, who grew up in the tough Compton section of Los Angeles and went on to Stanford University, was under a national microscope for his “trash-talking” because he was African American. Pre-Civil War maritime workers suffered similarly, Jake wrote. Though the urban space is hugely important because it allowed black seaman to work independently, they, too, were constantly being monitored by others.

And speaking of Compton, this week we turn to the idea of black labor by reading an excerpt from historian Robin Kelley’s Race Rebels: Culture, Politics and the Black Working Class. Kelley is among the many scholars since W.E.B. DuBois’ 1935 Black Reconstruction who are interested in recounting labor stories from “below,” which is to say from people who are often oppressed, black and white ones. In the excerpt before us, we will want to continue exploring how the city space figures into the post-World War II social problems faced by black Los Angelenos and moreover, how those problems figure into the emergence of gangsta rap. Though this reading may feel like quite a  jump from our recent look at black seaman, this approach reflects my wish to proceed with themes rather than chronologically as I did when I taught this class last spring. The theme this week is labor, something that certainly figured into last week’s look at resistance. The students will want to find meaning in these two concepts – resistance and labor - while keeping urban life and black identity front and center.

Interestingly, all four themes that will be addressed by the time we finish this week – urban, identity, resistance and labor – figure prominently into the 1974 movie “Claudine,” which we will watch this Wednesday.

do we need the city to understand the complexities of black life?

Peter Sellers (Chance, the gardener) and Ruth Attaway (Louise, the maid)

This Wednesday, the students will continue exploring “black” urban culture by reading two writings. The first, written by Thomas Bender, reveals the thoughts that some early American leaders had about the open land. The second, written by David S. Cecelski, looks at the critical role that African Americans played in “maritime,” or sea life, before the Civil War. The students will also watch “Wade in the Water,” a portion of a famous dance by African American choreographer Alvin Ailey. 

One of the things at stake in this class meeting is helping the students to see how the black body, which has often been associated with cities, could be found in other spaces. But the biggest issue is how no matter where the black body is found, we see it resisting something.  Among the questions before us: “How do African Americans fit into the vision of rural life that Thomas Jefferson and George Washington preferred?,”   “How did port cities like Wilmington, NC, permit African Americans – free or enslaved – to exercise freedom and independence?”  and finally, “What kinds of emotions do Alvin Ailey capture about black life before the Civil War in ‘Wade in the Water’?”

Finding answers to such questions should prompt us to return to what we have discussed in our first two meetings. In those meetings, we thought about the iconic Miss Anne of 1930s Harlem, Miley Cyrus and slam poetry performances  and the ways in which a gardener learns about the world around him via television.  All of these things made us think about black identity, or how we come to have agreements about what we think blackness is and how the city sometimes helps us find answers. 

Before the students departed last week, they were all given opportunities to turn in short replies to questions that were designed to stimulate discussion and thinking. I enjoyed reading what was turned in as I got a better sense of how some of them are digesting the material. If any of the others have more thoughts, they were welcomed to share them via email before we meet again. It is always good to see them thinking things through. Sometimes I have to step back from what I have read or watched before I really understand my position on it. I want to now share a few ideas that some of the students had after seeing excerpts from the 1979 movie “Being There,” which introduced us to the gardener in question, and after reading the Susan B.A. Somers-Willet article on slam poetry.

Anne Marie thought that Chance, the gardener, could understand “black life without the city.”  Though she did not say as much, I wonder if she believes this after seeing his interactions with Louise, the black maid who gave him his meals, or because of the images he saw of African Americans on television (something that Trakayla, another student, understood). Worth noting, Anne Marie was more explicit about Chance’s ability to understand black rural life. She said he could do as much if he saw pre-Civil War depictions of African Americans on television.

Marcia, another student, said while Chance was introduced to black life on television, he only understood its “complexities” once he got out into the city. Marcia was also reflective about the Somers-Willet article. She rightly saw that Somers-Willet was as interested in showing how African Americans share their identity as a marginalized group via slam poetry as she was in showing how such poetry “challenge[s]” its audiences who are often white middle class people (Brandy, yet another student, also understood this). I would have loved to hear Marcia and the rest of the class pull apart the idea of “challenge” and whiteness more. Why should white audiences be challenged when they hear the many topics about race discussed via slam poetry? This question is pertinent as we read Bender's article, which addresses something specific - maybe something beyond land - that early and antebellum American whites cherished.

As we go forward, we should keep thinking about all of these difficult issues and always keep the city, or urban life, black “identity” and now black “resistance” in view.

urban life and black identity via spoken word

I had a good first meeting with the students in this course last week. We discussed the iconic "Miss Anne" character against Miley Cyrus. One aside: there is a slight change in how this blog will be presented this semester. Whereas in the past I have tried to present the students' thoughts via their writing, because this is now a discussion-driven course, there will be fewer writing posts. Instead, the students will present some of the new things they are learning via a spoken word performances, which will be posted here in the weeks ahead. In fact, we will take up the issue of how spoken word gain traction in American society nationally in the 1990s. Tomorrow, among other things we will discuss how black identity has become a critical part of the spoken word movement.  Some of the questions they should be thinking about include, "How did black life become associated with urban living?" and "How does urban life manifest in spoken word performances?" I want them to also  think about whether spoken word performances reinforce some of the stereotypes many people have about black life in America. One reason why this issue is worth addressing, according to scholar Susan B.A. Somers-Willett, is because white middle class people are often the audience for such performances. Perhaps in supporting such events, they are observing - rather than actively engaging - their historical role in some of the issues being discussed by African Americans via this art form. As we prepare to tackle these and other topics, see above a well known spoken word piece in the 1997 movie Love Jones, which unveils a young African American man's romantic overture. It is hard not to miss the ways in which black masculinity issues are intertwined with his references to black culture and black love.

first course reading

.British heiress Nancy Cunard in Harlem circa 1930s.

I don't remember the first time I heard the words "Miss Anne," the dismissive nickname used for a white woman or white girl. I do recall being intrigued when a colleague told me about Carla Kaplan's recently published study on an untold narrative: white women in 1930s Harlem. Most people who are familiar with the life of African American novelist-playwright Zora Neale Hurston have heard of Charlotte Mason, a patron of Hurston's during this period. I'd heard, too, of Nancy Cunard, a wealthy British woman and activist, who - like Mason - figures into the story of black arts in Harlem. While reading the opening pages of Miss Anne in Harlem, I couldn't help but think about the ruckus surrounding Miley Cyrus' music and videos of late. I decided to pair the first chapter of this book with one Cyrus video as a means of initiating this course's interest in race and the urban space in the United States. I look forward to meeting the students this coming Wednesday and discussing these and other issues.

on history and culture

I am uploading documents to the University's Blackboard system today, preparing to teach this course for a second time. The students will have many of the readings that I used last spring, but also two books, one of them an autobiography that blues singer B.B. King wrote with David Ritz and a picture-storybook by Lynda Barry titled The Good Times Are Killing Me. King's life will, among other things, allow us to see how his migration to Memphis from Indianola, Mississippi, helps tell a particular story about urban life for African Americans in the lower south during the first half of the 20th century. Barry's book, which concerns a friendship between a white girl and a black girl, permits us to to tackle many issues that concern the urban space, high among them, housing, identity, kinship and race. Notably, Barry, a noted cartoonist-artist,  brings black musicians into her narrative and because she does, I thought it would be great to pair these two books together. Together, they both create many opportunities to understand the difference between what it means to learn about culture as opposed to "history." I thought it would be important for the students to learn the difference as this is truly a history course even though the word "culture" is in its the title. While there is some overlap in what these two words mean, at stake will always be helping them to see how ideas, things and people change across time. That's what we try to do in a history class. As an aside, I will attend a B.B. King performance in Birmingham about two weeks into the semester. His life resonates partly because my maternal grandfather was one of his childhood playmates in  Mississippi. It will be good to see how seeing him live pushes my thinking about black life across time in the United States - especially in cities.